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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Desdemona couldn’t remember the last time she felt this excited for the theatre. Her brother teased her over dinner, saying it was because Ambrose was going with them.

He wasn’t wrong. Not exactly.

This play was one he enjoyed enough to invest his own funds for its production. She wondered what type of play it was, what kinds of costumes, the music, everything about it. When he arrived, she had to remind herself not to pester him with too many questions.

Still, he was charming, telling her about the playwright, the production, and even little tidbits about the story. Heading into the theatre, she was nearly giddy with excitement to see the show.

They were almost to the entrance of his box when he heard a surprised gasp.

“Ambrose?”

His smile fell and he tried to ignore the outraged hiss. “Go ahead, Miss Oldstone. I’ll be right there,” he said, ushering her and her brother inside before turning back.

“The shopgirl?” Alice drawled. She was hanging on the arm of Carrow, her eyes wide, her tone full of disdain. “I can’t believe you’d stoop so low as a shopgirl.”

“Actually, I consider Miss Oldstone quite an improvement.” He cocked an eyebrow at the younger man. “Your company hasn’t seem to improved, Carrow. But I suppose as beggars can’t be choosers…”

The other man kept silent but Alice was livid. “How dare you, Ambrose,” she hissed. “You threw me out in the street with nothing!”

“And why was that?” he replied. “Oh yes, because you were too busy fucking Mr. Carrow in the house I own.” At her startled gasp, he turned his attention back to Carrow. “Hopefully she’ll be more loyal to you than me.” He smiled at Carrow.

“You bastard,” she swore.

Before he could reply, Montverre returned. “Silvers, you coming?” Turning his attention to Alice, he added, “The show is about to start.”

“Of course, I just wanted to bid Mr. Carrow good luck and good evening.”

“At least I know he’s quality,” Alice drawled. “That woman--”

“You mean my cousin,” Montverre interrupted.

“Your cousin,” Carrow repeated, eyes wide.

“Surely you’re not disparaging my cousin, are you Carrow?” Montverre challenged.

Carrow paled. “Not in the least,” he sputtered. “My friend was simply saying how… how…”

“Because if I thought you were insulting my family, Carrow, it would be quite unpleasant for you.” Montverre glared at him.

“We would never speak ill of your family,” Carrow replied. Alice started to speak but he gripped her arm tightly. “Enjoy the show, Montverre, Silvers,” he said, hustling the protesting woman away.

Montverre stood with Ambrose watching the pair walk away. “I suppose you were involved with that?”

“Until recently,” Ambrose replied.

“I would hope she had other talents to recommend her,” Montverre drawled.

Ambrose chuckled, “She did. Unfortunately she tended to stray…”

Montrose nodded. “Good riddance then.” He turned into the box. “Shall we?”

Ambrose agreed and returned to his seat just as the curtain began to rise.