The Accidental Heiress by Lorea Hartwell

Author:Lorea Hartwell [Hartwell, Lorea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-11-23T00:00:00+00:00

“Insufferable man!” exclaimed Lady Morton, as soon as they were gone. “You must tell me: To your mind, have I ever given the cavaliere the slightest encouragement?”

“Encouragement?” Phoebe was surprised. “Heavens, no.”

“And yet his manner toward me this evening has been decidedly familiar.” Lady Morton fanned herself agitatedly. “He has been positively unctuous. I cannot fathom it—but I shall not tolerate it.”

“No indeed,” said Phoebe. “And did it not strike you as odd that the comtesse laughed at his impertinent remarks? It seems to me that she understands English perfectly well.”

“I do not believe that she is French at all—much less a comtesse! She and the so-called cavaliere are a fine pair of charlatans.” Lady Morton stopped herself. “Oh dear—I sound quite as vicious a gossip as can be found in any of the best drawing rooms of Mayfair!”

“No, you do not.” Phoebe was troubled. “There is something very strange about all of this. I am most uncomfortable.”

“Dear Phoebe!” Lady Morton squeezed her hand. “Thank heavens it is not just my own imagination. I hope you will not think that I am being foolish when I say that I have been sat here this past half hour reflecting that at least two of those present this evening are imposing upon us in exactly the same way the characters of this opera are imposing on each other!”

“I have had similar thoughts.” Phoebe glanced around. Many of the other boxes were empty—their inhabitants having gone to the saloons for refreshments—but in one box nearby, two gentlemen sat, apparently watching her and Lady Morton.

Though the opera house was uncomfortably warm and airless, she felt a sudden chill.

“There are two men who seem to be watching this box,” she said, in an undertone.

“I blame myself. I have encouraged you to encourage the marquess.” Lady Morton waited a moment and then glanced quickly toward the box that Phoebe had indicated. “Yes. I see what you mean. There is something about them…. Perhaps they are acquaintances of the marquess.”

Phoebe struggled with her sense of dread. But surely it was ridiculous, amidst the glittering elegance of society, to feel afraid.

“I do not think that it is possible for us to leave,” said Lady Morton. “As we came in the marquess’s conveyance, we have no means of our own to get home.”

“Besides, no doubt the gossips of the ton would treat it as yet another of my scandals,” said Phoebe, bitterly. “I suppose we must endure the rest of this evening and try to behave as though nothing is wrong.”

Lady Morton patted her plumed headpiece. “At times like these it is often calming to focus upon ones toilette. I shall go to the retiring room. Will you join me?”

Phoebe considered. ”No. I am tired and do not want to give people another chance to stare at me. I believe I will stay here.”

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