My mother?
Corie patted his hand. Theyll make a fine match.
Uh, of course. Thats what I was thinking all along, why I invited the man, naturally.
He went upstairs to soak his feet.
Chapter Twenty-four
C
orie loved the theater. Shed seen plays, but not many truly professional ones, nor any with actors of this stature and renown. The buildings interior alone was a marvel, all gilt and crystal and towering tiers. The architectures opulence was rivaled only by that of the audience members in their private boxes, in their satin and jewels and feathered headdresses.
Everyone stared at everyone else, with their opera glasses, no less, so Corie did the same from the Royce box. With her own sight focused across the vast theater, she escaped feeling that every eye was on her. It did not matter where the spectators gazed, because the party from Royce House had purposely arrived too late for visitors to their box, and too late to overhear gossip from the nearby seats.
Corie sat in front at Lady Coras direction, where people could see her enjoying herself. Even so visibly situated, she felt far enough away that no one could tell her diamonds were fake. She was reassured no one could find fault with her gown, either. One of Madame Journets masterpieces, the gold satin made her feel like a fairy-tale princess.
It made Daniel Stamfield go speechless or stuttering again, so Corie knew she looked her finest. He did that, she realized, only when he was overwhelmed or feeling trapped. Since they both knew she had no designs on him, he must find her gown and elaborately twisted coronet of hair pleasing.
He hadnt said the bodice was too low-cut, either, which Corie had feared he might, since shed complained to the dressmaker herself. Madame Journet had laughed. Daniel licked his lips and swallowed a few times before getting a single word out. That was compliment enough.
Lord Trowbridge gracefully complimented all the ladies, including Miss Reynolds, proving what a gentleman he was. Daniel should take lessons, Corie decided, but then he wouldnt be as much fun to tease by leaning forward, taking longer strides so ones gown clung, or fluttering ones darkened eyelashes. Too bad he was seated behind her, except that her back was nearly bare in the low-cut gown. Let Mr. Stamfield swallow that!
Through her opera glasses, she surveyed the audience the same way they were inspecting her before the lights were turned down. She recognized many of the faces, but not one held her interest as much as Daniel and Trowbridge sitting behind her. They were talking about their morning at the bank, and how successful, how interesting. At the bank?
Then the drama began and Corie was lost in the magic of the play.
She was still bemused and in a different world, a different era, at intermission when the present intruded all too swiftly. Lady Coras friends stopped at the box to show their support. Lord Morgans acquaintances wanted to congratulate him on his recovery. Government officials sought a moment of Lord Trowbridges time, now that he was out and socializing. Susannas suitors were too awed by the presence of such eminences to intrude, but not so Cories older, more sophisticated admirers. They were too needy to be deterred.
She knew the baronet who brought her a glass of champagne was spending borrowed money to woo a bride. She suspected the knight who brought her an orange would likely go home with one of the orange sellers. The high-level clerk who was ogling her while speaking with Trowbridge had no manners. The finance minister had manners, but held her hand far too long.
The entire intermission lasted too long for Cories taste. The wine, the carefully peeled orange, and the gentlemen were not to her taste, either. She tried to lose herself in the play again, putting worries of her future aside for now. Somehow she was more aware of the man behind her than she was of all the men on the stage, all the heroes, all the villains. Now, that was a tragedy.
The women recited half the play in the carriage on the way to the Grand Hotel for Trowbridges dinner. The viscount went ahead with Clarence to see that everything was arranged to his satisfaction, although hed made reservations, selected the menu, and chosen the wines before meeting Daniel at the bank in the morning. They found more counterfeits, but no information had come back from Oxford this soon, so Daniel kept shuffling through the stacks of banknotes.
Trowbridge was an efficient bloke, Daniel thought, and not just at the bank or his own office. He was jealous of the mans polish, his elegance, his damn smooth tongue. No matter what Corie said, she had to have her head turned by the paragon. Half the women in the audience did. Even with the theater lights turned down, Daniel could see the calculating gleams in their eyes as they wondered how long before they could get their claws into the wealthy new widower.
Half the men in the audience ogled Corie. The other half had their wives or mistresses with them and feared for their lives, or their evenings pleasure, if they showed too much interest in Miss Corisande Abbott. He couldnt blame any of the gawkers, either. She glittered more than her diamonds, and she was for real. Really, she ought to be wearing more clothing! Just looking at her back, the smooth skin, the planes of her delicate bones, the graceful way she held her head, made him go as hard as those glass diamonds she wore so valiantly.
Thinking about the stolen gems made him want to go buy her genuine ones, diamonds and rubies and sapphires, to see her wearing them and nothing else. Hell, just breathing in her lilac scent made him glad he was sitting in the shadows. Thank heavens he could not see her front, or hed be like a stag in rut.
To get his mind off such inappropriate desireshed been without a woman too long, that was allDaniel tried to select a few gentlemen he might invite for the next gathering of candidates at his mothers. Looking at the nearby boxes, though, he could not find one man hed like to dine with, much less see wed to his mothers ward.
The government types who pretended business with Trowbridge in order to scrape up an acquaintance with the beauty were prigs. Theyd bore her to death in a week. And they were so stupid they started talking about a counterfeiting ring where anyone could overhear. Those were the men running the government? Maybe hed go help Harrison and his friends with forged checks instead.
His friendswell, hed shoved a few out of the box before being forced to make the introductions. None of them was good enough for her, or met her standards. By Jupiter, none of them met his standards. Some of the actors were more respectable. Then again, some of the actors were his friends, too. No, none of them would do for Corie.
He came back to the present while the women were going over the play, act by act, scene by scene, monologue by monologue, in the carriage. They each had to choose their favorite part, the actor they thought performed best, the most elegant costume. They compared this enactment to other versions they had seen or acted in at school, then to the original as written. They all knew the blasted tragedy by heart.
Daniel couldnt remember which play hed sat through.
The Grand Hotel was one of the more recent additions to social Londons favorite haunts. Facing Green Park, the hotel boasted a French chef known for his genius and his volatile temperament. Sometimes the charlotte russe was set aflame; sometimes the hotel was, although the chef swore that was an accident. Recently rebuilt, the establishment was gloriously elegant, except for the buckets of sand and pails of water under every table.
A magisterial majordomo led them to their table, where Lord Trowbridge and Clarence were waiting. Every other table in the place was filled, some with distinguished theatergoers like themselves, some with wealthy families visiting the capital, some with gentlemen and their
Do not stare, Miss Reynolds hissed at Susanna, falling back into her role of governess in the face of painted women.
As if Susanna did not know such females existed, Daniel mused, since theyd been outside the theater, soliciting customers for a private show. The women inside the hotel were higher-caliber courtesans, the ones Susanna must have seen in the park or shopping on Bond Street.
They were dressed as fashionably as the ladies of Royce House, perhaps by the same modistes. The dashers wore more jewels, which were probably more authentic than Cories. But their manners were far freer, their laughs louder, their cosmetics more heavily applied.
One table in particular was more raucous than good manners or wisdom allowed. From what Daniel had heard, the unpredictable chef was liable to come threaten the revelers with a meat cleaver for distracting the patrons from his creations.
Trowbridges table was as far as possible from the lords and their ladybirds, Daniel was relieved to see. It was all well and good for him to associate with such femaleshe even caught the wink from one courtesan he recognized from the Cyprians Ballbut his mother and sister should not be subjected to such low company. Or Miss Abbott, he quickly added in his mind. She might not be as pure as driven snow, but she was not covered in the mud of a mistress for hire.
Shed had motives for her actions, Daniel reminded himself, good reasons for acting the way she had. He supposed these females did, too, hunger being the primary cause for a womans fall from grace, but Corie was still a lady. These trollops never had been, never would be.
The meal was one of the finest Daniel had ever tasted, at least since last evening. Dish followed dish, each more delightful to look at, better to savor. Wines, china, silverware, and strolling musicians changed with each course. For once, Daniel did not have to think of anything to say, because the entire party was more interested in their food than chattering. Even Corie ate more than her usual bird pickings.
The only bar to Daniels total enjoyment of the dinner was the noise coming from that far table. The violinist was drowned out; the harpist in the corner could not be heard at all, which wasnt entirely unfortunate. The talk was getting more risqué with each glass of wine, however, and the women more blatant about their business. Trowbridge was frowning and Daniel knew he was thinking of complaining to the waiter, which might have led the chef to take offense, which might deny Daniel a taste of the hotels famous flambé desserts.
So Daniel stood, excused himself to his party, and walked toward the roisterers. He recognized several of the men, none of them friends of his, and a few more of the women. He did not think any of them were former lovers, since he seldom employed such high-priced prostitutes, except perhaps for the one who called out, Hallo, Danny. Want to join our fun instead of that sobersides group?
Im sorry, but theyre my family. Id like to suggest this is not the place for such, ah, licentious behavior.
She giggled. What, do we need a license to have a good time? Some of the others laughed, too.
I merely meant there are ladies present.
Ooh, real ladies. Now, aint you come up in the world, our Danny?
Even fall-down drunks have famblies, Sophie, a yellow-haired woman told her, trying to act prim and proper, with her gown half undone. Why dont we go somewhere we can dance and let these nice folks have their dinner in peace?
Daniel thought that an excellent idea. He placed a pound notea good oneon the table and said, And have a bottle of champagne on me.
Sophie and the blonde were squabbling over the blunt when Daniel turned to go back to Trowbridges party, but one of the men lurched to his feet and followed him. Who the hell are you to tell me where to drink and what to say?
Daniel did not want any trouble, not with his family and Corie looking on, so he kept walking. The man followed him.
Daniel didnt know the fellow, but he was dressed like a gentleman and his accent was educated, albeit loud and slurred, so Daniel apologized for his intrusion. I merely wish everyone to enjoy their dinners.
The maîître d was looking anxious. The rest of the restaurant was hushed. The harpist stopped plucking the strings midchord.
Hurry back, Stamfield, Lord Morgan called across the room. Theyre about to serve dessert.
Stamfield? the drunk bellowed. Daniel Stamfield? The cur who killed my brother?
Daniel did not want to cause a scene, not now, not here. He tried again. I assure you, sir, I never killed anyones brother, not even a Frenchmans. My aim was never that good.
But the man was looking past Daniel, toward his table. You are as guilty of murder as if you pulled the trigger yourself. You and that harlot with you!
Gasps broke out everywhere, especially among the members of the
ton
.
If you are referring to Miss Reynolds, Daniel said, still trying to defuse the situation, I assure you, she is a respectable governess and my mothers loyal secretary.
Here now, Lord Morgan said, failing to see the humor.
The waiters were lining up, ready to start evicting customers. It was obvious who the troublemaker was, but their job was to protect the china and the chairs.
