Page 41 of The Trick of the Treasure
“Oh, just the back way into the church. I think. To be honest, I have been trying to remember myself…”
“Don’t lie to me, Audrey! Please tell me you are not still going to that—that…” Words seemed to fail her, and she broke off and just glared. “You promised me. And you must keep that promise now Barnabas is home.”
“Did I promise? I’m afraid I shall continue going to the church. The vicar doessuchgood in the community…”
Christine regarded her with dislike. “Give me it.” Audrey gave it up without a fuss, and Christine hastily hid it in her own reticule. “You’re putting me in a horrible position, Audrey. Don’t you care? Have you forgotten I know everything?”
Of course she didn’t, which was amusing in its way. Audrey tried a placating smile, but Christine was too rattled to respond, not least because Barnabas could be heard from the hall downstairs calling for his wife to hurry or they would miss the beginning.
“You are a silly old maid, Audrey,” Christine snapped. “And it’s well past time you realized it.”
She swept from the room, leaving Audrey gazing after her. Once, such words had hurt her, not for their truth but for the spite with which they were spoken. Christine had never wanted her here, which Audrey could well understand.
She blinked as Christine left, even called, “Enjoy the music,” after her.
When the carriage had gone, she’d go and find Rachel and they could play some game or just chatter a bit. Rachel was a sweet child.
As for her purloined key, it didn’t matter. She had another. Somewhere.
Chapter Nine
For the firsttime since Constance had known him, Solomon was late.
At least she could laugh at herself, in all her opera finery, watching anxiously for him, like a neglected wife who knows her husband has strayed to a woman like Constance. At least she knew that was not true. But she also knew something was bothering him and he had excluded her from helping.
She could be miffed at that. And she couldn’t deny it hurt. But mostly, she was worried.
By the time she saw his carriage approaching, it was really time for the arrival of the house’s first guests. Constance ran down the back stairs to the kitchen area and left the house by the area steps.
By then, a couple of gentlemen were mounting the steps to the front door, politely ignoring Solomon, who stood by the carriage. The sight of him with the lamplight flickering over his uniquely handsome face made her heart lurch, as it always did. There was no sign of distress, so perhaps he had resolved whatever had disturbed him earlier. Or perhaps he was still hiding.
She took his hand and was assisted into the carriage like a lady. He followed, closing the door behind him, and they set off at a fast clip.
“I’m sorry to be late,” he said, so politely that her heart sank.
“Only by a quarter of an hour. We shan’t disturb the opera itself, though you might deprive yourself of some excellent dancing. Did you learn anything useful from the locksmith or the solicitor?”
“No,” he said, “but let’s not talk about the case tonight. This evening is ours.”
She slipped her hand into his and his fingers closed around her, firm and strong. Her heart eased once more, especially when he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
The new Italian opera house at Covent Garden had been opened only a few years ago and was a magnificent theatre. Constance had attended many times before, for she loved music, and, professionally speaking, it helped with discussion in the salons of her establishment. The men who frequented them often attended the theatre too, although they rarely acknowledged her.
She was glad that their entrance to the private box created little notice, for Solomon would not permit her usual discretion. They sat at the front of the box, with the best view of the stage, lit up for all to see, if they cared to. But the rest of the audience were too busy either watching the dancers or gossiping.
For the first time, she felt exposed. Worse, she felt Solomon was because of her. But she met the challenge head-on, lifting her gaze from the stage to the boxes and gazing around them.
She almost laughed, and touched Solomon’s arm. “The third row, almost directly opposite.”
He followed her gaze to the Lloyds’ box, murmuring wryly, “So much for beingourevening. I see Grafton is with them.”
“That must be his wife beside Mrs. Lloyd. And there is Ben Devine with Jemimah and Sydney… Interesting who isn’t there.”
“Who?” she asked. “Fenwick?”
“Miss Lloyd.”
“Perhaps she does not care for opera.”
