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“Excellent.”

“But why is Kate’s father insisting that they marry so quickly?”

“Likely for the same reason your father would like to complete our betrothal,” Fiennes suggested.

“My father—” She broke off. “I see. I hope you are not as desperate for my dowry as Master Petruchio is, Lord Peregrine.”

“No,” he said, amused. Fulvia seemed to have no idea of his wealth, which was refreshing.

Behind them, the door opened, likely the attendant returning. Fiennes turned and froze, barely stopping himself from scowling.

He would expect Viscount St. Trevelyon to pay a visit to the box, if only to inquire as to his wife’s comfort.

But Lady Regina?

What in the bloody hell was his former fiancée doing, prancing into his box as if she hadn’t discarded his ring in a glass of lemonade?

CHAPTER SIX

IN WHICH ELLA CROSSES SWORDS WITH HER COUSIN’S FIANCÉ

Ella was doing her best to enjoy the evening. After all, she might never again have the chance to attend a performance at the Royal Theater, let alone in its most lavish box—other than that containing royalty, of course.

The truth was, she was rattled.

Her cousin’s future husband was … well, he was so much more than she had imagined. Lord Peregrine wasn’t anything like the debauched noblemen whom her uncle occasionally brought to the country, the men who clustered around the Prince Regent: They were indolent gamblers with lascivious eyes and soft waistlines.

Lord Peregrine’s face was chiseled, his jaw hard, even his eyebrows forceful. His body was broad-shouldered and muscular, as commanding as his features.

The only thing about Lord Peregrine that reminded her of the Prince’s cronies was his expression. When she first entered the box, his face looked intolerably insolent, even bored.

That was before he had caught sight of Fulvia, of course.

Ella wouldn’t say that Lord Peregrine’s expression matched that of Mr. Woodward at Mrs. Quimby’s shop, but from where she sat, he certainly didn’t look bored any longer. Whatever Fulvia was talking about held his entire attention.

Likely they were discussing plays. The viscount thought that his daughter’s head was “as empty as a skull” only because he never bothered to talk to her. Fulvia devoured plays, reading every tome in the St. Trevelyon library over and over until the volumes were practically worn out.

Suddenly Ella realized why they were at the theater: This was the perfect place for Fulvia to demonstrate her intelligence, thereby fulfilling one of her father’s promises to Lord Peregrine.

In fact, Ella was fast coming to the conclusion that Fulvia was far more intelligent than she had realized. In the last years, she’d been so harried by the needs of the household that she hadn’t paid much attention to her cousin.

Looking at her now, playing a docile maiden, fluttering her eyelashes at her future husband?

Ella had underestimated her.

Her eyes strayed to Lord Peregrine again. All that masculinity was unexpectedly attractive. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, which her uncle would deplore.

She did not deplore it. Not at all.

“They look happy together, don’t they?” the viscountess said, squeezing Ella’s hand. “Oh, I do hope that the match goes through. It wasn’t fair of your uncle to charge you with such enormous responsibility. He certainly wouldn’t have bought such delightful garments for us. I just wish that your dear mother’s—”

“Pray, do not thank me again,” Ella said briskly. “The solicitors promised to buy back the diadem as soon as Fulvia marries. And just look, his lordship is eating out of her hand.”

“I suppose,” the viscountess said. “He doesn’t seem to be an easy man, does he? I’m not surprised he broke off an earlier engagement. If you don’t mind, Ella, I shall just rest my eyes. I do wish these plays didn’t begin so late at night.”

That said, she went straight to sleep. Not for the first time, Ella felt a tinge of fear that something was wrong with her aunt, owing to more than exposure to the London air, which the viscountess blamed for her exhaustion.

Lord Devin sat down beside her again, offering her a platter of cucumber sandwiches. “How do you like the play so far?” he asked. Lord Peregrine’s friend had a cheerful, open face, and Ella quite liked him.