Chapter Six #2
“I am afraid, Lord Tilburn, I cannot say much more for my own abilities with Italian.” Her words carried that ever-present nervous quiver at the back of her voice.
In a flash of clarity, James understood something about her.
Miss Lancaster was shy, painfully so, if he didn’t miss his mark.
Little wonder, then, they’d felt the need to coerce someone into calling on her.
Still, she pressed on. “My lack of proficiency has led me to spend my evenings at the opera imagining my own translation of what is said between the performers.”
“Invent it as the evening plods along?” It was a very entertaining solution to the situation. “And what has this evening’s selection been about, according to your translation?”
“Well.” Her brow furrowed as she recounted in mock-serious tones. “The larger man with the dark hair, he is on a quest to ascertain the whereabouts of a misplaced Cornish pasty.”
So unexpected was the remark that James laughed right out loud with enough volume to draw the attention of the nearby boxes as well as that of the duke and duchess.
He bit his lips closed and held back the remainder of his laugh.
“A Cornish pasty?” he repeated once his voice was under control again.
“Not just any Cornish pasty. The most delicious Cornish pasty ever created, hence all of the weeping at the end of act 1.”
He didn’t fight his grin. “Those Italians do take their pasties very seriously.”
“Indeed,” she said with that same small suggestion of a smile he’d seen earlier.
This was a side of her he’d not expected. If only Society were shown even a glimpse of it, she wouldn’t want for attention. But the timidity he sensed in her likely prevented that. Thus the need for securing ready-made friends to keep her company.
“How have you been since last we met?” He wished her to feel enough at ease to continue in lighthearted conversation.
“I have been well, thank you.” Her voice grew slightly steadier. “We received word that my brother is to arrive in London next week. I find myself suddenly less miserable at the prospect of remaining here.”
“I believe you said your brother was a navy man.” He had to think a moment to recall the man’s name. “Linus.”
Again the smallest suggestion of a smile, accompanied by an unmistakable glimmer of gratitude in her eyes. “You remembered.”
“You sound surprised.”
Her color heightened again. “Not many people pay much heed to what I say.”
James knew enough arrogant poppinjays to fully believe she didn’t exaggerate. Too many in Society were too full of their own importance. “It seems to me, Miss Lancaster, not many of those you regularly converse with are terribly bright.”
“One of those people is only fifteen,” she confessed in a tone of exaggerated seriousness. “And she is my sister, which I am certain doesn’t help in the least.”
“Younger siblings are positively unbearable,” he said with a grin.
“I don’t know whether to wholeheartedly agree with you or be offended. I am both an older and a younger sibling, you realize.”
When Miss Lancaster rallied her courage enough to speak, her conversation was quite enjoyable.
Perhaps the duke’s plan wasn’t so preposterous after all.
If a few more people were given the chance to know her, she would likely have a relatively successful Season.
James began to feel a bit more enthusiastic about this latest rescue.
He didn’t mean to set himself up as a suitor nor as the young lady’s very dearest friend, but he could at least help ease her way a bit.
“Did you know, Miss Lancaster, there is quite a crowd gathered just outside this box?”
Some of her color dropped off as her gaze darted to the back of the box. “Why is that, do you suppose?”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I asked that very question and was told they came to call on you and your family but, having heard that one of their ranks was nearly tossed to his untimely death, are now huddled in paralyzing fear in the corridor.”
She leaned a bit closer as well. “They wished to see me? Truly?” Hope warred with doubt in her expression.
“Truly. I spied Mr. Hartford and the Bowers, whom you met during our drive. I saw any number of other young ladies and gentlemen of the ton.”
“That is unexpected,” she said.
“Perhaps in time the ton will rediscover its collective courage.”
She smiled once more. “Adam is convinced they don’t have any.”
“You—”
“Lean in any closer, Tilburn, and I will personally hang you from this balcony by your feet.” The duke sounded utterly serious.
“That will not be necessary.” James stood once more. “I do need to be on my way.” He sketched the briefest of bows. “A pleasure to see you again, Your Grace. Your Grace. Miss Lancaster.”
Miss Lancaster smiled quite prettily, the color still high on her cheeks. He hoped he’d brought her a moment of reprieve from the pressures of Society. He could not quite imagine how difficult the social whirl must be for one who was truly bashful.
He offered her a smile in return. She blushed ever deeper.
As he stepped out of the box and into the corridor, the crowd of nervous theatergoers eyed him with a mixture of awe and incredulity. He could hear more than a few of their whispers.
“The duke didn’t toss Lord Tilburn to his death. That is a good sign.”
“If Lord Tilburn is welcome in the Kielder box, surely someone of my station will be.”
Father would have pointed out that comments such as that one supported his argument that their family severely lacked standing. James had never overly cared for such things. The Tilburns were far from social pariahs. That was good enough for him.
“I am certainly not going to be left standing out here like a goose,” someone else declared as she pushed her way into the box.
Poor Miss Lancaster. James doubted she would appreciate the sudden incursion.
He reached the outer portico of the Theatre Royal and buttoned his coat against the downpour.
The evening had gone well, he thought. He’d kept his word to his father and His Grace.
He’d enjoyed a friendly conversation with Miss Lancaster.
And he’d managed it all without raising any expectations.
He might just navigate his way through these shark-infested waters after all.