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“That doesn’t sound like adventure to me,” said Miss Deeping. Seeing Teresa’s eyes on her, she sighed. “Yes, I understand what you have said.”
“The opera dancers need help,” said Miss Moran slowly. “Especially the ones staying here. But all of them have a hard time of it.”
“Perhaps we could find better places for them,” said Miss Deeping. “Some other sort of employment.”
Miss Finch shook her head.
“They like to dance,” said Teresa. “Most of them love the theater. They don’t wish to leave.”
“Better pay?” asked Miss Moran tentatively.
“You would suggest that we ask them,” said Miss Finch, with a nod to Lord Macklin.
“In doing so, you would enter another world,” he said.
“And that is the adventure,” said Miss Deeping. “I do understand.” She didn’t seem entirely reconciled to the idea.
“May we see them?” asked Miss Finch.
“When they are more fully recovered,” answered Teresa.
It was agreed that she would send word when this time came, and the group started to break up. But they had scarcely pulled on their gloves when Chirt marched in with a large figure at his heels. “Miss Julia Grandison,” the butler announced in a deeply aggrieved tone. Arthur had no trouble interpreting his expression. Chirt resented the chaos that had overtaken his well-ordered household. And he was just waiting for the right opportunity to express his outrage. “She did not care to wait below,” the man added in sepulchral tones.
“What do you think you are doing, visiting a man’s home?” boomed a familiar voice as the formidable lady sailed in behind him. She raked the young ladies with her harshest glare.
“Señora Alvarez is here,” said Miss Deeping.
“Indeed? Well, she should know better. Or perhapsbebetter.”
“I can only aspire,” said the señora. Arthur stifled a laugh.
Not waiting for an invitation, Miss Grandison took an armchair as if it was a throne. “The mostextraordinaryrumors are flying about town,” she said. She frowned at Arthur. “They are saying you have filled your home with opera dancers, Macklin. Dozens of them!”
“There are only…” began Miss Deeping, then fell silent as both Teresa’s and Miss Grandison’s sharp gazes swung to transfix her.
“Well,” continued Miss Grandison. “What have you to say for yourself?”
“Nothing,” Arthur replied. He had to keep reminding himself not to gaze at Señora Alvarez like a lovelorn boy. He could think of nothing else since that searing kiss. He ached for her, day and most particularly night. To be so near and not touch her—it was maddening. His only consolation was the conviction that she would welcome his suit when they were done with this visit. Which already felt interminable.
“I beg your pardon?” said Miss Grandison.
“I owe no one explanations,” he replied.
“You will allow malicious tongues to wag?”
“I doubt I could stop them.”
“How fortunate to be a man,” murmured Miss Finch. Señora Alvarez gave her an appreciative sidelong glance.
Momentarily, Miss Grandison seemed at a loss. Clearly, she had expected to mow down opposition. But for what purpose? “I wish to speak to these opera dancers,” she said then. “At once.”
Ah, that was it. “About your brother?” Arthur asked.
“I require only a bit more information.”
“No,” said Señora Alvarez.
Miss Grandison turned on her. “You do not wish to make an enemy of me, my good woman.”
