Page 13 of Three Nights with the Beastly Duke

“Are you not the most precious thing?” she gushed, taking Agnes’s hand. “Come, I insist you sit by me for the performance. Lord Donset, you, too. I should like to get to know my son’s future father-in-law better as well.”

“Oh, indeed,” Kenneth replied jovially, then beckoned to Lavinia. “Come, Lavinia, the four of us shall sit together so that these two may talk some more.”

“Actually, Lord Donset,” Arthur spoke up, “perhaps it would be better if Miss Dennis sat with Miss Rebecca and me. After all, a chaperone is necessary.”

“Quite right, quite right,” Kenneth agreed. “Well then, the three of you take that table over there. We shall take this one here.”

Arthur offered his arm to escort Rebecca to their table, but she only gave him another strained smile and took Lavinia’s arm instead. He pushed the feelings of indignation away and followed behind them so he could pull out their chairs. Rebecca looked disappointed when Arthur took the seat between her and her sister, and when he explained it was so that they could converse better, she only nodded and turned her full attention to the stage.

Within minutes, the lights of the Opera house began to dim, and the hum of talking hushed as the story began. Arthur enjoyed some forms of opera, but the one performed that evening was that of a love story, and he had no interest in watching it.

“Well, this is rather dull, is it not?” he whispered to Rebecca a few minutes into the opening scene.

“Shh, Your Grace,” Rebecca pleaded, her eyes glued to the stage.

He knew she wouldn’t look at him then. Even if he begged her to. She needed something, anything, to look at other than his face.

He turned away from her, giving up on conversation altogether, and looked at Lavinia. She was not focused on the stage at all but on him. A look stating, “I told you so,” was written clearly on her face.

“And you?” he whispered to her. “Do you find this scene as captivating as your sister?”

Lavinia let out a breathy laugh and shook her head, the dark blue sapphires in her earrings swaying lightly. “If I am to be honest, no,” she whispered back.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at her, surprised. “I thought you also had an affinity for love stories,” he teased.

“Oh, I do,” Lavinia agreed. “But only for real ones. The Opera is wonderful. I find the ability to sing such arias quite breathtaking. But the acting, I feel, is much too exuberant, too dramatic, to really portray real life. It makes love feel so…”

“Imaginary?” Arthur offered.

A smile touched Lavinia’s lips, and she nodded at him. “Precisely.”

A subtle but clear shushing sound came from Arthur’s mother then, and they both turned their attention back to the scene. All too quickly Arthur became bored with it, and his mind began to wander back to their kiss. The memory of it had been plaguing his mind every free moment he had, consuming him with the pleasure he’d felt from it.

He pictured them alone, tucked away in the privacy of their box. He would wait until he caught her looking at him, then bring himself closer to her. Slowly, at first, so as not to startle her, then he would kiss her. He could taste the sweetness of her lips, feel the soft flesh of her cheek beneath his palm. She would be bashful at first, which would only make him want her more. But then, as their kiss deepened, and he pulled her into his lap, she would melt into him, giving in to her curiosity and desires.

“Why can I not propose to the eldest daughter?” he recalled asking his mother when he had finally agreed to find a wife.

“Because she is five-and-twenty and off of the marriage market,” his mother had explained matter-of-factly. “You cannot marry a woman no one else wants. Youmustgo after one every gentleman wants. Miss Dennis is just too old. Miss Rebecca will suit you better. She is younger, more popular, and will restore both your vitality and your reputation. I am sure of it.”

Although the topic had been held in the form of a conversation, Arthur knew it had been a command. Marry Rebecca because she is better for their reputation. But now, as he subtly looked from Rebecca to Lavinia, he wondered what gossip would come from marrying a woman who couldn’t even look at him. What happiness would she talk of to others? What secrets would she share because of her displeasure?

Arthur’s thoughts tumbled over and over as the Opera continued, but they all came back to the kiss he’d shared with Lavinia. Finally, though, a loud roar of applause went up throughout the Opera house, and the singers all gathered hand in hand on stage. The moment the lights came on, his mother was out of her seat, going quickly to Rebecca’s side.

“What did you think of it, my dear?” Marianne asked excitedly. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh, it was quite lovely,” Rebecca assured, already taking steps toward the curtains.

As one, the group left the box and gathered together out in the hallway.

“We have traveling tropes come through Whitekin all of the time,” Marianne continued. “We may not be as busy as London, but the entertainment we receive is just as lovely.”

A feeling of disappointment enveloped Arthur as he watched his mother trying to bond with Rebecca. He had thought that she was giving him the cold shoulder just because of his scar, but now that he was watching her converse with his mother, he saw that Rebecca’s coldness also extended to his mother. He spared a glance at Lavinia and noticed that even she looked annoyed at Rebecca’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Well, that does sound nice,” Rebecca replied with a fake smile. “If you’ll excuse me, though, I see some friends that I simply must catch up with.”

“Prudence! Eliza! Oh, how good to see you again!” she squealed, showing an exuberance she had yet to share with Arthur or his mother.

“We thought that was you up there!” Prudence giggled, taking Rebecca’s arm. She then leaned in close to Rebecca’s ear and whispered, “So, is it true? You are engaged to this beast?”

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