Page 4 of The Last Warrior

Suzette frowned. Leave it to Irena to put her granddaughter into such a position. Alas, Suzette feared that Irena did not approve of her granddaughter’s engagement. Although why this was so was a mystery to Suzette.

But Suzette ignored her grandmother’s opinion. It was a wonderful piece of luck that the earl wanted to marry her rather than use her in return for furthering her career, which was the fate of most opera singers.

Suzette, the daughter of opera stars John and Beatrice Joselyn, had always looked upon the practice of entertaining rich young men as…well, as distasteful. Of course, she realized it was sometimes a necessary part of the business. Very few prima donnas attained their position without compromising their virtue. But having grown up with such as a custom, having witnessed the sordidness that attached itself to the business in general, she had long ago decided this sort of life was not for her.

She craved love, she craved position and respect within British society, she craved a family, she craved…

Blare-e-e-e!

What was this loud sound? Looking around, she recognized the problem at once. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

A twenty-piece brass band had materialized across the arena. Complete with trumpets, trombones, bass and drums, the band was only beginning to bellow out the strains of a loud marching song.

Dear Lord, could their music be any more vulgar?

“I say.” William Blair, Earl of Lankersheim and Suzette’s fiancé, leaned in toward her. “It’s not exactly operatic music, now, is it?”

“Indeed not.” Suzette wrinkled her nose.

When Suzette turned to speak to Irena, she discovered her grandmother was gone.

Spinning back toward her fiancé, Suzette asked, “Pray, did you see when Irena left?”

“Doubtlessly, I did.” Taking hold of Suzette’s gloved hand, he patted it as a parent might do when scolding a child. “I do wish you would call your grandmother by her proper title, darling. She is, after all, your grandmother.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Suzette said, though she frowned at her fiancé and retrieved her white-gloved hand.

“Oh, and now I’ve upset you,” commented the earl.

“In truth, you have not,” Suzette lied. “I am simply wondering where Iren—where she went.”

“Darling, I know she raised you under unconventional circumstances, and the two of you like to call one another by your given names. It’s not for me that I mind. It’s only during those times when we are in public, to address her as… And then there is my mother…”

“Yes, yes, you are right, of course,” Suzette agreed meekly enough, although she went on to say, “Heaven forbid someone think the wrong thing.”

“Now, now. Let’s not be sarcastic. I must think of my position, after all.”

Suzette smiled. “I know you must, William, and I am not annoyed with you for reminding me of it.” Again, she lied. “It is only that Iren—my grandmother should not be roaming around this Wild West Show alone. You know how she is, what might happen.”

“She is a grown woman, after all.”

“Yes, but… Have you never noticed how trouble seems to seek her out?”

“No, my dear, I have not.”

She stared at William for some moments, admiring his handsome face, which was alight with tolerance. In his eyes was a gleam of admiration for her.

At last Suzette smiled. “You are right. It is wrong of me to worry about her. She is a grown woman and capable of handling herself, and yet⁠—”

“Oh, look there! Is that Buffalo Bill, himself?”

Dutifully, Suzette gazed down into the arena. “It does look as though it is he.”

“And who is it there...off to the side? I daresay, is that⁠—?”

Suzette gasped. “Irena! Oh, William, I must go down there.”

“Calm down, darling, I’m certain she is fine. Maybe she will sing the first song of the season so the performance can begin.”