Page 72 of Taming the Heiress
There was little danger in that encounter. He felt sure that he could greet her, even converse a little, and move on through the evening, shielded by coldness. He had no more heart left to hurt, for it had gone numb inside him from anger and betrayal.
Easy enough to survive the evening in a cool and dignified manner, he thought, as he turned and headed for the door and his companions waiting belowstairs. How he would endure the rest of his life without her remained to be seen.
* * *
"Ma leddy, we will not acknowledge those who so rudely wish to catch your eye," Mrs. Berry said, leaning toward Meg from her chair beside her in the theater box. "Give your attention only to the performer, ignoring all else, once the concert begins."
"Of course I will, Berry." Meg watched the stage with its closed curtains of heavy velvet. Below, as the theater continued to fill with those attending the concert, she noticed several people turning to stare up at her and her companions in the box. Some were even ill-bred enough to point. "Concentrating on the performer will not be difficult this evening. Miss Lind is captivating."
"Staring up at a private theater box is so verra vulgar," Mrs. Berry complained. She turned away from some onlooker in irritation, snapping her blue feathered fan to hide her face.
Guy, dressed in black and white dinner attire, leaned toward them from his velvet-upholstered chair. He sat beside Angela, the two of them seated behind Meg and Mrs. Berry. "Lady Strathlin cannot help but attract attention. Nearly everyone in this theater is curious to see the elusive baroness. And with three such beautifully gowned, gorgeous ladies in this box, I'm sure some of them are wondering just which one is Lady Strathlin."
"Well, true," Mrs. Berry conceded. She smoothed the skirt of her deep blue velvet gown and flounced her coiffed head, crystal earrings shivering. "Now remember, ma leddy, during the promenade at intermission, walk slowly and decorously, and dinna stop to converse, expecially with gentlemen. This isna the beach at Caransay."
"Oh? Did Lady Strathlin chat with a gentleman on the beach?" Guy asked. Meg turned to see his teasing smile. Mrs. Berry rounded eagerly toward Guy and Angela.
Lessons in decorum were no match for a chance to gossip a little, Meg thought, both amused and irritated.
"Indeed she did, wearing no more than a skirt and blouse, and barefoot, as well," Mrs. Berry whispered. "And I was in mabathing costume," she confided. "I was mortified!"
"Understandably. Who was the gentleman?" Angela asked.
"Mr. Stewart o' the lighthouses," Mrs. Berry replied. She folding her gloved hands one over the other, lips pursed. "He thought I was the great leddy herself, the baroness. Must be my manner o' deportment," she said, straightening her shoulders.
"No doubt," Guy murmured, smiling as Meg looked at him.
"This Mr. Stewart is a fine man, charming and handsome, though I havena spoken with him maself," Mrs. Berry went on. "Brave, too. He saved a small child from drowning in the sea. And fought off a shark to do it! Amazing heroics."
"Really? Quite impressive," Guy said.
"Madam, you never mentioned such excitement during your holiday," Angela said, leaning forward.
"Mr. Stewart did save a child from drowning, and very courageously," Meg said.
"Iain," Mrs. Berry said. "It was little Iain. You know whoheis, Mrs. Shaw." She looked pointedly at Angela, who gave an audible gasp. Guy Hamilton frowned thoughtfully.
Meg flapped her fan, rapid and silent. Mrs. Berry took the hint and sat back without further comment on the subject.
"I want to hear that story later. And think we should make it a point to congratulate Mr. Stewart on his brave deed," Angela said. "I, for one, look forward to meeting him, after all I've heard lately of him. It is a shame what Sir Edward and his cohorts have done to him. It's said they've nearly ruined him. And all over this dispute."
"Once," Guy began, "I might have said Mr. Stewart deserved it, for all his arrogance and aggression regarding the lighthouse. But I must agree with dear Mrs. Shaw—for all I've learned about him lately, he did not deserve this attack, which was unfairly done. Had I known what Uncle Edward was about, I would have done what I could to stop it." He glanced at Meg.
"Withoot fifty thousand pounds to spare," Mrs. Berry hissed, "no one can stop the poor man from losing his lighthouse."
Meg stayed silent, feeling utterly miserable. She looked out over the sea of heads and shoulders arrayed beneath them and listened as the crowd settled at last, quieting to a murmur.
He was here somewhere, she knew, in the theater. She sensed the inexorable pull of his presence so strongly that her heartbeat quickened as she looked around. She knew she should not glance around the theater but felt compelled to do so.
It was dark, though, and impossible to find one man in that vast and glittering crowd, no matter how well she knew the turn of that head, the set of those shoulders.
And if he did see her, she was certain he would turn away.
The orchestra tuned their instruments, the gaslights dimmed, and the voluminous draperies slowly parted. The stage was bare but for a pedestal holding an arrangement of flowers and a small table covered in a paisley cloth with a pitcher of water and a single glass upon it.
Silence deepened in the theater. Then a small woman walked out to the center of the stage, her brown hair pulled back simply, tucked with a small spray of pink roses. Her gown was cream colored, simple, lightly touched with lace. Jenny Lind looked like an innocent young girl, though Meg knew that she was easily in her mid-thirties. Clasping her hands in front of her, Miss Lind lifted her head and began to sing.
Her voice flowed outward, pure as crystal, a delicate trill like a lark in the morning. Listening, Meg felt her worries and fears ease a little under that magical sound.
