Page 30 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
Yet Juliet had no intention of asking her parents, fearing they would realize something was amiss if she did.
“Never mind. Thank you, Meg, for your words. They do help.” She approached the maid and squeezed her hand, then walked out of the room, hurrying along the landing and down the staircase. In the doorway stood Violet and Brandon, who had come to escort her to the opera.
As before, the two seemed completely captivated in talking to one another, their hands clasped together and bearing such ridiculous smiles that Juliet cleared her throat to make herself seen. At the bottom of the stairs stood Cecily, who raised her hand to her mouth to hide her giggle.
“Shh,” Cecily waved a hand at Juliet to quieten her. “They are just enjoying one another’s company.”
“Well, they have to come up for air sometime,” Juliet reminded her mother. “Or we’ll never get to the opera at all, for they are too busy looking at one another as if they are the only ones in the room.”
“Juliet.” Cecily chastised her but struggled to hold back her smile.
“You could come too?” Juliet asked, but Cecily was already shaking her head.
“Your father and I shall enjoy a quiet night at home. Enjoy yourself, my love.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Though as Juliet turned to follow her sister and brother-in-law, she was not certain how much she would be able to enjoy the evening when, around every corner in the opera house, she would be nervous about seeing one particular face.
Chapter 9
“Mother? Mother, what are you doing?” Edward’s hissing words didn’t stop her, though. Amelia took hold of his arm and dragged him from the side of the foyer in the opera house into the very middle, where ladies were gathered together like a gaggle of geese, their mothers waving in his direction and ladies fluttering fans rather pointedly in front of their necklines. “Jane?” he called back to her, appealing for help.
Yet Jane stood beside Freddie and merely waved at him, mouthing the words, ‘good luck.’
Thank you for your help, dear sister.
Edward was forced to turn around as his mother elbowed him in the rib.
“Mother,” he hissed under his breath again, but she pretended not to hear him.
“Ah, Edward, love, let me introduce you to some dear friends of mine.” She started waving at each lady before her in turn. “This is Lady Marianne Webster and her daughter, Lady Heather. This is Mrs Beverley Harrison and her daughter, Miss Mavis.”
Every lady he was introduced to just happened to have a daughter beside her. Edward bowed so many times that he was beginning to get an ache in his back.
He could no longer remember the name of the first lady he had been introduced to, as his mother went around a group of ten ladies at least, waving at each one in turn. He felt his mother’s piercing eyes upon him, like the gaze of some sharp kestrel, watching him to see if he expressed an interest in any of the ladies.
“It is a pleasure to meet you all.” Edward forced himself to be polite and struggled to maintain a smile. He was noting odd things the ladies were doing now, all in an effort to get his attention.
Not only were some ladies fluttering their fans in front of their cleavages, but others were standing with their chests thrust forward, trying to show off their figures to their best advantage. One lady curled the loose locks of her black hair around her fingers, trying to make it sit just that little more beautifully. Another lady blinked madly and bit her lip repeatedly, clearly trying to make her lips pinker and, therefore, more attractive.
This is mad!
Edward felt rather like a pig at a pig fair as if the ladies were looking at him to debate whether he would be a good purchase. Their eyes drifted up and down him, examining his figure and his suit.
“Oh, do you not have a handsome son, Your Grace?” one of the mothers said with a giggle, gesturing to Edward. “He is a striking figure indeed, so much so I wonder why the ladies here do not swoon.”
Swoon?
Edward had to hold himself back from laughing now, not for one minute thinking a lady could swoon at all just from looking at a man. At the lady’s words, however, more than one young lady pretended to stagger on her feet as if truly affected by his presence.
“Well, it is warm in here tonight,” Edward said pointedly, trying to offer another reason. “I think that more likely to be the reason than my presence.”
“Oh, modest indeed. So modest and such a gentleman, do you not think, ladies?” the mother appealed to the ladies around him, who were now all nodding like hens in a farmyard.
Edward felt nothing like his usual self. He stood rigidly staring back at them all, wishing he could turn and flee, sprinting free of the opera house. He found himself longing for the freedom of the continent, where if he spent an evening with a lady, it was because they both wished for the opportunity of intimacy. The matter of his title or his fortune never seemed to matter, and marriage had never been on their minds either.
It was about the thrill, the excitement, that was all.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of auburn hair. He twisted his head towards the sight, following the lady with his eyes.
