A Reckless Encounter

“As safe as having you there, Miss Leverton.” His smile was cynical, and his gaze shifted to Celia. “I’m not so certain about the safety of your presence, however, Miss St. Clair. You’re more reckless than your prudent cousin.”

“If you’re referring to that untamed horse, you might do well to recall that it was your tame gypsy who saddled it for me,” Celia retorted. “But don’t be too embarrassed about your failure to provide security for guests, as it’s not very safe in London, either.”

“That’s right,” Carolyn said with a shudder. “We were accosted by footpads only last week. It was terrible! Four highwaymen set upon our carriage near Berkley Square, and if not for the footman, we might well have been killed!”

“Highwaymen in London?” Northington’s eyes narrowed.

“Not just in London, my lord,” Jacqueline said, “but in Mayfair! You can imagine our fright. But for our brave footman’s efforts, they might have taken much more than just our purses.”

“Then nothing of value was stolen.” Northington’s gaze shifted back to Celia, a fathomless dark blue regard that made her throat ache.

“Nothing that can’t be replaced,” she replied.

“Yes, a few jewels—” Jacqueline shook her head with a sad sigh. “Thank heavens I wasn’t wearing anything too valuable. We were just starting out and had not yet reached Piccadilly. The constable said it was most curious that they would attack us in daylight, as it was right there not far from home. But what can one expect these days, with brigands running about?”

Celia felt Northington’s gaze on her and looked away, unable to face that stare and not demand an explanation, a reason for his indifference after what had been, to her, an extraordinary night. Oh, why wouldn’t he go away?

But when the opera started, Northington did not leave at once, remaining as the lights dimmed and everyone’s attention was on the stage. She felt his presence acutely.

It was difficult to concentrate on the opera, and she stared down at her programme in the dim light afforded by shaded lamps to follow the thread of the story unfolding onstage.

The tale of a legendary musician who sold his soul to the devil in exchange for knowledge and power was quite familiar to her, yet Northington was too great a distraction for her to enjoy the opera.

“This is where he sells his soul to Satan for twenty-four years of pleasure,” Northington leaned close to murmur, and Celia shot him a frowning glance. “A high price for such a short time.”

“Indeed, my lord,” she said softly, “but I’ve known men who would sell their souls for less than that.”

“You keep villainous company, Miss St. Clair.”

She met his gaze. “Not by choice, my lord.”

Celia was glad when the intermission finally arrived, and was even more glad when Northington accompanied them only briefly to the lobby. He took his leave with polite apologies to Jacqueline, but not even a glance at Celia.

It was crowded in the lobby, where all came to see and be seen, where jewels glittered beneath brilliant lights

and aristocrats rubbed elbows with courtesans.

“I don’t believe it,” Celia exclaimed when Jacqueline pointed out Madame Poirier, the procuress of fallen women, and her charges all elegantly attired and engaged in open conversation with several men she recognized. “Isn’t that Lord Harrow talking to her?”

“It is indeed. But surely you are not shocked! They come here to attract new protectors, of course, and Lord Harrow seems to have found a lady who intrigues him.”

Fascinated, Celia was so busy watching the ladies of the night that she didn’t at first recognize the man who approached her, until finally Carolyn nudged her and she turned. The fair haired man looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t until he spoke that she remembered him.

“Miss St. Clair, pardon my interruption, but I wonder if perhaps you remember me?”

“Yes, yes, of course I do. Mister Carlisle from the ship.”

James Carlisle looked pleased, a smile brightening his face as he nodded. “I see that you’ve settled into London life quite happily. Are you enjoying the opera?”

“I have indeed settled in, and am finding the opera to be very entertaining. Mister Carlisle, you no doubt think me the most ungrateful of people, for I haven’t yet returned your directory to you. Please forgive me. I’ll be most happy to send it to you tomorrow.”

“You still have it then. It was a gift from a friend, you understand, and even though I could get another, this one is special to me.”

Celia bit her lower lip. “Oh, I am so embarrassed. It wasn’t intentional, I assure you, Mister Carlisle. I meant to send it on to you, but I’d put it away and—”

“Miss St. Clair, think nothing of it. Truly, I’d not thought of it myself until I saw you tonight in your box, and then recalled the directory. And to be even more honest, it’s an excuse to speak with you again.”

His smile was broad, inviting her to indulge him, and she laughed softly.