turned his head, he was mesmerized by the coppery golden glimmer of her hair, her sparkling eyes, smooth white arms, the curves under the soft folds of…
As if reading his mind, Lizzy said, “Doesn’t Charlotte look splendid? Have you even noticed her new gown? Jennings did her hair specially.”
It took Alec a moment to find his voice. “Very nice.”
“Very nice,” Lizzy mocked. “What a sourpuss you’ve been lately, Alec. Always gone off somewhere, never taking the time to…”
“It’s quite a good crowd for so early in the year, isn’t it?” interrupted Anne, ever the peacemaker. She leaned over the rail of the box, taking in the scene; there were roses in her cheeks again, for which Alec felt a surge of gratitude. It would be good for her to get a taste of London society, with her come-out just a year away. He hadn’t thought of that before. There was so much that he’d never expected to think about.
“The lady in that box across the way seems to know you, Alec,” said his youngest sister with a giggle.
“Lizzy,” Frances admonished.
“Well, it can’t be any of the rest of us. And she keeps looking over here and smiling and playing with her fan.”
Alec followed her gaze, and recognized the sophisticated young matron who had considerably enlivened his last stay in London. The depth of her décolletage brought back steamy memories. Her dazzling smile when he nodded politely signaled a clear willingness to add to them whenever he chose.
“Is she on your list?” Lizzy asked.
“Be quiet, Lizzy.” How had he failed to consider that this outing would bring together two unrelated parts of his life? Which were definitely to remain unrelated.
“Alec intends to make an arranged marriage,” Lizzy proceeded to tell Charlotte. “He is very cynical and does not believe in love matches.”
“How could anyone, after watching our grandparents continually rip at each other? Father knew what he was doing, choosing a partner on a rational basis.”
His entire party stared at him, openmouthed. Anne seemed about to speak, then said nothing. Frances looked deeply shocked, but she could scarcely be more shocked than Alec himself. He couldn’t believe the words that had escaped his mouth. He was well accustomed to his sisters’ teasing; he’d never lost control in such… to expose his family’s most private… in front of… His face burned with humiliation. Why couldn’t Lizzy curb her tongue? Why could she not learn some discipline? “If you cannot behave with more propriety, Lizzy, I shall take you home immediately.”
“But all I…”
“Did was make spectacle of us for all to see.”
“How did I do that? That’s not fair!”
Lizzy gazed at him with huge, hurt eyes. Anne looked distressed, Frances uneasy. In his awareness that Lizzy had a point, he didn’t dare glance at Charlotte. Blessedly, before the silence grew unbearable, the curtain rose, and the performance began.
Kean ranged across the boards as Hamlet. Some poet had said that his acting was like reading Shakespeare by flashes of lightning. And why would you want to do that, Alec wondered? He ignored the play and struggled to recover his equilibrium. What was wrong with him? He did not lose his temper. He did not criticize his family. He did not, and he would not, and that was the end of it. So… why…?
Not even looking at the stage, he told himself he was tired and worried. The times were so bad that the country was a tinderbox awaiting a spark. Not his own tenants, perhaps, but he’d heard from some of them about others—unspecified others—who were threatening violence. If they carried their grievances into action, the government would crush them, and what would become of his own people in that case? Might he rush home to find a line of gibbets across his green fields? What could he do—what more could he do—to make certain that never happened?
Servitors entered the box with lemonade and ices, and Alec came back to himself to discover it was already the first interval. He had ordered refreshments to be served here, to avoid the crush in the lobby. Lizzy greeted them with vociferous delight. “What I don’t understand is,” she said as she dug in to an ice, “why isn’t Hamlet king? His father was the king.”
“His uncle took over,” replied Charlotte.
“But what reason did he give? Wouldn’t all the people in…?”
“Denmark,” Anne prompted.
“Yes. Wouldn’t they expect Hamlet to become the king? Everyone knows the Prince Regent will become king, and he has lots of uncles. Doesn’t he?”
“He