Waltz With a Stranger (5 page)

***

From the private box the Newbolds had hired for the Season, Aurelia glanced around the theater. Seats were filling rapidly, even though
The
Gondoliers
had played here for more than a year. Nonetheless, according to Aunt Caroline, the Savoy remained an excellent place at which to be seen, if one were a lady in Society.

Amused, Aurelia plied her fan and admired the luxury of the Savoy’s trappings: the décor—all white, gold, and red, the gold satin stage curtain, and the steady luminescence of the theater’s electrical lamps. More than a thousand of them, Amy had said. She spared a moment to hope her scar wasn’t too visible in this light, then she made herself put the thought aside. She was meeting Amy’s intended tonight; that was the important thing.

All the same, she’d dressed with care in a Worth creation of violet satin with glittering silver trim; her earrings—dangling twists of silver wire and tiny amethysts—had been chosen to complement the gown. Like her new coiffure, the earrings drew the eye down and away from her cheek; another trick Claudine had taught her. Despite her resolve, she’d felt a flutter of apprehension in her midriff before they left the house, but the sight of her reflection and the delighted approval of her mother, godmother, and twin had reassured her. She did look well; more importantly, she
felt
well—and quite determined to enjoy the evening.

A knock on the door of their box brought Amy to her feet, her peach silk gown rustling around her. “That must be Trevenan,” she said, going to answer it.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” Aurelia heard her say as she opened the door. “Do come in, my lord, and meet the rest of my family.” She stood aside, smiling, to admit her fiancé. “Mother, Aurelia—may I introduce the Earl of Trevenan?”

Aurelia caught her breath as a tall man in evening dress stepped into the light.

Dark hair, dark eyes in a strongly handsome face, and the scent of citrus and cloves…

The only thing missing was the sound of waltz music.

I do desire we may be better strangers.

—William Shakespeare,
As
You
Like
It

Aurelia froze in her chair, unable to do more than stare as Amy’s betrothed came forward to take her hand and raise it to his lips before turning to greet the other ladies.

Mr. Trelawney. The newly made Earl of Trevenan. The first man to make her feel alive in four years was engaged to her sister—to Amy, whom she loved with every beat of her heart. She didn’t even have the consolation of hating her rival.

A voice inside of her howled at the injustice of it:
Not
fair, not fair—I met him first!
Another voice, quieter and more insidious, murmured,
Of
course
he
would
choose
the
whole
twin
.
The
one
who
was
perfect
and
unscarred.

Aurelia swallowed, feeling her hard-won confidence crumble into dust. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to rise and flee from the box. Then, like a dash of cold water in the face, rational thought came flooding back.

No one was to blame for this situation. Amy and—Lord Trevenan had not become engaged to hurt her. How could they have done so, when neither of them knew what she’d felt that night at the Talbots’ ball? She had never spoken a word to Amy about that secret waltz, and, despite her nebulous hopes, she could not be certain of seeing Mr. Trelawney—as she’d known him—again. Nor did she have any reason to believe that their private dance in the conservatory had meant anything to him beyond a stray charitable impulse. He’d been kind to her—that was all. An act of chivalry, if not the pity she’d dreaded.

“And this is my sister, Aurelia.” Amy’s voice penetrated the fog in her head.

And now the earl was turning to
her
, having already greeted Mother and Aunt Caroline. She swallowed again, feeling the panic rise in her throat.

Dear heaven, what would Claudine do in a situation like this?

Mercifully, some of her friend’s words flashed into her mind. “When in public, you must not let anything appear to vex or distress you,” Claudine had counseled. “You must cultivate
le
sangfroid
—the cold blood. The English, they are famous for it.”

“I’m not English,” Aurelia had pointed out.

“But you will be living among them,
n’est-ce pas
? So, in England, do as the English do.”

“Cold blood.” Aurelia had rather doubted her ability to master that quality. But she had to admit that it had its uses just now—and so did nearly twenty-one years of lessons in deportment. Drawing upon her reserves of both, she summoned a smile and extended her hand.

“Lord Trevenan,” she began, relieved to hear how calm her voice sounded. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance at last.”

He took her hand, his clasp light and warm through the silk of her glove. Would he allude to their previous encounter, or had he forgotten it entirely? And if, by chance, he
did
remember, would he find it easier—as she did—to pretend they were meeting for the first time?

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Aurelia.” His voice was the same—deep, pleasant, with that faint but attractive burr; the Cornish accent, perhaps. “Your sister has told me much of you.”

She risked a glance at him. Was that recognition she saw in his eyes, or merely a reflection of her own desire? She could not be certain, but she felt again that stirring of attraction, followed by a pang of longing. Suppressing both, she said lightly, “All good, I trust?”

“Relia!” Amy protested, laughing. “As if I’d say anything else!”

His eyes warmed, just as they had that night. “Entirely good. I can but hope that she was even half as complimentary when speaking to you of me.”

“You need have no fears on that score, Lord Trevenan. My sister speaks of you in only the most glowing terms.” Which wasn’t wholly inaccurate, Aurelia thought; Amy’s admission that she liked and respected her betrothed must count as high praise, coming from her.

“I’m relieved to hear it.” He smiled at Amy, and Aurelia had to stifle another rebellious twinge at the sight.

“The house lights are dimming,” Aunt Caroline announced from behind them. “I do believe the performance is about to start.”

“I’ve saved you a place, Trevenan.” Amy indicated the vacant seat on her left.

Thanking her, he moved to occupy it. Achingly aware of his every movement, Aurelia turned her attention toward the stage, hoping fervently that whatever happened there would be enough to distract her from Lord Trevenan’s presence in their box.

***

“I love the Savoy operas, don’t you?” Amy murmured to James as the overture began.

He murmured polite agreement, even though he’d only seen
The
Mikado
and
The
Pirates
of
Penzance
. Airy trifles, but he’d enjoyed both productions well enough. And since Amy was so fond of them, he would see that she had the chance to attend on the occasions when they were in London. And they would come to town from time to time, he acknowledged with an inner sigh. A successful marriage involved some compromises, after all.

He glanced at his fiancée’s exquisite profile, scarcely able to credit that she’d accepted his suit: a provincial earl who had held his title less than six months and still felt far more comfortable poring over account books and galloping along the Cornish shore than frequenting London balls and receptions. Even with Kelmswood and Glyndon out of the running, she might have set her sights higher than James. And yet, for all her ambition, Amy was not without heart, as her obvious love for her family showed. James thought she liked him well enough, and he’d found it easy to care for so sweet and charming a girl. And desirable—surely no man with a drop of blood in his veins could deny her appeal. A deeper affection could easily develop between them, and in time, there might be children, a family of their own.

Family. His gaze strayed to Aurelia, sitting on her sister’s right. He’d scarcely recognized her; despite what Thomas and Amy had both told him of her sojourn abroad, he had not expected so dramatic a change. The girl he remembered as a wounded bird had met his eyes squarely, with a bright, confident smile—and no sign of the brittle delicacy that had informed her every word and gesture in their previous encounter.

And no visible sign of recognition either, when they were introduced just now. Granted, there was no reason why she should remember, he supposed. A year had gone by, and so much had changed for both of them. Perhaps she’d left the memory of that night behind, along with her past unhappiness, to emerge from her chrysalis newly and joyously transformed.

And her transformation was indeed remarkable to behold. The new clothes helped. She’d been well-dressed last year too, but the gown she wore tonight fit her better, or perhaps it was merely that she had put on some weight and no longer seemed painfully thin.

She wore her hair differently too; the waving fringe across her brow and the wispy curls at her temples partly concealed her scar, though he could still detect its tracery upon her cheek, softened by the electrical light. But the skin of her throat and shoulders gleamed with the same pearly translucence as Amy’s, promised the same warmth and satiny smoothness…

Good God! Startled by the turn his thoughts had taken, James forced them back to the woman sitting beside him: Amy, his lovely fiancée. He wondered uneasily if other men courting twin sisters experienced this sort of momentary confusion.

The overture ended, and Amy leaned forward, her lips parting slightly in anticipation. Catching the drift of her scent, James let it anchor him to her side and the present moment, as the gold curtains opened on a scene in Venice.

***

Rather to her surprise, Aurelia discovered it was possible to close off a part of her mind and focus on the spectacle before her: the colorful bands of gondoliers and contadine, the lavishly painted sets and backdrops, and the soaring voices of the principal singers.

As the curtain descended at the interval, Amy turned to her with sparkling eyes. “Isn’t this wonderful, Relia? I think I like it as much as
The
Mikado
, and far more than
The
Yeomen
of
the
Guard
!”

Aurelia nodded agreement. “
The
Yeomen
of
the
Guard
was too sad for me. I hated how Jack Point ended up heartbroken and alone—” She broke off, flushing, at the vehemence that had crept into her tone.

Fortunately, no one else seemed to have noticed. Shaking out her skirts, Amy rose from her chair. “Goodness, I’m stiff! Trevenan, might we take a turn about the foyer?”

“Of course, my dear. Ladies,” he addressed the other inhabitants of the box, “may I escort you there, or would you prefer to remain here during the interval?”

“You’ll come, won’t you, Relia?” Amy entreated.

The last thing Aurelia wanted was to play gooseberry between her twin and Lord Trevenan, but how could she possibly explain that to Amy?

“Why don’t we all go?” Aunt Caroline suggested, and that settled that.

Gentlemen in evening dress and ladies in silks and jewels crowded the foyer, talking animatedly amongst themselves. Staying close to her mother’s side, Aurelia caught snatches of conversation as they passed, some pertaining to tonight’s performance, others to subjects completely unrelated; the London Season was in full swing, after all. Various people nodded in passing or stopped to exchange brief pleasantries. To Aurelia’s surprise, several welcomed her back to London with every indication of sincerity, as well as complimenting her on her improved appearance. She smiled and thanked them, bemused that anyone remembered her when she’d done her best to avoid Society whenever possible last year.

“Amy, dear.” Aunt Caroline’s voice, low-pitched but holding a note of urgency, broke into Aurelia’s musings. Startled, she glanced at her twin and saw her stiffen visibly.

Two more people were strolling toward them in a manner too deliberate to be accidental: Viscount Glyndon and a young lady, gowned in the height of fashion. Could this be Lady Louisa Savernake? She certainly carried herself like a person of consequence. Indeed, there was an air of the triumphal procession about them both, though the lady looked noticeably more pleased than her companion. “Smug” might be a better word, Aurelia thought.

Pausing before them, Lady Louisa gushed a greeting. “Why, Lady Renbourne, Miss Newbold. I’m simply delighted to see you here tonight. This must be the rest of your family?”

“Good evening, Lady Louisa, Lord Glyndon.” Amy’s voice and smile were equally bright. “Indeed, it is.” She undertook the introductions without further ado. Lady Louisa’s pale blue gaze passed over Mrs. Newbold and Aurelia with only cursory interest, though Lord Glyndon clasped Trevenan’s hand and punctiliously bowed over each lady’s.

He seemed to linger a moment longer over Amy’s, and Aurelia wondered if he was ruing his bargain. Lady Louisa was fair-haired and fine-boned in the typical English fashion, but to Aurelia’s admittedly biased eye, she hadn’t so much as a spark of Amy’s charm or vitality.

“I simply adore the works of Messrs. Gilbert and Sullivan,” Lady Louisa declared. She gave Lord Glyndon’s arm an unmistakably proprietary squeeze. “And seeing this one has convinced me: we simply must go to Venice on our wedding trip!”

“A delightful notion,” Amy replied with just the right amount of polite interest. “Allow me to congratulate you on your engagement. Have you set a date yet?”

Lady Louisa simpered; there was no other word for it, Aurelia decided. “June is the best month, of course, but we’re considering July and August too. And at St. George’s, Hanover Square, naturally.” She tightened her grip on Lord Glyndon’s arm; Aurelia thought she saw a flicker of annoyance in the viscount’s eyes. “But what of you, Miss Newbold? Have you made any plans for
your
big day?”

“Oh, Lord Trevenan and I are still discussing the details,” Amy said airily.

“Of which there are many,” the earl interposed with equal smoothness. “But my intended can rely upon my indulgence in whatever she decides, from the church to our wedding trip.”

Well
said
, Aurelia thought as Amy smiled up at Lord Trevenan; her mother and Aunt Caroline regarded him with approval as well.

Lady Louisa seemed slightly flummoxed by their solidarity, perhaps because it provided such a contrast to Lord Glyndon’s sullen silence. “How charming,” she began, then broke off to exclaim, “Oh, look—there are the Elliots! I simply must go and give them my regards.”

“Yes, you
simply
must,” Amy agreed dulcetly. Aurelia hid a smile behind her fan.

Impervious to irony, Lady Louisa excused herself and departed, towing her fiancé in her wake like a tugboat pulling a recalcitrant barge. Aurelia darted a glance at her twin, who was still sporting a bright, fixed smile. Not for the first time, she wondered just what had passed between Amy and Lord Glyndon. If the viscount had led her sister on, when he’d no honorable intentions…A gust of protective love swept through her as she remembered the coolness that had greeted them on their debuts in New York society. Insulated by her love for Charlie, Aurelia had not cared as much, but Amy had felt the slights and snubs almost as keenly as their mother. How intolerable for her to encounter the same treatment in England!

“My dear, are you well?” Lord Trevenan asked. Aurelia’s throat tightened at the warmth and solicitude in his voice; how he must adore her sister.

Amy turned to him in evident relief. “Perfectly well, my lord. Shall we return to our seats? The interval must be nearly over by now.”

“Of course.” He proffered his arm and she took it, smiling more brilliantly than ever.