Page 9 of Always the Chaperone
John turned to her as they were ushered toward the box the duke had reserved. “You are right, Lady Charlotte, and I thank you. Perhaps I will have enough courage tonight.”
Once again, she was the one giving out advice. Four marriages formed through her chaperoning, but had she ever taken her own advice?
No.Embarrassed to put herself forward when young, unwilling to when the family fortunes had disintegrated, unable to when she sacrificed her dowry to restore the family name…any gentlemen callers who had ever considered her received little encouragement.
She could not regret most of it. The Axwick estate was solvent again, and that was all that mattered for those frightening months when sale—sale!—of the Stonehaven Lacey estate seemed not possible, but a probable solution to their problems.
But that had all changed when Richard had married, and she was once again a chaperone.
“Good evening, my lady.”
Charlotte started as an usher bowed low, welcoming her to the box. She had not been attending to her steps nor surroundings.
“Thank you,” she said graciously, inclining her head. There were four seats placed in the box, luxurious and comfortable, quite unlike the shilling seats below, already filling up with a noisome chatter.
She knew the decorum: she would sit on the left with Miss Darby beside her, the duke—she must remember to call him Your Grace—would sit beside her, and John at the other end.
Her gown swished as she moved around to place herself on the left, and before Miss Darby could move, the duke placed himself beside Charlotte.
“Come, Miss Darby, sit by me,” he said jovially as Charlotte attempted to find the words to explain that this was not appropriate. “And John on the end.”
Charlotte frowned. She had to say something; this was highly irregular. The entire point of her presence was to be beside Miss Darby, a check to the courting couple.
Anything could happen, untoward and unbecoming, and she would be totally unaware.
“Miss Darby, I think,” she began, but then caught sight of John’s face. He was happy and glanced at Miss Darby with a reverential look.
Well, she could not have predicted this, but in a way, it made sense. Here was Miss Darby with the duke on one side and the marquess on the other. A place much admired and sought after by the ladies of theton.
This was Miss Darby’s chance to talk with both brothers and see which took her fancy. And John’s chance to make himself known to her, to charm her.
Charlotte fought the bitterness rising in her throat. It was unbecoming to be envious of a young woman like Miss Darby. She had committed the crime only of having two men want her.
Charlotte looked out at the empty stage with unseeing eyes. To think such a thing really happened. She would have to swallow her irritation and ensure Miss Darby did not expose herself to any gossip from the ever-present eyes of society.
The curtain rose, and she applauded as the conductor, a man with the most impressive mustache she had ever seen, bowed. The stage was suddenly filled with people, and the opera began.
Charlotte was transfixed. Music always had a special place in her heart, even though she had little talent herself. The melody rose in a crescendo, and her pulse rose with it, utterly captivated by the harmonies. The heat in the building and the copious candles illuminating the stage made the place overwhelming. She absentmindedly removed her gloves, placing them in her lap.
Whispers distracted her from the stage. John and Miss Darby were talking away to each other, their hands impossibly close without touching.
Charlotte smiled.Bad luck, Your Grace, but I think your brother has won this one.
The thought of the duke reminded her he was seated beside her, and a prickle of discomfort moved over her skin. She had been so lost in the music that she had forgotten him. But now she was conscious of his presence, and she could not block it out. He was lounging back in his seat, as though he had never been anywhere more comfortable.
As she tried not to look around, he leaned toward her. “And what are you smiling about, Lady Charlotte?”
She shivered. “Nothing.”
She hoped the sparse reply, along with its icy tone, would dissuade him from continuing the conversation, but it did not.
“My word,” he said with a raised eyebrow Charlotte pretended she could not see, “you must be easily entertained ifnothingcan make you smile. Why come to the opera at all?”
She glanced at him, a frown beginning to form. It appeared that, despite the entertainment, he wanted to converse with her.
Miss Darby giggled, the sound muffled inadequately by her hands.
Charlotte spoke in her most prim voice, “Why not ask Miss Darby what has made her laugh, Your Grace?”
