14. Chapter 14
Friday night, Emma finished getting ready for the opera.
She had finally decided to hire a lady’s maid for her and Lucy.
As she assessed her reflection in the glass, she decided it was worth the expense.
Her hair was curled and pinned into an intricate coiffure on top of her head.
A few ringlets hung down to rest on her shoulders.
Her dress tonight was a deep blue. The sleeves lay slightly off her shoulder and tapered down to a lacy cuff.
Lucy came into the room with the new maid, Francine, trailing behind her. Lucy looked lovely in a pale pink dress and their mother’s pearls. Emma was just about to send Francine out to hail a hack for them when the doorbell rang. She and Lucy exchanged a look of surprise.
“Well, come on. Let’s go see what that can be about.
” Sliding her feet into her satin slippers, Emma hurried down the hallway.
When she arrived at the top of the stairs, Mrs. Fenway was just opening the door.
The duke’s broad shoulders filled the doorway.
Dressed impeccably in formal black, his white cravat was luminous in stark contrast, and a gold stickpin topped with a fiery ruby winked at her from its elegant folds.
He glanced up and smiled as he doffed his hat.
Then he gave an elegant bow. Dash it all, why did he always have to look so handsome?
She was trying to put her foolish attraction to him behind her, but he kept popping up, looking ever so tempting.
Emma took a deep breath, and with Lucy right behind her, they descended into the foyer.
“Ladies, you both look lovely this evening. Your carriage awaits.”
“Pardon? We were just about to call for our own carriage,” Emma protested.
“Nonsense. I am here to escort you ladies to the opera.”
“But there can’t be room for us all in your carriage,” Emma tried again.
“Jack has my mother, Caroline, and Vivian in the other carriage.” He gestured outside.
Emma walked to the open door. Peering out, she found two grand carriages parked outside.
The window of one was opened, and Caroline’s pretty face appeared, smiling.
She waved enthusiastically. Knowing it would be rude to continue to argue further, Emma waved and stepped back inside.
Lucy’s excitement was evident on her face. “Thank you, Your Grace. Let’s get our wraps, Emma.”
Emma grudgingly agreed that riding in the ducal carriage would certainly be more comfortable than a hired hack. Andrew helped each of them with their wraps and escorted them out to the carriage. Emma sat with her sister on one side of the plush, well-appointed coach, with Andrew across from them.
On the quick trip to the theatre, Andrew gallantly filled the space between them with small talk and polite questions.
She left Lucy to respond and instead looked out the window as the streets rolled by.
The fancy carriage and the dashing man were all too much for Emma tonight.
The familiar feeling of being an imposter filled her.
She didn’t belong here, pretending to be a fine lady that played by the rules.
She belonged to the night. How she wished she could be out skipping along the rooftops, watching the people down below go about their business.
In the night, she was free to go where she wanted.
She didn’t have to make conversation if she didn’t feel like it.
One day, she would have enough money to live at her little country house, Hertford Manor, all by herself.
Once her siblings were grown, that was. She would putter about the gardens or ride out in the countryside on her horse.
No one would need her attention, and no one would tell her what to do.
Emma glanced surreptitiously over at Andrew.
Perhaps he felt her gaze because his eyes shifted to meet hers.
They were filled with good humor as he regaled Lucy with a story about his last trip to the palace.
He gave Emma a wink, and her heart tripped in her chest. She turned her gaze back out the window.
The problem was, since she met the duke, her modest dream of living in the country sounded rather lonely.
Curse him for making her want more than what she could have.
No, she didn’t need anybody. She would be perfectly happy on her own; she would have family to visit and their children to dote on.
Lucy poked her with her elbow. Glancing away from the window, she realized they had arrived. When Andrew helped her out of the carriage, he gave her a quizzical look.
“You seem melancholy tonight.” He held her hand for an extra moment, giving it a squeeze. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, of course.” She put a smile on her face. “I was just enjoying riding in such a fine carriage. I love to see the streets at night. You never know what will appear out of the dark.”
“Indeed.” Andrew grinned. Then he walked over to help his mother alight from her carriage. Emma frowned at his back. What had he meant by that?
Caroline rushed over to stand between her and Lucy. She linked her arms with theirs. “Tonight shall be fun. I adore Italian opera and a good tragedy. I heard that the tenor singing tonight is fabulously handsome.”
Thousands of candles lit the theatre’s interior, and two grand red-carpeted staircases led upstairs to the boxes.
The Gilchrest box had a perfect vantage point to view the stage and, of course, to see and be seen by everyone below.
As she and her sister stood at the balustrade taking in the whole scene, Andrew came up right beside her.
Emma started as he leaned in, her breath catching in her throat.
A whiff of his cologne hit her nose and she closed her eyes briefly letting the smell of sandalwood and soap wash over her. Why was he standing so close?
Andrew smiled as he reached into a small box mounted right by her elbow. He held out two pairs of opera glasses. She let out a shaky breath.
“Oh, how lovely!” Lucy exclaimed.
The opera glasses were delicate, with a lovely filigree pattern etched into the gold-plated handles.
Emma accepted her pair with a small sigh.
What a ninny she was. Gathering the threads of her composure, she turned out to face the theatre, and using her pair, she scanned the crowd.
Her gaze swept through the boxes. She couldn’t help but notice the lovely jewelry worn by the ladies of the ton.
On display were intricate necklaces, gold-and-gemstone earrings dancing in the light, and pearl-and-diamond headpieces tucked artfully into elaborate hairstyles.
A particularly large feathered headdress caught Emma’s attention, and sitting next to the lady was a man she recognized immediately.
Charles looked right at Emma and gave her a quick wink before turning back to his companion.
Emma abruptly put down her glasses. Oh dear, one never knew what Uncle Charles would say or do.
She hoped he would not find an excuse to come up here and try to meet the duke’s family.
The gentle ting, ting, ting of a bell rang out.
“That’s the signal the performance is about to start,” Andrew explained.
He cupped Emma’s elbow and settled her into a chair nearby, taking the seat right next to her.
Caroline sat to his left, with Lucy on the other side of her.
Jack and Vivian settled behind them, and the duchess sat on a settee in the back of the box.
“Doesn’t the duchess want to sit up front?” Emma asked.
Jack leaned forward. “Mother hates heights. She prefers to listen from the back.”
“Truly?” Vivian asked. “How did I not know this?”
“Why doesn’t she just have seats down at the orchestra level then?” Emma asked Andrew quietly as the curtain went up on the stage.
“Because the boxes are the best places to see and be seen. It’s just what’s done.” Andrew shrugged his shoulders.
Emma gave him a sidelong look from under her lashes. “And do you always do what you are supposed to do, Your Grace?” she teased.
“Do you?” Andrew countered. His question held a challenge that made her breath hitch. Luckily, the music started, and she had an excuse to turn from his piercing gaze.
Her first experience watching an opera did not fail to impress.
The music carried her away on a river of emotion.
The story was tragic, but it did not dim her enjoyment.
Life was often tragic. A handkerchief appeared in her lap as she tried to stifle a sniffle right before intermission.
She looked over at Andrew; the corner of his mouth was turned up in amusement.
He probably thought she was silly to cry at the opera.
Grateful for the handkerchief, she gave him a watery smile in return.
When the curtain went down at intermission, everyone stood up to stretch, and a footman appeared with a tray of sparkling wine.
“Ladies, how are you enjoying the performance so far?” Andrew asked.
“Lovely!” Lucy said.
“I don’t understand why the heroine is so tragic,” Vivian declared. “Why doesn’t she just go and track down her lover instead of pining away? I would have found him and demanded to know why he disappeared. Perhaps there is a perfectly good explanation.”
“Darling, you are a unique woman.” Jack leaned down and kissed his wife right in full view for anyone to see.
None of the family seemed fazed by the public display of affection.
Emma looked around and saw dozens of pairs of opera glasses trained on their box.
Her gaze automatically went toward the seats where her uncle had been sitting.
His companion was talking animatedly to her neighbor, the feathers in her headdress bouncing up and down.
But Charles Whittingham was missing from his seat. Uh-oh.
Emma focused her attention back on the conversation. “Sometimes life’s circumstances are beyond our control. She has accepted her lot. It is tragic, but that’s life,” Emma said.