“Well, there it is. I would not try to convince you to stay under the circumstances. When must you leave?”
“Three days hence. Thursday must be my last day here with you.”
“Then tomorrow night we will go to the theater. You will be my guest. We will dine here, then make use of my box.”
“You are too kind but I—”
“Not one word of objection, Miss Waverly. I insist on seeing you off with some style, to express your great value to me.” She turned back to her pages. “I will of course write a letter of reference that makes both your skills and your character explicit. You can take it with you when you leave Thursday.”
Amanda excused herself. She doubted Lady Farnsworth even heard her go. Already that pen moved across the paper as if hell chased it.
* * *
Late June lent the festivities of the Season a bittersweet quality. The end of one set of activities drew to an end, and very different ones would soon take their place. Some people looked forward to the change, having had their fill of summer’s business.
Gabriel sensed the pending nostalgia and relief while he strolled through the theater’s salon beside Brentworth. People mingled less, having mingled so much in recent weeks. A subdued mood pervaded the large chamber.
“I thought you said Stratton would join us,” he said to Brentworth. “The play is half over and he is yet to be seen.”
“He wrote me a note saying he would be late. The duchess decided to join him.”
“So soon?”
“It is early, but Clara has never been one to bow to society’s expectations. If the ladies gossip about it, she will no more care about that than any of the other gossip about her.”
That was Brentworth’s discreet way of saying that Stratton’s wife had never in her life been anything but independent minded. If she wanted to attend the theater tonight, she would do so, with or without Stratton’s approval.
Even as they aimed for the boxes, she arrived on her husband’s arm. Conversation in the salon noticeably paused when she entered. She appeared lovely, fresh, and very healthy while she greeted a few women who descended on her to congratulate her on her son.
“It appears there will be little gossip,” Gabriel said. “That she has produced an heir will garner her much approval by the harpies.”
“As well it should.”
“Do you envy him that heir, Brentworth?”
“The heir, yes. The rest, not so much.” He sighed. “It is time, however. For both of us.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“You know I am right. We have both shunned matrimony too long. You should not mind succumbing to the call of duty. It will fit right in with your other reformations of behavior.”
“At least with me the woman will know what she is getting. With you, some poor girl is in for quite a shock.”
They reached Stratton and the duchess. Since both had seen her since the birth of the heir, neither one of them commented on that. Instead, they chatted about less significant things.
“I want to visit some boxes,” the duchess said. “Please join me if you would like.”
Gabriel had nothing better to do, and it gave him a chance to talk to Stratton. Brentworth tagged along as well.
They visited three boxes, where women fussed over the duchess and asked after the child. Gabriel wondered if Stratton and Clara ever grew bored of answering the same questions. The duchess may have attended tonight to get some of the repetition out of the way.
“Ah, I see Lady Farnsworth is here tonight,” the duchess said while standing at the front of one box. I must speak to her.”
“Indeed you must,” Gabriel said. “That is one woman you do not want slighted by any show of indifference. She may skewer you with her pen.”
“Still smarting about that article, Langford?” Stratton asked. The duchess looked at him with bright eyes, curious too.
“Not at all. If some obscure journal wants to waste its paper and ink on such ramblings by an eccentric, overbearing woman, that is not my concern.”
