The Waiting Bride by Rose Pearson

Author:Rose Pearson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Landon Hill Media
Published: 2019-01-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Goodness!”

Philip looked up sharply as his mother made her exclamation, having been busy studying the crowd beneath his box. The theatre was always rather busy and there were many society folk about. It was the place to see and to be seen, and very often it appeared as though the ladies of the ton spent most of the performance spying on others through their opera glasses, rather than looking towards the stage! He found no particular joy in studying the ton, but one could not help the occasional once-over.

His mother caught his elbow, her fingers tight. “Galsworthy, your betrothed is sitting with another gentleman! A gentleman that is not her father.”

Philip swallowed hard, his entire body suddenly swirling with dread. “Oh?”

“Wait a moment.”

To his embarrassment, his mother pulled out her opera glasses and immediately trained them on the box to his left, making him cringe with shame.

“It is Lord Henry Redmond!” she stated in a loud, indignant whisper. “Oh, look! They have seen me.” Setting down her opera glasses, she waved over Philip’s shoulder, forcing him to turn his head so that he might incline it in greeting.

Miss Weston was seated at the edge of the box, closest to his own. He could make out her expression clearly, seeing the lack of welcome on her face. There was not so much as a smile but instead a rather tight expression that spoke of tension and fright. Obviously, she had not expected to see him in attendance this evening.

“We must go to speak to them during the intermission,” Lady Galsworthy said matter of factly. “This simply will not do.”

“Mama,” Philip replied, hesitating for a moment. “I do not think that we need to...”

“You leave everything to me,” his mother replied firmly, interrupting him. “I will make sure that you and Miss Weston are seated together for the second half of the performance, and that Lord Henry is nowhere to be seen.”

Philip wanted to argue, wanted to tell his mother that she need not do so, but he held himself back. If he wanted to marry Miss Weston, if he wanted to prove that he was no longer disinclined towards matrimony, then he had to take every opportunity that came his way. He would not propose to her tonight, for it was much too soon after their recent difficulties for that, but he would ask if he could call on her tomorrow, he decided. Yes, that would be the thing. If he could leave the theatre knowing that their courtship was to resume the following day, then he would be pleased with that.

All through the first half of the play – which was, from what Philip saw, a somewhat less than exciting version of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ – he felt himself growing increasingly aware of his bride-to-be and her presence within the theatre. He found his eyes searching for her in the gloom, glancing towards Lord Henry’s box almost every minute as though desperate for her to return his gaze. The

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