“Thank you, Spencer,” Richard told him grimly. “I shall endeavor to keep that in mind.” But it was an empty promise. Richard would never be able to tell Mary about the vengeance he’d taken on the man who’d betrayed him. She was too innocent and kind to understand. If she were to discover the truth, her opinion of him would undoubtedly be altered, and for what? What did it matter when he had every intention of being the man whom she thought him to be from now on? One thing was certain. He could not possibly risk losing her—not when she was everything that he had ever dreamed of.
Chapter16
The Thorncliff Terrace, two days later
Seated at the edge of a long row of seats beside Richard, Mary glanced around at the crowd of assembled spectators before returning her attention to the small stage that had been set up in front of them. “Do you see Rotridge anywhere?” she asked as she nervously wafted her fan back and forth.
“Yes,” Richard murmured. “He is sitting on the last row.”
Sucking in a breath, Mary tried to calm her nerves while the orchestra tuned their instruments in preparation for the upcoming performance. She glanced around again. Where was her aunt? She should have been there by now. “This is not going to work,” she heard herself say.
A warm hand settled over hers. “Of course it will,” Richard assured her. “Look, here comes your aunt now. Are you ready?”
Mary shook her head. “No, but what choice do I have?”
She started to pull her hand away from his, but he held on fast. “Rest assured that no matter what happens this evening, I will stand by your side. You have my word on that.”
Feeling a little lighter than before, Mary rose to greet her aunt. “Good evening,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I was afraid that you might not make it on time.”
Lady Foxworth chuckled. “And forego a performance by my favorite soprano? I think not, my dear, though I must say that the air this evening is a little bit chillier than I had expected.”
“Would you like your shawl? I would be happy to fetch it for you.”
“Thank you, Mary. I would appreciate that as long as Mr.Heartly has no issue with me keeping his company until you return.”
Having risen as well, Richard gestured toward the seat that Mary had just vacated. “It would be an honor,” he said. Winking at Mary, he mouthed the words, “Good luck,” before offering Lady Foxworth his complete attention.
Starting toward the French doors that would take her back inside Thorncliff, Mary cast a glance in Rotridge’s direction. He was looking straight at her with one raised eyebrow and a supremely annoying smirk upon his face. Straightening her spine, she inclined her head in greeting before continuing past him, praying that she would be the one to get the better of him this evening and not the other way around.
Returning to her bedchamber, she was met by Amy. “Are you ready, my lady?” she asked.
A nervous sound erupted from Mary’s chest. “Mr.Heartly just asked me the exact same thing.”
“And what did you tell him?” Retrieving a cloak from the wardrobe, Amy handed it to Mary.
“That I will never be ready for something like this.”
“Consider it an adventure.”
Mary snorted. “One that could ruin my reputation forever if it happens to go wrong.”
Amy gave her a faint smile. “That risk has always existed, my lady—ever since you began performing as MissCavalani.”
“I know,” Mary agreed. “Shall we proceed with the performance then and let the cards fall where they may?”
Tying her cloak in place and raising the hood, Mary cracked open the door and peeked out into the hallway. “All clear,” she whispered to Amy as they headed out together.
Reaching the stairwell that she’d used so often for her rendezvous with Richard, Mary descended toward the antechamber while Amy followed behind. “This way,” she said as she opened the door and snuck out into the dark garden beyond. A soft breeze tugged at the hem of her gown as she and Amy made their way along the graveled path toward the terrace. From the lake came the occasional sound of frogs croaking, though it was soon drowned out by the chatter of voices rising from the many guests who’d gathered to watch Lucia Cavalani perform.
Certain that no one could see them arrive, they ascended the steps leading up onto the terrace, arriving directly behind the stage’s thick velvet curtains. A backdrop with only a narrow opening on one side boxed them in, shielding them from anyone who might happen to approach from the garden. “You look wonderful,” Mary told Amy as she took in her appearance. “Thank you for helping me with this.”
“After all that you have done for me, my lady, it is the least that I can do.”
With that said, Amy parted the curtains just enough for her to step up onto the stage while Mary stood back, hidden from sight. A hush immediately descended over the terrace as everyone noted the arrival of the finest opera singer in England. Mary’s heart beat rapidly in her chest, slowing only in response to the first fluid notes of music played by violins. Waiting for her cue, Mary sent up a silent prayer before starting to sing, her voice like a ribbon of silk floating through the night sky. There were five songs in total and as she rounded off the last one with a perfect vibrato, she felt the tension possessing her for the past two days begin to subside.
A brief second of silence passed after the final note had been sung, and then, a cacophony of applause. It was loud and vibrant—deafening even. But rather than stay and listen to it as she usually did, Mary left that task to Amy while she herself disappeared back into the garden.
“Magnificent,” Lady Foxworth said over the loud clapping that filled the air after Lucia Cavalani’s performance.
