And then she saw him, walking into a box opposite. Behind him were his parents, the duke and duchess, dressed resplendently. Then another young man entered, who looked a little like Lord Sebastian. Charlotte frowned. His brother, perhaps? And finally, another older couple entered, followed by a young lady. Charlotte’s frown deepened. It was the golden-haired lady who had interrupted them at the ball, whisking his lordship away.
The young lady was making a show of seating herself, spreading out the skirt of her gossamer white gown. Her golden hair was woven with intricate small braids, all interloping into an impressive style. But the most eye-catching sight was the Pomeranian bonnet she wore: white satin and silver frosted velvet topped with two arching ostrich feathers. She was a sight to behold, and she knew it. Lord Sebastian’s brother kept glancing at her admiringly, but she pointedly ignored him. Instead, she seemed eager to engage Lord Sebastian himself, who was answering her in monosyllables, by the look of it.
“The Duke and Duchess of Richley have arrived,” said the countess, gazing at the box through her opera glasses. “And their two sons. Who is that with them?” She squinted her eyes slightly. “I declare it is Lord and Lady Hastings, and their daughter. She is quite a beauty.”
“She would want to be,” snorted the earl. “Their wealth has dwindled considerably. Hastings will be wanting to marry her highly, make no mistake about that. What is the daughter’s name again?”
“I think it is Alicia,” replied the countess. “Her gown and bonnet are the height of fashion. Are you sure they are in difficulties? They are all dressed as if money is no object.”
“A ploy,” muttered the earl. “They don’t want Richley to know.”
Charlotte tried to stop looking at them, but it was as if her eyes were glued to the box. The same hot, ugly feeling she had felt when she had watched Lord Sebastian and the young lady together at the duke’s ball was rising in her breast once again. Alicia. The golden-haired beauty who was so close to the family that she and her parents were being entertained in their private opera box, no less. And there was no mistaking Alicia’s intentions. They were firmly pointed towards Lord Sebastian, as sharp as an arrow.
Charlotte sighed heavily, blinking back tears. There never was a more foolish woman in the world than herself. How could she have even begun to think that Lord Sebastian actually admired her when he had such a luminous beauty fawning all over him? He had been merely flirting with her at the assembly, as any young gentleman would do, if given half the chance.
The lights dimmed and a hush came over the crowd. The opera was about to commence. Charlotte tried to tear her gaze away from the Richley box. But just as she was succeeding, turning her head towards the stage, Lord Sebastian turned around and saw her.
Their eyes met. He inclined his head towards her. Overcome, she smiled. But then the young lady whispered something in his ear and he turned away once more.
Charlotte set her eyes firmly on the stage, blinking back tears. She was here to enjoy the opera. Nothing else. Part of her new philosophy to enjoy her passions to the fullest. What did she care if Lord Sebastian and the golden-haired beauty were close? It had nothing to do with her. Nothing at all.
***
Charlotte leaned forward in her seat, eyes glued to the stage. It was almost the end of Act One and Orlando, the hero soldier in Charlemagne’s army, was declaring his love to the pagan princess Angelica.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting Orlando’s aria of love to Angelica wash over her. It was beautiful, full of such emotion and longing that the notes seemed to pierce her heart. No, it was more than beautiful, she thought. It was sublime.
She was so overcome with the beauty of it that she was unable to stop a single tear from trickling down her cheek. She opened her eyes, wiping it away hastily. And in that moment she sensed that she was being watched. She turned her head.
Lord Sebastian was staring straight at her. And she could tell that he had seen the tear falling down her face. His face tightened. It was as if she could sense the corresponding emotion that the aria was evoking in him.
Abruptly her father snored, causing consternation in her mother, who leaned forward and prodded him in the back. George and Diana giggled quietly. Charlotte turned around to see what the commotion was about. And when she looked back towards the box, he was already staring back at the stage.
“Ernest!” hissed her mother. “Wake up, my lord, before you cause a scandal.”
“What?” The earl jumped in his seat, opening his eyes. He gazed around bewildered. “I was awake, I tell you!”
George and Diana collapsed into a fit of breathless laughter. Charlotte’s mouth twitched into a smile. The moment was lost, well and truly. Almost as if it had never happened.
***
After the opera had ended, the patrons streamed into the foyer, talking loudly. The beau monde mingled, clutching tall glasses of champagne. A group ensnared the earl and countess as well as Diana as soon as they exited. Charlotte wove further through the crowd with George, delighting in the snatches of conversation she heard as they drifted by.
“Miss Josephine Hardy’s performance was exemplary,” said one gentleman loudly to a group. “I don’t think I have ever seen a better rendering of Angelica. Mark my words, she is destined for greatness.”
The gentlemen laughed. “I think we all know that you are more enamoured of the lady than the performance, Rigby,” said another. “We all saw you cosying up to her at Lady Vale’s establishment late last night.”
The man named Rigby reddened, causing further hilarity in the group. George took Charlotte’s arm, steering her firmly away. “Don’t listen to them, Charlotte. Sometimes gentlemen can be … indiscreet after a few champagnes.”
Charlotte turned to her brother, gazing at him warmly. “I am not as innocent as you imagine me, George. I have heard of Lady Vale’s before. It is a gentlemen’s club, located in one of the lodgings above the shops on Bond Street, is it not?”
George gaped at her. “By my word, Lottie. How do you know of it?”
Charlotte smiled. “The servants, of course. Dulcie tells me everything. She talks about the tarts on Bond Street sometimes. She says that if they wore any more rouge their faces would surely crack.”
George burst out laughing. Charlotte joined in, until they were gripping their sides trying to contain it.
“Have I missed the joke?” said a deep voice behind them. Charlotte spun around, almost colliding with Lord Sebastian. She blushed, furiously.
“No, My lord,” she stammered, fanning herself. “Not at all. My brother and I were being a bit silly, that was all.”
“A private joke,” offered George, smiling broadly. “Shall I get us some champagne, Lottie?”
“Please,” she said desperately. He disappeared into the crowd. She turned back to Lord Sebastian. “I am sorry. We sometimes forget that we are in company.”
“No need to apologise,” he replied, smiling. “My brother and I are the same. My mother despairs of us often.” He paused. “You look radiant tonight, Lady Charlotte.”
She blushed again. “It is the heat of the crowd, I am sure.”
“Did you enjoy the performance?” His green eyes narrowed slightly. “I am certain I saw a tear fall down your face toward the end of the first act.”
“I had something in my eye,” she stammered, looking down at the floor. “But to answer your question, yes, I enjoyed it very much. It was … amazing.”
He nodded, not pushing her, but she could tell he knew she was lying. He had seen her in the grip of that strong emotion, and he had shared it. She had not imagined that moment. But she could not admit to it. Somehow it made her feel vulnerable, as though he had watched her in an intimate act. Something private, that she could barely articulate.
And she barely knew him. How was it possible that she felt such a strong connection with this gentleman? Was it merely fancy … or was there something else at play? Nothing had prepared her for th
is. She suddenly felt as though she were adrift at sea, clinging frantically to a branch.
She saw the golden-haired beauty named Alicia weaving her way through the crowd towards them, the feathers in her bonnet swaying dramatically. Charlotte’s heart tightened imperceptibly.
“There you are!” The lady stood before him proudly, as if she had just won a prize. “You rushed off, my lord. One minute you were standing beside me, and the next …” her voice trailed away as she gazed at Charlotte. Her blue eyes were cold.
Lord Sebastian coughed. “Miss Drake, may I introduce you to Lady Charlotte Lumley? Her family have a box here as well.”
“My lady,” said Alicia frostily, barely curtseying.
“Madam,” said Charlotte, inclining her head.
Alicia’s eyes swept over Charlotte, taking in her simple, streamlined silk gown, unadorned except for a whisper of lace at the décolletage, and her curling dark hair set with a small antique comb. Charlotte felt like she was being assessed and found wanting. But more than that, Alicia’s eyes were bewildered. As if she couldn’t understand in the slightest why Lord Sebastian would even be giving Charlotte the time of day.
Alicia turned to Lord Sebastian, almost blocking out Charlotte entirely. It was deliberate and it was rude. Charlotte felt a hot rush of anger.
“Did you enjoy the performance, Miss Drake?” she asked loudly.
Alicia slowly turned back towards her, her eyes dismissive. “It was … tolerable, Lady Charlotte. A bit boring, I must say. I much preferred The Beggar’s Opera.” She smiled tightly. “This one was so stuffy and old-fashioned. All those singing parts that went on and on.” She giggled into her fan.
“You are referring to the arias, I assume?” Charlotte’s voice was cold. “But they are the cornerstones of the art, madam. Orlando was one of Handel’s greatest.”
“I agree,” said Lord Sebastian, his green eyes flashing. “Handel was one of the best composers. But he has fallen out of favour.”
“It is the way of it,” said Charlotte, sighing. “The old must make way for the new. But I still believe that there is a place for dramatic operas. They can co-exist beside the pantomimes and lighter works if they are given a chance to shine.”
He nodded eagerly. “The proof, Lady Charlotte, is in how full the theatre is tonight. People want to see the great works still, even if the pantomimes are more popular.” His voice softened as he gazed at her. “They are the only ones that can touch our souls, in a way we can barely understand, or articulate.”
They gazed at each other, their eyes alight with passion. Alicia frowned, staring from one to the other.
“What a pretty gown,” she said loudly. “I must declare I would never think to wear something so … simple, Lady Charlotte.” She paused. “But somehow, it suits you.” She smiled, batting her fan. “My lord, my parents will be wondering where I am, and I simply cannot battle through this crowd alone.” She gazed at him expectantly.
Lord Sebastian sighed, frowning. “Of course, Miss Drake.” He held out his arm to her. “Good evening, Lady Charlotte. It has been a pleasure, as always.”
Charlotte curtseyed, and they drifted off into the crowd. She watched them for a moment. Then suddenly George was by her side again, champagne glasses in hand. He followed her gaze.
“That is a gold-digger if ever I saw one,” he said, handing her a glass. “She’s a beauty, that’s for certain. But I certainly wouldn’t want to get ensnared in her web. She looks like she eats men and spits them out for breakfast.”
“George!” Charlotte slapped him on the arm. “That is no way to talk about a lady.”
George shrugged. “Be careful, Lottie. I know what women like that are like. And if she perceives that you are a threat, she could turn nasty.”
Chapter 8
Sebastian lounged back on the long white picnic rug, gazing around. It had taken more than half an hour for the servants to transport everything they had needed to this grassy knoll overlooking the river in Hyde Park.
His eyes trailed over it all. A long table, groaning underneath the weight of all the food his mother had insisted upon, as well as cutlery and crockery. Two outdoor chairs, for the duchess and Lady Hastings. His mother had wanted to bring chairs for the ‘younger folk’, as she termed them, as well. But here he had put his foot down.
“It is a picnic, Mother,” he told her, a bit impatiently. “Percy and I can sit on the rug.”
The duchess blinked. “But what of Miss Drake? She might not enjoy reclining in the outdoors as much as you and your brother do.” She had shaken her head. “You are both such savages.”
Sebastian shrugged. “Bring a chair for Miss Drake if you must. I hardly care where she parks herself.”
“Sebastian!” His mother looked thunderous. “How can you say such a thing? I thought you were getting along marvellously with her. And she was the talk of the town after her appearance at the opera.”
Sebastian shrugged again, not bothering to contradict her. Sometimes it was simply too much effort where his mother was concerned. He was not getting along with Miss Drake. It was only that the duchess insisted he accompany her everywhere. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried. He had talked to her and found that she bored him as much as all the other young ladies his mother had deemed ‘suitable’.
He knew other gentlemen were envious when they saw the exquisite Miss Drake on his arm. He had seen their sidelong glances as they took in her golden beauty and fine clothes. But he cared not a whit for any of it. As far as he was concerned, she tried too hard. That ridiculous bonnet she had worn at the opera, for example. A display of ostentation, to draw attention, if he ever saw it.
He sighed, staring at her now. She was perched gingerly on the edge of the picnic rug, as if afraid that mere contact with the ground would soil her pristine gown. She never once lowered her parasol, squinting at the sun as though it was her enemy. Not an outdoor girl, thought Sebastian darkly. His mother had been right – she would have preferred a chair. But he was kind of glad that they hadn’t brought one for her. He was a little ashamed of it, but he was taking an almost perverse delight in her discomfort.
“How are you faring, my precious?” asked Lady Hastings, almost falling off her chair as she moved her bulk from side to side.
“I am well, Mama,” she answered stiffly, staring with alarm at a beetle marching across the rug. She flicked at it with her hand.
“It won’t kill you,” said Sebastian drily. “In fact, I rather think that it is more afraid of you than you are of it.”
But Percy had already leapt to her aid, picking up the offensive insect and depositing it on a tree. He turned back to Alicia, an expectant look in his eyes. But if he expected effusive thanks he was sorely mistaken. Alicia smiled prettily at him, then turned back to Sebastian, fixing him with her blue eyed gaze.
He sighed deeply. He was already bored, and they had only been here for a little under an hour. How much longer was he expected to make small talk with Miss Drake and Lady Hastings? If it were just he and Percy, they could have gone for a long jaunt to pass the time.
“I might take a stroll,” he said suddenly, jumping up.
Everybody looked alarmed. But before they could say anything – namely that Miss Drake should accompany him – he took off, heading towards the river.
He smiled slowly as he approached it. Three figures were walking in the distance. Two ladies, parasols in hand, and a gentleman.
He watched the smaller of the ladies carefully. She was dressed in a plain blue gown with no adornment and a matching bonnet with a small white frill around the edge. She turned, and stared out over the water, watching the ducks and swans gliding by. His heart started to beat a little faster.
Lords to Be Enamored With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 62
