The hopeful look in Mildred’s eyes was impossible to deny; Leonora felt her lips curve. “As such a sought-after opportunity comes through you, I can hardly refuse.” The midnight blue gown was one of her favorites, so appeasing her aunt cost her nothing. “But I warn you—I won’t put up with any Bond Street beau whispering sweet nothings in my ear during the performance.”
Mildred sighed. She shook her head as she rose. “When we were girls, having eligible gentlemen whisper in our ears was the highlight of the night.” She glanced at Leonora. “I’m due at Lady Henry’s, then Mrs. Arbuthnot’s, so I must away. I’ll call for you in the carriage around eight.”
Leonora nodded her agreement, then saw her aunt to the door.
She returned to the parlor more pensive. Perhaps going out into the ton, at least for the few weeks before the Season proper commenced, might be wise.
Might distract her from the lingering effects of her seduction.
Might help her recover from the shock of Trentham offering to marry her. And the even greater shock of him insisting that she should.
She didn’t understand his reasoning, but he’d seemed very set on it. A few weeks in society being exposed to other men would no doubt remind her why she’d never wed.
She suspected nothing. Not until the carriage drew up before the theater steps and a harried groom opened the door did the faintest glimmer of a suspicion cross her mind.
And by then it was too late.
Trentham stepped forward and calmly held out his hand to assist her from the carriage.
Jaw slack, she stared at him.
Mildred’s elbow dug into her ribs; she started, then threw a swift, fulminating glance at her aunt before haughtily reaching out and placing her fingers in Trentham’s palm.
She had no choice. Carriages were banking up; the steps of the theater hosting the most talked-about play was not the place to create a scene—to tell a gentleman what one thought of him and his machinations. To inform her aunt that this time she’d gone too far.
Cloaked in chilly hauteur, she allowed him to help her down, then stood, feigning icy indifference, idly surveying the fashionable hordes streaming up the theater steps and through the open doors while he greeted her aunts and assisted them to the pavement.
Mildred, resplendent in her favorite black and white, forcefully linked her arm in Gertie’s and forged her way up the steps.
Coolly, Trentham turned to her and offered his arm.
She met his gaze, to her surprise saw no triumph in his hazel eyes, but rather a careful watchfulness. The sight mollified her somewhat; she consented to lay the tips of her fingers on his sleeve and allow him to guide her in her aunts’ wake.
Tristan considered the angle of Leonora’s chin and preserved his silence. They joined her aunts in the foyer, where the crush had brought them to a standstill. He took the lead and with no great difficulty cleared a path to the stairs upward, drawing Leonora with him; her aunts followed close behind. Once on the stairs the press of bodies eased; covering Leonora’s hand on his sleeve, he led his party up to the semicircular corridor leading to the boxes.
He glanced at Leonora as they neared the door of the box he’d hired. “I’ve heard that Mr. Kean is the best actor of the day, and tonight’s play a worthy showcase for his talents. I thought you might enjoy it.”
She met his eyes briefly, then inclined her head, still haughtily aloof. Reaching the box, he held aside the heavy curtain screening the doorway; she swept in, her head high. He waited for her aunts to pass him, then followed, allowing the curtain to fall closed behind him.
Lady Warsingham and her sister bustled to the front of the box and disposed themselves in two of the three seats along the front. Leonora had paused in the shadows by the wall; her narrowed gaze was fixed on Lady Warsingham, who was busy noting all the notables in the other boxes, exchanging nods, determinedly not looking Leonora’s way.
He hesitated, then approached.
Her attention swung to him; her eyes flared. “How did you manage this?” She spoke in a hissed whisper. “I never told you she was my aunt.”
He raised a brow. “I have my sources.”
“And the tickets.” She glanced out at the boxes, quickly filling with those lucky enough to have secured a place. “Your cousins told me you never go out in society.”
“As you can see, that’s not strictly true.”
She glanced back at him, expecting more.
He met her gaze. “I’ve little use for society in general, but I’m not here to spend my evening with the ton.”
She frowned, somewhat warily asked, “Why are you here then?”
He held her gaze for a heartbeat, then murmured, “To spend my evening with you.”