by Lee Bross
Days like today gave Arista hope that a better future was within reach.
The next day, the remaining four exchanges went as smoothly as the first half dozen. By the time she returned to the Sinclairs’ and tucked the collected money into the small chest she had bought, a weight was gone from her shoulders. She only had to arrange passage on Grae’s ship, and everything would be ready.
Except she had not seen Grae to ask him.
Sophia said he and her father were trying to woo a new client and that they were terribly busy, but there was a mischievous sparkle in Sophia’s eyes that didn’t quite fit with her explanation.
When they returned home from their second afternoon of shopping, Sophia followed Arista to her room. The girl was practically bouncing off of the walls, and Arista knew that something was going on. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
There on her bed lay a beautiful light blue gown. It was much fancier than any day dress Arista owned now, and she could only stare at it in wonder.
Sophia clapped her hands together. “Do you like it? It was one of mine, but you are smaller than me, so Becky spent two days altering it to fit you. I do so hope it fits, because the color will be exquisite with the shade of your skin.” Sophia lifted the dress off the bed and held it up in front of Arista. “I knew it,” she beamed.
“It’s very beautiful, but I don’t understand. I have no need of a dress this fine.” Still, she could not resist reaching out to run her fingers along the silky material. Tiny beads had been sewn along the neckline in the pattern of flowers. The dress was truly fit for a queen.
Sophia giggled. “You can’t go to the opera in a day dress, silly.”
“Opera? We’re going to the opera?” She had been to the theater once, when Nic paid one pence apiece so they could stand in the back and watch Romeo and Juliet. It had been crowded and sweaty, and she had barely glimpsed the actors who spoke such beautiful words with all the other people standing in front of her.
And still, it had been one of the best nights of her life.
But the opera?
Those productions only happened at King’s Theatre, where the wealthy liked to go. She never dreamed she might see the inside of such a place, let alone watch an actual performance there.
“Grae will go mad when he sees you in this dress,” Sophia gushed. “And I have just the combs to wear with it.”
“Grae is going, too?” Would Sophia and Robert and Marguerite also join them?
“Grae is taking you to the opera, dear Ana. He enlisted my help in getting everything that you would need ready. He’ll be here at seven to pick you up.”
“You’re not coming?” Arista asked, still in shock. The opera. With Grae. Just the two of them together?
“I don’t think my brother would appreciate my presence tonight.” Sophia grinned. “Come. We’ll have tea, and then I’ll send for a bath and Becky will help you get ready.” Sophia carefully set the dress back on the bed and Arista followed her blindly to the parlor. It was as though she were walking through a dream.
They would be alone tonight in a crowd of hundreds. She would be exposed and vulnerable, at Grae’s side, dressed only as herself. Well, herself in an exquisite gown.
She wanted to take Grae’s breath away tonight, and she had a feeling that Sophia would not let her down. Arista smiled, feeling giddy.
“For what it’s worth,” Sophia said, taking her hand, “I think that you and Grae are perfect together. I’ve never seen him happier on land.”
Arista sat in the parlor, nervously twisting her gloved fingers together. The dress flared out from her hips, accentuating her small waist, which both Becky and Sophia had exclaimed over. Lace lined her décolletage, but the dress still showed off more flesh than any of her other dresses. Sophia assured her that it was the current style, and that it was actually modest compared to most others.
Her new friend had given her stockings with garters, and beautiful shoes in the same delicate blue color. Becky had fashioned a wrap from a darker blue material that Sophia said Grae had given her after his last trip. There were intricate designs embroidered into the silk, creating a stunning pattern of birds and flowers. Her hair had been pulled away from her face and held in place with a jeweled comb, again borrowed from Sophia at her insistence. Everything had come together, and Arista felt like a princess.
Sophia sat across from her, eyes shining with excitement. Becky kept darting forward to fiddle with a flyaway strand of hair, or smooth out a wrinkle on the silk that didn’t exist.
“You’re both making me very nervous,” Arista said, toying with the fan that was tied around one wrist.
Preparing for an evening of Lady A was nothing like this.
“Grae!” Sophia shouted.
Arista turned slowly and her gaze met Grae’s. He wore black trousers with black stockings. His shoes gleamed in the candlelight. The charcoal-grey vest fit him perfectly, and over it he wore a jacket of the same color with buttons running down each side of the lapel. Snow-white cuffs peeked out from each sleeve.
He had not powdered his hair, nor worn a wig as fashionable men did. His black hair fell over one eye, giving him that rakish highwayman look she had first fallen for. He took her breath away.
Though Sophia had gone over to him, Grae had not taken his eyes off Arista. She stood slowly, suddenly feeling unsure. Was it too much? Not enough?
“Isn’t she beautiful, Grae?” Sophia asked slyly.
“Indeed.” His voice seemed lower, hoarser than she remembered, and it sent thrills of excitement over her skin. He was practically glowing with happiness and unabashed appreciation. He moved into the room and took her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss the back of her glove.
“Truly a vision. I will be the envy of every man there.” Arista felt a blush climb up to her cheeks. “Are you ready to go?” He offered her his arm and she slid hers through it. Her heart thumped against her chest. This somehow felt different than the past month they’d spent together. More intimate, even though they were not alone.
“Good night, you two,” Sophia sang. Grae chuckled and led Arista out to where Tomas waited.
Tonight they were using the Sinclairs’ closed carriage. She and Grae would be inside together. Alone. Again, her pulse leapt.
Arista glanced over at Grae and found him still watching her. “What?” she finally asked.
“I thought you were breathtaking before, but tonight, I have no words.…You are exquisite, Arista.” Heat burned in his eyes.
“You look quite handsome yourself. I’m sure there will be more than one lady vying for your attention.”
“I’ve only got eyes for the one that happens to be with me.” They climbed into the carriage and Tomas closed the door. As soon as he did, Grae leaned across and kissed her. He cupped her face with both hands and she gripped both his wrists.
If they stayed right there for the entire evening, she’d be perfectly happy. But the carriage jerked forward and Grae sat back, a satisfied smile on his face.
“I can’t believe you arranged all of this. It’s kind of overwhelming. No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”
“Someone should do something like this every day of your life,” he said. Arista ducked her head. “My compliments embarrass you?”
“I’m just not used to it,” she admitted.
“I plan on changing that.” He took her hand and held it all the way to King’s Theatre. When Tomas opened the door and assisted Arista out, it was as if she’d stepped into another world. She had been to the Haymarket Theatre before with Nic, but it was nothing compared to the grandeur of King’s Theatre. Arista walked in on Grae’s arm amongst the grandest ladies of London. She held her head up high and swallowed the nerves that made her stomach tumble. No one knew who she was. They only saw a girl on the arm of a very handsome gentleman—if they even noticed her at all. There were so many breathtaking people there, both men and women, that Arista felt plain next to them.
“You’re still the most beautiful,” Grae whispered in her ear, as if he knew her thoughts.
As they stepped inside, a man in white gloves handed Grae a program. Alessandro. “What’s it about?” she asked Grae.
He only smiled. “You’ll see.”
As they made their way closer, Arista couldn’t help but be impressed—not only with the people and their attire, but with the opera house itself.
She ran her fingers over the intricate carvings that ran along the walls. As the two of them moved with the crowd, Arista felt at ease. This was so unlike the masquerades where people knew who she was—knew her reputation, and hated her for it. Tonight she was anonymous. It felt wonderful. Free.
She smiled shyly at Grae, who had not taken his eyes off her. How would she ever thank him for this?
They made their way slowly through a sea of brightly colored silk and satin, of wigs so high Arista feared they would topple off. She tightened her hold on Grae to keep herself grounded when they finally entered the main room. On either side of the stage, the boxes rose four stories high. People moved about in them, peering down at the crowd on the ground floor through glinting opera glasses.
The boxes held the most distinguished Londoners. Only the wealthiest had box seats: the dukes and duchesses, barons, earls, and of course, the King. Grae led them to two seats just five rows away from the orchestra pit. Around them people talked and laughed while Arista tilted her head back and stared at the painted horses and chariot flying through the clouds above.
Her chest tightened. This was the most perfect moment of her life, and she had Grae to thank for it. Her vision grew watery. Never in her life had she ever expected to meet someone like him.
He gave her hope and he didn’t even realize it.
A hush fell over the crowd, and everyone rose to their feet. Arista stood up with them. Grae leaned close. “The King has arrived.” He pointed to the very top row of boxes, the one in the center. King George stood at the rail, nodding his head at the crowd below.
Arista struggled to take a breath. She was in the same room as the King of England. A woman moved to his side and waved down at the crowd.
“That’s Ehnrengard Melusine von der Schulenburg, Duchess of Kendal—the King’s longtime mistress,” he whispered. Her eyes widened. The King brought his mistress to the opera? Of course Arista knew the rumors, that the Queen had been exiled to a faraway land years ago. And yet here they were at the opera, as if nothing was unusual about any of it. A short laugh broke free from her throat.
Grae turned, his eyes shining with happiness. “You like this?” he asked.
“I have no words.” She leaned in close so that she could whisper in his ear. “I’m in the same room as the King.” Then she laughed again.
“Indeed you are. And this is only the start. Look, it’s about to begin.” He motioned toward the stage, where the giant red curtains were starting to move.
The King sat, then everyone else followed suit. Murmurs died down to whispers. The curtain lifted.
Immediately they were thrown into battle on stage, and Arista’s heartbeat did not slow for the next three hours. She sat transfixed as she watched the story of Alexander the Great. Arista traveled with him to India; suffered the betrayal and treachery of his closest allies; cheered on the two women who vied for his love, until finally he chose Roxana; and fought alongside him in a final battle, emerging victorious.
Though she didn’t understand the words they sang, the story came alive on the stage. Every note sank into her very bones and stirred a storm of emotion in her that grew wilder with each passing minute. By the time the actors took their elaborate bows, her face was shining with tears. She was exhausted, not from the time spent sitting, but from the passionate longing that gripped her body as she watched the story play out.
She had held Grae’s hand the whole time and when she glanced over, she saw he was watching her, too. “That was…” Her breath caught on a soft sob. “That was amazing,” she whispered.
He lifted her hand to his lips. “I thought you would like to see a glimpse of India, even if it’s only on a stage.”
“I can’t believe you did this for me.” Fresh tears ran down her face, but instead of being embarrassed at this show of raw emotion, she felt even freer. Grae had given her so much in the past week, but the most important thing had been hope. And she loved him for it.
She felt as if she were walking on air as they made their way back to the carriage.
Once inside, she pulled their entwined hands to her cheek, then turned and pressed her lips to the palm of his hand. She heard his sharp intake of breath; saw the way his eyes burned with passion.
She was caught in his gaze and could not look away. There were so many promises in his eyes, begging her to open up and trust him. And she wanted to, more than anything. Because she did trust him—with her entire heart.
“Arista,” he murmured, tugging her closer. He brushed his lips over her cheek, and she felt the kiss down to her toes. “Come with me to India so that I can show you what it really looks like. So we can see it together. Please say you will.” His whispered plea washed across the sensitive part of her ear and she shivered. “I can’t bear the thought of being away from you for months and months.”
She could not say no now, even if she had not planned on leaving London.
“I had planned to buy passage on your ship. To go with you if you would let me.”
“You can have my cabin.” His eyes glowed with excitement.
“Your mother would faint away at the idea, Grae.” Even though Arista had no need for the constraints or propriety of the wealthy, there were rules that people like Grae had to follow. “I can buy separate passage…”
“Then marry me,” he said.
Her startled gaze flew to his face to see if this was a cruel joke. The sudden acceleration of her pulse threatened to send her heart straight out of her chest.
“What?” she whispered.
“Marry me, beautiful girl. I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather spend my life with. We can sail the world, have all the adventures you want, together. I’m in love with you, if you didn’t know that by now.”
So many emotions crowded in her throat that it became impossible to take a full breath. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked rapidly to keep them from spilling over. This was so much more than she’d ever allowed herself to dream of that it completely overwhelmed her.
Unable to make her voice work, and almost afraid of what she’d say if she could, she nodded her acceptance.
Lord Ellington stood in a shadowy alcove near the string quartet. He had not arrived in costume, didn’t even have a mask on. He didn’t appear uncomfortable at all as he watched the disguised partygoers.
Arista stood near the patio, where the doors were opened to let in the fresh evening air. He had arrived five minutes earlier, with a few other guests who were trickling in. She had requested the meeting at ten, to allow her to return home unnoticed.
This was it, her last exchange. After tonight, she would have time to fully realize what Grae had offered her in the carriage. Thinking about it sent a fissure of pleasure and fear through her body. Marriage? An absurd and foreign idea for someone like her.
And yet she could not stop the smile each time she thought about it.
Ellington scanned the sparse room and his gaze came to rest on her. He had picked her out, even in her widow’s garb. Impressive. She stared back, then inclined her head once to let him know she was, in fact, Lady A.
Ellington made his way across the room, his strides long and purposeful. Of all the clients that she’d dealt with when working for Bones, Ellington had been the most unusual—as if he didn’t care much that he had to give up one of his secrets to get a secret. The overall exchange had been quite pleasant as well, with Ellington kissing her hand and thanking her before she left. As if he were a suitor, and not being blackmailed.
Even now, as he got closer, Arista cou
ld see that the lines of tension or anger, so normal in her line of work, were not there on his face. He looked a little bored, but not angry.
“Good evening, my lady.” He came to a stop in front of her and lifted her hand to his lips. “I must say, your invitation took me quite by surprise. I had expected to remain indebted to you for this lifetime, at least. Not that it would be a hardship.” He grinned when he said it, and his gaze dropped to her décolletage.
“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Lord Ellington,” she said, directing his stare back up to her face. “My note said it all. I’m willing to give back your secret, and you will be free from any further obligation.”
“For three hundred pounds.” He quirked one eyebrow and this time she smiled.
“Yes, for three hundred pounds. A bargain, you’ll have to agree.”
“I’m curious as to this sudden change in strategy. It seems…short-sighted, in the grand scheme of trading secrets for secrets. Even you must see the folly in this plan?”
“It was never my plan, Lord Ellington. I was merely a player. And I now have the ability to set things as right as I can.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
She reached into her reticule and pulled out his letter.
“I admit I had thought this all a ruse to get me here and demand something more.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a bag of coins. “Would you like to count it first?”
“There is no need.” She took the bag and at the same time put the letter into his hand. It would not matter if he shorted her several pounds. She had money. With what she had collected already and what she had from Wild, she had enough now. “Thank you, Lord Ellington.”
He stared at her, a bemused smile on his lips. “I would ask you to dance, and perhaps offer to escort you home after a whirlwind evening, but I am averse to rejection, and can see on your face that you do not harbor a similar curiosity about me.”
