Chapter Seventeen
The Duke of Warrington declared opera as a marriage between poetry and music. “Like art,” he said, looking directly at Tony. “You either love it or hate it. There is no in between.”
“How insightful, brother,” Tony replied. His sarcastic smile made the duke narrow his eyes, but before he could make another remark, Tony set his attention to his sister. “Marianne, you are looking particularly lovely this evening.”
“Thank you, Tony. You are looking dashing, I must say. Black does not suit everyone but on you it looks almost devilish.”
“Well, if I am to play devil’s advocate tonight, I suppose I must dress the part.”
“Oh, but I thought you played that part daily, brother, not just when visiting places of culture and refinement.” The duke sat back, arms crossed.
“I do so for your benefit and no other reason, I assure you.”
Lucinda found herself stifling a laugh. These sorts of interactions between the siblings she used to find confusing, but now she enjoyed them. Would one day she be able to be so playful with her husband?
“Why must you play the devil’s advocate at all? Are you still testing poor Dunstan?”
Marianne’s question made Tony’s brows rise to his hairline. “Poor Dunstan? Why, sister dear, would you prefer Lucinda marry a man who is untested in the arts of negotiation?”
She frowned. “I think we have all gotten the measure of the man and found him suitable. What do you see that we do not?”
“He has manners and charm I suppose, but I have not had a one-on-one with the man about more worldly and serious matters.”
“May I be invited to this conversation? I would dearly love to see what worldly matters you would discuss,” said the duke with a curve of his lips.
The others in the carriage all laughed, except for herself. Was he simply being overcautious, or did he truly believe Dunstan was hiding something?
“Oh, let him be, Edward. Be glad that he is taking his responsibility to Lucinda seriously. He will not see her wed to a man who would not adore her. As lovely as the man has been his lack of other emotions concerns me. I mean who is always patient and never seems bothered by any remark? And believe me, Tony has been almost belligerent to the man, and he has done nothing but smile. It is unnatural.”
“Good lord.” The duke moaned. “Fine. Have at it but do not be surprised if the man gives you a facer when you push him too far.”
The last thing Lucinda wanted was for there to be fisticuffs during intermission.
She knew Tony’s feelings for her were what was pushing him.
What exactly those feelings were, she was not sure.
Were they simply ones of duty? Or had he really come to care for her?
If he had, were they simply brotherly feelings?
Surely not. He had kissed her more than once.
It may have been on the forehead, but it counted.
On the contrary, he had said in the garden yesterday.
She had replayed the scene over and over in her head, trying to make sense of his comment, of him.
“Oh, good, we are here,” Lucinda said when the coach stopped. She did not want the brothers to fight over her or indeed, because of her.
The Theatre Royal was a magnificent building.
Tall marble columns graced the entry where people milled about waiting to get in.
Her heart skipped a beat in excitement. After the wonderful musicale night, she had longed to hear more beautiful music, more angelic voices.
The chill of the night made her wrap her cloak tightly around her.
Tony ushered her up the stairs with a hand to her back as the duke led the way.
She was astonished at the level of curtseys and bows directed at the duke as he made his way up the stairs.
He made no fuss about it, no doubt used to it.
As soon as they went through the doors, a wall of noise assailed her.
A cacophony of discordant sounds that hurt her ears.
The overwhelming scent of various perfumes made her lightheaded.
Attendants took her cloak and ushered her up several flights of stairs to their box, a red velvet–clad room with eight chairs.
They were high up on the right-hand side, and she could clearly see the stage below.
“Gas light is being used to light the stage,” the duke informed her. She wasn’t even sure what gas light was, but it illuminated the front of the stage in a golden glow, and huge crimson curtains hid the treasures of tonight’s entertainment.
Another attendant was standing just outside the box offering champagne, and Lucinda was amazed by the bubbles that formed when the servant opened and poured the pale liquid. It tickled her nose when she tried to drink it.
“Take it easy on the champagne or it will go to your head,” warned Tony as they waited for Dunstan to arrive.
She ignored him and took another sip, and then another.
Amid the general noise around her she turned to find Dunstan bowing towards the duke.
He spoke a few words which made Edward’s eyebrows rise in something like interest. He then bowed over the hands of Marianne and her mother.
When it was her turn and he kissed the top of her hand, she giggled.
He glanced at her other hand holding the champagne and smiled and for once she saw that it reached his eyes.
He really did have nice eyes, gray with small golden flecks.
“Your first opera and I am guessing your first champagne?”
She tilted her chin and replied, “Yes and yes.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy both and that neither give you a bad head come tomorrow.” He smiled again, amusement clear on his face. When he turned away from her she frowned, not really sure what his warning was all about.
Tony coughed behind her and took her glass off her. “I think that is enough for you for one night.”
“Give that back!” she growled, but he just pushed her gently into her chair.
“You may have some later. You do not want to ruin your first opera do you?”
You may have some later, she mocked under her breath. Marianne thrust a pair of glasses on a stick to her. “These are opera glasses. If you look through them you can see the stage better.”
She followed instructions, amazed at how well they worked. She watched as other people took their seats in other boxes as well as below. She recognized many whom she had met at various balls and social events.
Suddenly the room fell silent, and music floated towards her, and the curtains opened. The cast of people scurried here and there before one of them began to sing.
“What language are they singing in?” she asked Dunstan.
He leaned over and whispered, “Italian. The story is summarized in the booklet on your lap.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling a little foolish. She quickly read it before turning her attention back to the stage. It wasn’t long before, swept up in the music, the colors, and costumes, she lost all sense of where she was. Lost in the music.
When the curtains closed, she realized that not only had she been holding her breath, but her hand was on Dunstan’s thigh. She snatched it away, horrified.
“I am so sorry,” she began, joining in the clapping with everyone else.
“Nobody noticed,” he said. “I could see the performance had enchanted you. It was delightful to watch.”
“I am dreadfully embarrassed.”
“Why would you say that? There is nothing wrong with enjoying new experiences.”
She smiled at him, and he smiled at her and she thought, I just might like to have more first experiences with this man.
“Let me get you an orange and perhaps another champagne?”
“Oh, yes, please.” He rose and left the box, and she sighed happily.
“Enjoying yourself?” Tony sat in Lord Dunstan’s chair.
“Yes. I am. I will write to Miss Covington about this night in great detail.”
“I am sure she will be delighted. Will you describe how you gripped an unmarried man’s thigh for half the performance and was not forced to marry him?”
“It was not for half the performance, and I was unaware that I had done it at all. It was an accident,” she hissed between her teeth.
“Oh, I do beg pardon. My mistake.”
“Do not ruin this night for me. Please.”
“I am sure you will soon be able to put your hand on his thigh or any other part of him and he will have no objection.”
She stared at him, fury making her face heat.
“I mean, when you are married, of course. That is, if he asks. He may have thought you far too forward.”
He may as well have slapped her across the face. If he wanted to hurt her, to make her feel bad about herself, he had succeeded.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said after studying her face.
“I rather think you did. I have been duly chastised, thank you.” She turned away from him before he saw the tears in her eyes. She battled to keep her composure. Did he not know her at all?
He wanted to kill the bloody Earl of bloody Dunstan.
The man returned with slices of oranges and another bottle of champagne.
Oranges were no doubt a first for Lucinda as well.
Most likely smuggled from Valencia, Spain.
She and his sister laughed and delicately ate their treats, washing it all down with the sparkling wine of their enemy.
He could not contain the anger he felt. He could not even articulate why he was so angry. Even to himself.
“What is wrong with you?” Edward pulled him out of the box and into the hall. “You look fit to rip someone’s head off and I will tell you now I will not have it. Not at the bloody Theatre Royal. Do you understand?”
“I can control myself; you have no need to fear a scandal.”
“Good. Who has got your blood boiling anyway? Surely not Dunstan. He is a smart and articulate man and has done nothing untoward towards either Marianne or Lucinda.”
“You would not understand.”
“You may be surprised by what I understand. Although I have my theories on this matter already.”
“Well, then I do not need to explain it if you already know.”