Stephen looked to the window and did not elaborate. A short silence ensued, and Calliope pried her nervous fingers from her wrap.
He roused himself and looked at her. "Robert said I must not refer to you as Calliope, although it is quite an ideal name for a woman in your position. Perfectly uncommon."
"I thought Maria would be nice."
"Too plain."
"Cecille?"
"We need something flashy. Something befitting a siren."
She blushed and ran her fingers down the silky blue-green gown.
His eyes lit up. "Esmerelda."
Aghast, Calliope sputtered, "How about Selina?"
"Esmerelda is perfect."
"I’m not an Esmerelda."
He shrugged. "There really is no way around it, since that’s what I’ll be calling you this evening."
She stared at him, nearly at a loss for words. "You’re being difficult."
He grinned unrepentantly. "According to my friends, being difficult is my modus operandi."
What an exasperating man.
Taking pity on her, he sketched his family history and pursuits, telling her he would introduce his friends as they were met. He wasn’t titled, but his smooth voice and commanding presence bespoke his heritage. He left gaps in his background, but she made no comment until he was finished.
"Here’s what I thought we could do tonight-"
"A woman with a plan. I’m in love."
"Somehow I bet that happens on a frequent basis, Mr. Chalmers." She was quickly becoming comfortable with him, and grateful for the feeling.
He winked, and she continued, “After the last overture I thought we could slip out rather than mill with the others. It will give me time to get my bearings and give you an opportunity to change your mind about this whole scheme."
"I won’t change my mind, Miss Minton, but I think it’s a sound plan. A quick in and out will titillate the crowd. Make them more curious."
"Exactly. And I should have enough time to determine a direction for my work."
"I haven’t yet been able to view your caricatures. What do you illustrate?"
"Society." Calliope was tense. She had assumed Robert would fill him in. After all, Stephen was a member of the ton. What if he wasn’t amenable?
"Yes, yes, of course." He waved his hand in dismissal. "Not much else to talk about these days other than social commentary, and nothing else would explain this scheme."
She relaxed and regarded him in amusement.
He leaned forward in his seat. "Whom do you pick on in particular?"
"You’ll just have to wait and see."
A flash of surprise crossed his features, and then he sat back and grinned. "Cheeky little thing, aren’t you? I just better not see myself pictured at Ackermann’s."
She bit back a retort as the carriage pulled to a stop.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as Stephen’s smile disappeared and a more solemn expression replaced it. "Ready?"
She nodded, and they exited the carriage.
A swarm of people had gathered outside the theater. Milling about the entrance were beggars, pickpockets, prostitutes, courtesans, members of the ton and middle-class men. Each group had a role and every one of them was actively engaging in it. Calliope watched as a pickpocket quickly dipped a hand into the pocket of a man who was soliciting the services of a doxy. A beggar petitioned an inexperienced young man for change. Unable to extricate himself, the young man looked increasingly concerned. The tableau swirled through her consciousness as she prepared herself for her role.
A path opened and they strolled toward the entrance. Calliope observed the demeanor and nuances of the high-paid ladies and adjusted hers accordingly. A practiced flick of the wrist, a brazen flash of the eyes, a skillful movement of the hand across the chest, a sway of the hips. She witnessed subtle flirting and overt invitations. By the time they entered, she was ready to perform.
Calliope took in a deep breath. Esmerelda exhaled.
Stephen smiled appreciatively and gave her waist a reassuring squeeze.
As they meandered through the lobby, Stephen stopped periodically to chat with acquaintances. The men assessed her with considerable interest, some gawking rudely and others examining her in a speculative, yet friendly manner. She experienced a heady rush of pleasure and power. The reception was better than Calliope had received in any ballroom. The awkwardness of the past faded, and she relaxed.
Stephen guided her toward the stairway, and Calliope caught sight of a fiery-haired beauty, one of the loveliest women she had ever seen. Calliope followed the woman’s adoring gaze and looked straight into the midnight eyes of the Marquess of Angelford. He was staring at her intently.
She stumbled slightly and heat raced to her cheeks. Stephen gripped her waist and held her upright, covering the mistake. He sent her a questioning look, but she shook her head. They ascended the stairs and she attempted to regain her composure as they entered his box. Her pleasant feeling of euphoria had evaporated with a single glance from Angelford. She shook off the dark feeling and focused on the task at hand. So what if he was here. Had she really expected never to see him again?
Stephen began sharing humorous stories about several patrons while Calliope made mental notes of their relationships and mannerisms. She unconsciously scanned the boxes for Angelford and then scolded herself when she realized what she was doing. Faces and lorgnettes turned her way, and Calliope found it disconcerting to be scrutinized by the assemblage.
"I find this tableau quite amusing, " Stephen said.
She smiled. "Yes, finding caricature ideas is exhilarating when you first begin."
"No, I think you misunderstand. Here I am observing the audience and looking for interesting tidbits about them to share with you, while those below are focused on my beautiful escort and preparing interesting gossip about us. The irony."
He continued to scan the crowd and said as an aside, "I haven’t shared our secret. James and Stella don’t know our real relationship."
She was about to ask who James and Stella were when she heard someone enter the box. She turned to greet the newcomers and blanched at the familiar dark gaze of Angelford. There were many men named James in the ton, so why did this have to be the one to whom Stephen referred?
The redhead, presumably Stella, entered the box with ay bright look on her face. "It’s been so long, Stephen."
Stephen stood and kissed her outstretched hand. "Stella, you are stunning as ever."
Stephen grasped the marquess’s hand in a familiar manner. "Hullo, James."
James smiled warmly and returned the greeting.
Calliope looked from one to the other. They appeared to be very old, very good friends. She had confessed to the best friend of her nemesis? After she jumped over the railing she was going to hunt Robert down and deliver a good beating.
"James, Stella, this is Esmerelda."
Calliope couldn’t help herself and shot Stephen a quick, dirty look. Her new name sounded even worse when spoken as an introduction than it had in the carriage.
Stephen grinned. The cad had obviously interpreted her thoughts.
Stella smiled, but Angelford’s gaze was piercing.
"Stephen has been away so long. Where did the two of you meet?" Stella asked. "I love a good story."
Calliope allowed her lashes to slowly brush her cheekbones, something she had seen other women do, and related the tale they had concocted. "We met in Vauxhall, and it was love at first sight."
Angelford was observing her intently when Stephen said, "Yes, pet, it was something at first sight, definitely."