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“Does he like the theater?” replied Tom. Teresa frowned at him. Why wasn’t he helping?
“Yes, he’s quite fond of plays. He comes often.” Her voice wavered on the last word, as if she was seeing this situation in a new light. “That is…”
“They probably saw him here then.”
“But she said special…”
“Perhaps he came around to praise the ballet,” said Tom.
“Oh yes, theballet,” jeered Nancy. She bobbed in a plié that implied quite a different sort of movement.
“I really must go,” Teresa said. Several of the dancers grinned at her, well aware of her dilemma.
“My carriage is waiting,” said Macklin. “Come along.”
The young people all took this as the voice of command, which annoyed Teresa even as she appreciated the result. They walked out through the empty theater and found the carriage approaching. The driver had walked the horses while they were inside. Teresa pulled Miss Grandison toward the slowing vehicle. Miss Finch brought along the other girls. Together, they chivvied the group into the vehicle.
Teresa threw Tom an admonitory glance as he said his goodbyes. The duke and the earl bowed and walked off like the cowards they were. And Teresa was left in the carriage with fourinvestigativeyoung ladies.
“One doesn’t become the ‘special friend’ of an opera dancer by just attending plays or praising the ballets,” said Miss Grandison as they started to move.
“Oh, Ada,” said Miss Finch.
Teresa watched understanding come to Miss Grandison, then finally to Miss Moran. Miss Deeping had clearly seen from the beginning.
“Papa wouldn’t,” began the former. “Oh no.”
Teresa knew nothing of Mr. Grandison, and cared less. But she understood that it was difficult to think of a parent, or a friend’s parent, in these terms. “Nancy likes to talk,” she said. “And not all she says is true.”
“But she knew Papa’s name.” Miss Grandison gazed at her with wide eyes. “How would she, if he hadn’t…”
“He visits the theater,” put in Miss Finch. “He might have accompanied a friend to meet the dancers. Many do.” This was setting aside the reason why, of course.
The other three young ladies looked at their friend. Miss Grandison wished to believe but doubted, Teresa thought. Miss Deeping expected the worst. Miss Moran was simply aghast.
A vivid memory shook Teresa. She knew what it was like to be tossed into a situation about which you knew nothing and make mistakes based on ignorance. She had begun her own disaster in that way. She wanted to help. But what could she say? It was not her responsibility to tell these young ladies what their mothers, and their society, didn’t wish them to know. Indeed, she would be resented if she did. Yes, a twist of history could toss them out of their safe world and into one where no one would care, andhelpwould come in detestable forms that they couldn’t imagine now. But most likely that twist wouldn’t happen. They would never have to learn the hard lessons she could describe. “I expect Nancy used the wrong turn of phrase,” she said.
No one looked convinced. She didn’t blame them. It had been a feeble effort. “She tosses out shocking remarks to start a good argument,” Teresa added. Even Nancy would admit this was true. She loved a dispute, as did almost none of her cohorts.
“She wanted to argue with me?” asked Miss Grandison, looking bewildered.
As well she might.
“So you are a good friend of Lord Macklin?” put in Miss Finch.
Teresa met her cool green eyes. Miss Finch was clever, as all these young ladies seemed to be. She’d chosen the one topic that might steer the conversation away from wandering fathers. Miss Finch would sacrifice Teresa’s comfort for her friends’ in an instant, Teresa noted. She was an interesting girl—an heiress who didn’t fit into society yet seemed to understand more about it than the others. Her question was also a challenge. Which Teresa was well able to meet. “Merely an acquaintance,” Teresa said.
Miss Finch’s amused expression made her look older than her years. “Yet you claim ownership?” she said. A murmur went around the carriage at her directness.
Despite everything Teresa felt a thrill at the idea. But of course the English earl didnotbelong to her. She gave Miss Finch a raised eyebrow. “A joke,” she replied, trying out her excuse.
“Really? How odd.”
Miss Finch certainly said whatever she pleased. Perhaps that was her difficulty in society. “Does it not fit the English sense of humor?” Teresa asked. “I do not always understand that, I admit.”
“Are the Spanish so different?” asked Miss Moran.
“Perhaps we are,” answered Teresa, recklessly consigning her countrymen to eccentricity.
