Lord of the Rakes by Darcie Wilde

Author:Darcie Wilde
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical romance, Fiction
ISBN: 9781101612781
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-02-03T22:00:00+00:00

Twenty

“Fiona.” Caroline whispered fiercely to her friend as James opened the door to their box and Harry stepped back to allow them through. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” murmured Fiona in reply, shooting a glance back toward Philip. “You need to know what that was about. Now you’ll have a chance.

“What?”

“That woman,” said Fiona as if this should make everything clear. “You need to know what he’ll say when you ask about her. It will give you the measure of his true character.” She smiled over her shoulder. “Do come sit here, Mr. Montcalm.” She gestured to one of the gilt-and-velvet chairs. “It has quite the best view of the stage.”

It was also right beside where Caroline had been sitting all evening. Philip bowed and waited for Caroline to sit first, as courtesy dictated. This allowed Caroline a view of Fiona’s insistent but silent gesturing to Harry so that he wound up sitting between her and Emma Westbrook rather than next to Caroline.

“It seems this time you have saved me from Mr. Banbridge,” Philip murmured to her.

“For your part, you seem to be following me, Mr. Montcalm,” she breathed in answer as he drew up his chair beside her. “First Lady Preston’s and now here. Should I be concerned?”

“I would hate to cause you a moment’s concern on any point. But I did tell your friends the truth. I am here because I enjoy opera.”

“Not a sentiment I would expect.”

“Nor would many others. That’s why I tend to let them believe I come for the dancers. It’s simpler.”

Caroline toyed with her fan for a moment. Below them the orchestra was tuning up and the audience settling down. “That was unworthy of me,” she said. “I should know better by now.”

“Should you?” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and pressing his fingers to his lips. “After such a short acquaintance?”

“Yes. You have demonstrated that you are not an ordinary man, let alone a commonplace rogue.”

Philip paused for a long moment, his attention apparently riveted on the conductor, who was entering the pit and raising his baton. “So what do you believe I am? I wonder.”

“That,” she said softly, “I am still trying to understand.”

The music began, but Philip was not paying attention to it. His gaze had shifted to her. Caroline felt herself beginning to blush. Not because there was desire or promise or heat, or any of the things she had become used to seeing in Philip’s eyes, but because there was a question there that she could not read.

Fiona was making a face at her, plainly trying to ask whether Caroline had broached the subject of Mrs. Warrick yet. Caroline shrugged irritably at her friend.

Philip, of course, missed none of this.

The curtain rose and applause rippled through the theater as the prima donna glided onto the stage. “I owe you an explanation, I think,” Philip said beneath the general noise.

“I do not require any explanation,” she answered stubbornly, but whether her stubbornness was directed against Fiona or against her own feelings Caroline could not be sure.

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