“We’ve been noted,” Eliza whispered.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Redver inclined his head.
“Of course,” she replied. “Friend.”
The word was a hand against his chest, a kindness he wasn’t used to receiving. He quite liked the feeling. He turned away but remained acutely aware of her presence.
He settled the disagreement, which turned out to be a minor one concerning the libretto’s author. One that could have been easily settled with a glance at the program.
Duly noted.
He was to be tolerated, but not yet fully embraced. As further proof, Lady Asquith declared that the seating arrangement needed to be changed.
He met Miss Wainwright’s eyes over her godmother’s head. The knowing look within them was yet another intimacy, another shared secret. If a fake courtship was this enjoyable, might a real one be even better?
He tamped down an inward flare of excitement. He was not likely to find out any time soon.
He reminded himself of the facts. She was already considering another man’s offer. And if, he hadn’t been of any interest to the Blackbird, though he had pleasured her well, he wasn’t likely to spark dreams of home and hearth in an innocentyoung lady, even though he suddenly—and unexpectedly—wished to do so.
But he’d the dancing lessons, the Royal Academy, and God knew how many other outings to look forward to before the inevitable axe would fall.
He intended to enjoy every one of them.
“Relieved to be parted from the harpy sister, I wager,” Harbury whispered as the curtain fell.
“Actually, I found her company quite agreeable.” The tribute had been inadequate. Her company had been more than agreeable, really. “And you?”
His gaze flitted over to the sisters and back. “Miss Cassandra is tolerable enough, I suppose.” He shook his head. “Impossible, of course.”
“Impossible because ofthat Pennington?”
Harbury stiffened and looked around. “Where?”
“Not here,” Adrian whispered in a quelling tone.
“You said ‘that Pennington.’”
“Settle down.” Adrian folded his arms but smiled inwardly. “Just a figure of speech.”
Harbury eased back into his seat. “I don’t see what’s so amusing. If I’m not careful, I could find myself shackled.”
Silently, they watched the play, each—he suspected—more absorbed in their own thoughts than the drama playing out on stage.
“Can you imagine marrying a twin?” Harbury asked.
Interesting.Was Harbury considering marriage, then?
“How could one ever be sure one’s wife was one’s wife?”
Pondering the question, Adrian turned his gaze to the front of the box. The identical sisters sat with their heads together, pretending not to whisper.
“The difference between them is obvious,” he said. Even at this distance.
“You can tell them apart?” Harbury asked.
“Absolutely.”
“How?”
