you think of Miss Lambert? And don’t tell me you didn’t notice her. Old Parker nearly fell out of his box the first time she walked on stage wearing that filmy white nightgown.’
Alistair laughed. ‘Yes, I noticed her. She was very convincing in the part of Miss Tremayne.’
‘Miss Tremayne?’ Collins said. ‘What’s got into you tonight, Dev? The last time we went to the theatre, you couldn’t even remember the title of the play, let alone the names of the characters.’
‘That’s because the play wasn’t worth remembering and the actors were similarly forgettable,’ Alistair remarked. ‘This, however, is a first-class production.’
‘Well, of course it is. Valentine Lawe is fast becoming one of England’s foremost playwrights. Even a Philistine like you must have known that.’
The fact Alistair did not know failed to arouse any feelings of remorse or guilt within his breast. None of his family were ardent theatre goers. His parents refused to go as a result of the tragic events surrounding their eldest son’s scandalous marriage to an actress, and his sister and brother-in-law, the Venerable Simon Baltham, Archdeacon of Swithing, were of the belief that the theatre was a breeding ground for sin. It was their studied opinion that those who disported themselves upon the stage were vain and immoral creatures who sought aggrandisement through their occupations and were possessed of neither high moral fibre nor any discernible degree of integrity.
Ironically, it didn’t stop them from attending the occasional operatic work, but seldom were they heard to praise a performance or to compliment any of the singers.
For his own part, Alistair didn’t care. The only reason he had limited his exposure to the theatre was out of respect for his parents’ sentiments and in an effort to maintain family harmony. A decision he hadn’t come to regret … until tonight.
He let his gaze fall again on the occupants of the box opposite. The young lady was watching the antics of two young men rearranging props on stage, and looked, if possible, even more radiant than she had before the commencement of the first act. Her hand was again clasped in that of the gentleman sitting beside her, and when he leaned over to whisper something in her ear, she laughed and looked up—and, unexpectedly, locked eyes with Alistair across the theatre.
It was a fleeting glance, no more than a few seconds in length, but for the brief space of that time, the noises around him seemed to subside and it was as though only the two of them sat in that crowded theatre. He watched her laughter fade until only the shadow of a smile remained, and though she didn’t acknowledge his gaze, the soft colour blooming in her cheeks told him she was just as aware of him as he was of her.
As her glance slid away, Alistair leaned over to his friend and said, ‘Collins, that woman in the box opposite …’
‘Lady Lucy Prendergast?’
‘No, the box above. Wearing the cream-coloured gown.’
Collins raised his opera glasses and trained them on the lady in question. ‘Ah, yes, Miss Victoria Bretton. Eldest daughter of Mr and Mrs John Bretton.’
‘How is it I haven’t seen her before?’
‘Because you don’t move in the same circles, old boy,’ Collins said, lowering the glasses. ‘The family reside in Kent, but for the last two Seasons, have taken a house in Green Street for the purpose of introducing their daughters to society. Miss Victoria Bretton made her bows last year, and her younger sister, Miss Winifred Bretton, is doing so this Season.’
‘Who’s the man with her?’ Alistair asked ‘Dedicated husband? Devoted fiancé?’
‘Good God, no, that’s Laurence, her brother. Dry as a stick and completely lacking in fashion sense, but frightfully intelligent from what little I’ve heard. Apparently he speaks four languages and knows more about the classics than did most of his professors at Oxford. He and Victoria are said to be very close.’
‘I’m surprised she isn’t married,’ Alistair commented. ‘She is an exceptionally lovely young woman.’
‘True, but she also has a penchant for speaking her mind and you can imagine how well that sits with the society matrons who believe young ladies should be seen and not heard. Also, do you see the rather flamboyant-looking woman seated in the box with her?’
Observing the lady’s flame-coloured gown, her striking blue-black hair and the circle of diamonds flashing at her throat, Alistair said, ‘It would be difficult not to.’
‘Exactly. That is Mrs Anthea Templeton,’ Collins said. ‘Once a celebrated actress, now the second wife of Mr Theodore Templeton, owner of the theatre, and a man who just happens to be Miss Bretton’s uncle.’
‘Ah. So her family connections are not the best.’
‘That’s putting it mildly. Templeton left his first wife for the lovely Anthea—who was rumoured to be playing Juliet to his Romeo at the time—and the two set up housekeeping without the benefit of marriage. They continued to live and act in that blissfully unwed state for several more years before coming to London and setting up shop here. Needless to say, Mrs Templeton has not been embraced by society.’
‘Hardly surprising,’ Alistair said. ‘She is no doubt accused of stealing Templeton from his wife and blamed for the demise of his marriage.’
‘Of course, and the fact that Miss Bretton seems to enjoy her aunt’s company naturally reflects badly on her. As does the fact that she has an unfortunate fondness for mingling with the cast.’
Alistair raised an eyebrow. ‘She fraternises with the actors?’
‘Oh, yes. Usually in the company of her brother, but she has been known to venture backstage alone,’ Collins said. ‘And while that is perfectly all right for him, it is not the thing for her.’
No, it wasn’t, Alistair reflected as he watched the actors return to the stage for the start of the second act. It was all right for a young lady to go to the theatre and even to express enthusiasm for the performance she had seen, but it was not the thing to be spotted in the company of actors. While Alistair didn’t agree with his brother-in-law’s sweeping condemnation of all stage performers, he knew that many were possessed of questionable morals and that spending time with such people was frowned upon by those in good society. He was surprised Miss Bretton’s parents would allow her to jeopardise her reputation by frequenting such a place, even if she did so in the company of her brother.
‘By the by,’ Collins said, ‘is it true you’ve stopped seeing Lady Frances Shaftsbury? I thought the two of you were as good as engaged.’
‘We were, until I found out Lady Frances was equally enamoured of the Marquess of Kope-ham,’ Alistair said distantly. ‘If I cannot trust a woman to tell me the truth before we’re married, what hope is there for honesty after the vows are taken?’
‘All women lie, Dev. Harkens back to the Garden of Eden,’ Collins said. ‘Eve probably told Adam nothing would happen if he bit into the apple, and we all know how wrong that went.’
‘Fortunately, there are more women in the garden now and a man isn’t compelled to marry the first one that comes along.’
‘Perhaps, but attractive daughters of wealthy earls don’t come along every day either.’
