The following afternoon, the sun hung high over the capital, casting long, elegant shadows against the marble pillars of the Royal Opera House. Evelina sat beside the Duchess in the velvet-lined carriage, her fingers nervously smoothing the silk of her gown.
"Remember, Evelina," the Duchess said, her voice low and steady. "We are here for the art. We are here to enjoy the music. If we go straight to the owner's office, it signals desperation or a secret deal. But if we go as patrons... we are simply two noblewomen enjoying a matinee. The owner will come to us."
Evelina nodded, though her heart was elsewhere. "I understand. Appearance is the first layer of truth in this city."
