Page 83 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

Looking up, Cecelia saw that the first interval had arrived. This was an opportunity for visitors to come and interrogate them. No doubt they would do so. She braced to offer bright confidence and carefree delight.

But the very first to appear at the door of their box was an unwelcome surprise. Prince Karl stood there, tall, blond, and arrogant in one of his vaguely military coats. How dared he? James rose to face him. Cecelia remained where she was. She wouldnotspeak to him.

The intruder bowed. “Lady Wilton, one sees you everywhere,” he said. “And the so charming Miss Vainsmede.” His smile became a leer. She tried not to see it. “Milord duke has reappeared also. To hit me again perhaps? Since his first effort was so…feeble?”

James longed to plant a facer on that sneering countenance. He could almost feel the gratifying crunch of the blow, the welcome pain in his fist. It would be splendid to see this knave reel back and fall. But that would simply cause further scandal. Some might see it as the prince’s vindication.

He struggled with his temper. The prince had put them all on display. Those in nearby boxes had certainly heard what he said. He was here to embarrass them as publicly as possible. James needed to defeat him with his own weapons. He groped for the right phrase.

And then indecision subsided as the idea came to him. James said nothing at all. He looked Prince Karl straight in the eye and then slowly and ostentatiously turned his back. James sat down, catching the eyes of his companions. He nodded at them. His grandmother looked startled, Cecelia shocked. But they both took his cue and turned away from the visitor as well. And then the three of them acted as if Prince Karl did not exist. He had, metaphorically, vanished from their lives. He would never be recognized in their ambit again. The cut direct.

Murmurs washed through the theater, a susurrus of delicious horror. It seemed as if every eye was now upon them. James listened for movement from behind. The prince might decide to retaliate with words or even a blow, which he would have to answer. But there was nothing for what seemed like an age but was in reality only a few moments. Then the swish of cloth suggested that Prince Karl had left their box.

James did not lean back or sigh. He made sure to show no reaction whatsoever. But he was relieved. He had put his social position and credit up against the prince’s. It was a different kind of duel, and it remained to be seen whether his adversary was as skilled at this type. But he had won the first throw.

“What have you done?” murmured Cecelia.

James turned, smiled as if she’d made some commonplace remark, and quietly said, “We will not discuss it here.”

“No indeed,” replied his grandmother, smiling like a sated vulture. “We will…rampantly enjoy the play. But I must say, James, I didn’t think you had that in you.”

“Reckless audacity?” muttered Cecelia.

“Resolute daring,” said Lady Wilton. “We will see what comes next.”

“What will the prince do?”

“We will not speak of it here,” James repeated.

“No, we will leave that to everyone else,” replied his grandmother, running her eyes over the chattering crowd.

Few audience members paid attention to the play after that. They talked through the action at a level that made some of the actors sulk visibly onstage. James knew that people would take sides. His action had set off a kind of war in society, but it was one he thought he could win. He’d been an admired member of thehaut tonfor years and had a host of friends and acquaintances. He’d recently been elevated to one of the highest titles in the land. Prince Karl, on the other hand, was a foreign stranger. He would be leaving England at some point, so there was less future advantage in backing him. Some might be spiteful just because they could be, but James thought they would be few.

James’s party endured the stares and watched the rest of the evening’s program in their roles as carefree playgoers. They laughed as much as was reasonable. No one else visited them. “Afraid to,” Cecelia murmured to James. “Who knows what you might do?”

He smiled at her. Not sardonically. He was feeling something very like joy after acting strongly in her defense.

They lingered after the end of the performance, letting the room empty out, which allowed them to reach their carriage without pushing through a crowd. Once inside the vehicle, Lady Wilton said, “I haven’t seen that tried since the Regent cut Brummell.”

“Which did not go well for the Regent,” said Cecelia.

The old lady shrugged. “He had less reason for the snub. And Tereford is rather more popular than the Regent.”

James grimaced. “Please do not say that where anyone else can hear you, Grandmamma.” The Prince Regent was notoriously jealous of his consequence. And petty when he felt it threatened.

She snorted. “I cut my eyeteeth before you were born, my boy. You do not need to tell me.” The vehicle slowed. “Here we are, Miss Vainsmede. You may tell your aunt I delivered you home safe and sound.” Her eyes gleamed with sarcasm in the dimness.

James handed her down and escorted her to the door. There was time for nothing but a squeeze of her fingers. And then she was gone, and his grandmother was summoning him back.

***

Sitting alone in her drawing room early the next morning, Cecelia was still prey to jumbled thoughts. She’d enjoyed snubbing the prince. There was no doubt about that. After the way he’d treated her, he deserved it. And she’d been touched by James’s decisive defense. “He might have consulted me,” she murmured. “Although I don’t believe he planned it in advance.” The cut had been an impulsive rejection, an automatic response to Prince Karl’s intrusion and sneering remarks.

The problem was, the way things had unfolded made this seem a fight over her between the two men. Again. Still! Like their mock fencing battle and the rivalry they’d exhibited before theton. So many people insisted on seeing her as a prize to be won. It made her think of the conversation she and her friends had had about their role in society. “Young men roam, young ladies stay home,” she muttered. Yet for much of her life she’d managed her father’s affairs. She dealt with tenants and tradesmen and servants. She’d played the diplomat when James and her father wrangled. She’d planned projects and seen them completed. There had to be some way to take control of her situation herself.

Aunt Valeria came in. “Cecelia, you are up early today.” She didn’t look pleased.

Her aunt was accustomed to having the drawing room to herself for the first hours of the day, before it was invaded, as she put it, by Cecelia and the threat of callers. She went to her customary chair by the table and set out her notebook. Next she would open it and become immersed in something she’d written there. She would pretend that Cecelia did not exist. After a bit, her presence would actually fade from her aunt’s mind, Cecelia believed. The pattern was engrained. Aunt Valeria’s sporadic new attempts to be a chaperone would not affect it.

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