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“That’s him.”
“I would call him only a passable thespian,” declared Miss Julia Grandison, with the air of a seasoned critic.
“But he is well known in the theater,” said Señora Alvarez. She frowned at Tom. “He could do you harm there.”
“I begged his pardon and promised it wouldn’t nev…ever happen again,” said Tom. Under his breath he murmured, “The froward fustilarian.”
That didn’t bode well, Arthur thought. “Mrs. Thorpe might have some good advice for you. No one knows the London theater better.”
Tom nodded.
The talk became more general. Teresa moved to the edge of the group, thinking that she might slip away and have the innkeeper find her a hackney. She felt she was here under false pretenses. She didn’t belong to their society. What had Lord Macklin told these people about her? Why hadn’t she asked him? But that would have been a very awkward conversation, and at any rate Tom had scarcely given her the chance. It seemed he had wanted her in the audience, and she was glad if her presence had been a support to him.
But now was the moment to go. With luck, no one would notice. Teresa turned and found the four young ladies in her path. They flowed around her like a beautifully dressed wolf pack. She could see that they were bursting with questions.
“Your headdress is lovely, Señora Alvarez,” said the tallest. Miss Deeping was her name, Teresa recalled, and her eyes were acute.
“It’s called a mantilla,” said the smaller sandy-haired girl. That was Miss Moran, and the others were the sulky heiress Miss Finch and the engaged girl, Miss Grandison. She had remembered all the names, though it was still difficult really to tell them apart. “They wear them in Spain,” Miss Moran added.
“Are you visiting from Spain?” asked Miss Ada Grandison.
The four girls gazed at her, waiting for a response. Waiting to pounce on it, Teresa thought, almost as if they were accustomed to conducting interrogations together. It might have been intimidating if they hadn’t been half her age. She’d been making social conversation before they could form sentences. “No, I live in London,” she replied.
“So you are a friend of Lord Macklin’s,” said Miss Deeping. This was not quite a question.
“I am a friend of Tom’s,” replied Teresa. The earl was not a friend. He was…what precisely?
“Oh, Tom.” They all smiled. Clearly they liked the lad, which was a mark in their favor. “He has so many friends,” said Miss Moran.
“Indeed.” Teresa allowed a hint of umbrage to tinge her tone, as if being lumped in with the many was slightly insulting. Miss Moran blushed. This was beginning to be a little amusing.
“Where did you meet him?” asked Miss Grandison.
“I have a connection with the theater.” Teresa watched them digest this information, or lack of it. It was a game, replying without revealing, and it seemed they knew it better than she would have expected. The girls exchanged glances as if deciding who would speak next.
“And you met Lord Macklin because of Tom,” said Miss Deeping.
She was the most direct. Her dark eyes showed sharp intelligence. “I did,” admitted Teresa.
“Lord Macklin is so truly the gentleman,” said Miss Moran.
“He’s been terribly kind to Peter,” said Miss Grandison.
Peter must be the ducal fiancé, Teresa thought, judging from Miss Grandison’s tender expression, which actually went well with her formidable eyebrows.
“And others as well,” said the wealthy Miss Finch.
They spoke of Macklin as of a favorite uncle. One they would unite to defend… That was the message Teresa was receiving. She couldn’t imagine that they would ever need to. The man seemed supremely able to take care of himself. Andshewas certainly no kind of threat. She had no designs on him. If she was glad to know that he didn’t flirt with these girls or attempt to beguile them, well, that was only because this was right and proper behavior, befitting the difference in their ages. And of course the earl was hampered by their social position. These young ladies were protected creatures, not prey.
“He invitedyouto the play,” said Miss Deeping.
“Because of Tom,” Teresa answered, more impatient with their questions suddenly.
“Tom has so many friends. I daresay they would fill a dozen theater boxes.” And yet none of those other friends were here, the angular girl’s tone implied.
The debutante wolf pack waited. Teresa let them. Silence didn’t intimidate her, and she didn’t owe these young ladies any answers. She noticed that the large lady chaperone was looming over the young duke and looking impatient. This party was about to break up, which would be a relief. Mostly. She had enjoyed dressing in her best and going out as she had in her youth. She couldn’t deny it.
“You are rather a mystery,” said Miss Finch. “Very close-mouthed.”
