Free Second Season by Elsie Lee Page A

there was a general shifting of the guests, and it was some while before Julian sighted Charlotte on the far side. She wore a gown of amethyst sarsnet with her hair dressed a la diademe, and he thought appreciatively that she was in looks tonight. She, or Lady Stanwood, had excellent taste; the green habit and saucy bonnet were flattering, but this was even more so. By the time he’d gained her side, the intermission was ending and the guests were straggling lethargically back to the chairs.
    “Miss Stanwood, your servant.” Julian bent over her hand, and was favored with a flashing smile that startled him.
    “Oh, you have come!” she exclaimed. “I had near despaired of you, milord, for you must know the order of the program has been altered, and Emily plays next. You are but just in time.” Sharlie glanced about quickly. “There!” she said with satisfaction. “There are still some chairs for a perfect view. Shall we take our places, Duke?”
    “By all means.” Julian slid forward swiftly and secured the seats in the nick of time, to the disgruntlement of a large lady in a fearfully wonderful green turban. She was inclined to make something of it, until Julian eyed her up and down, and drawled, “Oh, I beg your pardon, ma’am, but Miss Stanwood’s sister plays next and she must naturally have the full view. I am persuaded you will be entirely comfortable in the adjoining chairs. The music will sound the same, you know.”
    He then adjusted his coat tails and resigned himself to boredom as the harp was placed. Miss Emily was led forward by an impressive escort of beaux contending for the honor of holding the chair, altering its position to her satisfaction, and accepting such precious burdens as her fan, handkerchief, reticule. Meeting Arthur’s wicked twitch of an eyebrow, Julian composed his face with difficulty. He had described her more accurately than anticipated. Emily was wearing pure white soupir d’etouffe in a style so deceptively simple that Julian (who was no stranger to the costs of female gowns) instantly priced it as not a penny less than 150 guineas. “With wings,” he told himself mentally, “it’d be twice as much.”
    Her performance was exactly as wooden and uninspired as he had feared. It was also interminable. Worse still, the enthusiastic applause of the young gentlemen led to an encore—also as feared, although Julian clapped politely. He could scarcely do less with Charlotte beside him, but from her beaming pride, she had no doubt of his pleasure. “Is she not extraordinary,” Sharlie breathed. “She never mistakes a note! Ah, she is moving to the pianoforte. I hope she means to sing. Then you will hear her at her best.”
    “Ah? I am sure,” Julian said politely, but after the first trills he began to long for the harp! Accustomed to the finest music in the great cities of the world, Julian cursed his sense of humor. He’d thought only to make his bow to Lady Abercrombie and present Arthur to the Stanwoods before retreating. Who could have dreamed they’d arrive before the girl had played? Arthur would roast him finely for this!
    The instant the final note died away, Julian was on his feet, wondering how to escape. Impossible to leave Miss Stanwood unattended in the center of the room, yet where to escort? To his further horror, he realized by the movements of the company that this was the supper intermission. However, it appeared she had no intention of retaining him. In fact, he found himself abandoned in the kindest possible manner. “I am so glad you were in time, your grace. At least you were able to hear my sister, but I fear you cannot hope to join her supper table,” regretfully. “I know she was bespoke from the moment of arrival, but tomorrow there is Almack’s, although you will need to be prompt to claim your dance,” Charlotte warned, holding out her hand with a friendly smile. “Good evening, Duke.” Julian bent automatically, feeling slightly stunned