Page 33 of The Meaning of Love
They continued their sotto voce exchange, with her questioning and him describing a range of minor details about the castle and the earldom’s other properties.
Despite staring at the stage, Melissa saw nothing of the action upon it; she didn’t even truly hear the music and singing, so engrossed was she in expanding her knowledge of Carsington Castle and the household there. While she’d found Julian’s mother, Veronica, charming, she couldn’t imagine asking her the sort of questions she freely, without the slightest hesitation, put to Julian. Such as whether the butler and housekeeper were young enough to remain in their posts for a good long while.
He answered without reservation, and she was reassured to learn that the Phelpses were unlikely to retire soon. The idea of having to take on such a large household only to soon lose her principal lieutenants wasn’t a prospect she wished to face.
They’d reached that point in their discussions when it dawned on her just how far she’d traveled down the mental path of converting their faux engagement into a genuine one. She glanced sidelong at Julian’s chiseled features, but could detect nothing more than his usual relaxed confidence. Inwardly humphing, she shifted her gaze forward. No wonder he was so happy to answer all her queries.
Still… Fractionally, she tipped up her chin. If she was to make an informed decision as to whether to become his countess, then it was only wise to learn all she could from the most well-informed source.
After a moment, she murmured, “Did you say there were dovecotes?”
“Yes. There are three.”
“Just so you know—I hate dovecotes.”
There was a hint of laughter in his voice when he replied, “I’ll bear that in mind.”
Julian was, in fact, entirely happy to satisfy her near-endless queries; that she was asking about such domestic details was patently a good sign.
He’d sensed the instant she’d realized what her litany of questions revealed, the moment marked by the sudden break in the steady flow, the suspension of her breathing, the slight widening of her eyes as realization had struck.
She’d paused, thought, then she’d continued.
He’d almost blown out a breath of relief, then he’d inwardly grinned and calmly continued answering her questions—questions that were only pertinent were she actively considering marrying him.
He held fast to his conviction that, ultimately, she would accept his suit.
Finally, the music and massed voices swelled in a great crescendo, then cut off, and the performance was at an end. With relief, he rose, clapping with the rest of the audience in what was a standing ovation; apparently, the opera had been exceptional.
He couldn’t remember any of it.
He glanced sidelong at Melissa and caught her glancing at him. Their gazes met and held, then they both burst out laughing.
They were still chuckling as he drew out her chair, allowing her to move deeper into the box. Before following her, he swept a comprehensive glance around the pit, but saw no familiar head of black curls.
He turned to assist the other ladies. Melissa helped them untangle their wraps while he held their cloaks.
When everyone was ready, they quit the box; allowing their elders to precede them, he and Melissa brought up the rear.
He noticed his mother and hers had their heads together, avidly arranging, no doubt. He caught Melissa’s eye and, with a tip of his head, directed her gaze to the disconcerting sight.
She looked, then sent him a resigned glance and patted his sleeve. “There’s nothing we can do, I fear.”
He swallowed a disaffected huff; he was an earl, yet apparently, escaping whatever their mothers were planning was beyond him.
While they slowly descended the stairs to the ground floor, he kept an eye peeled for their mystery man, but he didn’t appear.
Then they were outside the theater, and while their party waited for the Carsely and North carriages to arrive, he bent his head and murmured by Melissa’s ear, “I haven’t seen our mystery man anywhere.” When she glanced at him, he asked, “Have you?”
She shook her head, a slight frown in her eyes. “Did you think he would be here?”
“I thought he might show. It’s not that difficult to engineer a meeting in a crowd.”
“Yes, but…” She glanced back at the packed foyer. “Maybe he couldn’t afford a ticket? Or the attire? And don’t forget, this performance has been sold out for weeks.”
“Has it?” He hadn’t known; his mother had the box for the Season. “Perhaps that—or the clothes—was his problem.” He frowned. “I wonder what that tells us about him.”
The man clearly wanted to avoid being noticed by anyone other than Julian and Melissa, and if he hadn’t known about this performance, even to turn up in the street, it seemed likely he hadn’t been in London that long.
