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Dominic leaned nearer, his voice dropping. “I did not arrange this box to discuss another man’s boundary wall.”

Amelia pressed the edge of her fan against her mouth. Her shoulders moved as she fought to contain her laughter. He watched with considerable satisfaction, warmed to the core.

“No one turned around,” he murmured, his eyes dancing.

“You have succeeded then,” she managed, her voice unsteady.

He smiled. “I shall accept the victory.”

“Do not become smug. There is another act.” She lowered her fan, allowing him to see her smile, bright and a little wicked. “And I have not forgotten my own part in the evening.”

He thought of the ribbon she had promised to bring, and heat curled low in his stomach. “I have been relying upon that.”

The music resumed before she could answer. Amelia turned toward the stage, and Dominic followed her lead. Though the task grew harder as her hand returned to his. She moved her thumb across the inside of his wrist. A touch so small it seemed innocent to anyone else, and a shiver raced up his arm. He glanced down, then toward her face, his breath catching. “You are making this unnecessarily difficult,” he said under his breath.

“I believe I gave you ample warning,” she replied, her eyes fixed demurely on the stage.

“You did,” he agreed. But he hadn’t been fully prepared for it.

“Then you may have no complaint.”

He ought to have released her hand. Instead, he settled his fingers more comfortably around hers and attended to the music. Her thumb continued its slow, idle path, and he felt each pass of it at the base of his spine.

The disguises became increasingly troublesome. Affection tangled with vanity, and confidence gave way to uncertainty. Dominic had expected the comedy to amuse him without requiring much further thought. Instead, he found himself considering how easily people spoke when they believed nothing important could be lost.

He had done it in Lady Haviland’s card room, speaking of widows as though selecting a horse. Amelia had interrupted him before he could congratulate himself upon another clever observation. He had spent every meeting since discovering how little his easy conclusions had accounted for. The knowledge was humbling and strangely welcome.

Beside him, she leaned closer, her bare shoulder grazing his sleeve. “If a gentleman requires a false mustache before he discovers how to court someone,” she whispered, her breath warm against his jaw, “I should question his earlier efforts.”

Dominic caught his laughter in his throat, choking on it. Amelia appeared entirely composed, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “That was unkind,” he murmured.

“It was merely an opinion of the performance.”

“A particularly disruptive one,” he told her.

“You requested my company,” she said sweetly.

He had. He would request it again if given the chance. The certainty came without effort, leaving the harder question close behind, a quiet ache beneath his ribs. Would she want him to?

Her fingers remained warm within his. He looked toward the stage, reluctant to interrupt her enjoyment with a question she had not invited. There would be time afterward. He hoped there would be time after tonight. The hope was so sudden and sharp that he tightened his hold before he could stop himself. She squeezed back, lightly, and said nothing.

As the final music ended, Amelia looked at him. He was beside her, exactly where he had promised to remain. The brief warmth in her eyes told him she had noticed, and something in his chest eased and opened. They applauded, then stayed seated while the passage outside filled with voices and the rustle of departing crowds. Amelia closed her fan and rested it upon her lap.

“You have heard enough to offer a final opinion,” she said.

“I think they would have saved themselves a great deal of trouble by being honest first.”

She smiled. “Then we should have had a very short opera.”

“The composer might object to my advice,” he said dryly.

“And what of the music?” she asked, tilting her head.

He told her which passage had held his attention and why, without attempting to sound more knowledgeable than he was. She listened, her chin resting lightly on her hand, then offered her own preference. She explained a moment he had enjoyed without quite understanding what had made it so effective. Her face lit as she spoke, her hands moving in small gestures, and he forgot to be self-conscious.

Dominic liked hearing her explain it. He liked that she disagreed with him without treating it as an interruption to their pleasure, and the ease of it settled into him like firelight. “We shall have to hear another,” he said, “and determine whether our opinions improve.”

Her fingers paused upon her fan. The suggestion had escaped before he considered it. He could have softened it into a jest or pretended he meant some distant performance. Instead, he let it stand, his heart beating hard, and met her eyes.