Chapter Seven

T here was a crowd outside the opera house as they approached, and quickly Henry checked for any familiar faces. He couldn’t regret inviting Miss Shepherd, she had talked of nothing else but her love for music all the way to Covent Garden, asking him about all the operas he had seen. She looked radiant this evening, wearing the same dress she had when he’d first met her sneaking into the Shrewsburys’ library. It was a midnight blue with a white sash around the middle. There was no adornments or embroidery, but the dress was well cut and the material fell in soft lines, giving her a lovely silhouette.

‘I am glad to see you are taking this seriously.’ Henry jumped at the voice that came from over his shoulder. With a sinking heart, he turned to see his father approaching. The crowd of people parted before him as if the old man had a leper bell around his neck.

‘Good evening, Father,’ Henry said, cursing his bad luck. His father was not all that keen on the opera and only attended a couple of times a year. It was unfortunate one of those times was tonight, although perhaps not entirely unforeseeable. Many of the wealthy residents of London had left for their country estates weeks earlier, and society events were few and far between in the summer months. His father was the opposite of a social butterfly, but he did enjoy having something new to moan about, and that couldn’t happen if he sat at home counting his money.

‘Is this her? The woman you were spotted with yesterday?’ He peered at Miss Shepherd with undisguised judgement.

Henry swallowed. He did not want to subject Miss Shepherd to his father’s rudeness, and equally he would prefer it if his father thought he was doing his utmost to search for a wife.

‘This is Miss Shepherd.’

‘Miss Shepherd? Never heard of her. Who is her father?’

Henry glanced at Miss Shepherd and saw her expression turn quickly from horror to faux warmth.

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord,’ she said, dipping into a pretty little curtsey.

Lord Burwell grunted, although his expression wasn’t quite as hostile as she rose.

Henry thought quickly, trying to come up with some story to mollify his father.

‘Miss Shepherd is a distant relative of Lady Shrewsbury. She is newly arrived in London from Sussex, and Lady Shrewsbury asked if I would bring her to the opera tonight.’

‘A relative of Lady Shrewsbury?’ Lord Burwell asked, looking her over again. Miss Shepherd’s dress was of decent quality, but Henry was suddenly very aware that it did not compare to some of the beautiful gowns of the ton that surrounded them. No, it was more akin to the best frock of a vicar’s wife, worn to a country dinner party.

‘Yes, my lord,’ Miss Shepherd said to Henry’s relief. ‘A distant cousin on my mother’s side of the family.’

Lord Burwell gripped hold of Henry’s arm and drew him to one side.

‘You’re wasting time. I can see even from a perfunctory look that Miss Shepherd is not of the right calibre to be a candidate for your new bride. All the time you are ferrying her around the city you are not focussed on finding someone suitable.’

‘This is a favour for Lady Shrewsbury, that is all.’

Lord Burwell grunted but Henry saw him soften ever so slightly. There were many things his father disapproved of in his life, but his friendship with Lord and Lady Shrewsbury was not one of them. Lord Shrewsbury was one of the richest and most influential men in the country, which was all that mattered, it seemed. Of course his father didn’t bother to look past that fact to the man beneath, not caring that Shrewsbury was also one of the kindest, most generous men, and Henry considered himself lucky to count him as a friend.

Just as it looked as though his father might move on, a heavy hand clapped onto Henry’s shoulder.

‘Routledge, I didn’t know you were attending tonight.’

With a sinking heart Henry turned to see Lord and Lady Shrewsbury. He managed to suppress a groan, but he could not stop his eyes flicking to where Miss Shepherd was standing.

‘Surely you knew he was bringing Miss Shepherd here tonight,’ Lord Burwell said. For all his faults, no one could accuse the Earl of being slow-witted. A hint of suspicion was back in his eyes as everyone turned to look at Miss Shepherd.

Henry felt his chest constricting. At any second everything was going to come crashing down, and his chance of ever seeing his sister would become slimmer.

‘Cousin, dearest,’ Miss Shepherd stepped forward, taking hold of Lady Shrewsbury’s arm, ‘I am so glad you could make it this evening. I am very much looking forward to the opera. Lord Routledge has been kind enough to explain what to expect.’

Lady Shrewsbury looked startled—Henry thought she might protest at being led away by Miss Shepherd. He did not see what looks passed between them, but after five excruciating seconds she stopped resisting and turned away.

Now he only had Lord Shrewsbury to stop from revealing his secret.

‘I don’t know...’ Shrewsbury began. Over the top of his father’s head, Henry shot him a pleading look. Shrewsbury clamped his lips together.

‘I think everyone is heading inside,’ Henry said, hoping it would prompt his father to go and find his seat.

‘Don’t let yourself get distracted, boy,’ Lord Burwell said, with one final, meaningful look at Miss Shepherd.

Henry nodded seriously, holding his breath until his father had disappeared into the crowd.

‘That was bizarre,’ Lord Shrewsbury said, raising an eyebrow at Henry. ‘Miss Shepherd is here I see. And apparently she is my wife’s distant cousin?’

‘Your wife is a rare gem.’

‘I know,’ Lord Shrewsbury murmured. ‘You’re lucky she likes you so much. She would not have gone along with that for anyone else.’

At that moment Lady Shrewsbury and Miss Shepherd reappeared, no longer arm in arm.

‘I know,’ Henry said, raising his hands in defence. ‘I have a lot of explaining to do.’

‘I suggest you start immediately,’ said Lady Shrewsbury.

‘As you know, my father has been increasingly insistent that I focus all my energies on finding a suitable wife to be the second Lady Routledge. He was not impressed to find me here with Miss Shepherd.’

‘From how I dress he could apparently see I was not worthy of being the sort of woman a Viscount would court,’ Miss Shepherd said. She did not look upset or perturbed, and even gave Henry a little half-smile. He reminded himself to thank her later—only her quick thinking had saved him from his father’s wrath.

‘He thinks my every waking hour should be dedicated to finding a wife, and with his threats to keep Sophia from me I thought it best he did not know Miss Shepherd’s true identity. I didn’t want him to think I was courting her.’

‘Are you courting her?’ Lady Shrewsbury asked, her eyes widening.

‘No,’ Miss Shepherd said, so quickly that in any other circumstance he might be offended. ‘Lord Routledge has been very kind to me, that is all.’

‘Wait a moment,’ Lord Shrewsbury said, ‘I can’t see how we got from Miss Shepherd being someone you met in the street and persuaded you to help her access an audience with our housemaid, to you two attending the opera together.’

‘Ah,’ Henry said. ‘Yes, I can see how that looks to be a bit of a leap.’

‘Was any of it true? The story about your missing sister? The need to talk to Agnes Pepper?’ Lady Shrewsbury fixed her gaze on Miss Shepherd, and Henry marvelled at how well she handled the scrutiny.

‘Yes. I came to London to try to find my missing sister, and in her letters she mentioned Agnes Pepper, which was why I wanted to talk to her.’

‘I have offered to help Miss Shepherd find her sister, if I can provide any assistance.’

Both Lord and Lady Shrewsbury turned to Henry, looks of incredulity on their faces.

‘Would you excuse us a moment, Miss Shepherd,’ Lady Shrewsbury said, stepping to close the gap between her and Henry, moving them a few steps away from Miss Shepherd.

‘Have you gone mad? Do you have a fever? Is there some sort of parasite eating away at your brain?’ Lady Shrewsbury whispered, her hands flying as she spoke.

‘Now, my dear, I am sure—’ Lord Shrewsbury began, but he was cut off by his wife.

‘You know nothing about the girl. It is obvious you are a wealthy man, have you not considered that she may be luring you in, hoping you will compromise her and then need to compensate her to satisfy your honour?’

Henry opened his mouth, but Lady Shrewsbury was not finished.

‘You cannot take in waifs and strays without knowing anything about them. She could be anyone, you know nothing of her family, her background. It is beyond reckless, Henry. You need to get rid of her.’

Henry had always prided himself on his even temper, but right now he was struggling to maintain his composure.

‘I have the utmost respect for you, Louisa,’ he said quietly, his voice low but dangerous, ‘but I cannot allow you to speak of Miss Shepherd like that.’

‘Henry—’

‘She may not be born into the wealthiest of families, or have had the privileges and opportunities we have enjoyed throughout our lives, but she is so much more than you are suggesting.’

‘You barely know her.’

‘But you know me. I would hope you trust my judgement at least a little, given how long we have known one another. I have given my word to help Miss Shepherd in her search for her sister, not because she has coerced me, or enchanted me, but because it is the right thing to do. She is a young lady, alone in this city, petrified that she may never see the sister that she loves again.’

He saw Miss Shepherd move a little closer, aware she was listening to his every word.

‘I do not think she is out to bewitch me, or to trick me into compromising her. I think she is merely a woman who is in need of help and kindness. If I refused, what sort of a man would that make me?’

Lord and Lady Shrewsbury looked suitably chastised. He knew they both only wanted what was best for him. He softened a little.

‘One day it may be Sophia who is in need of a friend.’ He said this quietly, and saw the tears form in Lady Shrewsbury’s eyes.

‘Forgive me,’ she murmured, holding his eye, then she turned to Miss Shepherd. ‘I owe you an apology too. I was rude, I am sorry.’

Miss Shepherd smiled and nodded, accepting the apology gracefully.

‘Shall we go inside? The opera is about to start, and Miss Shepherd has never been before,’ Henry said, eager to leave the conversation behind them.

Henry offered his arm and led Miss Shepherd into the opera house, followed closely by Lord and Lady Shrewsbury.

Sarah stepped carefully, aware of her heart pounding in her chest. Never before had anyone defended her honour in such a way, and she felt a little giddy from Lord Routledge’s words.

As they joined the crowds in the foyer, Lord Routledge placed his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers gently. Sarah looked up and felt her pulse quicken.

Carefully she examined the rush of emotions she was feeling, trying to tell herself it was from the excitement of the last ten minutes, yet not quite believing it.

It was difficult to ignore the gratitude she felt for Lord Routledge, but she couldn’t deny there might be something a bit more.

‘That would be inconvenient,’ she murmured to herself. With his speech he had made it quite clear that he viewed her as a charity case, someone he could assist as his good deed of the week. She didn’t mind that, it was an apt description of their relationship, but she wondered if she might be developing an affection for the Viscount.

It was absurd, and Sarah was well aware nothing could ever happen between them. The difference in their social status was a big hurdle, but she had begun to piece together the fraught relationship Lord Routledge had with his father from the little he had told her, and watching how he reacted to the older man a few minutes earlier. It was clear she would never be of the right social status to satisfy the people around Lord Routledge.

She scoffed that she was even considering it. All she needed Lord Routledge for was his assistance in finding Selina. After that she would return to Kent and take up her position as music teacher. She had chosen a life that was likely to be chaste, and without the likelihood of marriage, and she couldn’t start second-guessing her decisions just because of one man’s kindness.

‘Sit with us,’ Lady Shrewsbury said. ‘We have empty seats in our box.’

‘Yes, sit with us,’ Lord Shrewsbury said.

Lord Routledge glanced at her and she was absurdly pleased that he sought her opinion in this matter. Many young women would have been offended by Lady Shrewsbury’s assumptions about her character, but Sarah had not been. She was using Lord Routledge, but not in the way his friends had feared. She would do anything to find her sister, and she knew she would get further in London with someone who could gain access to the places she could not.

‘That sounds lovely,’ she said, and Lord Routledge smiled at her.

He leaned in close, his lips almost brushing her ear as he whispered, ‘Thank you.’

They climbed the stairs up to the boxes and made their way inside. Sarah had to fight to keep her mouth from falling open. There was a throng of people taking their seats below them, all talking loudly, the ladies wafting fans to help with the stifling heat. But the real spectacle was on their level, with the other well-dressed ladies and gentlemen taking their seats in their own boxes.

‘Sit here,’ Lord Routledge said, directing her to a seat at the edge before positioning himself next to her. It made for an intimate little corner and, as he leaned in, she felt the heat of his body. ‘This first part of the evening is about being seen.’

She touched her face self-consciously.

‘Everyone watches everyone else, so much so that sometimes the performers on the stage become frustrated by the lack of attention from the audience.’

‘Surely people come to see the performance?’

‘Some do, I’m sure, but for many it is an opportunity to show off their newest set of emeralds or finest silk gloves.’

‘And we mustn’t forget you are here to search for a wife,’ she said, immediately regretting the words—she worried they sounded bitter.

Lord Routledge did not seem to notice and grimaced. ‘Yes, or so my father thinks.’ He shuddered as he let his eyes trail over the people in the other boxes.

‘Surely the idea of marriage cannot be that terrible, my lord?’

‘I did not think so once.’

She longed to ask him about his first wife. She did not think it was purely grief that stopped him from wanting to marry again. His expression hinted at a deeper tragedy.

‘Then perhaps you can learn to like the idea again. Is there a young woman you favour?’

She wondered what she was doing, torturing them both. She supposed her subconscious thought was that, if she helped him choose a candidate to court, no one would think she was interested in him romantically.

Looking at the frown crinkling between his eyebrows, she had the urge to reach out and smooth it, to take away some of his angst—but she stopped herself, instead folding her hands demurely in her lap.

‘Miss Gough is here,’ he said, not sounding overly excited. ‘She is sitting with my father, poor girl.’

Sarah followed his gaze to a pretty young woman with blonde hair, and a set of diamonds around her neck that looked as though they weighed her down.

‘Do you like Miss Gough?’

‘I barely know the girl. She is seventeen years old, barely more than a child.’ He closed his eyes and then leaned in as if to confide in her. ‘I see what Lord and Lady Shrewsbury have, and then I look at Miss Gough or the other young debutantes, and I wonder what I will have to talk about with a wife that young.’

‘Then choose someone older.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can, it is your choice.’

‘No, it is not, not really. The only way I satisfy my father is if I marry a wealthy, well-connected woman from a good family. The problem is each year the young women are introduced into society, and the cream of the crop are quickly snapped up by anyone looking for a wife.’

‘Ah, so you’re saying that the best ones from each year have already married,’ Sarah said, understanding now.

‘Yes. Only by looking to the debutantes of the next season can I satisfy all of my father’s demands.’

‘Do you have to satisfy your father?’

He gave a mirthless laugh, but Sarah was prevented from asking any more by movement on stage. The opera had begun.