He chuckled. "You don't need to know, my dear one. It was not the best choice of words. I should have said I want all eyes in the theatre on my beautiful wife tonight. Will it take you long to prepare?"
"Actually, it will. Perhaps it's best we do go back to Uncle's tomorrow."
* * *
He had told her that Therese was not to put the amethyst necklace on her. "I want that pleasure myself. Once you're dressed, have your maid tap at my door."
Now Emma sat before her looking glass, hardly recognizing the woman in its reflection as herself. She was completely dressed in her new lavender gown and thought nothing could ever be lovelier than her dress.
But it was Therese's artistry with hair that made Emma look as if she were a leader of fashion—in the highest circles. Not only was her hair swept back beautifully, but Therese had pinned diamonds throughout. A duchess's coronet could not have been lovelier. Her heart filled to capacity when she thought of Adam's kindness in procuring the diamond pins and giving them to Therese for his wife's hair. He knew so much more about what was fashionable than Emma.
Her stomach coiled as she sat waiting for Therese to return from knocking on Adam's door. Would he think her pretty?
Her heart stampeded when he strolled into her bedchamber, the velvet jewel box in his hand.
He stopped just past the doorway and stared. "My god, you're lovely!"
She finally exhaled and timidly said, "Thank you."
He came to her and placed the Bourbon jewels around her neck. She watched in the looking glass and was mesmerized, so awed over how beautiful the necklace was she did not even see Adam's handsome reflection.
When he finished, he commanded her to stand. "I want to see the full effect."
She did as bid, once more holding her breath. She was a bit embarrassed over the low cut in the front of her gown. It barely covered her small bosom, yet somehow made her breasts seem larger than they really were.
Aunt Harriett would have been mortified. She would never have allowed Emma out of her bedchamber in so scandalous a dress.
Emma blushed as her husband stood back and lazily perused her from the tip of her head to the slippers on her feet. His gaze missed nothing.
Without saying a word, he came forward and planted a kiss on top her head. "I shall be the most envied man at the theatre tonight. You are perfection." Then he offered his arm, and they left for Drury Lane.
She felt as if she were a celestial being, her heart and her step were so light. He thinks I am perfection. He kissed her on the top of her head.
Once they were in the Birmingham box at the theatre, they were soon joined by William and Lady Sophia. "Emma," Lady Sophia exclaimed, "you look as if you could be a Russian princess or something equally grand. And, of course, you are utterly beautiful."
"I owe much to Therese. I’m so grateful you sent her to me. I could not be happier."
"I knew she would be perfect, but she did only your hair—and she did that beautifully—but you cannot credit her for your supreme loveliness."
"You're too kind."
Their conversation was cut short as the candles were snuffed, and the curtain went up. As fascinated as Emma was to see a Shakespearian play in person, she was too exhilarated by everything to follow the actors' words as closely as she should. She spent more time looking at the audience, taking in all the beautiful gowns, each one varied from the others.
She was in awe of the baroque u-shaped theatre with its high walls ringed with luxurious boxes. They looked like gilded pockets. Many of them were filled with the nobility, some of whom she recognized from the illustrations in the periodicals Auntie received. There was Lady Waverly in turquoise across the way, and Emma was quite sure the Duke and Duchess of Gorham were in one of the boxes that faced the stage.
She drew in her breath when she realized the notorious courtesan Mary Steele (caricatured so often in the press that Emma had come to recognize her) sat on one of the lower- rung boxes. Emma must have stared at her for ten minutes. She'd never thought she would ever see so scandalous a woman in the flesh. Whatever she had expected to see was not this. The woman appeared perfectly normal. Were she passing Emma on the street, Emma would not take notice of the rather plain woman.
Had she thought perhaps Mrs. Steele would be sprouting horns like some Beelzebub? Or be dressed so indecently that parts that shouldn't show, did so?
Emma felt less guilty for not watching the play when she realized most of those who sat in the boxes were also gawking at those in the other boxes.
Was it her imagination, or were many of them training their eyes—and their opera glasses—on the Birmingham box? Most likely because the Birmingham brothers were so handsome. Then she was reminded of her husband's words about being the envy of every man there. Those people couldn't be looking at her.