They drifted along, up the staircase. Lavinia knew that there were eyes on them as they ascended. They were being gossiped about. It was hardly surprising – Lord Livingston was a well-placed gentleman and had the ear of the Prince Regent, no less. There was bound to be people who would take notice who he was escorting to the opera and who was sharing his coveted box.
This could be my life, she thought. If I married him, this might be how I spend the rest of my days.
She knew that most people would give their eye teeth for such position and such security. And she supposed that she really should be grateful that she might be given such a chance. She genuinely liked Lord Livingston, and all this could be hers if she so chose.
It would not be a bad life. It would not be a bad life, at all.
***
They settled into their seats, taking out their opera glasses. There was a hubbub around them, as the crowd similarly settled. Those in the boxes stared blatantly at those in the other boxes, noting who was in attendance, sometimes whispering behind their hands or their fans.
The Prince and Princess seemed to be in a bubble, all of their own. Their box was at the very front, almost overhanging the stage, the most prestigious in the hall. They glanced around occasionally, nodding to people.
Lavinia glanced at Sophie, who was seated next to her, near Lord Merrifield. When the gentleman was distracted, talking to Lord Gregory, she turned to her sister.
“What do you think?” she asked, indicating their surroundings.
Sophie smiled. “It is most glorious! It has long been a dream of mine to sit in such a prestigious box at Covent Garden.” She paused. “It is a dream come true.”
“I am so glad you are joyous,” said Lavinia, smiling back. “I have been worried about you lately. Especially after events where Walter St Clair has also been in attendance …”
She gazed at her sister steadily. She was blatantly fishing, but Sophie was playing her cards very close to her chest since their conversation in the carriage home after the ball, where they had discussed if she should forgive Mr St Clair or not.
They had been to events every day since, and Sophie had run into Mr St Clair quite a few times. Lavinia had always been tense, expecting Samuel to be by his side or in the vicinity, but strangely, she had never spotted him since the ball.
They had attended another ball, where she had seen Sophie stare at him all night. Then they ran into him on a short promenade stroll, where Sophie had conversed with him briefly, in a stiff, awkward manner. She still remembered the look of joy on Mr St Clair’s face when that happened, as if he was the luckiest man in the world.
And then there had been Mrs Elliot’s dinner party. There had only been twelve guests, that evening, and they couldn’t help running into him. Sophie had chatted to him briefly then, too. Lavinia had seen the look of quiet joy on her face, as they had conversed, which she was trying to mask. But Lavinia had not been fooled.
Lord Livingston had been in attendance at a few of these events, too, and they had chatted more. His interest in her was becoming marked, and he had eagerly anticipated tonight, when she would be sitting beside him, in the opera box.
“It is not the time or the place to discuss such matters,” said Sophie gently. “But we can talk if you like, tonight after we return to the townhouse.” She hesitated. “I am sorry I have been so reticent, Liv. It is like I have been grappling with a huge boulder, trying to push it up a hill, but it continually slips out of my grasp …”
Lavinia reached out, squeezing her arm. “There is no need for apologies, my dear. I am just concerned for you, that is all, and rather interested if you have given my offer any further thought.”
Sophie sighed deeply. “Yes, well … we will discuss it later.” She shot her a pointed look. “And we should discuss how you are feeling, too. You have not been forthcoming about your own feelings, either.”
At that moment, she was distracted by Lord Merrifield, who claimed her attention again. Sophie turned away to converse with him, and Lavinia was left briefly alone, while Lord Livingston was in another box talking to acquaintances before the opera began.
How did she feel, exactly?
She knew that she missed Samuel. She missed his warmth, his conversation, and his wit. She tried very hard not to, but there it was.
But she could still not forgive his deceit. He had hurt her, unbelievably. She could not just let go of that because she missed the man. The man that she thought he was, she corrected herself. It had all just been an act, after all. He might as well be on the stage here, mouthing lines.
At that moment, the lights began to flicker, indicating that the show was about to begin. Lord Livingston came back into the box, taking his seat next to her, smiling widely. A hush came over the crowd, and all eyes were riveted on the stage.
***
After the performance, the patrons mingled again in the foyer. It was so loud with chatter and laughter that Lavinia could barely hear herself think.
She glanced around. The Prince Regent and Princess Charlotte were mingling, now, stopping to talk with people. Everyone was wide eyed with anticipation, that the royals might stop and patronise them. Lavinia could almost feel the spark in the air.
Lord Livingston turned to her. “Did you enjoy the show, Miss Beaumont?”
Lavinia nodded. “It was most entertaining,” she replied. “Although I must say, there weren’t as many performers on the stage as I was anticipating. The fact that those few were so impressive speaks volumes about how talented they are.”
“I courted an opera singer once,” piped up Lord Merrifield, grinning. “A very famous opera singer. I am a gentleman, so I shall not name her.” His grin widened. “I learnt my lesson. I shall never court one again! So very hard to handle, with that artistic temperament …”
Lavinia grimaced, gazing at Sophie, whose smile had frozen slightly. She was not impressed, either, with such scurrilous gossip. It seemed that Lord Merrifield was not a man of superlative character.
Lord Livingston raised his eyebrows. “Bertie, you should not talk so, with ladies present. Have I not told you this many times before?”
“My apologies, ladies,” said Lord Merrifield, looking sheepish.
Before they could respond, they were distracted. The Prince Regent and the Princess were heading straight towards them.
Lavinia’s heart started to beat a little faster. She had never been introduced to royalty before. Anxiously, she smoothed down her gown, with slightly sweating hands.
The crowd dispersed around them, fanning out, as they approached. Lavinia and Sophie sank into deep curtsies, while the gentlemen bowed.
“Livingston,” said the Prince Regent, smiling. “It is good to see you! The meeting scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at Kensington Palace is still going ahead, by the way.”
“Excellent, Your Highness,” replied Lord Livingston. “I have quite a few ideas about how to manage the parade, which I hope you will approve.”
The Prince’s eyes flickered over towards the ladies. “And who do we have here?”
“May I introduce Miss Beaumont and her sister, Miss Lavinia Beaumont,” said Lord Livingston. “Their father is Lord Peregrine Beaumont.”
“Ladies,” said the Prince, inclining his head. “What a lovely pair you are! Are you enjoying the season?”
“Very much, Your Highness,” replied Sophie, in a high voice. “It has been most entertaining this year.”
The Prince turned to Lavinia. “Is this your first season, my dear? You look so youthful; I cannot imagine that you are long on the scene.”
Lavinia took a deep breath. “It is, Your Highness. As my sister says, it has been most entertaining … although sometimes overwhelming, at first. But I shall find my feet with it, I daresay.”
“I daresay you will,” replied the Prince, raising his eyebrows in an almost knowing way towards Lord Livingston. “This gentleman is the best guide that you can have, to all that London has to offer
!”
“My dear, we should move on,” interrupted the Princess, smiling. “It was lovely to meet you both, ladies.”
They drifted away. The crowd fanned out around them again, and then closed, so that they were completely out of Lavinia’s line of vision. It was as if the crowd had swallowed them up entire.
***
That night, when they had returned home, Sophie came into Lavinia’s chamber, and they sat down together to talk, as Sophie had promised they would.
“What did you think of the Prince Regent and the Princess?” asked Lavinia. “I was so nervous, I could barely speak.”
Sophie smiled. “I think that the Prince has an eye for the ladies, and that the Princess is very much aware of it.” She paused. “He seemed to be subtly encouraging Lord Livingston to keep you at his side, Liv.”
Lavinia laughed. “How fanciful you are, Sophie!”
Sophie gazed at her steadily. “It is all at your feet if you want it, dearest. A life with Lord Livingston would be full of excitement and glamour.” She hesitated. “I still cannot believe, on some level, that I discouraged his attention. My former self is not impressed at all. Lord Livingston is one of the finest catches in London.”
Lavinia shook her head. “You are in love, Sophie. It changes people.”
Sophie sighed. “I did not seek love with a commoner. Why could I not have taken my own advice and fallen in love with a nobleman, instead? It makes no sense.”
“We do not choose those we fall in love with,” said Lavinia softly. “That is not how it works, at all. Have you never read love poetry before? It is full of lament and anguish, as well as joy. It is never an easy process.”
“No, it is not,” grimaced Sophie. She stared at her sister. “And how are you feeling, little swan? Is your broken heart healing slightly? You appear to be managing social situations very well now.”
Lavinia sighed deeply. “It is better than it was. Every day it gets a little better than the last.” She hesitated. “But I do not know if it will ever be fully healed, Sophie. I think that it is just something I must learn to live with. A part of me still longs for him, almost to madness. But the hurt and betrayal overrides all else, just as it should.”
“Could you never learn to trust him again?” Sophie asked quietly. “He is remorseful, and he claims that he truly loves you. Is there really no hope for reconciliation?”
Lavinia shook her head firmly. “No, Sophie. That is gone, now.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I have another life ahead of me that I must fully embrace. Whether it involves Lord Livingston or not, I do not know …”
“He is quite a catch …”
“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper. “And I am a woman, now, and must put away my childish notions, once and for all.”
Chapter 22
Samuel sat down in his usual booth at the Peacock tavern, near the window, overlooking the docks. The sight had become so familiar to him, now, that he sometimes saw it even when he closed his eyes.
For some reason that he still could not work out, he had resisted moving to more comfortable lodgings. Somehow, it seemed appropriate in the circumstances to continue to reside here, even if his cover as Samuel Hunter had been blown sky high, in a rather Guy Fawkes manner.
The shabbiness of the Peacock matched how he felt inside; almost as if he was wearing the degradation like a hair shirt.
His dear father, now six months in his grave, would never understand what he was going through. Father would never understand why he was even here. A simple man, in so many ways, duty had always been black and white to him. He had never expressed a desire to escape from the duties of his role; in fact, he had seemed quite comfortable with them.
He sighed deeply. His mother would be wringing her hands in anguish if she could see where he was now. All she wanted was him to marry and produce the next heir. It was all cut and dried for her, as well. She would never understand the compulsion that had led him to seek lodgings in such a low area of the city, nor why he persisted in staying here, now.
Walter thought he was crazy, of course. He simply could not understand why they continued to stay at the Peacock when they could be ensconced either at Samuel’s London townhouse or more luxurious rooms on the better side of town.
As far as he was concerned, the Peacock had only ever been a place to keep Samuel’s cover as a middle-class landowner intact, and now that it was exposed, he simply could not fathom why he would want them to reside here.
Samuel couldn’t explain it to him, but he had stubbornly insisted, so here they still were.
He sighed deeply. They were still here, plotting their next engagements, to maximise their chances of running into the Beaumont sisters. But a sudden cold had felled him in the week since he had seen Lavinia at the ball, and he had been forced to take to his bed, while Walter went about town without him.
He ran a hand over his face in frustration. The worst of it was Walter had run into them several times since. He had even managed to talk a little to Sophie Beaumont, and he had been quietly encouraged. The elder Miss Beaumont was thawing towards him.
Walter had told him everything, sitting at his bedside, as he recovered. He had also told him that on a few of these occasions, Lavinia had been monopolised by Lord Livingston, and that she did not seem unhappy in his company. In fact, they had been absorbed in each other, chatting and laughing.
Walter had also let slip that Sophie had told him they were attending the opera with the great lord. That he had invited them to sit in his private box, and that the Prince Regent and the Princess Charlotte were likely to attend on the night, as well.
Samuel glumly stared out the window. It was not going to plan, at all. While he was busy being ill, Lavinia was being swept off her feet by a grand lord, who could spoil her with opera boxes and introduce her to royalty. How on earth could he compete with that?
Walter was heading towards him, now. Samuel straightened, trying to smile. He didn’t want to bring his friend down with his morose musings, but it was hard.
“You are feeling better!” remarked Walter, smiling brightly. “The first day that you have come down for breakfast!”
Samuel smiled weakly. “I have descended, but I am afraid I will probably only eat a little. My appetite is not fully recovered.”
Walter frowned. “Your recovery would have been aided if we were lodged in more comfortable rooms, my friend. The draughts that come into those rooms are abominable, and how you can lie on that lumpy mattress all day and all night is beyond me.” He paused. “You could have had maids attending your every whim, and a doctor on call, but for your stubbornness.”
Samuel shrugged. “It is what it is, old chap. Besides, I am almost better and ready to start planning anew.” He hesitated. “That is if it is worth planning. From what you have told me, it seems that Lavinia has moved on, well and truly.”
Walter’s frown deepened. “I do not know for certain that she has, Samuel. It is only my observations of what is happening.” He paused. “Just because she is friendly with Lord Livingston does not mean she is courting him or that she is in love with him …”
“Yes,” said Samuel. “But it does not bode well. Livingston is a man who is used to getting what he wants. And if he has decided to make a serious play for Lavinia, then he will put everything he has into the pursuit. He has clawed his way up into being an informal advisor to the Prince Regent. It shows what a single-minded, ambitious man he is.”
“That does not mean that she will fall in love with him,” said Walter. “And you told me that she despises men who are plump with privilege. It was one of the reasons why you were so hesitant to reveal who you truly are to her in the first place.”
Falling for the Mysterious Viscount: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 19