Chapter Sixteen

By the middle of the following week, Inis’s ankle was strong enough for her to walk on it, and Alex had decided it was time for her first social outing.

Inis had tried stalling, saying she didn’t feel ready to face Society, but Caroline had told her going to the theater was fairly non-committal. People went to see and be seen and, if they stayed in the box during intermission, she wouldn’t even have to mingle. Alex had further assured her he would stay by her side.

And, as if to stamp “done” to the idea of attending, a new gown had arrived from Madame Dubois for the occasion.

Inis looked down at it now as their carriage drew up in front of the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane. The material was a beautiful watered silk that shimmered blue and green depending on the lighting. The fitted bodice was embroidered with tiny, silvery stars and not cut too low. No long ribbons flowed from below the empire waist and no frilly lace stuck out from the edges of the puffed sleeves, either. Evidently, Madame Dubois kept careful records of what her clientele preferred. Not that Inis considered herself a client. Of course, Alex was since he ordered the negligees for his paramours from the modiste.

Inis looked at him sitting across from her in the carriage. His snowy cravat contrasted with his tan face and set off his dark hair, pulled back into a queue for tonight. Beneath the formal black topcoat molded to his broad shoulders, his waistcoat was the same bluish-green color of her dress, with silver threads woven through it. He must have ordered it when he consigned the gown.

He was breathtakingly handsome, which was something she shouldn’t be thinking about. He was not escorting her because he was paying court. He simply wanted her to be seen to add more mystery for the gossips. She wondered how many of his lovers would be in attendance tonight, and if any of them would notice the matching waistcoat. She frowned at the thought.

He must have taken the frown as trepidation. “Don’t worry. You will do fine. All you have to do is sit in your chair and look composed. There’s no reason to be nervous.”

There was, but not for the reasons he thought. The Irish loved a good storytelling, and the wealthier visited the theatre. If one of her uncle’s friends was here tonight… Inis took a deep breath. The box would be fairly dim inside, and she’d had Elsie help arrange her hair to top of her head and tucked under the fashionable headdress that had accompanied the gown. She should be fine. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to remind Alex of their agreement. “You did promise I won’t have to leave the box until the play is over?”

Something flickered in his eyes briefly and then was gone. “Yes. I will not allow you to be humiliated. Trust me.”

It wasn’t humiliation she feared, but perhaps it was better that he think that. “Thank ye. I doona wish to speak to people I doona ken.”

He nodded as the carriage rolled to a stop and the footman hopped off the rumble seat of the carriage to open the door and put down the step. Alex stepped out and turned, offering his hand to her. Even though they were both wearing gloves, she could feel the warmth of his hand. Once her feet touched the ground, he tucked her hand inside the crook of his elbow and gave her fingers a slight squeeze. It was a more intimate gesture than simply offering his arm, although she doubted he meant anything more than to be reassuring with the gesture. It felt oddly protective, too, as he led her into the crowded lobby.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Smile and look straight ahead. We will be at our box in no time.”

She produced a wavering smile and lifted her chin as they moved through the throng. Alex greeted a few of the men and nodded to some of the ladies, but he kept moving as he’d said he would. Inis could feel the stares of the women as she passed them. Most were openly curious, a few more speculative, but one woman seemed more interested than the others, even though she stood a distance away. She had slanted, cat-like eyes that studied Inis as though she were prey about to be pounced on. She felt a little shiver slip down her spine and instinctively moved a bit closer to Alex.

He looked down and offered a reassuring smile. “We are almost there. Just up the stairs.”

Inis nodded and smiled back at him, forcing herself not to look sideways at the woman. She felt like a rabbit burrowing into a safe hole by the time they reached their box.

The inside was dimly lit with a single oil lamp sconce, its light shimmering off the green and gold satin brocade of the walls. Four large chairs upholstered in dark red velvet and two small black walnut tables filled the box. Alex must have seen her looking at the extra chairs, because he spoke quickly.

“I reserved the entire box. No one will be joining us.”

Her first reaction was relief that she would not have to share space with another couple, followed by the querulous thought that maybe Alex did this whenever he brought one of his lovers to the theatre. She frowned. Sweet Mary and all the saints. What was wrong with her? Thinking about what he did with his lovers would only cause pain.

Alex gave her a concerned look. “What is it? You look…troubled.”

“’Tis nothing,” Inis replied. Telling him what had actually been on her mind was out of the question. “I…um… Is it proper to have this much privacy?”

Alex grinned at her. “Because I am a rake?”

She was glad it was dark enough that he didn’t see her blush. Her thoughts had been dashing wildly in the opposite direction. “Ye do want to present me as an aristo, nae? ’Tis my reputation to consider.”

“Well put,” Alex said, smothering his grin and turning it into a smile. “The precaution is already taken. Our footman stands guard in the hall. It is not uncommon to have one do such.” He tilted his head and eyed her. “Would you like me to part the curtain as well?”

“Nae,” Inis said and hoped she didn’t sound too eager. “I mean…light would pour in from the hall and make seeing the stage difficult.”

“That is true,” Alex said and pulled one of the chairs for her. “And I believe the play is about to begin.”

A warm shiver slid down her arm from where his hand brushed her bare shoulder. For a moment, she thought he’d deliberately let his fingers linger against her skin, but when she looked at him, he’d already turned and moved to his own seat.

“What are we going to see?” Inis asked as the curtain opened.

“The Theatre Royal is doing William Shakespeare this month. He is one of the great English bards.”

She knew who Shakespeare was since the Royal Theatre of Dublin had once done a performance of Richard III. But she could not admit that in her present guise. “A bard? Did he wander the countryside with a harp and sing ballads?”

“Not quite. He wrote plays and headed an acting troop called the Lord Chamberlain’s Men based at the Globe Theatre here in London.” Alex smiled at her. “Tonight’s play is A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s a comedy, so I hope you enjoy it.”

They grew silent as the curtain opened with a couple discussing their upcoming marriage in four days. The Duke of Athens and his Amazon queen seemed to be in love, unlike the arranged marriage Inis had barely escaped. The contrast grew sharper when a man entered with a complaint to the duke that his daughter, Hermia, did not want to marry Demetrius, the husband the father had chosen for her.

Inis felt an instant empathy for the girl, especially when her father said he had the right to put her to death if she didn’t obey him. At least, her uncle hadn’t made that kind of threat. That the duke in the play offered Hermia an alternative life as a nun didn’t set well with Inis, either. Why were those the only two choices a woman had? To marry the person chosen for her or to spend the rest of her life in a convent? By the end of Act I, she was somewhat mollified by Hermia and Lysander’s decision to run away together.

“Are you enjoying the play?” Alex asked.

“Aye, but I doona see anything funny about it,” Inis answered.

“Just wait. You will.”

…

Alex had hoped no one would venture to their box during the intermission after Act III, but he should have known the ladies of the ton would be too inquisitive to accept him—or more accurately, Inis—not putting in an appearance in the main lobby.

The first to pop her head inside the curtain was Lady Compton, which was no surprise. The woman liked to be the first with fresh gossip. Her husband, a baron, had probably retreated to the sanctuary of the gentlemen’s lounge as he usually did at any social event. He needed the fortification of a stiff whiskey to endure his wife’s incessant prattling.

Alex stifled a groan as Ladies Linford, Dalton, and Caldwell all pressed behind Jeannette Compton. Christ. Was the whole damn R Club ascending the steps?

“You were not planning to hide this exquisite creature from us, were you, Lord Ashley?” Lady Compton asked, pushing the curtain aside and stepping in. “How naughty of you to keep her all to yourself when we are simply dying of curiosity.”

“I…we got caught up in discussing the play,” Alex said.

“Surely you will be polite enough to introduce us?” Jeanette asked.

Alex bit back a retort that a polite person would not have burst into a private box, but that wouldn’t deter this group. They had the look of a pack of hungry wolves. Alex sighed. “May I present Miss Inis O’Brien.”

Four pairs of eyes focused on Inis, assessing her. To her credit, she managed to sit quite straight, her hands folded in her lap, although Alex thought her face had paled. He leaned forward to shield her. The ladies suddenly smiled, which didn’t fool Alex at all.

“Which character do you favor?” Melanie Linford asked Inis mildly. “I find Lysander to be quite amusing.”

“Demetrius is a much better prospect,” Beatrice Dalton said.

Vanessa Caldwell waved a hand indifferently. “They are mere suitors. I say Theseus, the duke, is the best prize.”

“You would,” Beatrice commented wryly. “You are married to an earl, after all.”

Jeannette glared at all of them. “Perhaps we should give Miss O’Brien an opportunity to speak.”

Four pairs of eyes refocused on Inis. “I like Puck,” she said.

“Puck?” Beatrice started laughing. “He is nothing. Just a simpleton, really. Following orders.”

“Of course you are Irish. One would expect you to like faeries, I suppose,” Vanessa said.

Alex saw Inis’s face grow impassive. It was an expression servants often used to avoid looking mulish when confronted by a superior. Anger flashed through him. What right did these women, whose only concerns were fashion and invitations to the right places, have to make Inis feel inferior? He was about to defend her when she smiled at the waspish group.

“In Ireland, it is said the Fae chose to live in faerie mounds to avoid the cruelty of humans,” Inis replied. “Perhaps it was a wise choice.”

Alex hid a grin. The other women looked nonplussed, as if not quite sure whether they had been given a cut or whether Inis simply believed in folklore.

Caroline appeared behind the group, and Alex gave an almost audible sigh of relief. If anyone could round up these women and head them in another direction, she could. She gave him a wink before she turned to Inis.

“How nice to see you again. Have you quite recovered from your bout of the ague?”

Jeannette recovered her voice. “Ague?”

“Why, yes,” Caroline answered, sounding concerned. “When I ran into Lord Ashley last week, he told me his guest was practically at death’s door. It usually takes a good while to be up and about again.” Caroline smiled at Inis. “But since you are here, I am sure you are no longer contagious.”

The four women stepped back with such precision that a military colonel may have directed them. Fans snapped open to be held in front of noses.

“I believe I heard the bell for the beginning of the next act,” Jeannette said and turned to walk quickly away.

“Yes, I heard it, too,” Melanie added, following her.

“We certainly do not want to be late,” Beatrice said as she and Vanessa hurried to clear the hallway.

“How did I do?” Caroline grinned at Alex and Inis after the ladies had gone.

“You were wonderful,” Alex said. “Once the word gets around that Inis has been ill, I doubt any of the ton will want to venture too close for a while.”

Caroline shrugged. “When I saw that particular group of ladies stalking up the steps, I knew I had to think of something.”

“It was a brilliant idea.”

Inis nodded. “Aye, it was. Thank ye.”

“You are welcome,” Caroline replied. “I thought you could use a little more time before getting bombarded. Now, I had better go or the whole idea of being infectious will be ruined.” She gave them both a smile before she closed the curtain.

“You did well, too,” Alex said to Inis as the play began again.

“Thank ye,” she said, turning her attention to the stage.

As Alex turned to watch the actors, he realized she’d sounded just as English as the other ladies had. Perhaps Caroline’s lessons in elocution were coming along faster than they’d thought. But Inis had also mentioned faeries for the second time in as many weeks.

Had she suffered a head injury the doctor didn’t catch? Or did she really believe in faeries?

…

Miranda watched the four ladies practically catapulting down the stairs toward the main lobby and wondered what had happened. They all looked rather pale. Had they caught Alex in a compromising situation? Or, worse…in flagrante delicto?

Miranda had fantasized more than once about coupling in a public place. The fear of possible exposure would only add to the thrill. She narrowed her eyes to mere slits. Had the Irish whore beaten her to it?

“Goodness,” she said as she approached her friends. “Has the balcony caught on fire?”

“Of course not,” Melanie replied.

“It might be better if it had,” Beatrice said.

“Fire is cleansing, is it not?” Vanessa asked.

“Not one of you is making any sense.” Miranda frowned at the lot of them. “What happened? Was Lord Ashley’s guest disrobing for him?”

“Hardly,” Beatrice said.

Melanie raised a brow. “Leave it to you, Miranda, to even think such a thing.”

Jeannette shook her head. “Both were sitting quite respectably in their chairs.”

Miranda felt a bit of her tension diminish. She’d purposely declined to visit Alex’s box with the ladies, not wanting him to think she was part of the pack—his R Club. He needed to realize she was special, that she alone could meet his basest and darkest desires and fulfill his fantasies. Their one assignation had already proved how perfectly compatible they were.

But curiosity—or need—demanded to know why these four rushed down the steps in such a completely undignified way. “What is it then?”

“Ague,” Jeannette said.

Miranda blinked. “Ague?”

Vanessa nodded. “Caroline Nash said Miss O’Brien is recovering from it.”

“We’re not sure if she is completely well,” Beatrice added.

Miranda stared at them, not sure if they were attempting a jest at her expense. Fern hadn’t mentioned a thing about anyone being ill at Dansworth House, let alone Inis suffering from severe fever. The Irish twit hadn’t looked sick as she’d entered the theatre on Alex’s arm. Hanging onto him provocatively, like she was claiming him. She’d practically glowed when he’d bent down to whisper something to her.

“We did not think we should stay in close proximity,” Beatrice said.

Miranda forced herself to refocus. “Yes, I suppose that was wise.”

“We cannot be too careful,” Jeannette said as the head usher rang his hand bell, signaling that patrons should return to their seats. “The Season is just underway.”

As the women left to take their seats, Miranda looked up the stairs just in time to see Caroline appear at the top of them. The woman was one of those strange creatures who seemed to scorn Society, yet be accepted by it, no doubt because her father had saved the Prince Regent’s reputation—such as it was—on more than one occasion. Caroline was devious. Had Amelia Stanton not been even more cunning, Caroline would have become a duchess. But George’s ultimate rejection of Caroline had made her Alexander’s friend.

Miranda narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she moved out of sight of the steps.

Was Caroline playing a role in what was transpiring at Dansworth House? And, if so, what was it?