“You look as if you are on your way to the palace for a most regal engagement,” Hugo said, as he took Selina’s hand and kissed her glove gently. “Might you be a secret princess in disguise, Miss Parsons? Have you escaped that stuffy place to be with the bright young things of London?”
Selina rolled her eyes. “I believe I must be the wrong audience for your compliments, Your Grace.”
She gestured vaguely in the direction of the giddy young women in the foyer, as Evelyn’s hopes dwindled within her. Surely, there must be a way to get Selina to see the merit of Hugo St. Vincent. He was the Season’s most eligible bachelor and Selina was the Season’s most eligible young lady: how could theynotbe a match for one another?
You are too stubborn by far, Selina,Evelyn lamented silently. Sir Anthony was not even that handsome, had very little to offer in his character, and brooded with such determination that she doubted he had a sense of humor at all. What Selina saw in such a beastly man; Evelyn did not have the faintest notion.
“I relish a challenge, Miss Parsons,” Hugo said, undeterred. “You do not stroll up a meager hill when there is a magnificent mountain to be climbed. Indeed, why pick daisies that grow in abundance when there might be a rare bloom waiting where few have dared to tread before?”
Selina puffed out a sigh. “My ankle is sore again. I should like to sit down.”
“Certainly, Miss Parsons.” Hugo offered his arm and, with a moment of reluctance, Selina took it, allowing herself to be led through the red-draped hallways of the opera house to the seclusion of a private box.
Evelyn hurried along behind, secretly thrilled that, for the first time in her twenty-two years, she would be permitted to sit inside a private box. Her father hated the opera, but on the rare occasions that her brothers had taken her, they had been seated wherever the tickets were cheapest. Never in her life did she think she would get to sit in a private box.
Inside that hideaway, with such a view of the stage that it took Evelyn’s breath away, Selina broke off from Hugo before he could even help her to her seat.
For a moment, he frowned, as if the novelty of the challenge was wearing off somewhat.
“It is her ankle,” Evelyn jumped in. “She is not usually in such a temper, but I fear it is the pain making her… not quite herself.”
Hugo turned sharply, blinking in something like surprise as he set those unusual eyes on Evelyn. Itwaslike a trick in some ways, how she could suddenly become visible again once Selina had withdrawn her attention from whomever sought it.
“You were at the ball,” he said, tilting his head to get a better look at her. “You must be the chaperone.”
Evelyn cleared her throat. “Not exactly. I am Miss Parsons’ friend. The chaperone is… just outside. She does not care for the opera; it gives her a headache.”
In truth, Selina’s chaperone was of a somewhat… lazy nature, who preferred to let her ward do as she pleased. It suited both women perfectly, though it was part of the reason that Sir Anthony had been allowed to get so close to Selina in the first place.
“I see.” Hugo drew in a breath. “Well, do sit.”
Evelyn dipped her head. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
She slipped into the seat just behind her friend, while Hugo settled into the chair beside Selina. There was a polite distance between them, though it might as well have been a crevasse; Selina would not even look at him, leaning forward over the lip of the balcony, no doubt to see who else was in attendance that night.
“Do you enjoy the opera, Your Grace?” Evelyn asked, hoping to draw Selina into the conversation.
Hugo turned slightly. “Not as such. I much prefer to watch the people watching the performance.” His gaze flitted to Selina. “I once saw Lord Foster erupt into tears, if you can believe it.He tried to pretend it was a bout of indigestion, coughing and spluttering, but I know what I saw.”
“Lord Foster? Goodness, I would not have thought it possible!” Evelyn played into the surprise, though itwasrather hard to believe.
Lord Foster was said to be the dullest gentleman alive, who never spoke at dinner parties, and stood blank-faced and unsmiling at balls, so tedious that he was not even invited into the smoking room with the rest of the gentlemen. To think that he might have been moved by the opera was actually rather sweet.
“You know him?” Hugo asked.
“I knowofhim,” Evelyn replied. “Miss Parsons met him once. Did you not, Selina? Did he not try to talk to you about masonry?”
Selina looked back at Evelyn. “Perhaps. I cannot recall.”
“I had to fabricate a bee just to liberate her,” Evelyn said, covering her mouth to hide a laugh at the memory. “It was the summer, you see, and the French doors were open. There was no bee, of course, but my friend is simply too polite to have excused herself, so I assisted her.”
Hugo raised an eyebrow. “Miss Parsons is known for her politeness?”
“I am, actually,” Selina replied, her attention turned back toward the crowd, watching as the fine ladies and gentlemen took their seats in the majestic auditorium.
“What has attracted your eye?” he asked her, leaning in slightly. “Is it scandal? A friend? I daresay there is no place better for spotting fresh gossip that has not yet reached society than from up here.”
Selina gave a shrug. “I do not yet know what I am looking for.”
