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* * *
Mary looked out her newest evening gown for the concert, an apricot silk with a small train. It was trimmed with dark green ribbons and there was a matching shawl, should the evening turn chilly. She had occasionally attended concerts before, but then she had slipped in almost unnoticed. Now, as she walked into the room on Randall’s arm Mary was aware of the surprised stares of many of the patrons.
‘We are attracting no little attention,’ she murmured as Randall guided her to her seat.
‘Take no notice. They will soon become used to seeing us together.’
There were very few people in the audience that Mary knew, so she decided to ignore the curious stares of the strangers and settled down to enjoy the recital, which comprised a selection of Italian love songs, performed by a celebrated opera singer. She was soon lost in the music and delighted when she discovered that Randall, too, was enjoying it.
* * *
‘You did not come here merely because you thought I should like it?’ she ventured, when the concert was over.
‘That would be a very unselfish gesture, Miss Endacott, and you know I am not given to those.’
‘I do indeed,’ she replied, laughter bubbling inside her. ‘But I thought you a plain soldier.’
‘A soldier, yes, but an educated one.’
‘So I see.’
They had emerged from the concert rooms and now stood at the entrance where the crowds were milling around.
‘It will take an age for my carriage to find its way through this crush,’ remarked the earl.
‘We could walk,’ suggested Mary, throwing her shawl about her shoulders. ‘It is a fine night.’
‘Would you mind?’
She smiled. ‘Not at all. It is not far and would probably be quicker than waiting for your carriage.’
‘Very well, then.’ He took her arm and guided her through the throng. ‘Did you really enjoy the music?’ he asked, when they had reached the relative quiet of the darkened street.
‘Very much, thank you for inviting me.’
‘And you understood the Italian: I am impressed.’
‘My father insisted I should be proficient, so that I could teach it to our pupils.’
‘Was that part of the radical education he envisaged for young ladies?’
‘No, no, languages are generally considered useful. My father wanted girls to learn philosophy and politics and, oh, anything that would fit them for their place in the world.’
‘But it would not necessarily fit them for marriage,’ observed Randall. He hesitated. ‘What place was your sister expected to fill in the world?’ He added swiftly, ‘I hope it does not grieve you to discuss her.’
‘Not as much as it did,’ she admitted. ‘I think it helped to tell you about Jane. It is not something I have shared with anyone before. My sister...’ She paused, waiting for the familiar pain, but it had lessened considerably. ‘At seventeen Jane had given little thought to her future. But she was always romantic.’ She sighed. ‘I think it was inevitable that she would fall in love.’
‘It was unfortunate that it should be with a scoundrel.’
‘Yes. If he had been an honest man Papa would have resigned himself to the marriage.’
‘Even though he did not approve of the institution?’
‘Even so. After all he himself had married to protect his family, but he continued to fight for what he believed in, a more democratic society.’
‘And the abolition of titles such as mine.’
Mary chuckled. ‘My father believed that people should be rewarded for their talents, not their birth. He would certainly not have approved of your title. However, he would have approved of the artillery, where rank is dependent upon merit.’
