An Infamous Proposal by Joan Smith Page B

twenty-eight.”
    “It is almost as good as the play onstage,” Emma said. It was the way she had dreamed London would be, all those years at home, pining for it.
    At the second intermission, Lady Margaret drew her out into the corridor to ogle those who were having wine and walking about to stretch their legs. Lord James made a quick dart to the greenroom to try his hand at meeting the actress who was playing Lady Capulet. She was half again as old as himself, but not too old to be of amorous interest. She had a well-preserved figure.
    Nick was not tardy in pushing Sanichton forward as his friend had expressed a warm interest in the young widow.
    “I don’t want to interfere if she and James—”
    “That is exactly why we are here, to introduce Lady Capehart to some eligible partis. James has her in his eye.”
    “He would, of course. Pity he dropped in on you and discovered her. He is exactly the sort of here-and-therein you would not want her to meet, if you feel some responsibility for Lady Capehart. You heard about his fracas with the actress?”
    Nick felt doubly guilty for having encouraged Lord James. “I heard nothing of it until James told me himself, after I had invited him to Waterdown.”
    “It occurred in early April, before the Season opened. His papa had to come down heavy to rescue him, I believe, but it seemed for a while that it did the lad some good. I heard he had reformed his ways. It don’t look like it now, however. He darted back to the greenroom between acts. What are Lady Capehart’s feelings for him?”
    “She’s interested, but by no means has decided to have him. She’s not a fool after all. I hope to introduce her to some more plausible gents.”
    “In that case, put me at the top of your list!”
    “You’re already there, Sanichton,” Nick said.
    Sanichton smiled. “I’m off then. You amuse Maggie, will you?”
    Nick dutifully joined Lady Margaret, but when he saw Sanichton tuck Emma’s hand under his elbow, he felt again that worm of discontent. A little gnawing, nagging worry that something was not quite as it should be. What could it be?
    There was nothing amiss with Sanichton. He was an excellent fellow and would make a fine landlord for Whitehern. Of course, he would not live there himself. He had his own larger estate in Devonshire, but he would keep an eye on it, see it was well run.
    Nick shook away the wisp of worry and applied himself to the task of entertaining Lady Margaret. When they returned to their box, Emma said quietly in Nick’s ear, “I like your Lord Sanichton. I am to drive out with him tomorrow afternoon. Does that please you?”
    “Very much,” Nick said, but he had to force a smile.
    Lord James returned late to the box, wearing a suspiciously smug expression, and disappeared entirely after the performance. James always could be counted on to bite the hand that fed him. He had arranged to meet Lady Capulet and join a little party that was going out to eat and drink.
    “You will see that Emma gets home safely, Nick,” he said. “She looks so ravishing this evening that I cannot trust myself with her.”
    “Don’t fall into a scrape with your new actress friend,” Nick cautioned. “Your papa won’t pull you out a second time.”
    James took offense at this little lecture. “I’ve learned my lesson,” he said. “It is perfectly safe. She’s married.”
    That being the case, Nick offered no further instructions. When he went to offer Emma his arm, he found her hiding in a dark corner, with tears flowing freely down her cheeks. The only thing he could think of was that she and James had had a tiff. He sat beside her, to conceal her grief from Sanichton.
    “Emma,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “He’s not worth it, my dear. Come, the rest of us will go out for supper.”
    She sniffled and accepted the handkerchief he pushed into her fingers. “Oh, it was awful, Nick. I had no idea.”
    “What the devil did he say to