My Lovely Lady

Chapter Twelve

Loren despised the opera. There was really no reason as to why she despised it, she just couldn't stand being seated for hours on end. But surprisingly, Loren was enjoying herself. Maybe it was the story, or the singer, or maybe it was the man seated beside her. Loren found herself gazing at him instead of the show. He was so focused on the woman onstage, it sparked curiosity in her. Yes, the woman was beautiful, and her voice was angelic. 

But Anthony seemed particularly fixated on her. And Loren was determined to know why. The woman leaned closer to the man, whispering, "She is quite good." Anthony nodded, his gaze never wavering from the woman onstage, "Indeed." Loren was silent for a moment, until she caught the singer make direct contact with the Viscount. It was subtle, and barely noticeable, but Loren saw it. And she saw the woman's eyes, the burning lust evident in her gaze. 

Loren gasped silently, facing Anthony, "You know her!" She accused in a whisper. Anthony scoffed, "No, I do not." "Oh yes you do. I saw the way she looked at you, Anthony."

Suddenly, everything clicked. The reasons why Anthony would just disappear for he had 'urgent business'. It was her. "Anthony." She whispered. The man sighed in annoyance, "Yes, Loren?" "Are you sleeping with the opera singer?" 

"No." 

His reply was short and simple, yet it sounded sincere. Either, he had rehearsed this multiple times or he was telling the truth, Loren could not tell. Anthony then reached across the seat, grasping the woman's hand. He lifted it upon the armrest, intertwining his fingers with hers, "Now, please, just watch the show." Butterflies fluttered in Loren's stomach at the gesture. It was quite rare for a man to hold a ladies hand, even during courtship. She knew that if anyone saw them, there would be even more talk than there was already. But in this moment, she didn't care. Her gaze fell upon the woman onstage, a million thoughts about her and Anthony whirling through her mind.

***

Apparently, whilst seated together, Lady Danbury and Violet concocted an idea. Evidently, they had decided to play 'matchmaker'. For the next night, the Bridgerton's were seated at a large dinner table, and the Duke had joined them. Anthony was seated at the head of the table, Loren on his left, Eloise beside her. Then seated by Eloise was Gregory, followed by Colin and Benedict. At the end of the table was Violet, and beside her were Simon and Daphne, followed by Hyacinth, and Francesca. 

The family were currently in a debate over Lady Whistledown, "For all we know, Whistledown maybe some interloper living in Bloomsbury of all places." Anthony said. "What should be so terrible about Bloomsbury? Is it because people there actually work for a living?" Benedict questioned. "She does seem to be someone with access." Loren added, to which Anthony nodded. "Who knows if Whistledown is even a she?" Colin piped up. "Fair point, brother." Anthony said. 

Loren scoffed at the man as Eloise spoke, "Oh, because she is simply too good to be anyone but a man?" Francesca shrugged, "I think it rather obvious that the writer is Lady Danbury." At this, Daphne shook her head, "Lady Danbury enjoys sharing her insults with society directly.She would never bother herself writing them all down." At the girl's statement, Simon found himself smiling, and Violet noticed this. 

Then, Hyacinth spoke up, "Could it be Lady Featherington?" Everyone, excluding Simon of course, burst into laughter at Hyacinth's accusation, "No!" They all exclaimed. As the laughter died down, Violet turned to the Duke, "You must forgive this rather unruly debate, Your Grace." Simon shook his head, "Nonsense. I find it entertaining. All of you at one table, even the children." Violet smiled softly, "I realize it may be unfashionable, but... We like each other. Most of the time." Simon smiled at this, "You should join us more often.Perhaps when we travel to our country seat. You would be most welcome."