Of course, resistance was a matter of measures. Dinah might admire Oliver’s dimples, but more often than not dimples came with a rogue attached, and rogues were too troublesome to bother with. People in general were a great nuisance, but she forgave Oliver his occasional antics because he was entertaining and clever, and truly kind-hearted.
She was fond of him—not too fond, because it wasn’t wise to be too fond of a man with a smile like Oliver’s—but he was one of only a handful of people she considered a friend. “Lord Oliver isn’t my protector, Florentina.”
Florentina let out a laugh shrill enough to crack the looking glass. “Well no, dear. Not anymore. After the spectacle he and Lady Serena made in his box tonight, the entire theatre knows that. Why, at one point his tongue nearly fell out of his mouth.”
Dinah’s hand froze as she reached for her hairbrush. “Lady Serena? Lady Serena Howard? That Lady Serena?”
“Who else?” Florentina’s fingers flew to her mouth in mock chagrin. “You mean to say you didn’t know about her? Goodness me. How humiliating for you to find out this way. I do beg your pardon, dear, but then you would have found out soon enough. Every gossip in London will be whispering about it by tomorrow morning.”
“Lady Serena was in his box tonight?” Dinah detested having to ask Florentina, but she couldn’t see a thing from her own position on the stage aside from the glare from the chandeliers suspended from the ceiling. Oliver might have tumbled from his box into the pit below without her noticing.
“Lord Oliver, Lady Serena, and Lord Erskine. What a trio, to be sure.” Florentina rose from her chair and flounced across the room. “You should have predicted his attention would wander, and secured him before it did. Alas, it’s too late now.”
If the gentleman in question had been anyone other than Oliver Angel, perhaps Dinah would have secured him, just as Florentina suggested. She wouldn’t be the first lady to trade the stage for a place in a wealthy gentleman’s bed. But for all Oliver’s caprices and whims, his quirks and foibles, he deserved better than that.
Better than Lady Serena, as well.
Dinah had recently put some distance between herself and Oliver in hopes he’d overcome a silly little infatuation he’d developed for her, but she hadn’t turned him loose so a venomous viper like Lady Serena could snatch him up and devour him.
“Well, my dear, I’m truly sorry for you.” Florentina turned to Dinah with a triumphant smile. “Indeed, I am, but it’s your own fault, and heaven knows you aren’t likely to do any better than Oliver Angel.”
With that parting shot, Florentina swept from the room, and Dinah was left alone, staring into the glass at the troubled blue eyes peering back at her.
Lady Serena Howard. Of all the ladies London had to offer, why would Oliver choose her? She was witty and beautiful, yes, and she had a certain lazy elegance the stupider gentlemen seemed to find irresistible, but Oliver was no fool. The woman might be one of London’s most sought-after courtesans, but she was notorious for leading her conquests from one disastrous scandal to the next, bleeding them dry of every last guinea, then tossing what was left of them aside before moving onto her next wealthy patron.
Oliver might do as he pleased, of course, but Dinah had thought he had more sense than that. Then again, Florentina could be lying, or at the very least exaggerating. The woman lived to stir up mischief. There was no sense in panicking until she’d seen Oliver and Lady Serena together with her own eyes.
She snatched up her things, pulled her cloak around her shoulders and hurried into the corridor outside the dressing room. The performance had ended a half hour ago, but Oliver always waited outside in the mews for her afterwards to take her home in his carriage.
He was there, on the street outside the theater. He hadn’t yet forgiven her for her recent standoffishness, and his dimpled smile dimmed a little when he saw her. Dinah pretended not to notice it, or the cool note in his voice when he said, “Here you are at last.”
There, it was just as she’d suspected. Florentina had exaggerated entire thing. Oliver was here, just as he always was, and there wasn’t a sign of—
“Come along, then, my lord. We’ve been waiting in this damp alleyway for an age!”
Dinah’s gaze jerked to Oliver’s carriage, and her eyes narrowed to slits.
There sat Lady Serena, like a queen on her throne. Blast it, why did this have to be the one instance when Florentina was telling the truth?
“Are you ready?” Oliver held out his hand to Dinah.
She didn’t take it. It was the first time since she and Oliver became friends a year ago she didn’t take his hand when he offered it. She glanced back at the carriage and saw Lady Serena hanging out the window, a generous expanse of her bare, white bosom shoved high against the bodice of her gown.
Dinah’s lip curled. That corset was squeezing the life out of her. Either it was two sizes too small, or Lady Serena had another one of her lovers stuffed down her bodice.
Lord Erskine leaned across Lady Serena to peer out the window at Dinah. “Such prudent hesitation! It’s unnecessary, I assure you, Miss Bishop. We don’t bite.”
“No, not unless you ask politely,” Lady Serena drawled, her glittering dark eyes roaming possessively over Oliver.
Oliver grinned at her, his dimples winking at the corners of his mouth. “Come now, Lady Serena. We both know you prefer wickedness to manners.”
Lady Serena let out a peal of laughter. “I can hardly deny it while I’m sitting in your carriage, my lord.”
Dinah’s eyebrow lifted. Lady Serena may as well have said bed as carriage, given her suggestive tone, but then subtle courtesans starved, didn’t they? If Lady Serena had been casting her lures at anyone but Oliver, Dinah might have even felt a twinge of sympathy for her.
Oliver laughed, then turned back to Dinah with an impatient look. “Shall we go, Miss Bishop?”
“No, I don’t need a ride tonight. I told Miss Ward I’d walk home with her. I just came out to tell you.” Dinah waved a hand toward his carriage when Oliver hesitated. “Go on, then. I’m more than capable of making my way home myself.”
Oliver frowned, then turned without a word and strode into the street and hailed a hack. He reached up to press a few coins into the driver’s hand, then opened the carriage door and beckoned to Dinah. “You can drop Miss Ward on your way home.”
“Do come along, my lord. The hazard tables await.” Lady Serena crooked a black, silk-clad finger at Oliver.
Dinah scowled. Hazard? Surely Oliver wasn’t gaming?
He didn’t give her a chance to ask. “Good night then, Miss Bishop.” He bowed, then bounded over his own carriage and squeezed into the seat next to Lady Serena.
Dinah glared daggers at the carriage as it rattled away.
Oh, no. This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all.
Tomorrow, she’d write to Penelope and warn her Lady Serena Howard was angling to get her hooks into Oliver. Lord Archer would know best what should be done. It was possible Oliver was just dallying with her ladyship for an evening, but one didn’t like to let such a situation get out of hand.
Someone had to save Oliver from succumbing to his baser instincts.