Veneziano?’
‘The same.’
‘How interesting. I wasn’t aware it had been translated from the original Italian.’
‘It hasn’t.’
She blinked. ‘Oh.’
‘May I ring for refreshments, Lady Joanna?’ Mrs Devlin enquired with a smile.
Stifling a sigh, Joanna shook her head. It seemed that once again she had severely underestimated Mr Bretton’s abilities. ‘Thank you, no. My maid is waiting outside and I have several more errands to attend to.’
‘It was good of you to take the time to bring the book back,’ Mr Bretton said, finally moving away from the piano.
‘As I recall, it was condition of it being lent,’ Joanna said, though her cheeks grew warm under the intensity of that crystalline-blue gaze. ‘You play very well, Mr Bretton. I have not known many gentlemen who are as musically gifted.’
‘I find it a relaxing pastime,’ he replied. ‘It takes my mind off other things.’
‘Unlike writing, which demands that one’s mind be present and engaged at all times,’ Mrs Devlin said. ‘Isn’t that right, Laurence?’
Joanna saw the affectionate glance that passed between brother and sister and envied them their closeness. It was at times like these that she wished she had siblings of her own. While she was fond of her cousins, it wasn’t the same as having a brother or sister with whom she could share confidences.
‘Speaking of which, Lady Joanna, I recently came into possession of another book you might be interested in reading,’ Mr Bretton said. ‘It is by the French archaeologist, Denon, entitled Travels in Upper and Lower Egypt —’
‘—during the campaigns of General Bonaparte in that Country,’ Joanna said, excitement lending a slightly breathless quality to her voice. ‘Yes, I am familiar with it, but however did you manage to find a copy?’
‘The owner of a small bookshop on Oxford Street knows of my interest in such things and keeps his eyes and ears open for the rare and unusual. He contacts me whenever something new comes his way. Being an artist yourself, I think you will find it very entertaining.’
‘Yes, I’m sure I would. Thank you, Mr Bretton,’ Joanna said, blushing. ‘It was...very kind of you to think of me.’
‘Speaking of which, I understand we are to make up a party for the theatre,’ Mrs Devlin said.
Joanna sent her a blank look. ‘We are?’
‘Yes. My brother received a very nice letter from Lady Cynthia, asking if his offer to escort the two of you to a performance of A Lady’s Choice was still open.’
‘And I wrote back to say that it was,’ Mr Bretton said. ‘I have also invited Victoria and her husband to join us, so we will be five.’
‘Unless there is someone else you would like to include?’ Mrs Devlin added quickly.
‘Someone else?’ Joanna said, glancing from one to the other.
‘Your aunt indicated that Mr Osborne or Mr Rowe might be interested in accompanying you,’ Mr Bretton said in a carefully expressionless voice.
Joanna felt her face burn. How could her aunt have suggested such a thing? Mr Osborne was of no more interest to her than Mr Rowe, but now Mr Bretton and his sister had reason to believe otherwise. ‘I regret that my aunt thought to take advantage of your offer, Mr Bretton, by including people with whom you may or may not be acquainted. But I can assure you I am happy with the company as it stands. And I am looking forward to the evening.’
It was a comment made more out of obligation than because she genuinely felt it. Joanna had never been an avid theatre goer given that so many of the plays she had seen were not in the least memorable. The writing was poor, the acting worse and once the audience began hurling orange peelings and fruit at the stage, the evening degenerated even further. But as she sat in the carriage heading for Bond Street a short time later, she realised she was looking forward to giving the theatre another try, if for no other reason than to see what manner of playwright
‘The same.’
‘How interesting. I wasn’t aware it had been translated from the original Italian.’
‘It hasn’t.’
She blinked. ‘Oh.’
‘May I ring for refreshments, Lady Joanna?’ Mrs Devlin enquired with a smile.
Stifling a sigh, Joanna shook her head. It seemed that once again she had severely underestimated Mr Bretton’s abilities. ‘Thank you, no. My maid is waiting outside and I have several more errands to attend to.’
‘It was good of you to take the time to bring the book back,’ Mr Bretton said, finally moving away from the piano.
‘As I recall, it was condition of it being lent,’ Joanna said, though her cheeks grew warm under the intensity of that crystalline-blue gaze. ‘You play very well, Mr Bretton. I have not known many gentlemen who are as musically gifted.’
‘I find it a relaxing pastime,’ he replied. ‘It takes my mind off other things.’
‘Unlike writing, which demands that one’s mind be present and engaged at all times,’ Mrs Devlin said. ‘Isn’t that right, Laurence?’
Joanna saw the affectionate glance that passed between brother and sister and envied them their closeness. It was at times like these that she wished she had siblings of her own. While she was fond of her cousins, it wasn’t the same as having a brother or sister with whom she could share confidences.
‘Speaking of which, Lady Joanna, I recently came into possession of another book you might be interested in reading,’ Mr Bretton said. ‘It is by the French archaeologist, Denon, entitled Travels in Upper and Lower Egypt —’
‘—during the campaigns of General Bonaparte in that Country,’ Joanna said, excitement lending a slightly breathless quality to her voice. ‘Yes, I am familiar with it, but however did you manage to find a copy?’
‘The owner of a small bookshop on Oxford Street knows of my interest in such things and keeps his eyes and ears open for the rare and unusual. He contacts me whenever something new comes his way. Being an artist yourself, I think you will find it very entertaining.’
‘Yes, I’m sure I would. Thank you, Mr Bretton,’ Joanna said, blushing. ‘It was...very kind of you to think of me.’
‘Speaking of which, I understand we are to make up a party for the theatre,’ Mrs Devlin said.
Joanna sent her a blank look. ‘We are?’
‘Yes. My brother received a very nice letter from Lady Cynthia, asking if his offer to escort the two of you to a performance of A Lady’s Choice was still open.’
‘And I wrote back to say that it was,’ Mr Bretton said. ‘I have also invited Victoria and her husband to join us, so we will be five.’
‘Unless there is someone else you would like to include?’ Mrs Devlin added quickly.
‘Someone else?’ Joanna said, glancing from one to the other.
‘Your aunt indicated that Mr Osborne or Mr Rowe might be interested in accompanying you,’ Mr Bretton said in a carefully expressionless voice.
Joanna felt her face burn. How could her aunt have suggested such a thing? Mr Osborne was of no more interest to her than Mr Rowe, but now Mr Bretton and his sister had reason to believe otherwise. ‘I regret that my aunt thought to take advantage of your offer, Mr Bretton, by including people with whom you may or may not be acquainted. But I can assure you I am happy with the company as it stands. And I am looking forward to the evening.’
It was a comment made more out of obligation than because she genuinely felt it. Joanna had never been an avid theatre goer given that so many of the plays she had seen were not in the least memorable. The writing was poor, the acting worse and once the audience began hurling orange peelings and fruit at the stage, the evening degenerated even further. But as she sat in the carriage heading for Bond Street a short time later, she realised she was looking forward to giving the theatre another try, if for no other reason than to see what manner of playwright
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