An Infamous Proposal by Joan Smith Page A

Sanichton was cut from the same mold as Nick. He was older than James, and more sensible. She thought him quite good looking, though perhaps not quite what she would call handsome. He was a few inches short of six feet. His shoulders were broad, his hair was chestnut, and his features were well arranged.
    His sister, while younger, was a little old to still be on the shelf. Emma thought it was her somewhat gaunt figure that accounted for it. At five and twenty she was very much a lady of the town. Her gown, her coiffure, her easy manners—everything about her spoke of the ton.
    They had a glass of wine, then left for the theater. Nick led Miss Foxworth to his carriage and suggested that Emma accompany Sanichton and Lady Margaret in their rig. James took it for granted that he would accompany Emma and tagged along with her. The ladies sat together on one banquette and ignored the gentlemen.
    “Nick tells me this is your first trip to London,” Lady Margaret said. “You must let me show you about.”
    “I am to be Lady Capehart’s escort,” Lord James informed her.
    “Of course you are, James, but I am referring to modistes and milliners and coiffeurs and such things that would bore a gentleman.”
    “I have never found them boring. Quite the contrary, but as I still owe several of them money for past favors, we accept your offer.”
    Lady Margaret lifted an eyebrow at Emma, as if to say, “Is this outrageous sprig your fiancé?” Emma smiled and shook her head. For the remainder of the trip, Lady Margaret outlined the shops that must be visited. Sanichton was impressed with Lady Capehart’s ready smile. Nor was he put off by her frequent interruptions.
    “Did you see that!” she exclaimed, when a gentleman driving three horses tandem shot past.
    “That must be the Prince Regent at least!” she cried, when a particularly fine blue carriage drawn by a snow white team pulled past.
    “Actually, I believe that’s Miss Drew,” Margaret said, smiling at her brother. They both recognized the famous courtesan.
    When, at last, they reached Drury Lane Theater, Emma gasped in delight. Torches illuminated the marble and porphyry exterior, lending it the air of a fairy castle.
    “It’s like a temple! I have never seen anything so grand!” she exclaimed, when she was led into the lobby. Along its sixty-foot length of faux porphyry, plaster statues in imitation of marble originals rose in stately splendor above the plush sofas. Uniformed page boys darted to and fro among the early arrivals, outfitted in finery to challenge their surroundings.
    “A theater has much in common with a church, or temple,” James said, gazing about with a cynical eye. “Both give performances to entertain the jaded masses.”
    Emma didn’t hear him. She was frowning at a set of water pipes and great brass water cocks that seemed incongruous in this setting.
    “Those are to insure that the theater doesn’t burn down again,” James told her. “Actually, they are the only authentic things in the lobby. The rest of it is sham finery in the worst of bad taste. But I am glad it pleases you, Emma,” he added, with no notion of casting aspersions on her taste.
    He led her to their box, seated Emma in the front row, and sat beside her. Nick nudged Sanichton into the seat on Emma’s other side. He need not have worried that Emma would fall into a flirtation with James. She was so entranced by the play that she didn’t shift her gaze from the stage until the first intermission, and then it was only to praise the performance and gawk about at the audience.
    “I hadn’t realized there were so many rich people in the whole kingdom,” she said, marveling at the sparkle of jewels and the sheen of silks and satins. “There must be thousands of people here.”
    “The theater holds twenty-eight hundred. Perhaps twenty-eight of them are actually wealthy,” James informed her. “The rest of us are here to provide an audience for the