Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“Have you forgiven me?” Evelyn asked with restrained hope, as the carriage rattled through the streets of London, headed for the Opera House.
She had been at Selina’s residence for most of the day, and, at her friend’s insistence, now wore one of the resplendent gowns that Selina was known for.
Evelyn could not help but feel it was a subtle sort of punishment, for her friend knew she did not like to wear extravagant things, but if it meant that Selina proceeded with these five excursions, then so be it.
“I am undecided,” Selina replied, looking astoundingly beautiful in a gown of claret red.
Then again, she could have worn a potato sack and would have resembled a princess: raven black hair, moonlight pale skin, not a freckle in sight, with eyes so dark that many a gentleman had gotten lost in them, she was the epitome of beauty.
The kind men went to war for, and women prayed to be blessed with.
And though she might have been just a baron’s daughter, the baron in question had made a rather immense fortune for himself in trade, which had no doubt cut one of the tempting facets that had made Selina the diamond of the Season.
“I do not think I could bear it if you could not forgive me,” Evelyn said, shifting uncomfortably in her own gown of midnight blue.
Selina rolled her eyes, groaned, and replied, “You know I cannot stay cross with you, Evie, but you should understand this: I will not be attending any of these outings alone. And I am not referring to the presence of a chaperone.” She looked at Evelyn.
“You got me into this mess, so you will be there on every excursion. Otherwise, I will not attend at all and what you paid for will amount to one trip to the opera.”
“But… it was difficult enough trying to get my father’s permission to attend tonight,” Evelyn protested.
There had been no argument as such, just her father’s usual belittling.
“What reason could you possibly have to attend the opera? You have no musical talent whatsoever,” he had said the previous day, when she had begun her entreaty.
“I do not think you need musical talent to watch an opera, Father,” she had replied, perhaps a little too sarcastically. “I have been invited by my friend. There will be lots of people there. I hear gentlemen are fond of ladies who show an interest in such things.”
In the end, it was Matthew who had come to her aid, which had surprised her somewhat. She could not remember the last time he had done something nice for her… or even the last time he had acknowledged her presence beyond, “Evelyn, would you pass me the preserves” at breakfast.
“Might be good for her,” Matthew had said with a shrug. “It is not as if she will find herself a husband here with us, and time is rather running out for her. Say, the friend you mentioned; that would not happen to be Miss Parsons, would it?”
Everyone had heard of Selina. Everyone fell in love with Selina.
When Evelyn stood next to her dearest friend, it was like a magic trick: she could disappear completely, made invisible by Selina’s shadow.
And though that might have destroyed many a friendship in society, with jealousies and inferiorities cracking a rift between two ladies, Evelyn did not mind at all.
It had wounded her at first, perhaps, but she had come to realize that she would rather have a friend than be visible to the gentlemen of the ton.
Besides, how could she resent her friend for something she had no control over? It was hardly Selina’s fault that she had been born so beautiful.
“Either you accompany me, Evie…” Selina said, pointedly.
Evelyn groaned. “Or you will not attend at all. Yes, I heard you.” She gave a small nod. “Very well. No matter how hard I have to work to persuade my family, I shall be with you on every step of this… new adventure.”
“I suppose it is nice to have something to do when I would otherwise be at home, waiting for the post to arrive,” Selina relented with a smile. “It has been an age since I attended the opera.”
Evelyn relaxed a little. “You see. If nothing else, it shall be entertainment for you.”
She considered asking if Selina had informed Sir Anthony of the auction and her prize, but thought better of it.
She did not want to bring that man into conversation if she did not have to.
Indeed, the less Sir Anthony knew, the better, in case he did do something rash like ask Selina to marry him, only to break her heart later.
Upon their arrival at the Opera House, Hugo was already waiting for them in the grand foyer.
He looked resplendent in all black, aside from his white shirt, his opera cloak draped dramatically as if he were the famed tenor about to take to the stage.
His top hat sat at a slight jaunt, but it was his ready smile that he wore best of all.
“Miss Parsons,” he said, bowing low, much to the swooning delight of several ladies who were strategically clustered nearby.
Selina curtsied in return, with a touch more enthusiasm than she had shown at the ball. “Your Grace.”
Evelyn curtsied too, though the duke did not seem to notice. Indeed, who would look at a pigeon beside a dove? Who would take note of a sparrow beside a raven?
“You look as if you are on your way to the palace for a most regal engagement,” Hugo said, as he took Selina’s hand and kissed her glove gently. “Might you be a secret princess in disguise, Miss Parsons? Have you escaped that stuffy place to be with the bright young things of London?”
Selina rolled her eyes. “I believe I must be the wrong audience for your compliments, Your Grace.”
She gestured vaguely in the direction of the giddy young women in the foyer, as Evelyn’s hopes dwindled within her.
Surely, there must be a way to get Selina to see the merit of Hugo St. Vincent.
He was the Season’s most eligible bachelor and Selina was the Season’s most eligible young lady: how could they not be a match for one another?
You are too stubborn by far, Selina, Evelyn lamented silently.
Sir Anthony was not even that handsome, had very little to offer in his character, and brooded with such determination that she doubted he had a sense of humor at all.
What Selina saw in such a beastly man; Evelyn did not have the faintest notion.
“I relish a challenge, Miss Parsons,” Hugo said, undeterred. “You do not stroll up a meager hill when there is a magnificent mountain to be climbed. Indeed, why pick daisies that grow in abundance when there might be a rare bloom waiting where few have dared to tread before?”
Selina puffed out a sigh. “My ankle is sore again. I should like to sit down.”
“Certainly, Miss Parsons.” Hugo offered his arm and, with a moment of reluctance, Selina took it, allowing herself to be led through the red-draped hallways of the opera house to the seclusion of a private box.
Evelyn hurried along behind, secretly thrilled that, for the first time in her twenty-two years, she would be permitted to sit inside a private box.
Her father hated the opera, but on the rare occasions that her brothers had taken her, they had been seated wherever the tickets were cheapest. Never in her life did she think she would get to sit in a private box.
Inside that hideaway, with such a view of the stage that it took Evelyn’s breath away, Selina broke off from Hugo before he could even help her to her seat.
For a moment, he frowned, as if the novelty of the challenge was wearing off somewhat.
“It is her ankle,” Evelyn jumped in. “She is not usually in such a temper, but I fear it is the pain making her… not quite herself.”
Hugo turned sharply, blinking in something like surprise as he set those unusual eyes on Evelyn. It was like a trick in some ways, how she could suddenly become visible again once Selina had withdrawn her attention from whomever sought it.
“You were at the ball,” he said, tilting his head to get a better look at her. “You must be the chaperone.”
Evelyn cleared her throat. “Not exactly. I am Miss Parsons’ friend. The chaperone is… just outside. She does not care for the opera; it gives her a headache.”
In truth, Selina’s chaperone was of a somewhat… lazy nature, who preferred to let her ward do as she pleased. It suited both women perfectly, though it was part of the reason that Sir Anthony had been allowed to get so close to Selina in the first place.
“I see.” Hugo drew in a breath. “Well, do sit.”
Evelyn dipped her head. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
She slipped into the seat just behind her friend, while Hugo settled into the chair beside Selina.
There was a polite distance between them, though it might as well have been a crevasse; Selina would not even look at him, leaning forward over the lip of the balcony, no doubt to see who else was in attendance that night.
“Do you enjoy the opera, Your Grace?” Evelyn asked, hoping to draw Selina into the conversation.
Hugo turned slightly. “Not as such. I much prefer to watch the people watching the performance.” His gaze flitted to Selina. “I once saw Lord Foster erupt into tears, if you can believe it. He tried to pretend it was a bout of indigestion, coughing and spluttering, but I know what I saw.”
“Lord Foster? Goodness, I would not have thought it possible!” Evelyn played into the surprise, though it was rather hard to believe.
Lord Foster was said to be the dullest gentleman alive, who never spoke at dinner parties, and stood blank-faced and unsmiling at balls, so tedious that he was not even invited into the smoking room with the rest of the gentlemen.
To think that he might have been moved by the opera was actually rather sweet.
“You know him?” Hugo asked.
“I know of him,” Evelyn replied. “Miss Parsons met him once. Did you not, Selina? Did he not try to talk to you about masonry?”
Selina looked back at Evelyn. “Perhaps. I cannot recall.”