Page 88 of The Rebellious Lady and the Phantom Lord
The carriage ride into the city passed by in a haze. She remembered little of it but the warmth of James’s hand clutching hers in the darkness. And yet she could not seem to draw any comfort from his strength. His fingers were never still, constantly caressing her palm as though it were the only outlet he could find for his restless anticipation.
The carriage set them down in the square outside Covent Garden Theatre, The “Market of Venus,” the magistrate Sir John Fielding had once referred to it. The painted ladies of the night certainly did seem to outnumber those attending the opera.
Most of the haut ton no longer lived in London, preferring to spend the autumn hunting season at their country estates. And the opera had lost much of its popularity since the days when the great Handel had been the director at Covent Garden Theatre.
Phaedra did not know whether to feel relieved or sorry not to be caught up in a press of people. A large crowd might have made their plans that much easier. As it was, she saw no one that she knew until she and James were about to step beneath the theater’s portico. Then a familiar figure melted out of the shadows.
“Sure and this is a surprise. Fancy encountering you here, my dearest coz.”
Phaedra’s heart slammed against her ribs. She stared up into Gilly’s unsmiling face, torn between the joy of seeing him one last time and a sensation of dread.
Gilly’s eyes darkened with reproach, then narrowed as he shifted his gaze toward James. “And if it isn’t himself, his most noble lairdship, the Marquis de Varnais. Still taking in the pleasures of London, -I see.”
Phaedra hardly dared to glance at James’s expression as he acknowledged Gilly’s presence with a stiff nod.
“Gilly,” Phaedra started to plead, not knowing what her cousin might be prepared to do or say next, when her grandfather huffed up to join them.
“Eh! Fitzhurst, you here? Never knew you Irish had a fancy for opera.”
“Oh, I would never miss an opportunity to hear the English caterwauling.” Gilly’s hard gaze never wavered from Phaedra and James. “Would it be too imposing of me to include myself in this charming little party?”
Phaedra felt James’s grip tighten possessively on her elbow as he spoke. “I am sure you would find a far better seat in the pits.”
Gilly’s jaw tightened. “I don’t think so. I’m thinking I might be missing a great deal by not being up in the gallery.”
Sawyer Weylin pushed past them all impatiently. “Well, come along to my box then and cease nattering about it before we miss the first act.”
Gilly shot James a defiant stare and squared his shoulders. He insisted upon walking behind them, as though he intended not to let her or James out of his sight.
“James,” Phaedra whispered. “What are we going to do?”
“Exactly as we planned,” was his cool reply. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “There is no need to worry about your cousin. Everything will be all right.”
But it wouldn’t be. She swallowed hard. James did not know Gilly as she did. He would not be so easily hoodwinked as her grandfather. Already she feared Gilly had read far too much of her intention upon her face.
As they were about to enter the box, Gilly managed to yank her aside and hiss in her ear. “You wrote to me that Lethington had gone. Now just what the devil are you about?”
“Attending the opera,” she said with a nervous laugh.
Gilly’s fingers crushed so hard about her wrist, she nearly cried out. “Aye, a cozy entertainment, this,” he said angrily. “Just you,Jamey-boy, and his next intended victim.”
“Don’t!” she shrilled, then lowered her voice. “James is not going to hurt anyone. I have seen to that. You must trust me, Gilly.”
“Trust you, bedamned. You lied to me, Fae, and ‘tis plain as a pikestaff, you’re far too besotted to know what you are doing anymore. When I accidentally met up with that Burnell fellow and he told me you were coming to the theater tonight, I could not credit my ears.”
“Gilly, please.” Phaedra noticed James observing theirtete-a-tetefrom the doorway. “I will explain everything to you after the show.”
The lie tasted bitter upon her lips, but it satisfied Gilly for the moment. They took their seats upon the benches in the box, James forestalling Gilly’s efforts to sit beside her. From the grim looks that passed between the two men, Phaedra feared a scuffle.
But Gilly grudgingly removed himself to sit directly behind her. He lit a candle to follow the book of the opera, and then swore when James turned and snuffed it.
“It is a practice I would not encourage,” James said levelly.
“The dangers of fire, you know.”
The way Gilly glowered at him made Phaedra relieved when the orchestra struck up the first bars of the music and the opera began.
But she could not focus on the performance, and the shrill voice of the soprano served only to grate upon her nerves. In their box, the members of the little party were all but shadowy figures in the dark. Yet Phaedra could sense Gilly’s watchfulness and James’s determination. Dear God, this was never going to work. Gilly would never believe her excuse of feeling faint. She had never swooned in her life. And even if he did believe her, he was bound to follow her and James out of the box. Her grandfather nodded off as he usually did at the theater but she didn’t have to look back to know that Gilly’s eyes were not trained upon the stage.
