I need to fade into the background, hoping everyone forgets my…outburst. To help me, Lady Nicole has agreed that I might be allowed to show the world that I’m actively pursuing her, and therefore much too besotted to think about anything as serious as the possibility of civil unrest.”
“The devil you say. So you do already have some sort of plan in the works, some way to keep the cobblestones in the streets as it were? Without consulting me, but enlisting Lady Nicole instead? I’m hurt, Lucas. Truly. And she agreed to this, I imagine? Why?”
Why indeed? Lucas had spent the time since his and Nicole’s shared afternoon wondering about exactly that, telling himself that she had a real interest in him, and then alternately deciding that her interest was more in the adventure of the thing. The first thought flattered him, the second disturbed him.
He gave a dismissing wave of his hand. “Something to do with curricles and gallops, and probably more I don’t want to consider too closely. But never mind that. And I’ve got no real plan.”
“Not yet, you mean, beyond getting people to forget that dreadful speech you made at White’s—no offense meant. Again, tell me what I can do to help.”
“All right. You could help me by keeping the sister occupied, the two of you acting as chaperones of sorts. Lady Lydia is very protective of her sister and, you’ll admit, quite intelligent.”
“She is that,” Fletcher agreed. “Talks rings around me most of the time, but I don’t mind. I think she considers me as harmless as you want whomever you want to think you harmless. Now give me at least a small hint of what you believe you’ll be doing that isn’t quite so harmless, because I am honest enough to not understand what you could do.”
“Another time, or we’ll be late in getting to Grosvenor Square to squire the ladies to the theater. For now, answer me this. Do you know if Lady Lydia showed that broadsheet to Lady Nicole?”
Fletcher nodded. “Yes, I do know that. She showed it to her. She thinks that’s why Lady Nicole read some of Thomas Paine’s pamphlet. You remember? The Rights of Man? Lady Lydia confided that she’d never been so surprised as when she heard that her sister had read the thing. It’s nothing like her, you understand. She believes Lady Nicole has somehow decided that she needs to take more interest in the world beyond her own enjoyments, or some such thing. Lady Lydia is quite proud of her.”
“Damn, that could complicate things. I’ll have to be careful,” Lucas said quietly.
“Careful of what?”
“Of a beautiful woman’s curiosity, Fletcher,” Lucas said, motioning that his friend should precede him out of the study. “For now, since you’ve offered to help me, I’d like you to watch over the two of them tonight at the theater when I slip away to meet with someone. Don’t turn your back on Lady Nicole while I’m gone, not for a moment. All right? And then, tomorrow, I may be able to tell you more.”
“She’s only a young woman, barely out of the nursery, and fresh from the country at that. I’m sure I can manage her.”
“Yes,” Lucas said, turning away from his friend to hide his smile. “I’m sure you think you can.”
COVENT GARDEN WAS A MARVEL of architecture and size, dwarfing the small regional theater near Ashurst that Nicole had attended a few times in the company of her brother and Charlotte.
She attempted a sophisticated disinterest in her surroundings, but couldn’t maintain the pretense for more than a few minutes. There were simply too many people, too many beautiful people, over-dressed people, ladies whose beauty astounded her or whose sausagelike bodies stuffed into corsets and garish silks amused her, gentlemen whose dark, formal clothing distinguished them, youths whose outrageous high-heeled patent shoes, outrageously exaggerated shirt points and dangling lace handkerchiefs made her bite her lip so she wouldn’t giggle.
Jewels sparkled on every neck, even when some of those necks looked to be better suited to horse collars. Some laughed too loudly, some appeared desperate, while others seemed to be extremely comfortable in their skin, their clothing and their place in the world.
They sauntered along the flagway in front of the theater. They pranced into the lobby and as they headed toward their assigned seats, their leased boxes. They minced and they dawdled. Everyone was looking at everyone else, measuring the crowd with their eyes. Quizzing glasses and lorgnettes were raised, fans were unfurled and fluttered, expressions ranged from bored to interested to openly curious.
Nicole decided she loved all of them. Caught between her admiration of the heavily gilted carved wood and the brocade wall coverings highlighted by massive crystal chandeliers and unabashed interest in the exotic birds of Society that flitted all about her, she leaned closer to Lucas.
“It’s like stepping into a fairy tale,” she told him. “Who are all of these people?”
Lucas nodded to yet another couple walking past them, but didn’t stop. “Just that, Nicole. They’re people. I’d like to tell you they’re here to take in the entertainment, but they’re not, at least not most of them. They’re here to see, to be seen and then to gossip about all they’ve seen. Which is a pity, for Marie Therese de Camp’s play, Smiles and Tears, is on the bill for tonight. Would you like to meet her? Does that come under the heading of adventure for you?”
Nicole smiled up at him. “It does, certainly. Is it proper? I mean, to meet a woman of the theater.”
“Entirely acceptable, yes, if I send round a note and ask her to join us in our box during one of the intermissions. Not quite as proper if we go to her.”
“So of course we’ll go to her. Leaving Lydia and Lord Yalding nicely chaperoned in your box by Renée,” Nicole said as he gazed down at her rather intently, clearly having dropped into his role of adoring swain. “That is what you meant, isn’t it?”
“Thus providing you with another adventure to keep you amused. I do remember my end of our bargain. You look beautiful this evening, by the way. Heads have turned with each new step you’ve taken.”
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