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At the gaming hell, a queue of London’s elite had stood outside the unnamed establishment’s doors, and Seb had prepared himself to join their ranks waiting to get inside. But the large man attending the door had sized Seb up with a practiced mien, and permitted him, Rotherby, and McCameron immediate entrance.
Once they’d gone inside, the elegant blonde woman managing the gaming hell had extended him a line of credit that nearly made Seb choke in disbelief. How he was to pay for any debts he accrued was a mystery, but Rotherby had insisted that more than half the guests in the establishment failed to pay their debts.
Gambling was not a custom unique to English aristocrats—many cultures had games of chance. But Seb had never understood the appeal of wagering significant amounts of currency with the hope of increasing that amount. Judging by the glittering gems and pristine evening clothes worn by the gaming hell’s patrons, no one was precisely hurting for funds.
It had occurred to him then that what everyone sought wasn’t money. It was excitement. Something to break through the ennui that lurked behind the guests’ eyes. The people at the gaming hell had their every material consideration satisfied. They wanted for nothing. And that satiety left them empty, desperately in need of something, anything, to make them feel alive.
He wanted to discuss it with Grace. Get her thoughts on the idiosyncrasies of the British elite. Of a certain, she’d have rare and incisive insight on the topic.
Seb glanced out the window, but without his spectacles, and at this late hour, he couldn’t recognize the street. “Where are we venturing now?”
“A place of pure pageant,” Rotherby said. “Where the object is to ensure that you observe everyone, and that everyone observes you.”
“He means the theater,” McCameron added.
“Ah!” Seb straightened. Visiting the gaming hell had been intriguing but, other than the bizarre process of staking money on abstract concepts, didn’t stimulate him on an intellectual level. “Excellent. I’ve heard there’s some fine theatrical works.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” Rotherby rolled his eyes. “No one goes to the theater to watch the performances.”
“How very dispiriting for the performers,” Seb said.
“But good for the theater’s ticket sales.” McCameron flicked at his cuff, though his clothing was, as always, spotless. “Although I have heard that the audience actually remains silent for the Viscountess Marwood’s burlettas.”
“Is that what we’re seeing tonight?” Seb asked, brightening. Exciting to see a work written by a celebrated playwright, and a female one, at that. Books and treatises were quite satisfactory, but every now and again, a truly gripping tale could prove transformative.
“Alas, no,” Rotherby said. “But I’ve a private box at the Imperial Theatre, so you’re welcome to make use of it whenever you please. Though,” he added with a pointed finger, “you are forbidden to keep a book in your pocket to read in case the performance is dull.”
A slender volume on the marriage customs of the Outer Hebrides rested comfortably in Seb’s pocket at that very moment. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The carriage came to a stop, and a footman opened the door shortly thereafter. Seb followed Rotherby and McCameron as they climbed down and joined a throng of people standing outside a large, colonnaded building. A fancifully painted sign proclaimed the building to be the Imperial Theatre.
Intriguingly, the attendees seemed drawn from every class, the high and low mingling together, silk and velvet beside coarse hopsack. Perhaps that was one of the appeals of the theater—it was a space where the class distinctions blurred. Gauging the abundance of the crowd, the actual performances had yet to begin.
Rotherby led the way, the crowd parting as he strode through the multitude. Seb and McCameron took advantage of their friend’s status, moving briskly in Rotherby’s wake. Heads turned in their direction, people’s regard moving from the duke to the men accompanying him. But rather than returning focus to Rotherby, approving gazes lingered on Seb.
Despite the fact that Seb had been out all evening, it still unsettled him, to be amongst so many people.
