bumped, embraced. And they did not die.
She felt the gravel beneath her feet and dropped the servant’s hand, feeling unaccountably relieved and proud of herself. No one would ever know what it had taken to act so completely nonchalant when stepping from that carriage. No one would ever know the panic she had to fight, the fear.
Turning, she watched her uncle and cousin step from the carriage with graceful, masculine ease, looking about the crowd for acquaintances.
“Melissa, if you’ll allow me to escort you,” John said, holding out his arm much as he had in the study. As always, he gazed down at her, his eyes crinkling as if he knew what she was going through and he was giving her courage.
She gave him a big smile, as if he’d offered her his kingdom instead of an escort, and he grinned back.
“I thought you were going to lose your accounts in the carriage,” he whispered in her ear.
“I haven’t the slightest notion of what you mean,” she said, but she smiled up at him to let him know she did.
“They won’t bite, you know. At least not all of them. And I’ll let you know which ones do.”
Melissa squeezed his arm until he yelped, then looked up at him innocently. With John, she could be calm and almost confident. Clutching his arm, she felt as if there were a protective barrier between her and the rest of the people milling about. As they made their way into the opera house, her uncle was stopped several times and was forced to make introductions. Just as Miss Stanhope had told her, she simply nodded and murmured a few polite words and they went on their way.
“Not so difficult, you see?” John asked, looking down at her with a small bit of concern.
“I was being foolish in the carriage. I know that.”
“Not foolish,” he said. “Just a bit overwhelmed. Am I right?”
Melissa nodded, thankful that he understood, at least a little, how she was feeling. She didn’t know why or how he understood, but was glad he did. On his arm, the fear that paralyzed her all but dissipated, and she idly wondered if she would one day be able to fight the panic on her own. Or would she need to drag him about for the rest of her life the way she used to drag about her little blanket when she was a child?
Melissa had never been in a building so large. As they walked beneath the entry, she expected to walk into a grand hall, but instead found herself being led into a crowded lobby. The air was filled with cigar smoke that clung to the ceiling in a fine haze, and so many bodies in one room made the space rather stifling. She seemed to be the only one who noticed this, however, so she kept silent as they made their way slowly up a set of stairs and along a long, curving hallway.
“Our box is number seventeen, and if you don’t loosen your hold on my arm, I fear it will drop off from lack of blood. There you go. The odd numbers are on the left, the even on the right, should you get lost. Here we are,” John said, stepping through a narrow door and into the box, where eight velvet-covered chairs sat.
“Oh,” Melissa breathed. It was magnificent. A huge gas-lit chandelier hung high above the theatre, casting the entire cavernous room in a soft, golden light. The oval-shaped room rose three tiers above where she stood, and below was the main auditorium facing a large stage, now hidden by a thick, red velvet curtain. The ceiling was dominated by a golden starburst from which the chandelier hung. A small thrill went through her. This was what she’d dreamed about when she was in her room and had read about the operas that others attended. She didn’t remember longing to go, but she’d always wondered what the grand London theatres actually looked like. And here she was, standing in perhaps the grandest theatre in the world, gazing up at the brightly lit ceiling.
John watched her, fascinated. She went from nearly terrified to excited and amazed in the space of a few minutes. She was gazing at the ceiling, and
She felt the gravel beneath her feet and dropped the servant’s hand, feeling unaccountably relieved and proud of herself. No one would ever know what it had taken to act so completely nonchalant when stepping from that carriage. No one would ever know the panic she had to fight, the fear.
Turning, she watched her uncle and cousin step from the carriage with graceful, masculine ease, looking about the crowd for acquaintances.
“Melissa, if you’ll allow me to escort you,” John said, holding out his arm much as he had in the study. As always, he gazed down at her, his eyes crinkling as if he knew what she was going through and he was giving her courage.
She gave him a big smile, as if he’d offered her his kingdom instead of an escort, and he grinned back.
“I thought you were going to lose your accounts in the carriage,” he whispered in her ear.
“I haven’t the slightest notion of what you mean,” she said, but she smiled up at him to let him know she did.
“They won’t bite, you know. At least not all of them. And I’ll let you know which ones do.”
Melissa squeezed his arm until he yelped, then looked up at him innocently. With John, she could be calm and almost confident. Clutching his arm, she felt as if there were a protective barrier between her and the rest of the people milling about. As they made their way into the opera house, her uncle was stopped several times and was forced to make introductions. Just as Miss Stanhope had told her, she simply nodded and murmured a few polite words and they went on their way.
“Not so difficult, you see?” John asked, looking down at her with a small bit of concern.
“I was being foolish in the carriage. I know that.”
“Not foolish,” he said. “Just a bit overwhelmed. Am I right?”
Melissa nodded, thankful that he understood, at least a little, how she was feeling. She didn’t know why or how he understood, but was glad he did. On his arm, the fear that paralyzed her all but dissipated, and she idly wondered if she would one day be able to fight the panic on her own. Or would she need to drag him about for the rest of her life the way she used to drag about her little blanket when she was a child?
Melissa had never been in a building so large. As they walked beneath the entry, she expected to walk into a grand hall, but instead found herself being led into a crowded lobby. The air was filled with cigar smoke that clung to the ceiling in a fine haze, and so many bodies in one room made the space rather stifling. She seemed to be the only one who noticed this, however, so she kept silent as they made their way slowly up a set of stairs and along a long, curving hallway.
“Our box is number seventeen, and if you don’t loosen your hold on my arm, I fear it will drop off from lack of blood. There you go. The odd numbers are on the left, the even on the right, should you get lost. Here we are,” John said, stepping through a narrow door and into the box, where eight velvet-covered chairs sat.
“Oh,” Melissa breathed. It was magnificent. A huge gas-lit chandelier hung high above the theatre, casting the entire cavernous room in a soft, golden light. The oval-shaped room rose three tiers above where she stood, and below was the main auditorium facing a large stage, now hidden by a thick, red velvet curtain. The ceiling was dominated by a golden starburst from which the chandelier hung. A small thrill went through her. This was what she’d dreamed about when she was in her room and had read about the operas that others attended. She didn’t remember longing to go, but she’d always wondered what the grand London theatres actually looked like. And here she was, standing in perhaps the grandest theatre in the world, gazing up at the brightly lit ceiling.
John watched her, fascinated. She went from nearly terrified to excited and amazed in the space of a few minutes. She was gazing at the ceiling, and
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