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“I don’t know that you shall ever count me as a republican, Your Royal Highness,” she declared. “Perhaps egalitarian sensibilities more fittingly describe my politics.”

“Even so, you shan’t steal away with Lord Albion here and make your home with those rebels, will you?” the Prince Regent continued. “Why, how should we manage without you gracing us here in our dull gray land?”

Despite his mature stage in life, the Regent acted rakishly around most ladies. So Albion knew he should not be jealous of the mild flirtation. And yet, a strange lump stuck in his stomach. “Now, Prinny, surely you haven’t done me the honor of a visit only to steal my new wife’s heart away.”

“How could one aspire so high? On consideration, it seems her main allegiance is to your Orcan ways, for this same design has been seen on your esteemed mother. And dash it all if one isn’t quite impressed at the effect.”

Albion watched Diana smile and nod to acknowledge the compliment, but she led the conversation to a topic of her choosing.

“I must confess I am surprised to hear you refer to Americans as rebels, Your Royal Highness. When our countries have long since signed accords and made our peace.”

“To all of our benefit, one should say!” Accustomed to speaking at large gatherings, the Prince Regent gesticulated around the cozy suite of boxes Mother had reserved for their family at the opera house.

“If only the situation in Chamberly was progressing as smoothly,” Diana continued. “I fear it gets worse and worse. The circumstances portrayed in Fidelio certainly resonate in this troubled time.”

The Regent clicked his teeth in sympathy and lowered his guard somewhat, dropping the princely pretense. “Such a sodding mess. Thank all that is holy, the brave men work in league with the Benevolent Phantom to rescue some portion of the many unfortunate souls trapped in that dastardly place.”

“The Phantom is an honorable gentleman, or lady, who any of us would have the privilege to meet and praise personally.”

“You certainly make him sound like a mere man of destiny, my dear.” Albion’s comment was droll, but then he was always droll. She should suspect nothing out of the ordinary.

Diana closed her eyes briefly and then opened them wide, voice chipper. “Does the Phantom not deserve my acclaim? But then I wonder who on earth he or she might be. A member of the nobility? Of the merchant class? Why, I daresay the Phantom might even hail from the royal family.”

The Regent gives one of his famously robust laughs. “You’re not suggesting—”

“Well, if you were the Phantom, Your Royal Highness, surely you would not confess.”

“I have not a flair for deception. Your husband can attest to that. He’s bested at gaming tables more often than I care to admit.”

She tilted her chin. A sharp arrow of worry stabbed Albion’s chest at what she might disclose.

“I hope Your Royal Highness shall not hold that against my husband, for he can’t help being fiendishly good at games of chance. But what say you? If forced to lay a wager on it? Who is the Phantom of Chamberly really?”

Albion’s hands curled into fists, and he swung them behind his back, implementing all the breathing and calming exercises he had learned in school.

Though his English reserve remained unshakable, His Royal Highness widened his eyes.

Albion held his breath briefly as the Regent’s gaze rested momentarily on his.

“Why, your wife is blessedly bold, Lord Albion,” he said at last. “Whoever knows that gentleman’s name is due to receive a rather large reward, are they not?”

“So I’ve heard it told,” Albion replied, slowly exhaling.

“Oh, I have no such notions,” Diana said quickly. “I merely thought Your Royal Highness might have a theory.”

“Yes, well, theories without evidence are like ailments of the digestive system. Best kept to oneself.”

The Prince Regent straightened his waistcoat over his stomach as the bells chimed to relay to the audience that the interval was coming to a close.

“One should return before curtain up. As for the fate of Chamberly and its self-anointed savior, we shall see how that unfolds. All one can say with any certainty is how appealing the ladies find tales of these daring escapades.”

After the Prinny left, Albion settled into the cushioned seat alongside his wife. Diana’s dainty hands rested on the banister before them. She tapped the base of the fan lightly on the railing and turned to him with a mysterious smile.

“Prinny is certainly fond of you,” she said in a falsely merry tone. “I knew the two of you were friendly, but it is most impressive to witness in person.”

As she stared at the stage, biting her lower lip, her fingers threading anxiously, Albion wondered if he had taken the wrong tack.

He could present her with what Reginald had told him and hear her side of the sad tale.

They could slip out of the box before the next act commenced and hash out the entire unfortunate affair.

He was about to suggest just that when he caught Daisy’s gaze as she turned to him. There was a quality to it he hadn’t seen before.

Deception.

At every point in their relationship, he had admired the frank and open look in her eyes. It wasn’t guileless, precisely, for she was far too intelligent. But it was fearless, daring him to ask her any question.

Now, her visage glazed over—the artifice he was accustomed to seeing in the ton but never in Diana.

He resumed the lazy drawl. “Prinny certainly seemed charmed by you , my lady.”

“I think the Regent knows far more about the identity of the Benevolent Phantom than he lets on. Did you not see him wince before responding?”

“I noticed no such thing. But then I don’t rate myself a keen observer of human behavior. You must talk to Dunc about all that. Why, he literally wrote the book on the subject.”

“You are as clever in such matters as your brother. More so, for you’re also clever enough not to make a fantastical show of it. You saw the same as I did. His hesitation. Why, I believe the Regent knows exactly who the Phantom is, and I intend to interrogate him further later tonight.”

Albion regarded her steadily. “It seems I have a rival in the Prince Regent.”

“Nonsense!” she declared, giving her fan a last tap against the iron handrail and then unfolding its sticks and waving the leaves’ pleated folds before her face. He could only see her eyes. “How can one fall in love with a ghost?”

Albion shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Ask the other ladies who have done just that.”

“Tell me, Albie. Have any of those ladies said anything to you? Have you the means to ascertain the Phantom’s identity?”

Her sudden curiosity set any remnant of his trust in her at a distinct disadvantage. “Bless me, no. Perhaps I should double my efforts at capturing the essence of the Phantom in verse. I’ll try some new lines at Lord Mandeville’s ball.”

He thought the words would disturb her. Maybe he wanted to provoke a fight, if for no other reason than to stimulate some emotion beyond this curt politeness. But Diana only continued to flutter the fan.

With a sinking feeling, he realized that only could he not trust his wife, but she would grow less and less inclined to view him as a husband. Not as an object of desire, but of pity.

The marriage he had aspired to turn into a love match was no more than an alliance. And a frayed one, at that.