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audience watched them with rapt interest. “Tonight they will be performing The Lady Spade . I must say I hope it’s better than their last opera, The Viscount Laurimore . My ears are still ringing from their performance,” he said with a cheeky grin.
    Surprise crossed her features, followed by a furious blush, then laughter. “They can’t be that bad,” she said, fighting through her giggles.
    “Just wait. You will understand after a few moments.”
    “I dare say I hope you’re wrong. I couldn’t bear for my ears to ring for a month after this.”
    He shrugged playfully, enjoying the banter between them. Had he known she possessed a sense of humor? He couldn’t recall a time where he would have been able to explore it, to figure out what would provoke her lighthearted laughter.
    The stress of their situation would grate on anyone’s nerves, effectively drowning out any playfulness. He didn’t know why, but knowing she could have fun, laugh at a small joke, caused him to expel a deep breath. Had he thought her boring?
    No. Never boring. Just, not fun.
    He was happy to be wrong. Her sense of humor would only make their marriage better and their relationship more agreeable.
    “They should begin any moment,” he said, taking out his opera glasses. Looking down at her empty hands, his eyebrow raised. “Did you forget your glasses?”
    “Hmm?” she asked, as she watched a juggler on the stage. Finally looking down at his glasses, she realized what he had asked. “Oh, no. I don’t own any. I fear I don’t come to the opera often enough and never saw the need to purchase a pair.”
    “I come to the opera far too often,” he said dryly as he handed her his pair. “Here, use mine tonight.”
    “Oh, but I couldn’t.”
    “I want you to. Perhaps you don’t come as often because you cannot see the actors properly. I assure you, these glasses change the entire performance.”
    She held on to them and chuckled. “I appreciate your offer, but if you must know, my father despises opera. That is the reason why we seldom come.”
    He looked at her with mock surprise. “You mean your father dislikes men running around the stage in tights, singing about lost love, and all together making fools of themselves?”
    Her laughter fluttered over his skin like a caress. He could never get bored with the sound. “You have a point.”
    The lights were completely snuffed out at that moment, the curtain rising to show a woman in red, her generous bosom frothing out the top of her bodice.
    “She is playing a courtesan who has fallen in love with a lord. I assume she will be scantily clad for most of the opera,” he told her.
    Her golden brow arched over her deep blue eyes. “And you said that my father doesn’t like opera because of men in tights?”
    He had to fight to suppress his laughter. “There aren’t scantily clad women in every opera, you know.”
    “Really? Name three,” she challenged.
    “Well…” he trailed off, racking his brain for examples. After a moment he grinned. “I can’t seem to think of any,” he said sheepishly. “I’m sure if I think on it, examples will come to me.”
    “No doubt,” she answered dryly, raising the glasses to her eyes. “You weren’t kidding. These really do make a difference.” He watched her lean forward, her delicate neck bending slightly to view something on stage.
    Desire hit him more quickly than he had anticipated. He wanted to take a bite of her, nibble on the sensitive spot right where her neck connected with her shoulders. Her skin looked smooth, creamy, and he could only imagine the exquisite taste of her.
    “I can even see some of the beading on her gown. Remarkable. Perhaps I might have to purchase a pair after all.” Sending a smile his way, she returned her attention to the story. Leaning back, her nose wrinkled as if she smelled something foul. “You were right. They’re terrible. My ears hurt already,” she said, chuckling softly.
    She was