It was a familiar sensation.
In the rumble of noise that filled Haymarket Theatre Royal she looked up from her seat in Lady Westerby’s box and met Lucas’s gaze. He was standing in one of the scarlet-draped boxes opposite theirs with a group she recognised from Countess Lieven’s ball, several of whom wore elaborate foreign uniforms glittering with decorations and silk sashes. This time he bowed very slightly, but did not smile, and she was not certain that was an improvement on being utterly snubbed.
She turned her attention to Lord Westerby, trying to subdue the burn of confused pain and resentment and confusion plaguing her. Lord Westerby was explaining the lyrics of the upcoming opera and she smiled and uttered something empty and tried to stop her hands from toying with her fan and her mind from acting like a barrel filled with billiard balls rolling down a hill—thoughts crashing and bouncing off each other and not one of them settling.
What was she to do now? She could not return to Gillingham. And for all her brave words about marrying Colin, the mere thought of the enormity of that sacrifice sent her heart into a panic of rejection.
Lucas, blast him, was right. She could not do it. Before she had met him...perhaps. Then, her naïve little mind regarded marriage to Colin as form of legal friendship that would be as much a haven for her as for Colin and the Paytons. Now the idea struck her as absurd, even cruel—both she and Colin deserved better. She would find some other means of helping the Paytons; she was nothing if not resourceful. Henry had made his choices and now she must make hers.
If only she knew what they were.
She refused to return to Guilford, either. The most logical choice would be to remain in London with Elspeth and enter society wholeheartedly. Have men dance attendance on her and vie for her favours and her fortune.
Her eyes moved of their own volition back to the box opposite. A tall woman stood very close to Lucas, her fingertips almost brushing his sleeve and her hair so pale it shimmered like silver in the light of the enormous chandeliers suspended above the pits. His profile was a sharp sketch against the curtains drawn away from the door to the box and he was smiling at the beauty. Black sludge threatened to overwhelm Olivia and she looked away, only to meet the gaze of a man looking directly at her. He might easily have been Lucas’s twin, but he wore his hair longer and she thought his eyes were lighter. This must be his brother Chase, she thought. As their eyes met he smiled, a wholehearted, direct grin. She was so surprised she smiled back.
‘Olivia. I am afraid I dropped my fan,’ Elspeth said sharply. ‘Do help me find it.’
‘Here you are, Cousin Elspeth.’
As she handed her cousin the fan, Elspeth’s voice hissed in her ear.
‘Flirting with one Sinclair is bad enough, flirting with two of them is the definition of madness.’
‘Hush, the opera is beginning.’ Olivia admonished with much more composure than she felt.
The cover of music did not bring the calm she hoped for, because nothing had prepared Olivia for Mozart. It was nothing like the modest concerts she had so loved in Gillingham. Those were like peeking into a window of a lovely home while being jostled by crowds on the pavement. This was to step into a new world and leave everything behind that was wrong. The future, her fears, her failures—all faded. She forgot all about proper posture and the edict of not displaying eagerness or emotion in society, and utterly ignored her host’s attempt to flirt with her under the cover of the music. She leaned forward and gave herself wholly to the magic. If she could have climbed out of the Westerbys’ box and curled up at the foot of the stage and wrapped herself in the music and begged them never to stop she would have. For the first time in weeks she felt simply, uncomplicatedly alive.
In love.
She did not look at Lucas, but she felt him. The music cleared the world of everything but him and the deep core of need inside her that reached out to him. It made everything so simple. It spoke for her, a love letter without words: it said everything she felt and would never say.
When the music faded she felt a physical ache in her chest, her eyes burning. She might not know where to go next, but she knew she wanted to feel.
Again without thought her eyes turned to the box opposite. Lucas was in the back of the box, cast in the dark shadow of the drape, but she could make out the sharply carved planes of his face, could feel the tension in every line of his tall, lean frame. The bustling theatre pit was nothing more than an empty chasm between them, echoing with everything that was inside her and wanted out.
Then people were rising and she had no choice but to become Miss Silverdale again.
‘You did not tell me the half of it, Luke. That is one hot burning ember.’
‘What the devil are you talking about?’ Lucas asked, scanning the crowd in the foyer.
‘Miss Silverdale. She was listening to the music as if her very life depended on it.’
Lucas had noticed that, too, unfortunately. He had noticed little else during the opera. The music became a backdrop for the living painting of her taut, entranced figure as she all but absorbed the theatre with the sheer force of her pleasure. By the end of the act he felt exhausted, defeated and elated all at the same time.
‘And here I thought we came to the Opera so you can keep tabs on Razumov,’ Chase continued. ‘I did not know this was not business, but pleasure. But on the surface it looks like Westerby is in the lead. The odds will shorten on him in the clubs after this show of primacy,’ Chase remarked.
‘Wasted money. She won’t marry him.’
‘Shall I put my money on Barnstable, then?’
Lucas finally turned to his brother. ‘You wager one penny with her name attached to it and I will break your perfect nose.’
Chase grinned. ‘I consider it one of my most notable skills that I always know how to get an honest answer out of the impenetrable Lucas Sinclair. Ah, there is my future sister-in-law. I think I shall introduce myself.’
‘Chase!’
‘Then you introduce me. Come, don’t be shy.’
‘Damn you.’
‘Yes, yes, later.’
Lucas was not surprised by the succession of surprise and antagonism on Lady Phelps’s face as he and Chase approached their party, nor by the subtle stiffening of the Westerbys. He would very much have preferred not to face Olivia right now, but it was better than allowing Chase to go alone which he undoubtedly would. Besides, if there must be gossip, and unfortunately there must, introducing his brother to her might give it a different direction. Perhaps. He had no idea what was about to happen since this was utterly new territory for him. But whatever qualms had survived that carriage ride, watching her listen to Mozart had made it eminently clear there would be no Westerby, no Barnstable and no blasted nice boy Colin in Olivia’s life. There would be only him.
It was as simple as that.
Olivia’s smile was tentative as they approached, but her eyes were still bright with pleasure. He read contrition there, too, and the same wariness as when they met in public, as if unsure who she was and who he was outside her little world of Spinner Street. He was no longer certain himself.
The two parties acknowledged each other like warring factions discussing a ceasefire and then he turned to Olivia.
‘May I introduce my brother, Mr Sinclair. Charles, you have not met Lady Phelps and Miss Silverdale, I believe.’
‘I would certainly have remembered,’ his brother said softly as he bowed. Lucas did not bother listening to the rest of his brother’s flirtatious nonsense or even to Olivia’s laughing responses. He watched her face, warm with life and interest, the flashing of gold shards in the green of her eyes as they narrowed in amusement, her gloved hands moving as she spoke, as full of life as the rest of her. She needed an expanse to live, to experience. He would build an opera house just for her so he could watch her come alive to the music. Then he would...
He was well and truly lost.
‘Do you agree, Lucas?’
‘What?’
‘La Fenice is an experience every music lover should indulge in.’ Chase said. ‘It isn’t only the music. The interior is like stepping into a music box.’
Lucas couldn’t help smiling at the growing awe on Olivia’s face as Chase described the famous Venetian music hall.
‘Did you often attend concerts there?’ she asked, envy dripping from her voice.
‘Our mother adored music so we had little choice,’ Lucas replied. ‘Twice a week during the performance season she would herd us into formation and make us sit through hours of Corelli and Scarlatti.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Lady Westerby interjected. ‘I remember Lady Sinclair’s family was Venetian. Such a fine, noble people, though I never did understand quite why they chose to build a city on the water. Only think of the damp. I’m afraid my constitution would suffer.’
Chase nodded. ‘You are quite right, Lady Westerby. Venice would definitely not agree with you. Best remain on English soil.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Lord Westerby said with a smile at Olivia, a flush rising on his pale skin as he spoke. ‘I would not mind seeing the ruins and all that. Palminter just took his new wife to Greece, didn’t he?’
Usually Lucas would have felt a little sorry for such an awkward and revealing statement, but even knowing this pleasant but slightly dense young man had no chance of attaching Olivia, he could not prevent a surge of jealous resentment that he would even be contemplating it.
‘Could find some nice pieces for the family pile in Derbyshire,’ Westerby added hopefully and Lady Westerby took the torch and began expanding in some detail about the Westerby estates. Olivia listened politely, smiled and once again settled into Miss Silverdale. He could almost see how she meticulously tucked away the remnants of the Wild Silverdales, like strands of escaped hair tamed into her fashionable coiffure. He didn’t want her gathering herself in. He wanted her as she was in Spinner Street, with the plain muslin gowns, her fingers stained with ink and her hair slipping its pins. He wanted her frowning at her lists and pinning them on walls while he made himself useful keeping her feet warm and her body satisfied and her mind occupied with living.
He wanted her.
‘Should we not depart, Lady Westerby?’ Lady Phelps interrupted.
‘You are not staying for the second act?’ Lucas asked.
‘I am afraid not, Lord Sinclair. We are promised at Lady Hazelmere’s soirée, are we not, Lady Westerby?’
‘And there is the Countess beckoning to us, Lucas,’ Chase added. ‘It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Phelps, Miss Silverdale. I look forward to furthering it.’
Chase waited until they were safely out of earshot before addressing Lucas. ‘That set the cat among the pigeons. You did notice we were being watched most avidly from all corners? I wonder what will be made of you introducing your brother to Miss Silverdale.’
‘I did not introduce you; you were the one to force that meeting.’
‘They don’t know that. What the world saw was one Sinful Sinclair presenting himself and his brother most properly to a gently nurtured young woman. Poor Westerby, I think he is actually fond of her, it isn’t just the money,’ Chase said as they approached their box.
‘His mother will find him some other heiress to moon over.’
‘No doubt. So. What are you planning to do about it?’
‘I am certainly not planning to discuss it here with you.’
‘Point taken. Too crowded. Do you know what I found fascinating?’
Lucas sighed. ‘No, what?’
‘I have no idea what she was really thinking. Too many layers. She lets slip the society layer and you see all that curiosity and laughter, but then that is still a layer and there is something behind it and for all I can tell behind that as well. It’s like a hall of mirrors; keeps you guessing which is the real one, you know?’
Unfortunately he did.
‘I know she likes me. I just don’t know why,’ Chase continued.
‘How do you know she likes you?’
‘I just do. I like her, too. What’s more important, I think Sam will. Any chance you can convince her to marry you before I must depart for the Continent? I want to see the spectacle with my own eyes. Will you do it at the Hall chapel?’
‘Chase.’
‘Sorry. I should not be enjoying your downfall so much, should I? I’m glad I agreed to attend tonight. Until I saw your face this evening I had no idea how serious it was.’
‘Chase!’
‘There. I’m done. It will be interesting to see how quickly the betting books take a turn tonight.’