Page 37 of Love Unraveled
Chapter Twenty-Six
If our condition were truly happy, we would not need diversion from thinking of it.
—Blaise Pascal,Pascal’s Pensées
Securing attendance forthe Philharmonic Society’s performance had been Elizabeth’s doing. While they all had their subscriptions to the Argyll Rooms, they did not have one for the orchestra, as it was only newly formed and none of them had intended on being in London for the remainder of the season. Sophia had regretted not seeing their first sessions, so it was something she’d hoped to attend while back in London. It would be delightful to listen to a full orchestra. She’d heard only praise for their performances.
Getting tickets to the event was no easy feat, especially on such short notice. However, Elizabeth was great friends with the principal first violinist, and he managed to secure them four seats. Catherine had declined the opportunity, claiming their walk in the park had taken all her energy, but Sophia suspected she was simply plotting with Elizabeth to put Sophia and Gaston together. Little did they know, Sophia would have been spending the evening with him regardless.
Sophia had sent word to Gaston’s rooms and had been pleased when he’d appeared promptly at the appointed time. She, of course, had delayed greeting him, giving him enough time in the library to not only see all the flowers but to find the duke’s card. She’d been greatly disappointed when he hadn’t said a word about them, yet she was sure he’d read Salinger’s apology. Gaston had been thoroughly pleasant during the ride, and she debated whether he was a superior actor or whether he simply did not care. Sophia wasn’t sure which scenario bothered her more.
They found the Thornwoods within minutes. Elizabeth looked stunning in royal blue, her hair almost white under the bright gas lamp above her head. Thornwood was his dashing self, dressed in a black jacket and trousers with a waistcoat matching Elizabeth’s dress. They were a lovely couple, and Sophia told them so as she kissed each on the cheek. Elizabeth flushed becomingly.
“Nice to see you again, Durand.” Thornwood shook Gaston’s hand. “Shall we go up?”
“Your Frenchman is looking considerably dapper this evening,” Elizabeth whispered as they preceded the men up the stairs. “You make an exotic pair.”
“Bella,” Sophia said, although she agreed they were a handsome pairing. “You are making far too much fuss about Durand. He is a passing acquaintance who I am obligated to entertain while in London. In a month, he will be on his way, as will I.”
“If you say so.” Elizabeth sounded unconvinced.
They paused on the landing, waiting for the men to catch up. Thornwood placed his arm around Elizabeth’s waist to guide her, leaving Sophia and Gaston to follow. She hesitated, thinking Gaston might boldly try to be equally intimate, but he remained the perfect gentleman, presenting his arm instead. Sophia placed her gloved hand on it and smiled. The corner of his lip twitched, before he focused ahead, following the Thornwoods to a box overlooking the grand saloon.
Elizabeth patted the chair beside her, and Sophia happily took a seat. With her friend to her left, she could ignore Gaston to her right should she choose to. He was entirely too self-assured this evening, while she was busy chasing thoughts of him through her mind. Why had he drawn a map? Had he read the card from the duke? What was his purpose in seeking her out? Why was he unperturbed by the flowers?
“You haven’t heard a word I said.” Elizabeth tapped Sophia’s leg with her program.
“Le mie scuse, my mind is elsewhere.” It was the truth, for her mind had now drifted to where Gaston’s leg pressed against hers.
“Preoccupied?” Elizabeth grinned and leaned forward, holding out her program to Gaston. “Perhaps you would care to see tonight’s schedule?”
“Merci,” he said, taking the program. “I appreciate your kindness in including me this evening.”
“Not at all.” Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and pressed her ear to Sophia’s. “How can you resist him? He is utterly charming. And gorgeous.”
Elizabeth pretended to fan herself, and Sophia resisted a rolling of the eyes, although she did not disagree with her friend’s observation. Gaston was more handsome than any man she’d ever met. She attributed it to his lack of perfection. Flawlessness was far overrated. Gaston’s sensual lips were marred by a slight scar on the left bow, the result of a piece of a broken jug bouncing off the floor and hitting him when he was young. He had a row of perfect teeth, but the bottom front one was chipped, and he’d lost a back one in a fist fight. He had always been quick in temper. His long dark eyelashes would be considered feminine were they not balanced by the constant evidence of facial hair trying to emerge, an ever-present scruff on his chin and cheeks. And his skin. Oh, how she loved his dark skin. The English looked ill beside him.
“Careful, I see some drool,” Elizabeth said in Sophia’s ear and giggled.
Gaston’s nose flared, and he pressed his lips together, but Sophia could see the corners twitching as he fought a smile. Heat rose in her cheeks, as she knew he’d overheard Elizabeth. Sophia was to be the one torturing him, not the other way around. Why was it she turned into an incompetent girl around him? Anger bubbled, directed at herself, and perhaps a little at him, since ultimately, it was his fault for returning.
She shifted, putting space between his thigh and hers and scanned the room. She fluttered her fan, both to cool herself and to appear the epitome of nonchalance, as she took note of who was there. The orchestra was assembling, and she watched as they took their instruments and prepared themselves. The violinist turned to the audience and bowed, and everyone clapped. A commotion at the entrance to the boxes on the other side drew everyone’s attention. The duke entered as though he had not interrupted the beginning of the program. His entourage tittered and followed him, unmindful to the fact they were delaying the beginning of the performance. Of course, Sophia knew they were not truly oblivious. They simply did not care.
The violinist cleared his throat, drawing attention back to the stage. “I’d like to welcome everyone. Our overture this evening isNuma Pomilius.”
Two violins opened the set, joined by two violas and a violoncello. Sophia glanced at Gaston. He was not watching the stage. His eyes were on the box where the duke sat unbothered by the disruption he’d caused. The humor that had danced upon Gaston’s lips was gone, a grim line in its place. Perhaps he was not as immune to the duke’s advances as he pretended? That boded well. She’d far prefer he be a jealous suitor than a nefarious infiltrator.
Sophia caught the duke’s glance and saw his face darken when he registered Gaston by her side. She set her hand discreetly on Gaston’s lap. He looked at her questioningly but took it in his own hand and ran his thumb across her palm. A thrill ran through Sophia, and she beamed a smile at him, dismissing her plan to placate the duke. After his rudeness, it was far more fun to poke him. Judging by the look on his face, she was succeeding. She’d known the philharmonic was going to be enjoyable, but the night had just gotten superbly delicious.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A subtle, sudden flame,
By veering passion fann’d,
About thee breaks and dances
When I would kiss thy hand.
