The gowns were beautiful, of course, and Amber selected a light green one so pale as to appear white. It was a measure of her mood. She felt worn down and bleached out. She almost didn’t wear the lion hairpiece, but everyone was accustomed to seeing it, so she allowed the maid to put it in. She made it downstairs just after Lady Byrn arrived and found the woman interrogating Titan…er, Lucifer in the front hallway.
“I don’t remember seeing you here before,” the lady was saying.
The man bowed deeply before her. “I am new to the household, my lady. Here to help out for a short time.”
“Well, I don’t approve. You look very dangerous, and I don’t like dangerous people around my daughter.”
Then she ought to look into Geoffrey rather than harass the man hired to protect Diana. But Amber couldn’t say that. Instead, she hurried down the stairs with a warm smile. “Lady Byrn, how beautiful you look.”
The lady turned with a harrumph as she inspected Amber from head to toe. Then she shook her head. “That won’t do. That won’t do at all.” The lady waved her hand at her in an imperious gesture. “Upstairs. I won’t go to the theater with you unless you are properly attired.”
Of course, she wouldn’t. Hadn’t Diana warned her that Lady Byrn would require her to change? She bowed her head and forced herself to say placating words. “I would welcome your advice, my lady.” Then as she straightened, she caught Lucifer’s surprised expression. Did he think she wouldn’t give in? A day ago, she might have stood her ground. Today, she cared so little for her dress that she could wear sackcloth and barely notice.
Amber went upstairs, and after a half-hour of criticism, Lady Byrn gave in with little grace. “I see now why you picked that dress. It is the best of a bad lot, but that lion in your hair doesn’t match. Though…” she said as if she had just thought of it. “It would look lovely in mine. I have always been able to wear gold to perfection.”
“I did draw a few peacock designs for you.” Amber opened her sketchbook to the appropriate pages. “There are quite a few possibilities there. You can choose whichever one you like. I’m sure if you dropped a word to your son, he would have it made for you as a birthday gift.”
The lady’s eyes brightened as she began a study of the designs, eventually picking out the most expensive. “Don’t you think that one is the best?” she asked.
“You are quite right. That would suit your eyes.” Then Amber gently pulled out the page and handed it over. “Just give that your son. He’ll know just what to do.” Then she gasped as she gestured to the clock. “Oh my! I hadn’t realized I had dawdled so long. My lady, you must forgive me for making us tardy. Please, I’m ready to go now. Let us be off before Lord Portham thinks we’ve forgotten him.” Then she managed to hurry, bully, and apologize in such rapid succession that they were in the carriage a few moments later.
If she’d been alone, Amber would have grinned. All those days helping the dancing master had taught her how to manage angry society women, and Lady Byrn was no different. However, Amber did have to listen to a lecture on how to behave at the theater. The list went from the excruciatingly obvious, all the way through to most subtle forms of observation, the most interesting of which was to watch a man’s feet as he spoke. “Men lie with their mouths and hands all the time, and no one can tell,” the lady said, “but if the feet twitch or are placed to run away, then they are certainly hiding something.”
That was an idea worth exploring, and so she resolved to keep half an eye on gentlemen’s feet tonight. It would at least alleviate some of the boredom while listening to tales of their latest hunt.
They found Lord Portham’s box quickly, went through the usual introductions of the eight people already there—a mixture of eligible ladies and their chaperones—and then Amber found herself seated in the back of the box with an excellent view of Lady Byrn as she did indeed flirt outrageously with Lord Portham. Amber would have preferred a view of the stage, but perhaps no one would notice if she closed her eyes and took a nap. Her first trip to the Theatre Royal—and sitting in a box, no less—and all she could think about was her bed. How sad that this was her dream come true.
The tragedy had just started when Lord Portham’s son stepped into the box. He apologized in low whispers for his delay, then sat in the only chair available, the one right next to her. This produced a number of hard glares from the eligible ladies as he, apparently, was the reason they were all here. Lady Byrn for her part, shot Amber a triumphant look before turning back to discuss a new breed of hound with Lord Portham.
Had the lady foreseen just this circumstance and maneuvered the situation to Amber’s benefit? It appeared so, and her estimation of the lady increased. Meanwhile, the gentleman in question introduced himself as Mr. Christopher Jupp and settled beside her with a barely audible sigh.
“It’s not a very good view, is it?” he muttered.
“No. But the chatter is so loud in here, I can barely hear the actors’ voices anyway.”
He shook his head. “Pity. Kean’s performance is very good.”
“You have seen it before?”
He grinned. “A few times in a friend’s box closer to the stage.”
He must have wealthy friends, indeed. They spoke quietly for a while, pausing to catch what he deemed the best parts of the play. The audience did settle in those moments when Kean appeared, but it was by no means as absorbing an event as she had thought it would be. Though to be fair, Richard III was not her favorite play, and Mr. Jupp was an interesting man. He was a man of books, speaking earnestly of the difference between plays and epic poetry. When she encouraged him, he was able to discuss how Shakespeare’s Hamlet came originally from an old folktale Hamblet, and then he blushed and apologized for blathering on.
It was such a relief from hearing about dogs that she reassured him she was interested. It wasn’t a lie. He talked about characters in such a sweeping way that she found it sparked her artist’s mind. How would she sketch a sad Hamlet as opposed to a happy one? And Hamblet was a new idea entirely. She didn’t create cameos, but the idea of sculpting famous characters was a fascinating thought. They discussed it quite avidly at the intermission. And though she didn’t say she created jewelry, she became quite open about her sketches.
And while she and Mr. Jupp discussed the play he was penning, the other ladies scowled at her for monopolizing his time. All except Lady Byrn, who winked at her before skillfully stepping between her and the other women. That left her and Mr. Jupp not quite alone but certainly cut off the others as they continued to talk.
She liked this man. And though he wasn’t Elliott, and he certainly didn’t look at her in the same way, he was pleasant to talk to, his ideas inspired her, and his feet were aimed straight at her. A win in three categories, and that was more than any man had accomplished so far.
Then gentlemen began knocking at the box door. They were barely three minutes into intermission, but this was the time the ton visited one another. The influx of bodies was hard to manage, and Amber found herself pressed up against the front side of the box, fearing that she might topple over onto the floor below. Mr. Jupp grabbed her elbow, and she clutched his forearm. How absurd! If one went over, the other would as well.