Stepping into his private box was breathtaking, to say the least. It was like an intimately enclosed space that was missing one wall. Or perhaps it was like walking onstage, for it was close to the stage and almost on a level with it, as Anna was almost instantly aware, and visible from every part of the theater, from the boxes arranged in a horseshoe on their own level to the tiers above it to the floor below.
There were crowds of people already in attendance. The noise of conversation was almost deafening, but surely she did not imagine the extra buzz followed by a marked decrease in sound and then a renewed surge of conversation. And all heads appeared to be turned their way. Anna knew because she was looking. She might have looked down and pretended there was nothing beyond the safety of the box, but if she did not look out from the start, she might never find the courage to do so, and that would be mildly absurd when she had come to watch a play. But of course there were a duke and duchess in this box too, as well as an earl and a baron and baroness—Lord and Lady Molenor, Uncle Thomas and Aunt Mildred, were awaiting them there. All these people were not necessarily looking at her.
There were two other gentlemen in the box. Aunt Louise introduced them to Anna as Colonel Morgan, a particular friend of her late husband, and Mr. Abelard, a neighbor and friend of Cousin Alexander. They both bowed to Anna while she inclined her head and told them she was pleased to make their acquaintance.
“Everyone, it would appear, is looking at you, Lady Anastasia,” the colonel told her, his eyes twinkling from beneath bushy gray eyebrows. “And may I be permitted to tell you how elegant you look?”
“Thank you,” she said.
Cousin Alexander seated her close to the outer edge of the box next to the velvet balcony rail and took the chair beside hers. He engaged her in conversation while everyone else took their places. He was obviously doing his best to set her at her ease. And what about him? This must be an ordeal for him too since he had just been elevated to the ranks of the aristocracy and did not spend much time in London. Anna smiled back at him and returned his conversational overtures.
The duke was amusing Elizabeth. She was laughing at something he had said. Mr. Abelard, seated beside Cousin Althea, had his head bent toward hers as she talked.
And then, finally, the play began and the noise of conversation and laughter died to near silence. Anna gave her whole attention to the stage and within minutes was both engrossed and enchanted. She laughed and clapped her hands and lost all awareness of her surroundings. She was with the characters upon the stage, living the comedy with them.
“Oh,” she said when the intermission brought her back to herself with a jolt, “how absolutely wonderful it all is. Have you ever seen anything so exciting in all your life?” She turned to smile at Cousin Alexander, who was smiling back at her.
“Probably not,” he said. “It is particularly well-done. We may wait here for the second half to begin. There is no need to leave the box.”
All about the theater, Anna could see, people were getting to their feet and disappearing into the corridor behind their boxes. The noise level had become almost deafening again. Elizabeth was leaving with her mother and Mr. Abelard.
“We will remain here, Anastasia,” Aunt Louise said, raising her voice. “Your appearance here tonight is sufficient exposure for a start. If anyone should call here to pay his respects, all you need do is murmur the barest of civilities.”
“You really need not feel intimidated, Anastasia,” Uncle Thomas added. “Only the very highest sticklers will venture to knock upon the door of Avery’s box, and we will engage them in conversation. All you need do is smile.”
The duke himself was on his feet, though he had not followed Elizabeth into the corridor. He was taking snuff from a diamond-encrusted silver case and gazing about at the other boxes, a look of boredom on his face. The snuff dispensed with, he returned the case to a pocket and strolled closer to Anna.
“Anna,” he said, “after sitting for so long I feel the urge to stretch my legs. Accompany me, if you will.”
“Avery,” the duchess said reproachfully, “we decided in advance that it would be altogether wiser on this first occasion—”
“Anna?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, thank you,” she said, realizing suddenly how long she had been sitting. She got to her feet and he escorted her out into the corridor, where crowds milled about, hailing one another, conversing with one another, sipping drinks, and—turning to look at Anna and the Duke of Netherby. He nodded languidly at a few people, raised his jeweled quizzing glass almost but not quite to his eye, and that magic path opened again so that they could stroll unimpeded.
“It must have taken you a lifetime to perfect the art of being a duke,” she said.
“Anna.” He sounded almost pained. “If there is an art I have perfected, it is the art of being me.”