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CHAPTER SIX

Dinner was surprisingly pleasant. The Duke and Duchess were warm and cordial when they welcomed him into their home.

Philip, better known as Lord Montverre, his younger brother Joseph, and Lady Bennett were in the parlor, chatting with two older couples and several young ladies he later learned were eligible daughters.

Ambrose pulled Montverre aside and explained the story he told his parents about attending this dinner.

Montverre chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.

“I have to admit I was a bit concerned when Mother said she’d invited a friend of Dizzy’s. When you walked through the door, I was relieved, so if I am questioned, you lost the bet on what color Mrs. Beauchamp’s garters were.”

Ambrose smiled in relief. “And what color were they?”

“Red,” Montverre said with a wink. He then turned to his half sister. “Dizzy, aren’t you going to introduce your friend to our guests?”

And from then, he was hunted by the young ladies and their mamas, much to Montverre’s amusement. Lord Clearfield watched Ambrose with interest, as did Her Grace, Lady Bennett and Madame Viellepierre.

Des chatted with her half-brothers, trying to avoid the gazes of a few of her father’s business associates. They were nice men, all respectable, but much older than her, not that it mattered to her parents. Only her Aunt Gail seemed to understand what she wanted for herself and her life.

Watching Ambrose flirt with the Anderson girls and Miss Ashley made her feel…

envious? He smiled and charmed them, made them giggle behind their fans and hands…

all the things an eligible man would do.

Their mothers smiled and nodded in approval; after all, the son of a marquess would be quite a coup.

Montverre moved over to Des’ side and nudged her. “He seems pleasant.”

“He is,” she answered.

“How did you meet?”

Des looked away. “At the shop. He was accompanying his friend.”

“Friend?” he asked, his expression not as amused.

“Yes, friend,” she replied with a sigh. “Just like your friend, what is her name?”

“Nothing you should be concerned with, Dizzy.” he said quickly.

She nudged him back. “As a business woman, I am always concerned with our clientele, Pip.”

He winced at his nickname, hoping no on else heard it. “Touche, Des.” At the bell, he offered his arm to his sister and escorted her into dinner.

Ambrose found himself escorting Madame Viellepierre and tried to disguise his relief. “I suppose I’m your dinner partner tonight?”

“Are you disappointed?” she teased.

“Absolutely not,” he replied with a grin. He watched the Duke and Duchess with amused confusion.

Madame chuckled. “I suppose this is something out of the ordinary for you.”

“That is putting it mildly, madame,” he agreed.

“We all have an… understanding.”

“I would hope so…” he chuckled.

Madame tapped his arm. “I’m not sure how much you need to know right this moment. If you’re planning on keeping company with my daughter, she will explain it, but if not…”

“Understandable,” he said. “As for your daughter, I would not be averse to getting to know her better, though I’m not sure exactly what that would entail.”

The older woman chuckled. “I won’t begin to speculate what her father told you, or what her Grace said to coax you here tonight.

But I will say this much. Her brothers are just as protective as her father.

If they had their way, she’d have been married off to some old man with an ancient title desperate for an heir. ”

“And yet she is unmarried, working with you in your shop.”

“That was all her idea. Imogen, Her Grace that is, wanted to introduce her to her own personal modiste. Des is a wonderful designer and very talented with a needle. She could easily be a favorite of the ton.”

Ambrose assisted her into her chair before taking his own. “But she prefers to work with you,” he finished. “Not surprising. She is very fond of you.”

Madame shook her head. “I want more for her than toiling away at garments for spoiled women of questionable morals.” She smiled at his expression. “As my mother always said, ‘Do as I say, not as I do.’”

Ambrose chuckled in return. He glanced up at Desdemona, who was chatting away with Montverre.

There was an easy rhythm to their conversation, and her wide smiles were enchanting.

Montverre noticed his attention, cocking an eyebrow then leaning in to whisper to her.

She glanced up at Ambrose and grinned shyly, her cheeks coloring slightly.

She then playfully slapped her brother’s arm.

“Des is our only girl,” Madame said. “Imogen and Gail are quite close to her and taught her everything there is to being a proper society lady. But she chose to stay with me…” her voice trailed off wistfully.

“She loves you best,” Ambrose said quietly. Madame glanced down at her plate but said nothing.

Montverre cleared his throat. “Silvers, will you be joining us at the opera tonight?”

Ambrose nodded. “Yes, if there are no objections. Our box is available as well, should we need the room.”

“Excellent!” Lady Gail tittered. “The young people can use the Linden box to get to know each other, and us older ones can converse in relative peace.”

The rest of the group agreed, and after dinner, several carriages took the group to the theatre. Montverre and his brother rode with Ambrose, Desdemona, Lady Bennett, and Madame.

“Silvers,” Montverre started. “I hope your parents will not be too put out by our commandeering of their box for the evening.”

“Not at all. They were surprised I wanted to use it and immediately gave their blessing.” Ambrose turned his attention to Desdemona. “Do you enjoy the opera?”

Des nodded, but Joseph answered. “She loves it. Sings the arias of whatever we watched that week.”

“Too bad her singing voice doesn’t match her enthusiasm,” Montverre added with a grin. Desdemona gasped and gave him an arch look.

“Don’t worry, Silvers, we’ll be the one she tortures with her singing,” Joseph said.

“You two are so mean to poor Dizzy,” Madame scolded.

“Aunt Miriam, even you know how bad Dizzy is at carrying a tune,” Joseph said. Desdemona looked down into her lap, color flooding her cheeks with embarrassment.

Ambrose said quietly, “I cannot sing either. My mother tried and tried to teach us basic music theory, and my brothers are passable singers, but it took our cat hiding with the servants to realize I have no musical talent.” He watched her look up slowly and smile at him gratefully.

Montverre also noticed. “You have to have some talent to recommend you, Silvers. After all, how will you nab an heiress?”

“No heiress needed, Montverre.” Ambrose leaned back in his seat. “I employ a broker for my investments and my properties are very successful.” He glanced at Montverre, “I also am a silent investor in a few small businesses and several shipping and manufacturing concerns.”

The gentlemen nodded their approval while Lady Bennett nudged Desdemona and smiled knowingly. “Impressive,” she said. “It’s always such a shame when a woman is judged on the size of her dowry.”

“My parents made a love match, as did my oldest brother,” Ambrose said quietly. “Their happiness made me determined to settle for nothing less.”

Lady Bennett reached across and patted his knee. “Good for you.”

Madame Oldstone agreed. “If you can find love, you should grasp it with both hands.”

Desdemona gave her mother a knowing look, but stayed silent.

Lady Bennett changed the subject. “So Philip, have you decided on a candidate to court this season? I know your mother and father are set on seeing you married sooner rather than later.”

Montverre groaned. “I’m sure there are plenty of suitable young ladies on the marriage mart, Auntie, but I really have no desire to marry yet. I’ve just turned six and twenty, I have plenty of time to find a proper marchioness.”

Joseph chuckled. “Luckily, I’m just the spare.” He nodded to Ambrose. “We have more than enough time to find a bride and settle into marital bliss.”

Montverre added, “Besides, Dizzy should be married before the lot of us before she finds herself on the shelf.” He squinted at her, “In fact, I believe I spy a wrinkle just there…” reaching towards her.

Desdemona playfully slapped his hand away. “You’re terrible. Why can I not take my time like the rest of you?”

“Because, sister dear, ladies are like fruit. If they aren’t taken when they’re fresh and ripe, they’ll go bad and be unpalatable and off-putting.” Montverre looked at Ambrose. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Ambrose threw his hands up in false surrender. “My father always told me to choose my battles wisely, so I will smartly choose to avoid voicing an opinion.”

They all gave good natured laughs as the carriage slowed to a stop in front of the theatre.

Montverre was out first, and handed Madame Oldstone down before offering her his escort.

Lord Joseph escorted Lady Bennett, leaving Ambrose to hand Desdemona down from the carriage.

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her up the stairs to their box.

The Anderson sisters waited with their parents, as did Miss Thornton, chatting amiably as the rest of the party arrived.

The Duke’s box was just a few down from the Linden box. As planned, the younger people found seats in the Linden box while their parents sat in the Clearfield’s.

Taking a cue from Montverre, Ambrose seated Desdemona in the very front of the box, taking the seat behind her.

Miss Thornton and the Anderson sisters seated themselves with Desdemona, but as the gentlemen sat behind them, only Des turned her full attention to the stage.

The others kept chattering back and forth as Desdemona rested her head on her hands, and Ambrose could tell the moment she was carried away by the music.

“This happens every time,” Montverre whispered. “When she returned, she wanted to sew for the theatre, but Father wouldn’t let her. He wants her to have a proper marriage, not be a tradeswoman. Aunt Miriam agrees, but allows her to help in her shop to keep her from going elsewhere.”

“She’s a talented designer, if the garment I’ve seen is any indication.” He looked over at the other ladies with disapproval. “Will they ever stop talking?”

“They never do,” Montverre replied. “Dizzy has made an art of ignoring them and enjoying the show.”

Ambrose looked back at Desdemona. He chuckled, enjoying the sight of her smiling dreamily at the stage.

Her eyes were soft, and she mouthed the words with the diva, taking in each and every note as if she were breathing them.

He smiled then, watching her instead of the stage, enjoying her rapture.

The light from the stage illuminated her features just so and he wondered how he had not noticed how lovely she was.

Her eyes sparkled as she tracked the actors, her skin was flush with excitement, and her hands fluttered in her lap as she took in the spectacle.

He’d taken mistresses to the theatre before, but none of them seemed to enjoy the experience as much as Desdemona was.

The women before wanted to be seen with him, and would wheedle him to take them.

But when they went, they made sure to draw attention to themselves, just to the point of rudeness.

After the third time, he refused to take any of his mistresses out at all.

Watching Desdemona truly enjoying the show made him realize he would not mind escorting her to another opera, or perhaps to a play. He enjoyed plays more than the opera. Perhaps he could interest her in the latest one at the Strand.

Applause broke through his musings, and he noted it was intermission. Montverre nudged him. “I need to speak to my father for a moment, would you mind escorting Desdemona to get a glass of lemonade?”

Ambrose nodded and rose, offering his arm to Desdemona. “Miss Oldstone?”

Desdemona rose to her feet and took his arm. Her cheeks were still pink with enjoyment as he walked her from the box to the refreshment station. Handing her a glass, he took one himself and scanned the crowd. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“Immensely,” she sighed. “Philip and Joseph always tease that if my mother isn’t careful, I’ll run away with the next traveling theatre troop that comes to town.”

He laughed at that. “My mother thought the same of me. I wanted to study theatre, but my father put an end to that. Now I sponsor plays I find interesting.”

“Are you sponsoring any current plays?” she asked.

He thought of Alice then; she was the lead in one of the productions he’d supported, but after her betrayal, he told the director he wanted her understudy to start performing in her place. “Just one, but it will be closing soon.”

She sipped her drink. “How do you find your plays? Do you have a certain playwright you support, or do they seek you out?”

He studied her a moment. His father always chided him for sponsoring productions, saying there were better ways of spending his money. His mother, in contrast, encouraged his interest in the arts, only cautioning him about the gold-digging actresses that would love to sink their claws into him.

He never minded the women, he quite liked their claws.

Taking a deep swallow of his drink, he said, “I have friends at each of the theatres. They will recommend writers to me and let me know if they have a play I’d be interested in. I meet with the writer, read the play, and make my decision then.”

“It must be very rewarding to see people enjoying the productions you made possible.” She finished her drink and set her glass aside. “I cannot even fathom how many wonderful plays and operas go unnoticed simply because no one wants to fund them.”

He chuckled then, finishing his own drink. “I never really thought of it that way. I only fund productions of things I want to see. Perhaps you would like to accompany me to closing night of our current production.”

“I would very much enjoy that, my lord,” she said, her eyes wide with delight.

At the chime signaling the end of the intermission, he offered his arm to Desdemona. She took it and allowed him to guide her through the crowds back to his box.