Chapter Eight
Even though she didn’t see Markham during the next week, Mattie felt assured he was thinking of her the entire time. She didn’t need deliveries of fancy words and phrases on a card with posies to know he cared. His words had said so, and she trusted him.
One evening on the way to the opera, Mattie told Charlotte how she felt. “I’m so happy you invited me to come. I’ve had more fun with you than in an entire Season. And it’s not because of Markham, although he does play a very large role. You, Mary Jane and Adam are so good to me. I hope you’ll come visit me in Nottinghamshire in the fall or winter.”
“I’d enjoy that, thank you. But let’s not talk about your leaving. There’s still so much we can do. I’m pleased you’re here in time to see the last opera of the year. Father and his friends share the box throughout the Season, and he always reserves it for the final show. Have you been?”
“Yes, once. I’m thrilled to be going again.”
So many carriages arrived at the same time that they had to wait for a time until they drew close to the entrance on Drury Lane. Gentlemen and ladies were dressed in finery even more lavish than they wore to Almack’s or the grandest balls. Mattie wore her peach silk gown with embroidered hem and a matching fascinator, carrying her head high when they walked upstairs to their box.
Mrs. Harrow made certain Charlotte and Mattie had the better seats in the small space, and Mr. Harrow bought the book containing the cast and libretto. They were perched for a perfect entertainment.
“Who can we see?” Charlotte leaned forward and scanned the other boxes and the people filing in to the seats below.
Mattie looked also. “Is that Lord and Lady Castlereagh? And Lord Byron!”
“Not as many recognizable faces as I would expect,” Charlotte said.
Mattie searched the boxes opposite them, part of her wishing to borrow Mrs. Harrow’s opera glasses, and the other part feeling that was too much an intrusion into those people’s lives. She wouldn’t want someone watching her that closely.
In the third box from the stage, Mattie saw the one face she never expected. Markham. Why hadn’t he asked her to join him? His words and manner when she last saw him made her think he would. They had yet to attend any event on their own, however, so maybe he wasn’t as earnest as she assumed.
As she watched, he was in conversation with the person next to him, who was blocked from Mattie’s vision. Then that person leaned forward. It was a woman, and not one Mattie recognized.
The woman was older, perhaps the wife of a friend? But no one else sat with them, even after the opera began. Mattie was unable to concentrate of the performers, so distressed was she. Who was the woman? Was she the reason Markham never spoke of a future together, insisting he wouldn’t marry?
Charlotte nudged her arm and whispered, “Who has your attention?”
Mattie sat back and looked toward the stage. “No one.”
“You’ve watched one of those boxes more than the actors.”
“No one, I said.”
Charlotte continued to observe the patrons in the boxes. Then she gasped. “What is he doing here, and who is that woman? Do you know her? Is she a relative?”
“I’ve never seen her.” Mattie’s voice cracked. I will not cry, I will not cry.
Patting her thigh, Charlotte said, “Do not fret over it. I’ve seen him when he’s with you and know how much he cares for you.”
Mattie tried to convince herself of that, but by the end of the evening she still worried.
When they joined the other patrons pushing toward the stairs at the end of the show, Mattie prayed she wouldn’t see Markham outside while they awaited their carriage. Her bad luck continued.
“Don’t look to your right. They’re three couples over and behind us.” Charlotte slipped around Mattie, placing herself between her friend and Markham.
Never one to resist temptation, Mattie glanced over her shoulder. The woman, curvaceous and beautiful, held his arm very familiarly as they talked and laughed. Who was she?
Memories rose, the gossip that had led, in part, to his being called a miscreant. He frequented a bawdy house, one of the finer ones, but still, a disreputable place of debauchery. That rumor alternated with one saying he kept a woman, and she was definitely the reason he avoided marriage. But would he be seen with his paramour in such a public place?
Obviously, yes. Whoever she was, he had no qualms at being with her in Polite Society.
Charlotte continued to chatter in an attempt to keep Mattie’s attention occupied, but she failed horribly.
They were still three rows deep in the crowd, leaving them trapped, and as people funneled through the entrance, that brought Markham and his companion—Mattie couldn’t call her a lady until she knew who the woman was—closer.
Then Mr. Harrow noticed them. “Markham, did you enjoy the performance?”
The marquess’s smile was relaxed, showing no distress at being seen. “Quite so. I’m glad we were able to see it. I’ve been preoccupied with business.”
“Yes, one must sometimes set business aside and enjoy some entertainment.”
Mattie tried to hide behind Charlotte as the men talked, but it did no good.
“Lady Matilda, good evening.” Markham singled her out before greeting Charlotte and Mrs. Harrow.
“Hello, Lord Markham.”
Whether he meant to or not, he neglected to introduce his companion, even though Mattie gave him several pointed looks.
Charlotte spoke more to the point. “Lord Adam and his wife are hosting an evening of cards Thursday night. Will you be there?”
“I’m not certain of my plans. I hope to join you ladies, though.”
Now he met Mattie’s gaze, although she was unable to make out what she read in his expression. Did he mean to imply he still cared for her, or that she should ignore the fact he was there with another woman? She couldn’t do so. It hurt too much to bear.
All her dreams were shattered in one night.
Leaning close to speak in Charlotte’s ear, Mattie said, “I don’t think I can attend Mary Jane’s party.”
“You’ll feel stronger in the morning. We’ll discuss it then.”
***
Mattie was shocked when a footman informed her Lord Markham was calling on her. It was barely time for morning calls, and she had no desire to see him after the previous night.
Still, she left the morning room to greet him in the drawing room. “Good morning. Please, sit.”
“Good morning. You look well.”
She’d seen the mirror that morning, she looked hungover even though she’d had nothing to drink. Having nothing she wished to say, she sat unspeaking.
“That was an entertaining performance last night, wasn’t it?” Markham shoved his hair off his forehead.
Last night was the last thing he wanted to talk about. And after last night, he was the last person she wanted to see.
His color whitened a bit. “Have you been able to attend many assemblies?”
How could he stand there and pretend he hadn’t been with another lady? Well, Mattie wasn’t his lady so that point was moot. She knew she needed to accept that he didn’t love her, but doing so was so painful. It meant giving up a big piece of her heart.
Giving him up would be so much easier if she didn’t have to see him.
Markham cleared his throat. “I won’t keep you. Good day.”
He left so abruptly, she knew he understood. He needed to stay away.