Page 34 of Inventing Vivian

Lord Ruben pulled his gaze away and looked instead at Sophie. His eyes narrowed. “You dare show your face here, among these people, Lady Sophronia? I suppose you’ve come to gloat. Or to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Sophie pulled back, looking uncertain as to how she should respond.

Elizabeth had no such qualms. “Are you saying Lady Sophronia’s nose doesn’t belong at the opera, Lord Ruben?” She took a step toward him. “Or are you worried that if she continues to mingle in high Society, she will uncover more criminal acts? Have you something to hide, my lord?”

He ignored her, continuing to speak to Sophie. “What you’ve done is abhorrent, a disgrace to your family name. And tell your common fiancé to learn his place, respect his betters, and stay out of other people’s business.”

“He is a police inspector,” Sophie said. “Apprehending criminals is his business.”

Lord Ruben’s face was red. He took in a breath, ready to give a scathing reply, but before he could, Lord Benedict moved into the center of the group, blocking Lord Ruben’s view of the women. He motioned with a tip of his head to where Lord Meredith and Lord Strathmore still spoke. “You know how Meredith gets when he’s discussing cargo regulations and such. He could be here all night.” He clapped Lord Ruben on the shoulder. “Shall we return to our seats?”

Lord Ruben leaned to the side, looking as if he would prefer to remain where he was and continue his tirade.

But Lord Benedict didn’t move. He put his other hand on the man’s other shoulder, giving a little push and turning him around. “I’m sure Chatsworth and the others are waiting.”

Lord Ruben allowed himself to be led back to the upper galley. He shot a glare at Sophie that was a perfect match to the expression on his fiancée’s face.

“Shall we?” Elizabeth motioned toward the staircase at the other side of the hall.

“Perhaps I should go home.” Sophie rubbed her forehead.

“And let him win?” Elizabeth set her glass on a passing server’s tray. She took both Sophie and Dahlia by the arm. “He is in the wrong, not you.” She looked between them. “In both cases. Come along, ladies. We shall return to our seats with our heads held high.”

“Poor Dahlia,” Hazel said to Vivian as they followed their friends back to their seats. “I wonder if it will ever stop hurting her to see Lord Ruben.”

“It must, in time, mustn’t it?” Vivian asked. She felt sorry for the way both women had been treated, but another thought had moved into her mind, and it somehow took up more room than the others. She couldn’t stop thinking about how Lord Benedict had diffused the situation, especially since he’d had no reason to. Lord Everleigh had been his friend as well. He could have been every bit as angry with Sophie. But he’d seemed to wish to protect the women from Lord Ruben. Or was he just hoping to avoid a scene?

As she watched the remainder of the opera, Vivian kept her gaze firmly on the stage, but from the corner of her eye, she could see Lord Benedict looking her way. His attention made her uncomfortable, but now it was for a different reason.

He had spoken considerately with Hazel, defended Sophie, and inquired after Chester. His actions were not those of a selfish young nobleman. Perhaps Vivian had misjudged Lord Benedict. It was not impossible to believe a man could have changed in twelve years. But releasing her anger left a space—a space that was being filled with different sorts of emotions when it came to Lord Benedict. And Vivian didn’t quite know how to classify them. Anger was simpler.

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