response and Ambrose staring at him with an equal amount of ire, he felt he might not succeed at getting his apology out for her to hear.
“But I just wanted to-”
“Come, Ambrose,” she said, then grabbed Ambrose’s hand and turned the other way without even looking at him. Ambrose glared at him for a while longer, but Walter noticed a strange sort of calculating look in his eyes.
Part of him was tempted to shout out his apology, so she would have to hear it, even as she walked away, but he knew such an action would not only cause a scene; it would also quite likely both embarrass and offend her further by making her the subject of gossip once more.
He would have to wait for another opportunity to talk to her … if she would ever agree to talk to him. He wondered why she was attending with only Ambrose, and it didn’t leave a good feeling in his stomach.
Still, he recalled his purpose and why he and his mother were here. Glancing around once more, he still failed to see the carriage he was looking for, so he decided to return to his mother, to see if she had found them yet.
As he walked back, he found Sylvia talking to Viscountess Burford and Miss Rutherford. “Ah, so Mother found you first? I am pleased to see you both,” he said with a courteous bow, directing his words more towards Miss Rutherford.
“Actually, we found your mother first,” she replied. “I am so glad you can both attend with us.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it. By the way, speaking of not missing it, I thought your father was coming, as well?” he remarked as he offered her his arm. Together, the four of them headed towards the theatre entrance.
Sylvia, ever the matchmaker, had already found a topic of conversation to engage the viscountess, leaving the two of them to converse with just each other.
“Oh, he has come with us. He went in to buy programs for us, and he is going to meet us in our box,” she explained.
“Well, I am glad he could come. Did you not say you have seen Così Fan Tutte before? Perhaps you could tell me what to expect,” he said, hoping to get her talking, so his own mind could process what had just happened with Georgiana.
“I couldn’t do that! That would spoil part of the enjoyment,” she quickly replied, unknowingly ruining his plan.
“Well, you can at least give me some hints as to what to watch for?”
“That much I can do,” she replied just as her father caught up with them.
“Ah, there you all are,” he said as he walked up to them. “Come now, it is about to start, and we don’t want to miss anything.” He gave the ladies the programs, then took his wife by the arm and walked ahead of them with her.
Miss Rutherford giggled lightly. “They both love attending the opera, and I think this may be one of their favorites,” she explained her parent’s behavior. “They attend almost every new performance.”
Walter inwardly gave up on the hope of being alone with his thoughts and focused on conversing with her. “And do you enjoy the theater, as well?”
“Yes, though not as much as my parents do. I am afraid my brothers are, for the most part, thoroughly sick of it. They attend occasionally, but not if they can avoid it. What about you, my lord? Do you enjoy opera?” she asked as they entered the box and took their places.
“It depends on what is being performed, but it makes for a nice diversion every now and then.”
He was spared from making further conversation as the musicians started to warm up. Soon, the audience hushed, and the overture began. The first scene opened in a coffeehouse with a group of officers talking to each other.
Unfortunately, the topic of the play soon shifted to the officers making a wager as to whether the women they were betrothed to would remain faithful if they were called away. This brought his thoughts back to himself and Georgiana.
He struggled for a while to concentrate, as the men pretended to leave and then went back in disguise to test the women they were betrothed to. However, his attention soon wandered from the opera…
Georgiana had been much more hostile than he had anticipated, though it was no more than he deserved. What bothered him most was the way Ambrose Rowley had looked at him.