Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

A few days after the incident with the dog, the maze and the pond, Lavinia found herself pressed into the Duke's side again in the bright orange sofa of the Hartfield's drawing room.

"What do you think of the opera?" Victor asked her.

She thought it was a dreadfully dull event with pretentiousness that may have just been greater than that of a ballroom.

"I have never been," she replied instead.

"Why ever not?"

"I do not think the Hartfields care for it all that much and I do not think it would be all that entertaining."

"Do you not like music?"

"Well, I mostly grew up in the country and so I am only familiar with a few jaunty tunes. My education on more refined music has been sorely limited."

With any other man, she would never have been so free to admit such a thing, but she could always count on the Duke to give her the freedom to be exactly herself. No pretenses or putting on airs needed.

He might have a high and mighty title, but not once had he ever reprimanded her for being her slightly unconventional self.

"The royal Opera will be at the Opera house this evening and I would like to invite you and the Hartfields to my private box."

"Oh, I do not know that I would like to attend."

"You will not know until you have tried and I have never taken you for one who shied away from new experiences," his eyes twinkled at her.

It was an obvious bait and Lavinia was nothing if not determined to prove herself.

"Very well then," she sniffed.

He rose to his feet with a triumphant smile, "I shall come to fetch you by seven this evening."

Later that afternoon, the dresses from Madame Vandeleur arrived and she was only too glad that she would be able to sit with the Duke and his mother looking as fancy as them.

She chose a dress in a stunning turquoise with puffy sleeves and a line of handsewn beads dotting the bodice of the dress.

In the absence of matching jewelry, her lady's maid helped her to fashion a choker out of a dark green ribbon which she tied into a bow around her neck, leaving the ends to trail down her front.

"I look like Andrew," she laughed as she descended the stairs arm in arm with her aunt.

Noah and Lord Hartfield had opted out of coming, her cousin preferring to spend his night cavorting around the city with his friends while her uncle had no patience for the Opera.

"You most certainly do not," Lady Hartfield protested but she didn't quite succeed in hiding her amusement and soon, the two women were doubled over, shoulders shaking with their laughter.

Noah who had been on his way out of the house stopped at the hallway to stare at them incredulously, "I am not even going to enquire as to the source of your amusement. Do try to not fall over his box, I hear it is quite high up."

She rolled her eyes, "I am not going to fall off."

"Who would have thought you would come home soaked after a day in the sunny Hyde park," he gave them one last salute and then slipped away from a night of debauchery and whatever else he did.

"Ignore him," her aunt told her.

The butler appeared seemingly out of thin air, "The Duke of Wyld's carriage has just arrived, my ladies."

"Excellent. Thank you," the older woman tugged on her gloves, while Lavinia grabbed her shawl, together they left the house.

The carriage was a gleaming black and an enormous vehicle pulled by four matching bays. The duchy symbol was boldly displayed in gold on one side of it and as they moved towards it, a footman jumped down to open the door and let down the steps.

Lavinia froze as she climbed on and realized the dowager Duchess would be coming along.

The woman ran a scrutinizing eye down her body and then nodded as if the girl had passed some test she hadn't even been aware she had taken.

"Your Graces," the women chorused.

"We are honored by your invitation," Lady Hartfield smiled politely.

"Hmm," the Duke's mother made a sound in her throat and then fixed her gaze pointedly on the passing scenery.

Lavinia ignored her in favor of admiring the man before her. He looked extra fine in his dark tail coat, the white cravat gleaming at his throat.

"Miss Proctor, Lady Hartfield, we're pleased to have you."

She raised a brow at him, telling him quite clearly that it was obvious the dowager did not share his pleasure at hosting them.

He only shrugged, clearly unbothered by his mother's opinion.

She had crossed past the Opera building countless times but that was the first time she was stepping foot inside the structure. Every inch of it gleamed and sparkled, chandeliers and red carpets lining the hallways.

The place was both tasteful and ostentatious, clearly intended for the upper echelon of the society.

She hadn't know what she had been expecting, but it felt very much like a stuffy ballroom as people noticed their arrival right and began to approach them for introductions.

"This is Lady Hartfield and her niece, Miss Proctor," Victor said for the umpteenth time as an older couple in tow with their perfect blonde daughter came over to greet the Wylds.

The blonde girl stared down at Lavinia from under her nose with so much derision that she had to wonder if they had had an encounter prior to that meeting.

"This is the Earl of Langham and his Countess, and their daughter, Lady Amelia."

"How do you do?" Lady Hartfield said kindly.

Lavinia did her best to pretend like she couldn't feel the younger woman's hatred filled stare, affecting a placid expression and looking anywhere but at the girl.

It turned out to be the same with the other ladies and she quickly caught on that her association with the Duke had made her an object of envy and consequently hatred. As far as she was concerned, she hadn't snatched him away from any other of the ladies and his affections hadn't been otherwise engaged when she had met him.

"You must join us in our box," the Dowager Duchess told the Earl.

"I'm afraid we must decline," the Countess said with a chuckle, "We are expecting a guest, some other time, perhaps."

"Of course."

Lavinia had never been so glad to hear someone refuse an offer. She could only wonder how uncomfortable they would have been.

After what felt like forever, they finally moved into the dome like space of the Opera. It was even more elegant than the outside and it was packed full.

The Wyld's box was located at a prime position at the very top of the room, directly beside the royal box. Even though the Queen's box was empty, it was the closest Lavinia had ever been to royalty.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, marveling at the sea of people beneath them. Different colors assaulted her eyes from every direction and she sat at the edge of her seat in wonder.

The lights went off and the noise tapered off as everybody settled into their seats. You could hear a pin drop as the curtain on the stage slid open and the first singer took to stage. A dark haired woman in a black dress and a fierce expression.

Her voice rose up and tore through the room with such power that Lavinia was left in shock.

"I did not know such feats were even capable," she told the man beside her, "It is no wonder my parents adored the Opera."

"They did?"

She nodded, "Lady Hartfield has told me a lot about them. I do not remember them much. I was no older than three when they passed in a carriage accident."

"Have you lived with the Hartfield's since then?"

"Yes, they are the only family I have ever known," she bit down on her lower lip, "Sometimes I feel like the most terrible of daughters for not remembering them. There is only the faintest memory of my mama singing me to sleep."

He didn't stare at her with pity, and she appreciated it.

"It is a small mercy that you cannot remember them, Miss Proctor," the Duke said, "I wonder if the hole my father's death created would not have been so glaring if neither my sister nor I could remember him. But then again, I cherish every memory I ever made with him."

"He was a good father then?"

His smile was small but oh so fond, "Yes, the very best of fathers and an excellent man too."

She almost told him in that moment that she believed he would make an excellent father too, but she was loathe to ruin the moment, especially as his hand inched closer to hers and his pinky finger brushed against hers.

Her throat bobbed with a swallow and she kept her gaze fixed forward, an illicit thrill making her heart pound.

"After my father died," Victor said in a near whisper, "I came home, believing that I was ready to take on the responsibility of the title, the lands and all of it. I never factored in the fact that there would be real people under my care. Like my mother and sister."

She allowed her pinky to hook around his.

"It was then that it struck me that I could not afford to fail, because if I did... I do not want to think about what would have happened if I did."

"Was it hard?"

"Extremely," he admitted, "But the worst part was the resentment I felt, that I was expected to pick up the mantle and be as perfect as a man I could never dream of even being half as good as."

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away, "You must have done well regardless, but I wished you did not have to."

Light applause scattered over the room, and the both of them turned to where the woman in black was curtsying on stage. The red curtain slid closed and the applause trailed off, replaced by excited murmurs.

"What's going on?"

The curtains opened again and a woman in a gleaming silver dress came into view. She had flaming red hair that had been left loose to fall around her shoulders down to her waist.

She looked angelic and utterly iridescent. Her expression was inscrutable and she appeared to have been carved out of marble with how still she was. Only her eyes moved, taking in the crowd.

"She is called The Sirius," the Duke bent to whisper into her ear.

"Why?"

"Sirius is the brightest star in the sky according to experts. She always wears silver and just like the star is the object of attention when one looks up into the night sky, so does she manage to capture all attention."

Lavinia stared at the pale woman. She had a beauty that was ethereal, entrancing. She could see why many of the men were leaning on the edge of their seats.

When she turned to check if Victor was as caught in the woman's charm, she found him looking right at her.

"She is that good?"

"You will see for yourself I suppose," he told her, "she came into the scene in England three years ago. Nobody knows her nationality, but some speculate that she is German. The mystery is a large part of her allure."

Then The Sirius took a step forward slowly. She was a vision in the muted light, calm and poised and cold. Lavinia could feel her excitement growing and she wondered if everyone felt the same.

The soft sounds of the piano filled the room followed by the draw of the Cello. The melodic sound caused the room to go still.

And then the silver clad woman took a deep breath and her voice finally joined in.

Lavinia's breath caught in her throat at the woman's voice.

Like a siren, her voice put you in a trance and held you there. It was soft and yet commanding and it made goosebumps to rise up on her skin. She could feel her emotions being drawn to the surface by the lure of the music.

"My goodness," she breathed, "She is something isn't she."

"Yes, she is."

There was an undertone his easy reply and when she glanced over, her eyes met his. The room disappeared around her till it was just the both of them and the siren song flowing through them. The way he looked at her in that moment, if she could have bottled it up and sold it, she would have been able to buy the whole of England with the proceeds.

It was a look that flayed her open and left her raw and vulnerable, and yet it didn't cause any discomfort. On the contrary, it settled her, her heart rate slowing to something languid.

His hands finally shifted fully over hers, fingers tangling with hers. She glanced down at where his snowy white gloves and her milk colored ones were intertwined.

She only turned back to the stage when a deafening applause and cheers went up around the room. Most of the guests still felt entrapped by the after effect of the song and were slow to clap.

Lavinia couldn't even move to clap, she could only stare, trying to come down from the high The Sirius' voice had pushed her up to.

"So, what do you think about the Opera?"

She raised her hand and touched the wetness on her cheeks, "It was- oh my, I do not have the words."

"My reaction exactly the first time I heard her. It's a transcendent experience."

"And I'm pleased and grateful you gave me the opportunity to experience it for myself."

"Please," he smiled, "The pleasure is all mine."

After that, they sat there in perfect silence, fingers locked together in the darkness of the Opera house, neither of them wanting the night to end.