Regency Masquerade by Vera Loy Read Free Book Online

gave her and even more so
when the judgement appeared to be favourable.  Carleton introduced her to a
matronly lady in puce satin who proved to be Rosamond’s Aunt Louisa, and to her
stout husband.  With a tender smile he continued, “And this is Miss Rosamond
Lyle and her cousin Miss Amanda Marlowe.”  Frances bowed politely to each of
them. 
    While
Carleton was obliged to exchange courtesies with the older Lyles, Frances
addressed herself to the two cousins.  “And how do you find the opera?” she
asked innocuously.
    Amanda
confessed that it was very pretty and Rosamond said with an air of assumed
sophistication that it was all very well but that she preferred a play.  When
pressed as to her favourite play she chose Hamlet but could offer no reason
other than it was vastly tragic.  Wickedly, Frances commented that the death of
Othello must soften the hardest of hearts.  Rosamond’s agreement to this piece
of fiction confirmed her opinion that she really knew very little about it.
    At
that point Carleton entered the conversation and Frances found herself fending
off exploratory questions from Mrs Lyle about her circumstances.  Fortunately a
chance reference to Italy brought Mr Lyle into the conversation with a heated
diatribe against all foreigners and Italians in particular.  Mrs Lyle and
Frances were soon reduced to muttering noncommittal noises as Mr Lyle got into
full stride of what was obviously a favourite hobby horse.  Her eyes
attentively on the reddening face before her, Frances let her ears concentrate
on what Carleton was saying to Amanda and Rosamond.  From the odd words she
could make out they seemed to be talking about the ball to be held soon in Rosamond’s
honour and the gown she was planning to wear.  Not too soon as far as Frances
was concerned, the interval ended and the visitors had to return to their
seats.
    On
their way down Carleton asked offhandedly, “May I ask what was your opinion of
the young ladies?”
    “I
thought them both pleasant enough”, returned Frances, seizing the opportunity
to cast a few stones, “perhaps a little empty headed as very young ladies often
are.”
    “Empty
headed?” queried his companion stiffly.
    Feigning
ignorance of Carleton’s special interest, she continued blithely, “Yes Miss
Lyle prefers plays to opera and her favourite is Hamlet because it is so tragic
and Othello dies so sadly.”
    “But
Othello does not even appear in Hamlet!” protested Carleton inadvertently.  “I
daresay she confused the names, Ophelia is fairly similar sounding,” he
defended belatedly.
    “Perhaps”
agreed Frances cheerfully, obviously more interested in finding if their seats
were still empty.
    Carleton
looked and felt slightly ruffled.
    “I
am sorry if I offended you,” his companion apologised with a smile, “At least
she did not say the opera was pretty as her cousin did!”  This made him laugh
and they settled down to watch the rest of the opera in harmony with each
other.
    On
their way out at the end of the performance, Carleton was accosted by an
elegantly dressed man who stepped out in front of him from the crowd of patrons
streaming out of the theatre, “What have you been up to Richard?” he
queried jovially, “Have you stolen the Comte’s mistress?”
    Taken
aback, Carleton exclaimed, “What the devil are you talking about Tony? What
Comte?”
    “The
Comte Duverne.  He was sitting with me and looked as if he had bitten into a
lemon when he saw you.”
    Carleton
shook his head, “Never heard of the man in my life – I assure you Tony.  Must
be mistaken.”
    “Well
you know best, but he asked me your name. Be on your guard, he is not someone
I’d want after me!”  Tony clapped him on the shoulder.
    Neither
man appeared to notice that Frances looked quite ill with shock.  She bent down
and pretended to adjust the buckle on her boot while she got some colour into
her face and grappled with the news.  The Comte Duverne was in