The coach came to a stop in front of the Opera House and they waited for the footman to open the door. Caleb stepped out and reached back to assist her out of the coach.
As he led her up the stairs of the Opera House, Anette remembered her mother’s words about feeling inferior. She was dressed in an exquisite gown, with her hair elegantly coiffed and a pearl necklace framing her neck. She looked every part the woman of high Society. Yet, there was something that made her feel as if she didn't quite belong.
They stepped inside the building and followed the hordes of people as they searched for their boxes. Once they arrived at Roswell’s box, Caleb opened the door and allowed her to enter first.
Octavia jumped up from her seat and rushed to give her an embrace. “I am so happy you decided to come this evening.”
Roswell cleared his throat. “People are watching us, Sister,” he remarked.
She waved her hand in front of her. “Let them watch.”
Turning his attention towards Anette, Roswell gazed at her with a wide grin. His smile was so warm and captivating it seeped into her dreams. It transformed his expression, seeming to light up his eyes. “Hello, Anette.”
“Hello, Roswell,” she replied, pleased that she found her voice.
Roswell gestured towards a chair and asked, “Would you care to have a seat?”
“Thank you,” she said as she stepped over to sit in the proffered chair. She hoped that Roswell wouldn’t sit by her for fear that she wouldn’t be able to pay attention to the performance.
Octavia dropped into a seat next to her. “I am pleased that you are here. Roswell is no fun.”
“That is because I won’t let you chat incessantly,” Roswell remarked.
Anette practically let out a sigh of relief when her brother sat next to her. Now Roswell would be forced to sit by his sister. Distance was a good thing when it came to him.
Octavia opened her reticule on her lap. “Knowing your fondness for biscuits, I brought you one in case you got hungry during the performance.”
“You didn’t,” she said, surprised by her friend’s antics. Even she wouldn’t be so bold as to bring biscuits to the Opera House, especially since her mother would not find the situation amusing.
Retrieving the biscuit, Octavia held it up. “I did, and I brought one for me as well.”
“What about the men?” Roswell asked.
“You should have brought your own treats,” Octavia said as she extended Anette the biscuit.
Caleb chuckled. “Who would have thought a reticule would have come in so handy?”
“Perhaps I will make one and hide biscuits within it,” Roswell joked.
Octavia gave her brother an amused look. “You couldn’t make a reticule even if you tried.”
“Netting a reticule couldn’t possibly be that difficult,” Roswell said.
“It takes years of practice to perfect one,” Octavia defended.
Roswell smirked. “If it takes you years, it probably would only take me mere moments to figure out.”
Octavia made a show of bringing the biscuit up to her lips. “Just for that comment, I will not share my biscuit with you.”
“You had no intention of doing so anyways.”
“Yes, but now I don’t feel an ounce of guilt over it,” Octavia said.
Anette took a bite of her biscuit and her eyes grew wide. “This is delicious.”
“Our cook makes the best biscuits,” Octavia revealed proudly. “You will have to come to call and I will give you a whole plate of them.”
“Now that I am aware of the biscuit situation, I have no choice but to call upon you every day,” Anette said.
