There was something cruel about him. Vindictive, even. I don’t like it. Something tells me that Dunn won’t easily forget how I avoided a union with him. Thank the lord for Westvale. I would rather a mysterious and strange husband over Dunn any day.
CHAPTER 11
The list for today was complete in Ronan’s perspective.
Not only had he surprised Isla with a trip to the opera to see a show she had mentioned wishing to see, he had also managed a respectful apology for his premature departure at the tea house when they were last together, and he had gifted her a lovely strand of pearls she now wore around her neck.
I even complimented her gown, mentioned three facts about the opera, and asked for her opinion on the costumes. So what the devil is going on? I cannot have gotten any of this wrong, surely.
He shifted slightly to his right to look at Isla.
Already they had seen the first half, enjoyed a fine wine during the intermission, and resumed the second part of the show. Ronan knew that on paper how tonight was going perfectly.
The only problem was that Isla was quiet. She was quiet with her lips pressed tightly together. Not only that, but the rest of her body was now at clear odds with her silence.
She had stopped tapping her feet when he asked her if there was a problem. Then she had taken to wiggling around in her seat, spending nearly six minutes fiddling with a loose thread on her gloves, and now she was starting to take apart the opera glasses he had lent her.
“Is something wrong with them?” He finally whispered.
“Oh.” One round piece nearly slipped off her lap before she caught it in time. Turning to face him, she showed a guilty pout. “I’m sorry.”
“They’re only opera glasses. Probably fixable.” He eyed them warily before lifting his gaze back to her. “Were they broken?”
She hesitated before shaking her head. “I’m awfully sorry, Your Grace. Perhaps… can you?”
While they had been delivered to her in one piece, she returned them in five. He accepted them into his own lap to start fiddling with in turn to see if they could be fixed. Two were put back together while she chewed on her bottom lip and wiggled some more in her seat, watching.
Ronan paused. “Don’t you wish to watch the show?”
“Hm? Oh, right. Yes. That is still… playing.”
So Isla turned her gaze back to the show. Her seat was only angled slightly at odds with his. That made it clear to him whenever she twisted back to watch him fixing the opera glasses. Every single time.
“Has the show bored you?” He asked her.
“Of course not. I told you how much I wished to see it,” she added hurriedly.
He watched the way her big eyes focused on his hands. Unable to help himself, he slowed down his actions and fiddled longer with the glasses. Then he eyed the stage for a heartbeat before asking her, “Do you like the elephants?”
“Yes, they’re my favorite.”
“And the soprano?”
“Absolutely brilliant, of course.”
His lips twitched. “It seems to be a very sad story, I think.”
“I could almost cry,” Isla said agreeably.
The glasses were put back into one piece. Ronan considered keeping them, slipping them away into his pockets so shecouldn’t break it next time. But he changed his mind. They were only glasses. He offered them back.
When Isla put out her hand, he set the glasses down and then covered her hand from on top and below. She froze, slowly meeting his gaze.
“The alto is singing in the ocean about being married,” Ronan corrected her. “There are no elephants or sad scenes and the soprano isn’t in this scene.”
Her nose scrunched up like she didn’t understand what he was telling her. “What does that mean?”
Leaning forward as though he worried someone might hear them––when they were the only ones in his box––Ronan whispered, “It means you aren’t paying attention at all to this opera.”
