The theatre’s gaudy pink marble had been removed and a magnificent proscenium arch framed in gold surrounded the stage. He knew there’d been somewhat of an uproar over the installation of stalls and the removal of the pit, but it didn’t affect him or his guest in the box directly overlooking the stage on the right-hand side.
With her maid seated a polite distance behind, they had a few minutes to settle in and observe those below them and to their left where the theatre stretched back and up into the circle seats. Uninterested in anyone but her, Charles leaned in close to sniff Charlotte’s intoxicating fragrance, opening his mouth to ask her about it. She chose that precise moment to lean forward and push aside the red-and-gold drapery that framed each box, so she could see more of the audience.
“I think I see my sister and Mr. Carson. Do you see? They’re in the front of the balcony.”
He peered around, but in all the people milling about and getting seated, he couldn’t make out the snapdragon and her American husband.
Charlotte waved, stood up, and leaned out.
“Careful, Miss Rare-Foure. You don’t want to take a tumble and become part of the evening’s performance.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said, not looking at him, although he had a glorious view of her midsection, the way her waist nipped in and then blossomed out above with her generous curves.
He sighed.Was he a superficial man?He didn’t believe so. After all, he wasn’t with her for her looks, or at least, not her looks alone — albeit they were certainly pleasing. He’d become interested in her for her personality and good humor. When he’d realized what he’d first thought of as her childishness was actuallyjoie de vivre, then —
A piercing whistle split the bustling sound of the noisy auditorium, and he knew at once who’d caused it.Dear God!
He felt as though every eye in the Haymarket turned in their direction, to their box by the stage. Behind him, the Rare-Foure’s maid muttered to herself, “Oh, no, oh no, what is she doing?”
In front of him was only shocked silence, and then, against all odds, Miss Rare-Foure waved grandly before taking her seat.
“Beatrice saw me,” she said with satisfaction. Then she blinked into the drawn-out silence, looking out over the theatre as people started to whisper. In the next instant, the theatre-goers began to speak more loudly, returning to normal until the gas lamps dimmed.
“Is something wrong?” she asked when he didn’t speak.
He groaned. In a flash, he imagined her as his wife, performing her duties as his viscountess and playing hostess to some ministers of Parliament or a group of stodgy judges. And Charlotte in the middle of it—whistling to announce dinner or appearing in her garish Turkish silks. That would never work. She simply wouldn’t do!
What on earth was he doing with her?
“Nothing,” he said tightly. “Nothing is wrong.” There was no point in telling her she’d behaved outrageously. Moreover, the last thing he wanted was her sister gawking across the theatre at them or the American making his jokes as Pelham said the man was wont to do.
And then, while Charles was starting to regret the whole evening, at last, Charlotte turned to him and smiled. It was perfectly exquisite, transforming her face to radiant.
“Now, Beatrice will find us at the intermission. Have you met her husband? He is an amusing man, worthy of my sister’s intelligence and interesting mind. I hope you like them. My family, all of them, are so different, but they somehow are also the same. All perfectly delightful, the kindest, most generous people you will ever know. Except for Beatrice sometimes. I know she can be crabby, everyone has seen it, but lately, I’ve understood her impatience with people a little better.”
She paused, then added, “One never knows, does one?”
He had no idea what she meant, but he did know she loved her family tremendously, and he thought that made her a special woman, indeed. While he was fond of his father, he hadn’t seen his mother in a decade and a half, nor cared if he ever saw her again. And he had no siblings, although Waverly and Pelham felt as close to brothers as he could imagine.
Still, he was a little awed by the depth of her feelings.
The lights flickered and dimmed again, and they settled down for the first of three acts, opening in a Scottish cottage, near Gretna. To his pleasure, Charlotte was laughing almost at once.
After the second act, there was an intermission, and she jumped up, a smile on her face. “May we go find my sister? Won’t they think it’s funny? I remember Lord Pelham telling Mr. Carson not to mention Scotland to young ladies at the balls last year in case they thought he was inferring a trip to Gretna Green and a hasty marriage.”
Charles nodded and found himself swept along by her good humor to the lobby, her maid trailing behind. As Charlotte had predicted, her sister quickly found them. The women hugged, and Mr. Carson stuck out his hand for a solid shake.
“Are you enjoying it?” Charlotte asked, not pausing for an answer. “I knew you would. What a clever premise, and how fun the two of you coming. Did you know it was set in Scotland? Mr. Carson, did it make you think you should have stolen my sister away?” And then, she did clap her hands in glee. “I think the two of you should join us in the box for the end of it. You do have to crane your neck a little, but there is oodles of room.”
She turned to Charles who’d never heard such a tide of words, as if a dam had broken. “That’s fine with you, isn’t it? The more the merrier. Oh my goodness! Where is Delia? Did we lose her? Bea, Delia is with us as my chaperone. Can you believe it? As if I needed a chaperone, and with Lord Jeffcoat?”
Charles felt as if he’d been slapped in the face and emasculated at the same time.
The snapdragon recognized the slight at once, and said, “Dear one, you recall last year. We all need a chaperone for propriety’s sake.” Then she glanced at her husband. “And any man may turn out to be a danger to one’s heart, if not to one’s person.”
Charles watched the two of them exchange a long look before Mrs. Carson looked at him again, cocked her head a little jauntily and added, “Lord Jeffcoat seems as likely a suitor as any I’ve ever seen.”
Well!He appreciated that, to be sure. Charlotte paused, gave him a long appraisal, and said, “Of course. I didn’t mean he wasn’t as dangerous as any man. But I trust him more than any other I know because he is the duke’s good friend. It’s like having another brother-in-law.”
