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“Thank you, Papa,” said Amelia, casting her a hesitant smile. “We’ll help her with the invitation list.”
“Excellent,” he said. “I shall leave you to it.”
Julius shook his head as Withington tapped his new walking stick on the paving stones. It was no mere walking stick, he’d been informed, but an “ingenious instrument of subterfuge.”
“These are all the rage in Paris,” said Withington, showing him the little snuff compartment concealed in the handle.
Julius did his best to look interested. Then his friend removed the handle and withdrew a slim roll of blank parchment hidden inside the shaft. “Now, that might prove useful,” he admitted.
“I thought you might think so. It’s perfect for bearing star-crossed lovers’ letters,” teased Withington, replacing the handle.
Julius lifted a brow. “I might have need of it, if things don’t improve. Now remember, you cannot allow yourself to be distracted by Amelia. Not yet. If we move too soon, it’ll ruin everything.”
The door opened and the butler showed them in.
“Good afternoon, Lord Cavendish, Lord Withington,” greeted Amelia cordially. “Victoria will be down momentarily.”
He sighed inwardly as Withington gazed at her in open admiration. After a moment, he cleared his throat.
Reddening, Withington tore his gaze off Amelia’s chest just as Victoria paused in the doorway.
Julius stared, his gaze moving s
lowly from her elaborately piled curls to the tips of her jeweled shoes, pausing to note her reddened cheeks and angry eyes.
Obviously, she was still vexed with him.
“I do apologize for my tardiness, my lords,” said Victoria, sweeping past. “I got caught up in the excitement of preparing for the evening’s entertainment. I’m so anticipating Handel’s Xerxes. My friend Esmeralda could hardly contain her enthusiasm when I told her I would be attending. She said the opening aria was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard, and that the castrato has a voice from heaven itself!”
Her demeanor suddenly changed as she allowed Withington to kiss her hand. “And speaking of divine things, I did so enjoy your precious gift, my lord,” she purred. “I daresay it makes me smile every time I think of it.” She looked pointedly at the vase of roses on the table beside her.
Withington turned the color of a crushed beet. “May I be so fortunate as to always bring such joy with so little effort, my lady.”
She eyed him with a saucily raised brow as though he were some sort of edible confection, and her smile became positively naughty. “Should such be the case, my lord, then I can only imagine the delight a greater effort on your part will effect. I look forward to being surprised.”
Julius’s heart sank. All at once, he knew exactly the kind of evening they were about to have. Hell hath no fury…
The Royal Opera was filled with softly rustling silks, glittering jewels, and the soft, gentle laughter of people who haven’t a care in the world. Feigning a stubbed toe, Victoria forced Withington to hang back as the rest of their party filtered into the box, allowing the others to take the foremost seats while they took the back.
As soon as the curtains parted to reveal a painted forest and Xerxes began to sing “Ombra mai fù,” Julius heard a soft exclamation of pain behind him. Beside him Amelia whipped about to peer back into the gloom, then slowly turned back around, apparently satisfied that her vigilance would forestall any further disturbance.
She was wrong. Moments later, the rustling of skirts alerted him that someone was leaving. Excusing himself, he followed and found the fugitives a short distance down the hall.
“You pinched me,” he heard Withington accuse softly. “Hard.”
“Yes, I did,” said Victoria. “I needed to let you know that I have changed my mind.”
“What do you mean? About what?”
“I believe I can provide the answer to that,” Julius said, stepping from the shadows. With one look, he sent Withington scurrying back into the lion’s den with Amelia.
He advanced on Victoria until she was against the wall. “You abandoned me in the wilds, my lady.”
HIS VOICE WAS soft, yet it sent shivers down Victoria’s spine. She shifted uncomfortably, refusing to look at him. A finger beneath her chin finally forced her to meet his eyes.
Laughter-filled eyes.
She jerked back, her skin tingling where he had touched her. “I would hardly call it the wilds, my lord.”
