The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley by Aileen Fish Page A

entered the opera house and found
Sir Frederick’s box, or the one he’d borrowed the use of for the
evening, Joanna made certain Lady Barbara sat beside her. “Have you
heard Puccita’s work?” Joanna asked.
    “No, but I understand it’s very moving.”
    “This will be my first time, also,” Joanna
said.
    Sir Frederick leaned their way. “I was under
the impression Mozart’s operas are much better. When performed in
English, however.”
    “How interesting.” Joanna unfurled her fan,
giving it a nervous flutter.
    “It’s an obvious thought,” he continued.
“What’s the point of them singing in a language one doesn’t
understand?”
    Joanna’s eyes widened. She caught Lady
Barbara’s equally astonished gaze. “Sometimes the emotion of the
words comes through, regardless of the language.”
    “Most who suggest they understand the
Italian operas are pretentious fools.” Sir Frederick’s nose rose
with his haughtiness.
    She couldn’t bring herself to respond. She
only wished Robert had heard. She turned back to Lady Barbara.
“Were you at Lady Faraday’s musicale last week?”
    The petite brunette shook her head. “I had
other plans.”
    Robert added, “We attended a reading. It was
quite interesting, or so I thought.”
    “Yes,” Lady Barbara added. “The gentleman
speaker had only recently returned from the Colonies. He’d spent
six years among the natives there, learning their customs. They are
quite civilized, I was surprised to learn.”
    Sir Frederick grunted. “I’ve seen paintings
of the men. I can’t call face paint and breechcloths
‘civilized.’”
    “Just a few years back, half of London wore
face paint with their powdered wigs,” Joanna said, trying to keep
the hiss of disdain from her voice. She would not lower herself to
his level.
    “That is quite a different matter,” he
argued. “We were fully clothed, besides.”
    Luckily, the curtain opened as the orchestra
began to play. The first act was a ballet, the fluid moves
beautiful to observe. The box in which they sat was situated to the
rear of the theatre, in the fifth level, just below the gallery.
From there, most of the audience was visible. Joanna was not
surprised to discover most of the attendees spent more time
watching the other occupants of the boxes than the performance.
More of the ton would be interested in who sat with whom,
when inquiring about an evening at the Theatre, than how the
dancers appeared.
    From the corner of her eye, Joanna saw her
brother lean close to Lady Barbara and whisper something that made
them both smile. For the first time, it struck Joanna her brother
might be looking for a wife. He’d never said as much, but he likely
would not until he’d spoken with the lady’s father. Lady Barbara
would make a nice enough sister. Robert seemed much more at ease
this evening. The line between his brows was barely visible, and he
smiled often. Perhaps, if Joanna were lucky, Robert finding his own
match might take some of the pressure off her. He might allow her
another Season, or at least the trip to Bath with their aunt.
    Sir Frederick blew his nose into his
handkerchief, then shoved the cloth into his pocket. He stared at
the stage, not acknowledging Joanna’s presence, if he was at all
aware of her. No whispered comments from him, no shared secrets.
Why did he even bother to ask her to attend, if he had no interest
in getting to know her? Would he be as cold and…well, tightly
bound, with his wife?
    She couldn’t imagine sitting at the supper
table with him every evening, much less sharing closer quarters.
Robert couldn’t think she and Sir Frederick suited in any way. She
searched for a reason her brother would insist she consider the
man, but none came to mind.
    There could be no reason she would ever
consider marrying him. The very idea made her stomach churn.
    To cheer herself up, she tried to imagine
life with Mr. Lumley. Laughter in the morning room over coffee.
Discussions on which