Tentatively.
This launched a little war in Magnus’s thoughts. He frankly suspected he would enjoy a donkey race more than he’d enjoy an opera, for one thing. Alexandra’s wistfulness triggered his regrettable itch to give her anything she wanted, and it irritated him that some reflexive part of him apparently still craved to be her vassal. He also still felt a trifle guilty again that she’d apparently been somewhat deprived of entertainments for about five years. Guilt he mostly didn’t deserve, but there it was.
And what kind of man took his wife to an illicit nighttime donkey race?
This was not a dilemma he’d ever anticipated confronting.
“I’m a conspicuous person,” Brightwall began carefully. He was thinking aloud. “I don’t want to put a damper on the occasion if someone recognizes me. Especially if the donkey is named Brightwall. And given that it’s illegal... talk about being in the belly of the beast. Literally.”
Alexandra regarded him evenly. “It will be dark.”
He stared at her. Something about that sentence sounded both like a promise and a dare.
Both Delacorte and Dot briefly covered their mouths with their hands, hardly daring to hope.
“Maybe if you wear a disguise?” Delacorte suggested to Brightwall.
“I don’t think I have a dress big enough to fit Magnus,” Alexandra said.
Everyone chuckled, albeit cautiously.
“Itwillbe dark, and if there’s a crowd, I doubt anyone will be able to recognize me,” Magnus allowed slowly.
Alexandra and Dot and Mr. Delacorte all clasped their hands and crossed their fingers.
They swiveled toward Angelique when she leaped to her feet.
“Delilah and I are just going to have a little private word. We’ll be right back,” Angelique said briskly.
Delilah looked at her, surprised. “Where are we go—”
Angelique looped her arm through Delilah’s and tugged her from her chair, marching her startled friend to stand beneath the chandelier, out of the hearing of everyone in the room.
“Think about it,” Angelique whispered without preamble. “Helga and the maids have gone up to their rooms for the night. If they all go out... we’ll bealonehere. With Tristan and Lucien. How often are we ever alone here with them? Never.”
Delilah mulled this for three seconds.
“I guess Dot is going to the donkey races,” she concluded.
They returned to the group in the room and settled back into their chairs.
“You really want to do this?” Magnus said to his wife.
Alexandra nodded. “I’m certain Mr. Delacorte would be pleased to look out for me and Dot if you prefer not to go, Magnus.”
For the second time this evening, everyone else’s eyes widened in wary surprise. Mr. Delacorte looked downright alarmed. His mouth parted, as if he was about to issue a disclaimer about taking another man’s wife to a race.
He clapped it closed again.
Alexandra had said it so innocently. But there was somethingjusta little anarchic about the glint in her eyes and the slight hike of her chin.
Magnus’s lips moved in a slow, faint, mostly unamused smile. She wasn’t quite saying, “I’m going whether you allow it or not, Magnus,” but the implication hovered about the edges of her words, and everyone knew it. She was daring him to refuse her in front of these people. And leaving him to wonder whether she might cause a little bit of a scene if he did.
Damned if he didn’t admire the diabolical strategy. It darkly amused and infuriated him, in equal measure. She had bloodymaneuveredhim.
It took all of his discipline to tamp all of his colonel instincts and issue a flat “no” on the principle of the thing.
“While I’m certain Mr. Delacorte would acquit himself well as an escort for you ladies,” he said, with gentle irony, because he was a diplomat, too, “you will need to contend with my company, too. We will take my carriage.”
