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as ...”
    “Wanton?”
    “Lusty, perhaps?”
    Her laughter wafted into the air, musical as the evening itself.
    Sophie swept a hand over her rounded girth. “ Heavenly Aida was most inspiring, don’t you think?”
    “Yes, lovely.”
    “Zander sang the very aria to me our first night together.”
    “So, it becomes clear there was never a chance for me. I can’t manage a decent note.”
    She patted her midriff. “I am much too big to be out and about in public, but I could not bear to miss this performance. Zander helped to secret the bulk of me into the theatre hidden under a large cape.”
    Phaeton could not stem his fascination. Mesmerized by the perfectly shaped globe hidden beneath the delicate shirred skirt, he reached out. She took his hand and placed it on her belly.
    Slowly, his senses submerged into a veil of membrane. A life form, suspended in warmth.
    He sat straight up, eyes wide. “Does that hurt?”
    She shook her head. “Not in the least.”
    He took a furtive look about. Should he try it? With a quick head duck, his ear came to rest upon the roundness of her. A gentle hand hesitated before stroking his temple. Yes, there was a sympatico with this woman.
    “Can you hear the babe thumping away?”
    “She is humming, Mrs. Farrell.” He sat up. “ Se quel guerrier io fossi! ... Celeste Aida .”
    She smiled. “She?”
    “Sorry I took so long. Dreadful crush of smokers in the upper lobby.” Zander stepped down into their row and handed her a glass. “Seltzer water and lemon, as ordered.”
    “Thank you for braving the crowd, dear.” She sipped her fizzy refreshment. “Mr. Black informs me our second child is a girl.”
    Phaeton nodded. “Most definitely, a she.”
    “Excellent. We can narrow down names to Camille or Fiona.” Zander’s affectionate, possessive gaze caused a momentary pang of loneliness, a sensation Phaeton quickly set aside.
    Zander settled an arm across the back of his wife’s chair. “My dear, has he been pestering you with unwanted advances?”
    “I would never attempt a tryst with Sophie. It would break your heart.” Phaeton winked at her.
    Zander snorted. “Not before I broke off your privates and sold them to cannibals.”
    The chime signaled the end of entr’acte.
    Opera aficionados drifted back into the auditorium. A tall, striking gentleman caught Phaeton’s eye. Something familiar about the silhouette. It was obviously not Zander Farrell, for Scotland Yard’s finest sat one chair away, publicly nuzzling the neck of his prodigiously pregnant wife.
    He straightened his chair. The intriguing gentleman stepped into a middle row and found his seat. Without a scan or search of eyes, the stranger looked directly at him. Phaeton met his gaze. He had not seen this man since his Trinity days, but sensed a more recent encounter, he was nearly sure of it.
    As the lights dimmed, Phaeton shifted his attention to the stage. Disturbing recollections drifted in and out of his thoughts and the third act came and went before he once again immersed himself in the music and story.
    By the end of act four, the entire audience was riveted. Radames is sealed in a vault below the temple and finds Aida hiding in the darkness. All the men readied their handkerchiefs for the ladies in the box. La fatal pietra sovra me si chiuse. Phaeton whispered the words, “The fatal stone now closes over me.” Morir! Si pura e bella . He sighed. “To die so pure and lovely.”
    Outside the Royal Opera House, Phaeton tagged along beside the Farrells. With one eye on the front of the theatre, he held up his end of a lighthearted, informal banter. Zander stepped into the street and opened the coach door. “Can we drop you at home?”
    He spotted the stranger. “Thank you, but no. A brisk walk will do me good right about now.” The tall man turned in the opposite direction and headed for the Strand. Phaeton nodded a bow. “Again, a memorable evening enjoyed in the company of excellent