“I couldn’t do that, now could I? And let you ladies have all the fun? Never .” They giggled and Meredith continued. “Allow me to be the first to introduce Miss Ophelia Marshall, from Hamptonshire.”
“Is your father Viscount Marshall, then?” Alex remarked offhandedly, as if the answer didn’t make all the difference in the world.
Ophelia swallowed, looking up at Meredith for some sort of assistance that she couldn’t give. As was the case with discriminating women such as this, Meredith could only open the door to such an elite group. It would be up to Ophelia to walk in and make herself comfortable.
“Yes,” Ophelia responded timidly.
The girls all made similar non-committal sounds that resonated as approval and Meredith sighed with relief. The confirmation of peerage was all the group needed. The ladies resumed their prior conversation, inviting Ophelia into the world she’d been too scared to enter previously. Of course, this meant nothing more than the promise of civility, but it was a step in the right direction.
Already bored by the small talk, Meredith scanned the lobby. Out the corner of her eye, she spotted a man who caught her interest and tried to maneuver around to get a better view. There was something familiar about him, though his black pants and jacket did little to separate him from every other gentleman at the performance. But before she managed to get a good look, he was gone.
Suddenly, it was time for the lobby’s occupants to find their seats. “Now, if you ladies will excuse us. We need to be making our way to Miss Marshall’s box.” Meredith took a certain delight in making it known that it was she who’d been invited to the event, and not the other way around. To be requested made one far more valuable than being the one to issue the invitation.
The girls all bid their regards, and the two made their way to their seats just as the performance was about to begin.
“Drat,” Meredith cursed under her breath. Mr. Marshall was seated on the opposite side of Lady Marshall, too far to be of any use to her. She relaxed, resolving to enjoy the performance, despite the unfortunate seating arrangement. The view from the box was one of the best in the theatre and she couldn’t wait for the music to begin.
Meredith closed her eyes as the first notes from the orchestra drifted up. She opened them when the singing began, but found herself unable to see the stage, her view obstructed by the mound of chestnut curls piled atop Ophelia’s head.
“Do you mind?”
“I’m sorry,” Ophelia stuttered, quickly sitting back in her seat. “I was just looking for him—the Earl.”
“And you think he’ll be here tonight?”
“Mama said he would be.”
Meredith frowned. “And just what does this pirate Earl look like? Perhaps I could be of some assistance?”
“To be quite honest, it’s a bit disarming just how attractive he is. He’s very tall and looks to be quite strong. Mama says he’s the type that makes a woman’s knees go weak.”
Meredith snickered. When was the last time her knees had gone weak at the sight of anyone? A gown perhaps, but not a man. “If he’s as attractive as you’re describing, then we won’t be looking for long. All we’ll have to do is follow the stares of ogling women.”
“I suppose that’s a logical way to go about it. He does have a way of commanding attention.”
“He sounds like a rogue to me.” Meredith knew the type, careless of action and caring for no one.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Despite his bravado, there was a certain tenderness about him . . .”
“You have your studies, and I have mine. Men that easily weaken knees and revel in the attention of others are usually just as proficient at breaking hearts. Believe me, men like that are dangerous.”
“Perhaps,” Ophelia agreed quietly.
Satisfied that her protégé had heeded her warning, Meredith settled down to enjoy the rest of Act one.
Later, when the lights
“Is your father Viscount Marshall, then?” Alex remarked offhandedly, as if the answer didn’t make all the difference in the world.
Ophelia swallowed, looking up at Meredith for some sort of assistance that she couldn’t give. As was the case with discriminating women such as this, Meredith could only open the door to such an elite group. It would be up to Ophelia to walk in and make herself comfortable.
“Yes,” Ophelia responded timidly.
The girls all made similar non-committal sounds that resonated as approval and Meredith sighed with relief. The confirmation of peerage was all the group needed. The ladies resumed their prior conversation, inviting Ophelia into the world she’d been too scared to enter previously. Of course, this meant nothing more than the promise of civility, but it was a step in the right direction.
Already bored by the small talk, Meredith scanned the lobby. Out the corner of her eye, she spotted a man who caught her interest and tried to maneuver around to get a better view. There was something familiar about him, though his black pants and jacket did little to separate him from every other gentleman at the performance. But before she managed to get a good look, he was gone.
Suddenly, it was time for the lobby’s occupants to find their seats. “Now, if you ladies will excuse us. We need to be making our way to Miss Marshall’s box.” Meredith took a certain delight in making it known that it was she who’d been invited to the event, and not the other way around. To be requested made one far more valuable than being the one to issue the invitation.
The girls all bid their regards, and the two made their way to their seats just as the performance was about to begin.
“Drat,” Meredith cursed under her breath. Mr. Marshall was seated on the opposite side of Lady Marshall, too far to be of any use to her. She relaxed, resolving to enjoy the performance, despite the unfortunate seating arrangement. The view from the box was one of the best in the theatre and she couldn’t wait for the music to begin.
Meredith closed her eyes as the first notes from the orchestra drifted up. She opened them when the singing began, but found herself unable to see the stage, her view obstructed by the mound of chestnut curls piled atop Ophelia’s head.
“Do you mind?”
“I’m sorry,” Ophelia stuttered, quickly sitting back in her seat. “I was just looking for him—the Earl.”
“And you think he’ll be here tonight?”
“Mama said he would be.”
Meredith frowned. “And just what does this pirate Earl look like? Perhaps I could be of some assistance?”
“To be quite honest, it’s a bit disarming just how attractive he is. He’s very tall and looks to be quite strong. Mama says he’s the type that makes a woman’s knees go weak.”
Meredith snickered. When was the last time her knees had gone weak at the sight of anyone? A gown perhaps, but not a man. “If he’s as attractive as you’re describing, then we won’t be looking for long. All we’ll have to do is follow the stares of ogling women.”
“I suppose that’s a logical way to go about it. He does have a way of commanding attention.”
“He sounds like a rogue to me.” Meredith knew the type, careless of action and caring for no one.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Despite his bravado, there was a certain tenderness about him . . .”
“You have your studies, and I have mine. Men that easily weaken knees and revel in the attention of others are usually just as proficient at breaking hearts. Believe me, men like that are dangerous.”
“Perhaps,” Ophelia agreed quietly.
Satisfied that her protégé had heeded her warning, Meredith settled down to enjoy the rest of Act one.
Later, when the lights
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