Page 33 of The Rake and Lady Julia
"I should flog him blue for his impertinence," he whispered, conspiratorially, "But one has to commend the lad for paying attention to his Greek mythology."
"Er, yes," Julia answered, casting the eavesdropping curtain a confused glance, "Where on earth is he learning mythology? If I am not mistaken, he is a child of St Giles, is he not?"
"He is," Montague nodded, "He is being taught by the good Reverend Laurence, whose charitable works have inspired me to become involved with the education of London's poor orphaned children."
"How kind you are."
"It is the least I could do, seeing how overburdened I am by wealth," Montague answered, casting her a mischievous grin, "Had I mentioned that before?"
"Briefly," Julia was dry, though she could not help but smile at his theatrics.
"I am besieged by charitable notions," Montague continued, warming to his theme, "Perhaps even more so than that chap you are sharing a box with. What is his name? Lord Pompous? Lord Painful ? Lord—?"
"Pariseau," Julia scolded, though her mouth was determined to smile, "And you should not seek to insult him. He does good work for London's poor."
"Ah yes, he is forever donating to charitable causes," Montague said agreeably, his words contradicted by a roll of his eyes, "Though I must point out that your Pariseau merely throws money at a problem, whereas I...I—"
"Invite the problem to the theatre?" Julia queried, with a quirk of her brow.
Montague was peacocking! There was no other explanation for his sudden interest in London's poor. It was rather endearing that he had sought to impress her with a gang of rabid children; most other men would have bought flowers, Julia thought, with an amused grin.
"They are children, not a problem," Montague bristled, before he let out a yelp as one of his "children", who had escaped from behind the curtain, began to rifle through Julia's reticule.
"No, Tim," Montague chastised, "We do not steal from Lady Julia; she is a friend."
"Then who do we steal from?" Tim grumbled
"There's a man sitting four boxes down," Montague replied, "You can't miss him; he's got the most enormous head you have ever seen. Why don't you go raid his pockets?"
"You are incorrigible," Julia said, unsure if she wished to laugh or cry at his play acting.
"It's one of my many attributes," Montague was quick, "Have I mentioned them to you before? Young, handsome, heir to a ducal seat ."
"A healthy ego ."
"The healthiest," the marquess agreed with a grin.
The gas-lights of the theatre began to flicker, indicating that the intermission had come to an end, and Julia started. She had not realised that she had been away from her seat for so long. Maria began to cluck and waved an impatient hand for Julia to finish.
"I had best return," Julia stuttered, throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder.
Montague nodded in agreement, though he reached out to take her hand, preventing her from leaving.
"Adieu!" he said, as he raised her gloved hand to his lips, "I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave."
"It is I who is leaving," Julia pointed out with a smile.
"Then it is up to you not to take a tedious leave," Montague answered, as he dropped her hand.
Julia nodded, and turned her back on the marquess, though she did long to linger.
Thankfully, Maria was there to banish any thoughts of dallying, and the lady's maid hurried her back to her seat.
"I would consider myself a romantic, my lady," Maria whispered, as she pushed Julia through the curtain, "But I am not so committed to the cause that I would cast myself into a life of poverty. Now sit down and feign innocence."
Which is just what Julia did. She smiled as Lord Pariseau returned with two glasses of lemonade. Grinned conspiratorially at her mama, who thought she had set up the perfecttête-à-têtebetween Julia and the earl.
And as Act Three began, Julia remained the picture of obedient innocence, as she ignored Lord Montague's intent gaze...as well as the fruit, which flew periodically at Lord Pariseau's head for the duration of the play.
