The opera house was already filling when Samuel Laci and his wife, Hyacinth, arrived.
They were among those who rarely needed to worry about finding a seat.
As patrons of the arts, the Lacis possessed a private box overlooking the stage, one of several elevated compartments reserved for those willing to pay handsomely for privacy, comfort, and a superior view.
Hyacinth considered the arrangement one of the small luxuries that made an evening at the opera worthwhile, particularly when the performance promised to be exceptional.
Samuel usually agreed with her. Tonight, however, he found himself paying less attention to the audience gathering below than he expected. He sat beside his wife with one arm resting against the arm of his chair, his gaze fixed upon the stage as the stage attendants made their final preparations.
The theatre glowed beneath the warm light of hundreds of candles.
Hyacinth leaned closer, lowering her voice as she delicately fanned herself. "I heard Miss Dubois will be making her first public performance tonight."
"Is that so?" Samuel murmured.
"Yes." She snapped the fan shut with a soft click. "Let us hope she is half as accomplished as her mentor."
A hush spread through the theatre as the principal singer entered the stage.
She was dressed in an elaborate gown of deep crimson silk, its skirts flowing dramatically behind her as she moved beneath the stage lights.
Jewelled ornaments shone in her hair, which had been arranged into an extravagant coiffure that rose above her head in carefully fashioned curls and braids. Her makeup was bold enough to remain visible from the furthest seats, accentuating her eyes and mouth beneath the theatrical lighting.
Hyacinth leaned forward eagerly and so did her husband. So engrossed in the opening of the performance that they barely heard the door of their box open.
The sound was faint, scarcely louder than the movement of a chair, but it eventually drew Samuel’s attention away from the stage when he realized someone had slipped inside.
He turned, expecting perhaps a servant who had come to deliver some message. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.
But the reality was hardly what he expected.
Instead of a skittish servant, Samuel found himself staring up at an impeccably dressed man.
His eyes widened slightly. For several seconds, he could only stare, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. Why was the Duke of Norham standing in their private box?
Hyacinth followed her husband’s gaze.
"Why, Your Grace." Her mouth fell open, the shock on her face mirroring Samuel’s.
It took them only a moment to recover. It was hardly proper to sit and gawk at their betters.
They both moved to rise, but Draven lifted a hand, stopping them.
"Please. Do not trouble yourselves on my account." His gaze shifted to the empty seat beside Samuel. "May I?"
Why was the duke here? Of all the boxes in the opera house, why had he chosen theirs?
Samuel’s mind raced, but he managed to nod. Still bewildered, he gestured toward the vacant seat.
"Of course, Your Grace. Please, join us."
Draven gave them both an easy smile before taking the offered seat.
"It is very kind of you to join us this evening, Your Grace," Hyacinth said, her attention still fixed on him.
"I hope I am not intruding," Draven replied smoothly, drawing upon the easy charm he rarely allowed others to see.
That affable side of him was reserved for a select few—his family and the handful of people who had earned a place in his life. The list had always been short, but ever since Cassandra had unwittingly ensnared him in her web, she had become one of those few.
The Lacis, however, were receiving that same treatment for an entirely different reason.
Draven wanted something from them.
And if he intended to get it, the first thing he needed was for them to feel comfortable enough to lower their guard.
"Not at all," Samuel assured him. "We are honoured by your presence."
Draven gave him a small nod. "I am pleased to hear it."
Hyacinth, still visibly delighted by the unexpected company, turned the conversation toward the performer on stage. She mentioned that she had seen the woman perform the previous season.
"I thought she was magnificent then," she was saying. "She possesses such a magnificent voice. I have been looking forward to hearing her again."
"Then I shall take your word for it." He responded politely.
Hyacinth beamed, even as her pulse quickened, and she fidgeted with her fan in a poor attempt to keep her hands occupied and hide just how flustered she was.
This was only her second meeting with Draven. The first had been at a ball the previous season, where she and Samuel had been formally introduced to the duke. It had been obvious from the beginning that Draven moved within social circles very different from theirs, and they had rarely crossed paths.
Thankfully, her husband was handling the encounter far better than she was. Otherwise, they would both have looked like complete fools.
Hyacinth searched for something else to say.
"You may find yourself becoming a regular attendee."
It was the first thing that came to mind.
"Perhaps." Draven smirked. "But the performance would have to be truly exceptional to accomplish such a feat."
Samuel offered a few observations of his own, though his thoughts remained elsewhere. The question that had been troubling him since Draven’s arrival.
If Draven genuinely wanted to be friendly, he could have approached Samuel at any number of social functions over the past year. He never done so.
So why tonight?
There had to be a reason.
Samuel simply did not know what it was yet.
As the performance continued, the lights around the audience dimmed until the boxes and galleries were swallowed almost entirely by shadow. The stage remained brightly illuminated, drawing every eye toward the singer.
From their box, Samuel could barely make out the faces of those seated elsewhere.
The singer’s voice rose through the theatre, filling the space with its beauty. There was something melancholy about it, something powerful in the sorrow woven through every note.
Despite his earlier distraction, Samuel found himself drawn into the performance. Yet his awareness of Draven sitting beside him never completely faded.
Like his two companions, Draven’s attention appeared completely fixed on the stage and he held up pretences for as long as he could.
Near the middle of the performance, he leaned slightly toward Samuel without taking his eyes off the singer.
"How are you finding the performance?"
Samuel glanced in his direction. "Very well, actually. She has exceeded my expectations."
"I find myself in agreement. Truly marvelous." Draven breathed. "I may have to inquire when she performs again. I would very much like to attend another performance of hers."
Onstage, the singer reached the most sorrowful part of the aria. She sank to the floor, cradling the man in her arms as though he were a dying lover.
Draven continued, tone deceptively light. "Speaking of inquiring about people, Mr. Laci, I have heard your name rather frequently of late."
Samuel’s body stiffened.
He did not like the implication behind those words.
News of one of his warehouses being raided had been circulating through certain circles, and the Lacis had suffered for it. The discovery of contraband inside the warehouse had only made matters worse.
They had acted quickly to contain the rumors, doing everything within their power to prevent the affair from developing into a full-blown scandal.
"Have you?" He managed through the lump forming in his throat.
"Yes." Draven’s voice remained mild as he leaned closer to Samuel, lowering it to a whisper. "I have found myself wondering why. What could someone like you have done to become so infamous?"
"I cannot imagine what Your Grace means," Samuel replied quietly.
It was the safest answer he could give, though he knew perfectly well that it offered him very
little protection.
"Would you prefer that I explain it here, with your lovely wife present, or shall we wait until the performance is over?"