Mercedes tried to look around to view the damage, her face flushed with distress and obvious confusion. “Is it torn? How bad does it look?”
Ariadne bent down to inspect the dress and the large hole that now sagged in the silk.
“I’m afraid it definitely needs mending.” Ariadne said, shaking her head, apparently shamefaced. “It’s entirely my fault. I do hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Well, it was an accident,” Mercedes said. “Of course there is nothing to forgive.”
Emma saw Ariadne look quickly away.
“Why do you not run along to the ladies’ withdrawing room and have it mended?” Ariadne suggested. “I am sure the theater must provide a woman who can help repair it with a few pins and a bit of thread.”
She made another regretful moan of apology and wrung her hands. “Baroness, Princess Mercedes cannot go by herself. Surely you will accompany her?” She sent the older woman a hopeful smile. “Princess Emma and I shall be fine for a few minutes until you return.”
The baroness pursed her lips, clearly uncertain. She glanced between the three of them for a long moment, then gave a nod. “Yes, you are right, Princess Ariadne. I shall escort Princess Mercedes to have her gown seen to and return as soon as may be. Perhaps you should both remain here in the box?”
“We’ll be fine together,” Ariadne said. Reaching over, she slid her arm through Emma’s, locking them hip to hip. “We shall only stroll a few feet in either direction. With so many estimable personages present, what harm can there be in getting a little air?”
What harm indeed? Emma thought sourly.
With a few choice words she could ruin Ariadne’s scheme. But it went against the grain to tattle on a friend—even if that friend deserved to be soundly thrashed for her unwanted conniving.
The baroness studied them again. “Stay close to the box,” she warned. Turning, she smiled at Mercedes. “Your Highness? Shall we?”
Mercedes sent them a look of helpless resignation, then set off with the older woman.
Emma held her tongue until they were gone; only then did she round on Ariadne. “You are beyond all bounds. Do you know that? I cannot believe you actually tore Mercedes’s gown. Poor thing. She loved that dress. And worse, you lied to her. She actually believes it was an accident.”
“Well, I am sorry about that, but it couldn’t be helped,” Ariadne defended.
Emma muttered her opinion on that score inaudibly beneath her breath.
Ariadne ignored her, the repentant expression she had worn disappearing from her face. “As for the gown, who cares about that? Mercedes literally has dozens of dresses in her wardrobe and I shall gladly buy her a new one. The important thing is that I needed to get you away from the baroness. I cannot believe you were going to leave the box with her in tow. How can you possibly talk to Nick with her along?”
“I can’t, which is exactly the reason I asked her to accompany me. Good Lord, Arie, how can you be so cruel? Can you not understand that no good will come from me seeing him again?”
Assuming he wants to see me, she thought with a dismal turn of mind. He hadn’t looked as if he’d been glaring at her, but in the low light, how could she be sure? Was he still angry? Did he hate her even now? Her chest was already aching as if she’d taken a kick to the ribs—and that was only from seeing him across the theater. How much worse would it be if they actually met?
“Running away isn’t the answer,” Ariadne countered. “You owe it to yourself, and him as well, to at least meet and be polite. You don’t want him to think you are giving him the cut, do you?”
Emma scuffed the bottom of one slipper against the box’s thin carpeting. “Of course not.”
Hurting Nick is the last thing I wish, Emma thought.
“Well then,” Ariadne continued, “let us proceed out into the corridor and walk toward his box. That way we may give the appearance of having just happened upon each other when we meet him.”
“And if he isn’t coming to find me?”
“Do not be absurd. Of course he is coming to find you. I saw the way he was looking at you. He is probably tossing people aside even as we speak in order to reach you with all deliberate haste.”
A begrudging smile curved over Emma’s lips at the image Ariadne created. “Now who is being absurd?”
Ariadne merely smiled and drew her Emma out into the corridor. Linking arms again, she started them on their way. “I must confess,” she murmured a few moments later, “I am most anxious to make your beau’s acquaintance. Even from a distance, he looked absolutely delectable.”