Lessons in Seduction (Greentree Sisters 1)

She glanced away, again fiddling with her shawl, and he knew she was remembering what they had done in that same coach. And all the while Toby’s eyes were flicking between them, watching, while he came to his own conclusions. Ignoring him, Oliver held out his hand. Gratefully, without a moment’s hesitation, Vivianna rested her fingers upon it.

The maid at the door hurried to open it, and Vivianna thanked her by name and with a proper smile. Then, with a cool nod to her uncle, she allowed Oliver to accompany her outside. He helped her into the coach, arranging her skirts about her so that they would not be crushed, and then climbed in opposite her, instructing the driver to drive on.

“Your uncle watches over you very particularly,” Oliver said.

“Yes.” Her voice was restrained. “He does.”

“You do not like him.”

“Is it that obvious?” Vivianna glanced at him and sighed. “I admit he is my least favorite relation. I love Aunt Helen dear

ly, of course, and feel very sorry for her. I have another uncle, my mother’s brother William, and he is always very kind to me. But I cannot like Toby.”

“He is a blackguard,” Oliver said seriously. “Never trust him, Vivianna. He would do you harm if it was in his own interest.”

She was quiet, and he watched her, wondering what she was thinking. At last she said softly, “I have just realized. Lady Marsh is not here. Are we going to collect her now?”

“No, I am afraid not. My aunt is unwell, and she has asked that we go to the opera without her.”

Silence again. Now, he thought, she would ask to be returned to her home. But she said nothing and, as the wheels of the coach rumbled on over the cobbles, he began to relax a little. Gas lamps glowed against the night mist, making little haloes along the street, and people strolled in the evening air. Everybody seemed to be out enjoying themselves.

“When I first arrived in London,” she said, “I thought it crowded and noisy and smelly. A ghastly place. A sprawl of humanity with no heart or soul. Now I am growing used to it. In fact I quite like it.”

“Not like Yorkshire, then.”

“Not like Yorkshire, no.”

“I did not intentionally deceive you, Vivianna. I meant to tell you that my aunt was unwell, but your uncle—”

“Put your back up.”

He laughed at the droll note in her voice. “We understand each other, then, do we?”

She met his gaze and held it. “Yes, I think perhaps we do.”

Her Majesty’s Theatre had been renamed when Queen Victoria ascended to the throne, and it was a venue where only the queen’s favorite Italian operas or French ballets were performed. Most nights the magnificent building was full to capacity. Outside, flower sellers held up their neat and fragrant bunches, while the crowd streamed by. Vivianna admired Nash’s elegant colonnade, and inside, the gas chandeliers that lit their way. Lady Marsh, explained Oliver, hired a private box for the entire year, despite the fact that she rarely attended the opera.

“Because she is an invalid?”

“Because she loathes it.”

Vivianna smiled, enjoying herself and the feel of his hand lightly brushing her waist as he led her through the door to their box. His touch was enough to set her body tingling. He was very handsome tonight in his black and white evening dress, his trousers tapered to black shoes, his tailored black jacket and his white frilled shirt and white cravat. His silk top hat he carried in one gloved hand. He was probably the most handsome man here, she decided seriously.

The chairs were padded brocade, and when they were seated, Vivianna admired their view of the theater. It was overflowing with patrons, from the colorful occupants of the stalls to the tier upon tier of boxes full of gentlemen in evening dress and ladies beautifully gowned, to the noisy and unseen gallery far above, where there were cheaper seats to be had. Some dandies in the stalls had turned their backs on the curtained stage and were eyeing the new arrivals through their monocles.

Vivianna ignored them when they focused en masse upon her. An officer in a red coat covered in medals and ribbons was speaking in a loud voice to a smallish plump lady with dark ringlets, wearing a wide-skirted white satin gown, a sash about her tiny waist, and a necklace of diamonds about her white throat.

She didn’t look to be much older than Vivianna, but when she noticed Vivianna staring, gave her a reproving frown.

“She doesn’t like to be watched,” Oliver murmured at her side. Then, meeting her blank gaze, “The queen, Vivianna. Her Majesty, Queen Victoria.”

“Oh!” Vivianna felt horribly embarrassed, but still she gave the box another glance. “Is her new husband there? Prince Albert?”

“Yes, there he is, in evening dress. Tall with dark hair, very serious—the ladies think him very handsome.”

Vivianna saw him. He was much taller than the queen, and Oliver was correct, very handsome and very serious. As she watched, Victoria rested her gloved fingers upon her husband’s arm, as if she could not resist touching him, even in public. They were in love, then, just as Vivianna had heard.

“Vivianna.”