Free No Regrets by Michèle Ann Young

maneuvering them through the cheerful mob and up the columned staircase, closely followed by Mr. Rivers and his mother.
       On the second floor, Lucas held back a red velvet curtain, and Caro entered Lord Stockbridge's rented box. She tiptoed to the front, put on her spectacles, and gasped. The fluted marble proscenium arch stretched to the high ceiling and framed a stage hidden by blue velvet curtains. A huge chandelier hung from a central rose to light the pit, and candelabras burned on the walls between each festooned box. Heat and the smell of tallow thickened the air, which throbbed with the noise of what looked like hundreds of people making their way to their seats.
       Lucas joined her at the rail. "Does it meet with your approval?"
       "Yes. It is enormous," she said.
       The orchestra had already begun tuning their instruments in a cacophony of squeaks and groans.
       "Mama tells me it's your first visit to the theater," Mr. Rivers murmured as he shepherded the doughty lady to a chair.
       Caro untied the strings of her velvet cloak. "Yes, indeed. And my first real outing in London. I am thrilled." She smiled across at him.
       Though his rather gaunt face remained stern, a friendly warmth glowed in Mr. Rivers's gaze. "Lucas, I must congratulate you on your choice of a bride. Her enthusiasm is refreshing."
       As if he'd had some choice in the matter, Lucas smiled and bowed. "I could not agree more."
       For his generosity, Caro cast him a grateful glance.
       Aunt Rivers tutted softly from her corner. "I am glad you finally listened to your father, Foxhaven. It is time you took your responsibilities seriously."
       Lucas's shoulders stiffened, and his smile faded.
       "Now, Mother," Mr. Rivers said gently. "Foxhaven doesn't need you reminding him of his duty."
       "Playing the peacemaker, cousin?" Lucas drawled. "My father would be glad to have you as his heir."
       "Do you think I am waiting around to fill your shoes?" Mr. Rivers's tone sharpened a little. "I can assure you it is not my intention. I am fortunate your father recognizes my humble efforts."
       "Too bad you can't use your influence with him where my affairs are concerned," Lucas said.
       "Lord Stockbridge is perfectly reasonable," Mr. Rivers replied, "provided one always answers yes."
       Lucas cracked a laugh. "I don't know how you tolerate his crustiness. You have my undying gratitude for relieving me of that burden."
       "I aim to please."
       The friendship between the two men gave Caro comfort. At least Lucas wasn't at odds with all of the members of his family. And it seemed through his cousin there might be a way for Lucas to effect a reconciliation with the autocratic Lord Stockbridge.
       Adjusting her spectacles, Caro leaned forward and peered into a seething mass of gentlemen in beaver hats and ladies in bonnets adorned with feathers of every hue.
       "We barely arrived in time," Aunt Rivers said with a brisk flick of her skirts as the orchestra struck up the opening bars. The deafening roar of conversation gradually subsided, and before many minutes Caro had lost herself in Shakespeare's words.
       When the first act ended, she discovered that most of the patrons were staring at the first floor boxes opposite them. A ripple of applause broke out. "Who is it?" she asked.
       "Wellington," Lucas said.
       "Lord Wellington is here?" Caro stared across the auditorium.
       "See, next to the Royal box?" Mr. Rivers said.
       "I understand he is in town to consult with the Regent about the preparations for Princess Charlotte's wedding," Aunt Rivers said. "It is to be held at Carleton House."
       Caro finally picked out a wiry gentleman with a sprinkling of orders on a plain blue coat. "Why, he looks just like his portraits."
       Wellington threw back his head and laughed at something the diminutive black-haired lady in cherry red at his side must have said. "Who