Free The Adventuress: HFTS5 by Marion Chesney, M.C. Beaton Page A

think, of quite common clay. That uncle of hers looks as if he should be a servant rather than a gentleman.”
    “Come now! You are too harsh. I found Mr. Goodenough very gentlemanly.”
    “But there is a deference there, a whole attitude of
service
. It is hard to explain.”
    “Perhaps Miss Goodenough
is
a princess. That would explain her unease and her odd English.”
    “She did try to tell me English was not her first language. I do not believe it. Now, our young ladies of the ton affect to be shy and timid and to have excessive sensibility, but you can tell from their eyes that they know their station in life and know what is due to them. This afternoon, I intercepted several glances cast by the fair Emily in the direction of her butler, glances of appeal between equals. Yes, I think I shall find Miss Goodenough is an adventuress.”
    “Is that such a terrible crime? Society abounds with opportunists, and most of them not half so pretty.”
    “Not a crime in my eyes, unless she proves to be a servant who has run off with her mistress’s dresses and jewels. Low origins are one thing, servants another. When Clarissa was found dead, that staff of mine tattled and gossiped fit to beat the band.”
    “You must often wonder who actually killed your poor wife.”
    The earl’s face wore a closed, hard look. Then he said, “Let us talk of better things. My book will be out next week. Do you think I shall be savaged in the
Edinburgh Review?”
    “Only if you have pilloried the reviewer,” said Fitz.
    Both men preferred to be unfashionable and walk to Covent Garden, neither seeing the point in spending hours in a crush of carriages, waiting to be set down outside the opera house.
    On their arrival, they found that the famous Catalini, who was billed to sing that evening, was unwell and had been replaced by a minor diva.
    “There will be so much noise,” said the earl, “it is hardly worthwhile going in.”
    “What an odd creature you are!” said Fitz with a laugh. “You must be the only person in London who goes to the opera to hear the music. Everyone else goes to be seen. Come along. I have this new coat which has not yet had a chance to stun society.”
    “If your shoulders become more padded and your collars any higher,” said the earl drily, “they will begin to take you for a headless man. Besides, a noisy opera house always generates heat, and heat makes your rouge melt.”
    “I have a becoming colour,” said Fitz stiffly.
    “You are not going to tell me that noisy sunset across your cheeks is your own!”
    “It is helped a little, that is all.”
    “My dear friend, I can dimly remember the days when you were well-scrubbed. Your face is not pock-marked, nor is it sallow. Why the desire to wear so much paint?”
    But Fitz could not explain. Since his injury had left him feeling like half a man, he had become a peacock. The pain in his back seemed bearable when he was dressed in the extremes of fashion, as if the mask of fashion briefly turned him into someone else.
    The opera house was already crowded when they entered. The prostitutes were doing a roaring trade in the centre boxes, and the bucks in the pit were buying oranges to hurl at Catalini’s substitute.
    “There is your princess,” said Fitz.
    Emily sat in a side box, with Mrs. Middleton beside her and Mr. Goodenough dozing in a chair at the back. People began to enter her box and soon she was blocked from their view.
    “Poor girl,” said Fitz. “She is still society’s latest interest. Can she stand the pace, think you?”
    “She is very young,” said the earl. “She has, despite her coarse speech, a great amount of sensibility. I should think she is already under a great strain.”
    “The days of knight-errantry are gone,” said Fitz, shaking his head. “We should create a diversion, something that will make society focus on something else.”
    The orchestra struck the opening chords of the overture to the opera. The crowd about