Chapter Four

Stephen lifted his chin while the valet tied his cravat. They would be attending the opera with Lady Fenningway and her mother. He ground his teeth and lowered his chin without thinking. The cravat immediately squeezed against his throat. He corrected.

Sleep had evaded him all through the night. So many conflicting emotions had paraded about in his mind, he didn’t know which to grasp and which to discard. He shook his head, and his valet paused, eyes opened in question. When Stephen didn’t say anything, he continued.

He didn’t want anything to do with Lady Fenningway. He wanted Lady Catherine.

But they could never entertain even the barest slip of hope to be together. His family was so hurt by hers, her relations so ruthless and cunning. He couldn’t even be sure her presence in his life was not part of some scheme to bring further pain and suffering to his family. But his rebellious heart cared nothing for all the reasons an alliance with her would be impossible, and his ardent attraction filled him to the point he could think of nothing else. He had never found a creature more fascinating, more captivating of all his senses than he found her.

Yet tonight he would accompany the extraordinarily not captivating Lady Fenningway to the opera.

He met his mother on their front stoop. He lifted her hand, aiding her into the carriage. She sniffed. He was still not forgiven for dancing with an Aster. Though he tried to explain she had pointed her out.

After only but a moment of blessed silence, his mother began. “Remember we are to make up for that awful debacle you created at last week’s ball.”

“Mother, I hardly think we need to continue to make up for it. I feel our early morning call and this lovely evening at the opera will put us on the firm footing where we need to be.”

Another sniff made him inwardly wince. “You obviously have not grasped the gravity of what you have done. Not just to Lady Fenningway by snubbing her but by doing such a hurtful thing in such a scandalous manner.”

“I thought we had talked through this. Dancing with another member of the peerage is hardly scandalous.” He refused to be pulled into the bitter grudge his mother insisted on carrying. His heart softened when he saw her lips quiver. It was her husband, after all, who had died. Not a day went by that Stephen didn’t miss him. But he died precisely because he gripped, white-knuckled, to an age-old grudge against the Aster family. If they would all let it fall away like a thin piece of silk in the wind, the younger generations, like himself, could move on in the world.

He knew words to that effect were useless with his mother. “I hope to enjoy the opera,” he said. “Perhaps Lady Fenningway shares my affinity?”

His mother looked away. “Perhaps.”

“I do hope to enjoy my wife, find things in common. I would not seek solely a marriage of convenience. There has to be some semblance of potential there, Mother.”

She stared out the window, sighed, and then turned to face him. “I am listening, son, but the practicalities of life do not always lend themselves to the fancies of youth. Sometimes we just do our duty.”

He cringed. His duty. Memories of his father’s kind eyes, his determination, his work to build their estate, to influence the House of Lords. The man spent a lifetime dedicated to England and to his estate and family. A Fenningway alliance had seemed so important to him before he passed. And until Stephen met Lady Catherine Aster, he had planned to carry forward all his father’s dying wishes and to push forward his causes. Though he had not felt overly enamored with the idea, he could not dishonor the memory of his father by ignoring such a strong wish.

He began to talk himself into the idea once again so much so that by the time the Fenningways joined them in the carriage, he was able to talk pleasantly and even flirt with her a small amount.

She responded with dropped eyes and the barest smile, but perhaps she was shy and would soon overcome those tendencies when she knew him better.

His mother carried most of the conversation after a few more attempts on his part to draw out Lady Fenningway. He sat back, somewhat relieved to let the women discuss their own pleasantries.

Only when they arrived at the front of the building did his heart rattle inside him with the expectation that perhaps Lady Catherine would be present. And if she were, how would they react to each other in a public setting? Did they continue to act as though they had never been introduced? Surely he must acknowledge her. Of a truth, he desired to engage her in conversation, encourage the sparkle to lighten her eyes. But he knew such a thing as congenial conversation would cause a disruption similar to what their dance had.

He grimaced, thinking of it. They entered the front doors of the newly rebuilt Covent Garden, and he already searched the crowd for Lady Catherine. The small hand on his forearm weighed nothing at all. Lady Fenningway must work to touch him as little as possible with her gloved hand. He led her up the stairs. “I’m so looking forward to this evening. Thank you for accompanying me.”

Her lips curled in a small smile. “I as well, thank you.”

And that was to be their conversation. Would she initiate any? “Do you have an opera you most like? What are some that you have seen?”

“Oh, well . . .”

Her mother answered. “She saw Messrs. Last year. That was quite good, was it not?”

“I did enjoy it, yes.” And then silence followed. So discussing the opera would not be their lot, but nothing could prevent him from enjoying a good opera even if no one would converse about the performance.

They made their way to his box. Candles lit the darkened hallways surrounding the box entrances. He held the curtain back for them all to enter, his mother first, then hers, and then as Lady Fenningway turned to enter, Lady Catherine came around the corner outside their boxes.

She faltered on the arm of Lord Channing. Jealousy scratched at his insides. They walked toward him, Channing totally unaware that her eyes had grown wide and a small smile lit her face.

His mother called from inside.

His eyes held Lady Catherine’s a moment longer, and then he let the curtain fall back behind him. He had never experienced anything like the pull he felt to be with her. The curtain between them may as well have been thin translucent silk for the waves of enticement. He yearned to succumb. But he could not. The fabric was a sheet of rock for all the opportunity they would ever have. But, he smiled to himself, there was always tomorrow morning in the park.

As soon as intermission began, he rushed Lady Fenningway out of their box and into the hallway, turning in the direction Lady Catherine had gone with Channing. He clenched his fist. Channing. He was a good sort of chap, the kind that might make a decent match for her. He rounded a corner, Lady Fenningway’s small legs hurrying to keep up, her small, short breaths becoming more obvious at his side. He turned to her to make some small apology, and then ran right into a soft lavender dress, a lady’s feathers tickling his nose. “Pardon me.” Lady Catherine’s brilliant eyes smiled up at him. His heart thrilled with excitement. He reached to steady her. And his hands lingered, wanting nothing more than to whisk her away in private somewhere. She gripped his arms longer than necessary. Everywhere she touched tingled with awareness.

Channing approached, and his eyes widened in concern as he looked from one to the other.

Her face turned up to Stephen, a faint pink to her cheeks. “How clumsy of me.”

“No, it was I, certainly. I was in a bit of a hurry.”

“As was I.”

Channing wiped his brow. “You most certainly were. I couldn’t keep up. The moment the intermission began, she was out in the hall.” His eyebrow rose, again eyeing the two of them.

“I’m thirsty.” She shrugged.

Stephen turned. “This is Lady Fenningway.”

She curtsied. Channing introduced Lady Catherine, and they all continued together to the lemonade. Stephen’s arm brushed Lady Catherine’s as the crowds pushed them closer together. He let his hand linger, and his fingers lingered over hers. She stared ahead, but the next time their hands brushed, she ran a few fingers across his palm.

Energy surged up his arm, his breath coming faster.

They approached the lemonade, and Lord Aster, her uncle, joined them. Lady Catherine stiffened beside him. Stephen turned to the detestable Lord Aster and nodded. “Aster.”

He nodded in return, a barely perceptible lowering of his chin.

Lady Catherine looked from one to the other, fear in her eyes. Stephen couldn’t understand that fear. Lord Aster raised his lemonade. “I hear congratulations are in order, and I applaud myself for standing here among all the happy couples.”

Lady Catherine’s face drained of all color. Stephen almost reached for her to catch a swoon, but Channing beat him to it. His arm wrapped around her waist, and the look of tenderness on his face disturbed Stephen in such a way that he considered shoving the man aside to stand in his place.

Lord Aster continued to talk, and Stephen paid closer attention. “And so I am pleased to announce the engagement of my niece, Lady Catherine Aster, to Lord Channing, son of the Duke of Halcor.”

“What? Uncle, no.” Lady Catherine would not meet Stephen’s eyes. “We have not come to an agreement . . .” She allowed her voice to trail off as she looked at all the people around them.

Then Lord Aster raised his glass in Stephen’s direction. “And this might be only slightly more premature than my first announcement. I hear congratulations will soon be in order for the two of you as well.”

Stephen stood taller. “You forget yourself, Aster.”

“Not any more than any Salsburys have in the past.”

“Uncle.” Lady Catherine’s face was stricken. Stephen wondered at the intense emotions tightening up around her eyes.

“Aster. You have made the ladies uncomfortable and clearly overstepped. No such agreements have been made, at least in our case.” He searched Lady Catherine’s face, hoping she might declare the same. But she just shrugged and stared at the floor.

Lord Aster’s laugh chilled the area around Stephen. “Glad I could be the bearer of such welcome news.” He downed his lemonade. “I believe they are calling us in after intermission.”