Laughter entered Eleanor’s eyes. “Somehow I can see that. She does not appear to me to be the type who suffers fools easily.”

When did she come to know his sister so well? “If memory serves, I believe she likened it to being a horse at auction.”

A peal of light, tinkling laughter erupted from Eleanor and she quickly covered her mouth, but not before the sound caused others to stare. “Oh dear.”

The words sounded choked, as if she could not stop laughing. He took a glass of champagne from a footman, her glass of lemonade having been finished during their stroll. “Drink this.”

She took a sip, followed by a breath, and nodded. “There. Much better.”

Her eyes were still sparkling, and somehow he knew if he even smiled, he’d set her off again. Fortunately, Lady Brownly had stepped back and a woman with dark hair piled elaborately on her head took her ladyship’s place. She nodded to the quartet, which was obviously there to accompany her, and began to sing. Eleanor immediately became aware of the music and, from what he could make out, sat spellbound by the singer. He had hoped to be able to converse a bit. But that was clearly not going to happen. John settled himself back to listen to the performance as he watched Eleanor’s enjoyment of it. The French he’d learned did not help him at all in understanding the words, but they were beautifully sung.

When Pasta brought the song to an end, Eleanor sighed. “She is wonderful.” She turned to him. “What did you think?”

“I enjoyed it.” He nodded to himself. “However, I do think I should learn Italian.”

She graced him with a broad smile. “I am glad you liked it. Italian might take a little while.”

He liked her. It occurred to him that she was a woman who could be a friend as well as a wife. He had never thought of that before. “You could explain it to me until I am sufficiently proficient.”

She was still smiling as she tilted her head slightly. “I daresay I could, but not until intermission.”

The room became quiet, and she put one finger to her beautiful, plump lips. For a second, all he could think about was kissing them. John had to blink before turning his attention to the singer as her voice soared through the drawing room. If attending the opera allowed him to be with Eleanor, he would learn to love it.