She laughed, and he turned his head to look at her.
“You do realize, I suppose,” he said, “that you are learning a similar art? By tomorrow half the female portion of the ton will be expressing shock at the simplicity of your appearance, and the other half will be suddenly dissatisfied with the fussiness of their own appearance and begin shedding frills and flounces and ribbons and bows and ringlets until London is wading knee-deep in them.”
“How—”
“—absurd, yes, indeed,” he said. “And your behavior, Anna. Laughter and applause in the middle of a scene? And no private conversation with those sharing your box when the action onstage grew tedious? Laughing again now, out here?”
“The play did not grow tedious,” she protested. “Besides, it would be impolite to the actors and to one’s fellow audience members to talk aloud during the performance.”
“You have much to learn,” he said with a sigh.
But she knew he did not mean what he said. He had not talked during the performance. She would have noticed.
“I daresay,” she said, “I am a hopeless case.”
“Ah,” he said, raising one finger to bring a waiter hurrying toward them with a tray of glasses. “I would rather say the opposite.”
“I am a hopeful case?” She laughed.
He took two glasses of wine and handed her one as a tall, handsome gentleman with shirt points of such a stiffness and height that he could barely turn his head stepped up to them.
“Ah, Netherby,” he said. “Well met, old chap. I have not set eyes upon you since that evening at White’s when I had some sort of seizure. I must thank you for summoning help so promptly. My physician informed me that you probably saved my life. I was confined to my bed for a week as a precaution, but I have made a full recovery, you will be pleased to know.”
The duke’s quizzing glass was in his free hand, and he was holding it to his eye.
“Ecstatic,” he said, his voice so cold that it almost dripped ice.
Anna looked at him in surprise.
“Perhaps,” the gentleman said, turning his attention to Anna, “you would do me the honor of presenting me to your companion, Netherby?”
“And perhaps,” the Duke of Netherby replied, “I would not.”
The gentleman looked as astonished as Anna felt. He quickly recovered himself, however.
“Ah, I understand, old chap,” he said. “The lady is not quite ready for a full public unveiling, is she? Perhaps another time.” He swept Anna a deep bow and moved away.
“But how very . . . rude,” Anna said.
“Yes,” the duke agreed. “He was.”
“You,” she cried. Sometimes his affectations were too much to be borne. “You were very rude.”
He thought about it as he sipped from his glass. “But the thing is, Anna,” he said, “that he did say perhaps. That implies a choice, does it not? I chose not to present him to you.”
“Why?” She frowned at him.
“Because,” he said, “I would have found it tedious.”
“And I find your company tedious,” she retorted, handing him her glass—he dropped his quizzing glass on its ribbon in order to take it—and turning back toward the box.
Too late she realized that she had attracted attention. A lane opened in front of her but for different reasons, she suspected, than when it had opened for the duke. She entered the box alone, but the duke was close enough behind her that no one remarked upon the fact. Cousin Alexander was standing talking with the colonel and Uncle Thomas while Aunt Louise and Aunt Mildred were conversing with each other, their heads almost touching.
“You are looking flushed, Anastasia,” Aunt Mildred remarked. “I daresay it was hotter out in the corridor than it is in here.”
“I am flushed with enjoyment, Aunt,” Anna said as she took her seat again. Her eyes met the duke’s, and she would not look away because he did not. He raised his eyebrows and had the gall to look almost amused.
He would have found it tedious to present that gentleman to her, indeed. How humiliating to the man himself, and how . . . rude to her, giving the impression as he had that she was not yet ready to be presented to polite society. What did he expect? That her mouth would pour forth obscenities and blasphemies, all learned at the orphanage?
And then, before looking away and resuming his own seat, he smiled at her. A full-on, dazzling smile that made him look like a golden angel and made her feel several degrees warmer than just flushed.
She disliked him, she decided. She despised him. And it was definitely repulsion she felt for him rather than attraction.
She smiled as Cousin Alexander seated himself beside her again and engaged her in intelligent conversation about the play.
Twelve