He laughed. “You shall.”
With a discreet cough, Aunt Emily entered the room.
“Would you like to see the ring, Aunt?” Hetty held out her hand.
Aunt Emily nodded her approval. “How tasteful.”
“Can I persuade you both to accompany me to the Theatre Royal tomorrow evening?”
Hetty’s heart leapt. The theatre! How thrilling, she glanced uncertainly at her aunt.
She needn’t have worried; her aunt’s eyes held an excited gleam. “We shall be delighted, my lord. Mr. Edmund Keane performs King Lear. Everyone talks of it. How fortunate that you have obtained seats.”
“Most fortunate,” Guy said. “A friend, Lord Strathairn, has invited us to join him in his box.”
“Indeed.” A pink flush crept over Aunt Emily’s cheeks, and she put her hand to the locket at her throat.
Guy bowed. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Aunt Emily looked pensive when the door closed behind Guy. Then she came to life, clapping her hands. “We must prepare, my dear. Such an evening awaits us!”
Hetty held up her hand to admire her ring as she followed her aunt upstairs. She was surprised and relieved that her aunt seemed to have changed her mind. Why she had was a mystery, but Hetty hoped it would continue for the length of the engagement. However long that would be. She’d given her word to Guy and would not break it.
On Friday evening, Hetty entered Guy’s carriage wearing her sprigged muslin beneath her aunt’s Spitalfield’s velvet evening cloak of rose pink shot through with gold. Her aunt wore purple. Gas lamps lighted their way through the streets. Covent Garden was ablaze, the crowd a fascinating mix, from strolling prostitutes to flower sellers to the most admired members of theton. In the theatre foyer, Guy introduced her aunt and Hetty to the Earl of Strathairn, a handsome, fair-haired man, and his two sisters, the married Lady Eleanor Fitzherbert, and the younger Lady Georgina Haldane, a vivacious brunette not long out of the schoolroom. Hetty envied the young woman’s blush pink gown embroidered with rosebuds, so delicate a fabric it seemed to float around her. “So, you’re the one who has snatched Lord Fortescue from under our very noses,” Lady Georgina said.
“Georgina!” Lady Eleanor chided with an embarrassed laugh. Lady Eleanor, more subdued in saffron silk, was older than her sister by some years and looked more like her brother in appearance. “Welcome to London, Miss Cavendish. You must forgive my sister. Georgina has yet to learn to curb her tongue.”
“Yes, Georgina, do apologize.” Lord Strathairn frowned. “You have offended Miss Cavendish.”
“Oh no, she hasn’t at all.” Hetty smiled warmly at the elegant brother and his two sisters. “I can but hope you’ll forgiveme, Lady Georgina.”
Guy laughed. “Do not be harsh with Lady Georgina, John. She has become my stalwart friend, assisting me in all manner of English ways, of which I confess to ignorance.”
They ascended the crimson velvet-covered stairs to the row of gilt-embossed doors and entered the box. Settled on gilt-legged chairs upholstered in the same crimson velvet, coffee was brought. A din rose up from the seats below. In the boxes opposite, people gossiped and waved.
Hetty leaned forward in her chair as the curtain rose on King Lear’s palace. The audience didn’t cease in their chatter, and many still roamed about when Edmund Kean appeared. Applause broke out. She turned to Guy and found his eyes on her. “Isn’t this exciting?” she whispered.
“Life is exciting, Hetty. If you give yourself up to it.”
Hetty frowned. Sometimes, Guy was like a picture puzzle. She couldn’t fit all the pieces together. There was so much about him she didn’t know. She’d entered this engagement foolishly, the prospect of a season in London tantalizing her so much she’d snatched at it, without thought. What did he really want with her? He was entirely too good at playing the lover. And there was the question of who wished him dead. Poor Eustace seemed incapable of it.
Had evil followed Guy to Digswell from abroad? She turned back to the stage to follow the play. But when the actor’s monologue was drowned out by the audience, her thoughts returned to the man beside her. She must try to think clearly, but he was so annoyingly distracting it was like trying to rise out of deep water.
The box emptied at intermission when everyone other than Guy abandoned it to speak to friends. After Hetty’s aunt excused herself to go to the withdrawing room, Guy leaned close, seemingly oblivious to the curious gazes around them. “I called on Eustace yesterday.”
She studied his face. “How was he?”
“Well enough. When I explained the change to the will to him, he accepted it without rancor. In fact, he seemed disinterested.”
She widened her eyes. “He offered no comment?”
“Merely expressed delight at our engagement. He said he understood that I was concerned for you. But as my wife, should I die before you, without proof of my birth, any legal document would be worthless.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “How frustrating.”
“I am a patient man, Hetty,” he said. A muscle ticked in his cheek, belying his words. “I expect a reply from my sister any day.”
“You will be careful, won’t you, Guy?”
