Lady Hardcastle accepted the glass with a flash of annoyance. “Thank you, dear.” She turned to salute Devlin. “My lord.”
Devlin half bowed, then turned to greet Lord and Lady Cremorne, who were old friends of his family.
Lady Poulson seized Lady Hardcastle’s distraction to push forward. “My dear Lady Alverton, you must allow me to present my niece.” She gestured to the brown-haired young lady hovering in her shadow. “Miss Frances Nagley.”
Despite Lady Poulson’s sadly horselike features and her bluff, blustery manner, Therese knew that her ladyship had a heart of gold; she had a definite soft spot for the older lady. Therese knew for a certainty that Miss Nagley—who did not look that young—hadn’t been presented during the Season earlier that year, which suggested that the young woman was one of those daughters of gentry of lesser standing as well as lesser fortune who, during the weeks when a select portion of the ton returned to the capital for the autumn session of Parliament, came hoping to make their mark in quieter social times and, hopefully, attract a suitable gentleman.
Smiling encouragingly, Therese offered her hand. “Miss Nagley. Have you been in town long?”
Miss Nagley touched fingers and curtsied, a touch more deeply than required, yet with enviable grace. “Lady Alverton. I’ve only recently arrived.” She directed a sweet smile at Lady Poulson. “My aunt has very kindly offered to show me around.”
“Yes, well.” Lady Poulson accepted a glass from the attendant, although Miss Nagley declined. “Frances here was supposed to come to me in early September, but my sister took ill, so the poor gel only arrived last week. We’ve been visiting modistes ever since.” Her ladyship sipped and glanced around the box. “This is Frances’s first real outing among the ton.”
“I see.” Therese focused on Miss Nagley. “Are you enjoying the performance thus far?”
Miss Nagley’s eyes were a lovely shade of cornflower blue, and her gaze was direct and refreshingly free of guile. “To be perfectly honest, Lady Alverton, this is the first opera I’ve attended. I’m finding it remarkably interesting, but also a trifle overwhelming.”
Therese laughed. “Such a lauded troupe performing at Covent Garden is rather jumping in at the deep end.”
Miss Nagley smiled, and tiny dimples flashed.
Lord and Lady Cremorne were patently waiting to speak with Therese.
Lady Poulson noticed, edged closer to Therese, and lowered her voice. “My dear countess, I was hoping to ask your advice on how best to introduce Frances to the ton, given it’s so late in the Season.”
Therese met Lady Poulson’s eyes and decided that helping Miss Nagley might be entertaining; given the circumstances, finding the girl a suitable husband would be a challenge, and she rather thrived on those. Therese looked at Miss Nagley. “Perhaps you might both call on me tomorrow? Shall we say at two o’clock?”
“Thank you, my dear.” Lady Poulson patted Therese’s hand. “As I told Frances, we need a good plan of campaign, and I know of no one I would rather ask.”
Therese smiled. “I’ll put on my thinking cap.” She nodded in farewell. “We can discuss the possibilities tomorrow.”
Miss Nagley’s gratitude shone in her eyes. She curtsied prettily, then retreated with her aunt. But Lady Poulson halted at the rear of the box to accost the tall gentleman who had just stepped inside.
Child.
Although Therese approved of Miss Nagley, she doubted the young lady would hold any appeal for Child. Nevertheless, she wished Lady Poulson joy of the encounter; nothing ventured, nothing gained.
She smiled at Lord and Lady Cremorne. “Good evening. Have you been enjoying the performance?”
Two other gentlemen had entered and were discussing something earnestly with Devlin on the other side of the box. Before Therese could do more than exchange first opinions with the Cremornes, whom she often met at musical evenings, Child fetched up before her, with an elegant flourish bowed over her hand, then settled to join the group.
Lady Cremorne, in her late forties and quite formidable in her own right, arched a cynical brow at Child. “I daresay, my lord, that your parents will be delighted to see you back. Do you intend remaining in England, or is this merely a visit?”
Plainly impervious to such an attack, Child smiled charmingly. “I decided I’d had enough of foreign climes, so yes, I’m home for good.” With a glance that indicated their surroundings, he continued, “It’s refreshing to be back in civilization—I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.”
Somewhat mollified, her ladyship asked for his opinion on the production thus far.
Therese wasn’t surprised to hear Child deftly avoid answering, deferring instead to her ladyship’s judgment. He then seized the conversational reins by complimenting her ladyship on her elaborate headdress and her dark-bronze silk-taffeta gown, which, of course, gave him license to compliment Therese on her gown of lavender-rose silk, with its froth of rich lace at neckline and cuffs and figured-silk underskirt.
“And”—greatly daring, he raised a hand and tapped a finger to the large stone that blazed from amid the lace beneath the hollow of her throat—“one has to say that the Alverton diamonds complement the whole perfectly.” With an openly appreciative glint in his eyes, he dipped his head to her. “Quite stunning, my dear countess.”
As a piece of outrageously flirtatious flattery, that skated close to the line, but not over it.
Acknowledging as much, Lady Cremorne snorted. “’Ware, Child, or you’ll make enemies.” When Child glanced at her, she tipped her head across the box toward Devlin.
Child smiled delightedly. “I rather count on that, you know.”
Lady Cremorne huffed and shook her head. “Back to your old ways, I see. Some things never change.”
Therese wished she could have dragged her ladyship aside and inquired further—as to what things, presumably things between Child and Devlin, hadn’t changed—but more people had pushed into the box, which was becoming rather crowded.
With Child beside her, she found herself with her back to the balcony railing in one front corner while, surrounded by gentlemen, Devlin held court on the other side of the small chamber. Lady Poulson and Miss Nagley were chatting with young Lord Swan. In his mid-twenties and with a burgeoning reputation as a connoisseur of music, Swan was a favorite of Therese’s, and she definitely wished to speak with him. Lady Poulson’s son, Jonathon, had arrived, presumably in search of his mother and her charge, but, on seeing Devlin, had diverted to join the group about him.
Lady Cremorne noticed Swan and, with a nod to Therese and Child, drifted to join the conversation with the young lordling, while with a similar nod to Therese and Child, Lord Cremorne went to join the others around Devlin.
Before any newcomers could claim her attention, Child turned to Therese and arched a brow. “And what’s your opinion on the performance, my lady?”
Yours or the players’? Therese was tempted to ask, but instead replied, “I’m enjoying the opera immensely. Tell me, how long has it been since you attended an opera?”
Child waved dismissively. “Some years.”
“Any musical event?”