Grace pursed her lips. She went to the back of the box and peeked out. Cecilia followed her. Grace’s head jerked to the left.
“What is it?” Cecilia whispered.
“I thought I saw someone watching.” Grace stepped out into the dimly lighted aisle.
Again, Cecilia followed, wondering at the strange sense of dread that filled her. They were in a hall at the opera, not a back alley. Through a nearby curtain, the card playing ladies chattered amiably. “I don’t see anyone.”
“There’s no one now,” Grace agreed.
Cecilia looked about. With the curve of the theatre, it was difficult to see far. She rubbed her palms against the thick fabric of her gown.
Grace shrugged. She turned back to Cecilia and pointed toward one of the curtained off alcoves set at intervals along the outer wall. They served a variety of purposes, but one was discretion. “Get in there and don’t come out until I fetch you. You’re undoubtedly who they want. I’ll wait in the box and send them away.”
“Are you certain?” It seemed hardly fair to make Grace deal with the Everlys while she hid.
“Of course.”
“What if they won’t go?”
Grace raised her eyebrows. “They’ll go.”
“I can help.”
Grace was shaking her head even as Cecilia spoke. “You’re too kind. If they speak to you, they’ll be dining with us tomorrow evening, or collecting you for a ride in the park, or something equally unacceptable. Leave getting rid of them to me.”
A frown pulled at Cecilia’s lips. She was inexperienced, true, but she wasn’t a child and she wasn’t Lanora, used to Grace’s ways. She was three and twenty and not accustomed to taking orders.
“Quick, someone’s coming,” Grace hissed at the same moment Cecilia heard the approaching footfalls. “I’ll get you when they’re gone.”
Cecilia let out a little squeak as Grace shoved her toward the curtained alcove. She straightened her shoulders and hurried the rest of the distance of her own free will. She truly didn’t wish to converse with Mister Everly and didn’t want to tell Grace why. She supposed she was fortunate Grace ordered her away. Cecilia slipped into the darkness behind the curtain. Without, she could hear Grace’s quick steps scurry back toward their box.
Unsettled, Cecilia drew in a slow breath. She unclenched her fingers and smoothed her palms along her gown again. Without, she heard more footsteps. Moments later, the sound of Missus Everly’s voice reached her. Worse, she heard Edmond Everly. Muffled by two layers of curtains and the intervening hall, she couldn’t distinguish the words, which she counted as a boon.
She took a breath, then another, then realized she wasn’t the only one breathing in the dark alcove. “Who’s there?” she hissed.
“Ah, that is, Mister Porter, at your service, my lady,” a man’s voice said quietly.
Cecilia went still. “Mister Porter?” she repeated. She wished Grace had given her a candle. “Whatever are you doing hiding in here?”
“I, ah, was hiding from you, my lady.”
His whispered voice was light. It came from slightly above her and across the alcove. Cecilia bit her lip, wondering if she should remain with this unknown gentleman or risk Edmond Everly. “Why?”
“Why was I hiding or why from you, my lady?” Mister Porter whispered.
Cecilia blinked. “Were you hiding from me, specifically?” Mister Porter certainly didn’t seem sinister. Across the way, she could still make out the Everlys’ voices. Mister Everly, she reflected, was a known displeasure.
“Yes, I was specifically hiding from you.”
“Have we met?” Were all men mad?
“Oh, no, my lady. You see, that is, I’m an aficionado. Of the exploration of Egypt.”
Yes, indeed, all men were quite mad. “You do realize I am not an explorer? I was on the Mediterranean, true, but I never crossed to Egypt.”
“Yes, yes of course I do.” There was a rustle of fabric as he shifted weight. “But you are an intimate of Lord Robert Hadler.”
“We are well acquainted,” she allowed, curious what Mister Porter would ask. Her eyes, adjusting to the dim light filtering in around the edges of the curtain, could make out a tall, lean form, but nothing more.
“You see, I’ve been to every lecture.” Mister Porter’s whispered words tumbled forth. “I’ve been trying for months to meet him. I’m a poor attorney, a second son of a family that’s already of no consequence. I haven’t managed to insinuate myself into Lord Robert’s presence, and rumor says he will depart England again after his final lecture.”
“I’m afraid he isn’t here tonight.” Given the hope in Mister Porter’s voice, Cecilia felt mild sorrow as she imparted the news.
“I know. He never seems to go anywhere, which is why, when I saw you, I thought I would introduce myself and ask if you could arrange a meeting, but my courage failed me and… Well, I hid.”
She could all but hear the grimace in his voice. He sounded so forlorn, pity tugged at her heart. She could see how a man too timid to breach social norms and introduce himself to her would have a difficult time approaching Lord Robert, even assuming he could get near the duke.
Music echoed down the hallway without. Cecilia sighed. The second act had begun. She couldn’t hear the Everlys now, but Grace would have come if they were gone.
“Is all well, my lady? I couldn’t help but hear you sigh.”
“I’m missing the opera.”
“You were enjoying Così fan Tutte?”
Cecilia smiled. “I was. The music, the singing…even the story. How grand to see women portrayed as so strong and faithful.”
“Ah, you have not seen this opera before? Read of it?”
She shook her head. Realizing Mister Porter might not be able to see her, she whispered back, “I have not. This is my first encounter with the work.”
“If I may, you will not appreciate the second act. The ladies acquiesce. They’re found faithless.”
“Oh, how trying,” she said, dismayed. “What do their gentlemen do?”
“Forgive them, based on the notion that ladies can be no more than they are, and what they are is fickle, faithless creatures.” His whispered words were laden with apology.
“Well.” Cecilia pressed her lips together, anger sparking in her. “I am pleased not to sit through the second act, then.”
“If it’s not too forward of me, is something keeping you from returning to your place?”
Cecilia’s annoyance departed on a wave of uncertainty. Mister Porter seemed pleasant. He hadn’t attempted or insinuated anything, though they stood alone in the dark. Likely, he was a good sort of fellow. Obviously, in fact, for he hadn’t evidenced any interest in her. “If you must know, I’m hiding from a gentleman. My friend will come fetch me once he’s departed.”
“Ah. I see.” He shifted nervously. “I could, that is, I offer my services, if you should wish. I could ask the gentleman to leave.”
Cecilia smiled. She doubted Mister Porter could ask a light breeze to leave. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
“Yes, well, keep it in mind, please.”
Cecilia nodded and whispered back, “Thank you. That’s very kind of you, Miste--”
“Well, that took longer than I expected.” Grace’s words were accompanied by a flood of candlelight as the curtain was yanked back. “The nerve of that…” Her voice trailed off.
Cecilia took in Grace’s rapid shift from annoyance to surprise. The second lasted only a fraction of a moment before Grace’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Annoyance once more emerged at she turned her gaze on Cecilia.
“Just who is this?” Grace demanded.
Cecilia felt a stirring of ire. She turned a smile on Mister Porter. Though of a similar height to Lord Robert, Mister Porter’s whip-like build gave him the appearance of taking up much less space. He blinked owlishly behind a pair of spectacles, straight brown hair falling in a sheet across his forehead. His nose
was hawkish, and his lips a touch thin, but overall, he was a well-enough put together fellow, and Cecilia could see no reason for Grace to have already judged him.
“This is my new acquaintance, Mister Porter.”
Grace’s brows shot up. “You made an acquaintance in there?” Her gesture took in the little alcove.
“I did, and I’m going to invite him to join me at Lord Robert’s final lecture, so he can meet the duke.” Cecilia took in the pleased surprise on Mister Porter’s face, her happiness at putting it there unmuted by Grace’s scowl.
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Grace shot Mister Porter another suspicious look and leaned close. “Do you know aught about him?” she whispered in Cecilia’s ear. “I don’t trust him.”
“You don’t trust anyone,” Cecilia snapped.
Grace leaned away, cheeks taking on a rosy hue. “And you trust everyone.”
“I don’t mean to be the source of any discord,” Mister Porter interjected. “I was going to the lecture regardless. I do apologize for being in the same alcove with Lady Cecilia, Miss…” He trailed off, looking the question at Cecilia.
“Miss Birkchester,” Grace snapped before Cecilia could reply. “What were you doing in that alcove, Mister Porter?”
“He was hiding from us,” Cecilia said. “And it seems with good reason.” She glared at Grace. “I already quizzed him on the matter and have found his replies perfectly satisfactory. Furthermore, I am attending the lecture with him.” She jutted her chin into the air.
Grace pursed her lips. She glared at Cecilia, then at Mister Porter. Cecilia could read his unease but didn’t dare turn to give him a reassuring look. She had to keep her attention on Grace. This terrible overprotectiveness had to end. They were meant to be companions to each other. Grace ought not assume the role of worried mama.
Grace flung up her hand. “Fine, but if you’re going to Lord Robert’s lecture with him, then I am, too.”
Chapter Nine
Robert stared out at the crowd. In the back and along the auditorium walls, gentlemen stood, as all the seats were long since filled. This was his final lecture on the bounty of Egypt. It would not be as well-received as previous ones. Over the past five, he’d detailed the Egyptian culture, both contemporary and what they knew of ancient times. He’d spoken on their language, and the mysterious drawings men called hieroglyphics. For his audiences, he’d brought to life the terrain, the harsh desert climate and, of course, the glories and wonders to be discovered there.
Today, he meant to speak on a far different topic. When Robert had first set foot in Egypt, first invented the persona of the fearless explorer Mister Darington, he’d been alike to every other European explorer. He’d unearthed glorious shrines, made a few quick drawings of what could not be moved, and taken the rest. Many of these great treasures, he’d sent back to England for glory of king and crown.
That was many long years ago. Over time, Robert’s focus had changed. He no longer plundered the tombs he unearthed. He catalogued them. He and his team worked diligently to sketch each detail, preserve every find. The treasures of Egypt weren’t trinkets for the wealthy of Europe to covet and gawk at. They were clues. They were a whole culture, an entire world as of yet beyond understanding. Preserving the tombs and temples, documenting and studying them, was the only way to unlock the true treasure of Egypt, a window into humanity’s past.
That was the lecture Robert gave, aware and uncaring that his words caused a stir of unease through the assemblage. He knew the prevailing view on Africa was that the resources there were Europe’s to plunder. He couldn’t change every mind. In fact, some of the attendees went so far as to walk out in silent protest. Still, if he could convince a fraction of the men present that they should preserve the ancient world instead of loot it, respect Egypt’s culture rather than try to subjugate it, Robert would be well pleased.
What did not please him was to see Everly and his long-suffering mother seated in the crowd. Missus Everly had sent Robert a letter informing him they’d be in attendance. She wished for another opportunity to make amends, to show him Everly had changed. If the younger man’s bored expression was any indication, he wasn’t pleased with his mother’s scheme. Missus Everly, in juxtaposition, listened to Robert raptly. The only times she looked away were to glance at Lady Cecilia.
Lady Cecilia evoked an equal, if not greater, displeasure. Not the sight of her, seated a few rows back from the stage, but one of her companions. Lady Cecilia alone, or accompanied by Miss Birkchester, as she was, would have been a pleasure. Unfortunately, a spindly fellow with about three decades to his name sat between the two. He frequently leaned toward Lady Cecilia and whispered, often eliciting a smile in response.
That she’d understood Robert’s message in not showing up to the theatre was clear. Her response equally so. She was not inclined to pursue a union with him. He didn’t need Pierre Bouchard’s Rosetta Stone to decipher that.
What wasn’t clear was why she’d selected such an unsavory companion through which to convey her reply. The stork-like man peered through thick spectacles, his expression unfailingly bland, but his shoulders held stiff with alertness. With as much ease as he managed to suffuse his expression, his posture bespoke a man ready to fly into action. Robert was surprised Miss Birkchester agreed to the man’s company.
He was also surprised by what he could only honestly identify as a pang of jealousy. Each time Cecilia’s delicate features lit with amusement at the man’s whispered words, Robert ground his bootheel harder against the stage. Perhaps he’d errored in not encouraging the brief affection in which Lady Cecilia held him at the ball. After all, while he couldn’t offer his heart, a marriage must have some basis.
Annoyance over his mishandling of Lady Cecilia roiled just beneath Robert’s calm exterior as he delivered his lecture and endured the lengthy session of questions afterward. Inwardly, he admitted relief when the president of the Royal Society came forward after the second hour of post-lecture sallies and called a halt to the proceeding. Robert thanked his hosts, bowed, and relinquished the rostrum.
Having no wish to engage with either Everly or Lady Cecilia’s companion, Robert headed for a side hall. Achieving it, he set a quick pace toward the rear of the building and the secondary exit there. He turned a corner, spotting the alleyway door ahead. Somewhere behind him sounded several sets of footsteps. He shook his head. Egypt was his greatest passion, yet even he had tired of any more discussion on the topic for the day. He further lengthened his stride.
Robert burst from the lecture hall into the alley that ran behind. He’d have to make a dash for it, if his dignity would allow. He glanced left and right, wondering if he should adopt William’s tactic and climb. People rarely looked up.
“Lord Robert,” Cecilia’s voice called.
Robert whirled back to find her, her gawky companion, and Miss Birkchester all but trotting down the short hall. With a frown, he stepped back into the building to await them. He pulled the door closed, darkening the hallway. Under her white-blonde locks, Lady Cecilia’s cheeks glowed with exertion. Seeing she had his attention, she slowed to a more decorous pace.
“I better understand your trouble now,” she said over her shoulder to the stork, who all but blocked Miss Birkchester from view. “He is rather difficult to converse with after his lectures.” She came to a halt before Robert, chest heaving in an effort to recapture her breath.
“My lady.” Robert bowed, hoping she hadn’t noticed his momentary preoccupation with the display. “Forgive me. If I’d realized you sought me, I would have immediately put myself at your disposal.”
She smiled up at him. “That’s very kind of you, my lord, but it’s truly Mister Porter who wishes to speak with you.” She stepped aside, gesturing to the man.
Robert took in the cocked pistol in Mister Porter’s hand and yanked Cecilia behind him. She issued a startled squeak. Miss Birkchester tried to lunge past Porter. He flung out his free
hand to grab her arm. She immediately thrashed against his hold. He yanked her arm up behind her. She let out a cry, knees buckling. Beads of sweat sprang to her forehead.
“You don’t need that simply to speak with me.” Robert nodded to the double-barreled pistol.
Cecilia peeked around him. She gasped. “Mister Porter, what is the meaning of this?”
Porter, his grip on Miss Birkchester keeping her kneeling before him with pain-glazed eyes, quirked one corner of his thin mouth. “It turns out I’m not actually here to speak with the duke. I’m here to kidnap him. A man shouldn’t spend months telling everybody in London about all the riches he’s piled up, ripe for the taking.”
“What?” Cecilia tried to push past Robert. “Let Grace up.”
Robert extended an arm across the hallway to hold Cecilia back. “If you’ve come for me, you’ve no need for the ladies.”
Porter’s eyes roamed over Lady Cecilia’s diminutive frame in a way that set Robert’s teeth on edge. “No, I don’t suppose I need them.”
“Let Grace go,” Cecilia repeated. “If you require a--”
“Let them both go, and I’ll come without a fight,” Robert broke in before she could give the blackguard any ideas.
“I have a pistol pointed at your heart. You’ll come without a fight either way.”
Robert locked eyes with the man. “Will I?”
After a long moment, Porter’s gaze wavered. He swallowed.
“Let me answer that for you,” Robert offered. “If you don’t let the ladies go, I will not come without a fight. Now, you may wound me. You may kill me. If I’m dead, you’ll have a rather difficult time ransoming me. Not to mention, a gunshot or two is sure to draw notice.”
Porter grimaced. “I need the ladies to deliver the note, anyways.” He yanked Miss Birkchester to her feet.
Robert saw her bite her lip, likely to avoid crying out. Her face was devoid of color save her wide blue eyes. Beside him, Cecilia quivered. A quick glance showed not faintness or fear molding her delicate features, but fury.
Seduction Regency Style Page 24
