Good Lord. She clenched her fingers around her reticule, squeezing her eyes shut, wishing the image away. But it would not be banished.
The man she saw waiting for her at the altar was Rome.
It seemed as if an eternity passed before intermission.
Haverford had danced attendance on Anna throughout the whole first act. He had a right to do so; Anna was the woman he intended to wed. But Rome hated watching it.
Everyone else in their box clearly approved of Haverford’s actions, seeing the courtship unfold as it should under normal circumstances. But these circumstances were not normal. Not with Anna’s secret activities casting a shadow on the whole situation.
Not with Rome’s own desires warring with his determination to do what was right.
The theater patrons began wandering to other boxes to greet their friends or to the lobby to seek refreshment. Mrs. Rosewood stood. “Quentin, do escort me to dear Sophia’s box.”
The admiral awoke with a harrumph. “What’s that?”
She tapped him on the shoulder with her folded fan. “Do come with me, Quentin. Right now.” She tilted her head ever so slightly toward Haverford and Anna, who were conversing quietly.
The admiral glanced over and hauled his bulk from the chair. “Indeed. Delighted to, my dear.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Lavinia whispered to Rome as the Rosewoods left the box. “Do you suppose they will fall in love? I do so adore a romance.”
“It’s an arranged marriage, Vin, not a love match.”
Vin wrinkled her nose. “Really, Rome, you are such a cynic.”
“Just a realist.”
“Cynic,” she insisted. “Now do be a dear and fetch me some lemonade. I will stay and chaperone.”
He rolled his eyes even as he stood up. “Vin, Miss Rosewood is only a year younger than you are.”
“But I am a married woman.” Vin gave him that impish grin that always washed away his annoyance with her.
“Thank God for it,” he muttered. “Let Emberly be your keeper then.” She made a face at him, and he turned to leave just as a distinguished older man entered their box. The gentleman held himself with the bearing of a military man, and his silver hair and mustache made him look older than his youthful stride implied.
“Devereaux,” he said with a polite nod. “I saw you from across the way.”
“Mr. Vaughn.” Surprised but pleased, Rome acknowledged the greeting.
Marc stood up. “Evening, Vaughn. I thought you didn’t care for the comedies.”
Edgar Vaughn made a face. “Tragedies or histories are more to my taste, my lord, but my wife enjoys these wretched farces.”
“Ladies often do,” Marc agreed. “May I present Miss Rosewood, daughter of Admiral Rosewood?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Vaughn,” Anna said. “My father has spoken of you.”
“Charmed to meet you, Miss Rosewood. Your father’s a fine man,” Vaughn said.
“And this is my sister, Mrs. Emberly,” Rome said, indicating Lavinia.
“Henry Emberly’s wife, eh?”
“Yes. I’m honored to meet you, Mr. Vaughn.”
“The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Emberly.” He turned back to Rome. “Well, Devereaux, I won’t keep you from this delightful company. Just wanted to pay my respects. I expect I’ll see you tomorrow at three o’clock?”
“Most definitely, sir.”
“Excellent. Until then.” Vaughn exited the box.
“Heavens, Rome!” Lavinia squealed. “He singled you out. He intends to offer you a position!”
“Perhaps,” Rome said, still bemused by Vaughn’s visit.
“Appears so to me.” Marc clapped him on the shoulder. “You look like you need a drink, Rome. Come with me while I fetch some lemonade for Miss Rosewood.”
“I need more than lemonade.” Elation surged through him. “By God, it does look promising, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” Marc nodded, clearly pleased.
“This is so wonderful!” Vin squealed.
Anna smiled at him, her beautiful eyes luminous with happiness. “I’m certain you will secure the position.”
Rome basked in the warmth of her approval, falling beneath the spell of her welcoming gaze. It was as if her soul reached out for his, beckoning him near. The world narrowed to just the two of them, heartbeat for heartbeat, breath for breath.
He knew when she, too, got caught up by the current of desire. Awareness flickered across her face and a moment of panic. But it was too late. She was trapped there with him, swept along by this unappeased hunger, a prisoner of forbidden desire.
“Lemonade, Lavinia?” Marc’s voice jerked him free of the siren song.
“Yes, thank you.”
“All right then. We’ll be back once we’ve fought our way through the crowds.” Marc grinned at the ladies. “And once we’ve located something stronger for Rome.”
Rome glanced from Marc to Vin, but neither seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. He peeked back at Anna, but she looked away, spine perfectly straight, hands folded properly in her lap.
For some reason her posture infuriated him.
How dare she act the part of the well-bred lady? She drove him mad with one smile, one glance. When she cast her attention his way, he forgot everything but how much he wanted her. Where was his pride, his sense of honor? How could his body betray him like this? How could she betray Marc by looking at another man like that?
She had been there that night at Vauxhall. She had climaxed in his arms, and she had enjoyed it. The scent of her pleasure had clung to his fingers hours after they’d parted ways.
His joy at Vaughn’s acceptance of him faded in the face of the truth. Anna played a cruel game with him and with Marc, a game that could erupt into scandal and destroy everything he had worked so hard to achieve.
Tonight he would put a stop to that once and for all.
“I am so pleased I could burst,” Lavinia said as soon as the men departed. “Rome has worked so hard, and now it seems as if his dream will come true!”
Anna smiled and nodded, unable to utter a civil word. Her blood thundered through her veins, practically deafening her. Her entire body trembled with the strain of controlling her unruly emotions. She clenched her shaking fingers around her fan, the stiff spines digging into her flesh and keeping her focused on the here and now.
What had just happened, and how could it have happened with Haverford standing right there?
Lavinia moved into Haverford’s chair. “Father’s scandal affected him the most,” she confided in a low tone. “Mama was mortified, of course, and I was too young to know what had happened, just a child, really. But Rome had just finished his time at university. Suddenly the doors of Society closed in his face, as if everyone expected him to be as dishonorable as my father.” She sighed, her normally vivacious mien giving way to a mature sobriety. “If it hadn’t been for Haverford’s buying his commission, I don’t know what would have become of my brother.”
“He was fortunate that the earl is a kind man,” Anna managed, her heart aching for the outcast youth Rome had been.
Lavinia grinned and squeezed Anna’s hand. “No, you are fortunate to be marrying such a decent sort.”
“I’m not—”
“Now don’t even begin with that nonsense that your betrothal is not yet official! I think we can all see what Haverford’s intentions are.”
Anna blushed. “I hate to presume.”
Lavinia giggled. “Oh, Anna, you and Haverford are truly a perfect match.”
Were they? With such traitorous feelings confounding her normal modesty, Anna had begun to wonder if she deserved so honorable a husband as Lord Haverford.
Lavinia leaned close. “I have the pressing need to refresh myself, Anna, yet I dare not leave you unchaperoned. Do come with me.”
“Lavinia!” Scandalized at her friend’s candor, Anna glanced about, hoping no one had overheard.
“Just come with me. Please, Anna!”
The urgency in Lavinia’s voice prompted Anna to rise from her seat. “Very well.”
“Thank you!” Lavinia hurried out of the box, clearly driven by the insistence of her body’s needs. “We shall no doubt meet Haverford and Rome on the way back.”
“No doubt.” Anna trailed behind her friend and wondered with a hint of desperation when the impetuous Devereaux family would cease rattling her composure.
A bracing draught had done wonders to restore Rome’s equanimity regarding Vaughn’s possible approval, but his ire at Anna’s subtle rejection still simmered.
Haverford preceded Rome back to the box, a glass of lemonade in each hand. The crowd parted for the earl like the Red Sea before Moses, and the deference only made him feel worse. Marc had used his influence to ensure that Rome had a chance to mold his own future, and here Rome stood on the brink of insulting his cousin beyond measure. He was disgusted with himself.
They reached the box, only to find it empty.
“How puzzling,” Marc mused. “Where have the ladies gone?”
“Perhaps they are visiting another box.”
“Perhaps.” Frowning, Marc set down the two lemonades.
“I’m certain they’re together, wherever they are. Would you like me to go look for them?”
“I’ll come with you,” Haverford said, but as they turned to leave, the Duke of Brimwald entered the box, his ruddy face fixed in a frown.
“Haverford, there you are! Want to have a word with you about that sheep debacle in Leicestershire,” the duke commanded in his booming voice.
“Of course, Your Grace.” Haverford glanced meaningfully at Rome.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Rome said, bowing to Brimwald.
The duke sent Rome a look of disapproval and did not reply.
“You remember my cousin, Roman Devereaux, don’t you, Your Grace?” Haverford asked smoothly.
So challenged, the duke had no choice but to acknowledge Rome with a curt nod. “Devereaux.”
Still easing his way, thought Roman. Where would he be without his cousin’s benevolence? Rome caught Haverford’s gaze. “Shall I fetch the ladies?”
“Yes, please do.”
Needing no more urging, Rome took his leave of the gentlemen and ducked out of the box. As he wandered through the crowd, he looked for Vin and Anna, his greater height allowing him to see over the heads of most people. Finally, he spotted them talking to a slender, dark-haired man.
Who the devil was that? Alarmed, he stepped up his pace. He couldn’t see the fellow’s face, as the ladies’ companion had his back to him, but there was something familiar about that lean figure, something that sparked unease.
He reached the group and clapped the fellow on the shoulder—and found himself looking into the startled face of his brother-in-law. He quickly adjusted his hold so the warning grip he had intended became a quick squeeze of friendship. “Emberly, good to see you. I didn’t think you enjoyed the theater.”
“I don’t.” Henry Emberly gave them all a self-deprecating smile. “However, I accompanied Lord Wexley and his Russian guests. Apparently, Her Highness Princess Josefina is quite fond of the theater.”
“Henry was just saying he would like to introduce me to Her Highness.” Vin’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “However, I didn’t want to leave Anna alone.”
“The box is quite full,” Emberly said apologetically. “There is barely enough room for me and Lavinia.”
“But now that you are here,” Vin said, beaming at Rome, “you can escort Anna back to the box while I go with my husband to greet Russian royalty.”
“That would work famously.” Emberly turned his solemn dark eyes on Rome. “Can we count on your assistance, Devereaux?”
“Of course.” Rome gave Anna a taunting smile. “I will be more than happy to escort Miss Rosewood back to her seat.”
Anna suppressed a shiver at the tooth-baring grin he turned upon her. No doubt a tiger cast the same expression upon its prey minutes before devouring it. But as Lavinia happily went off on the arm of her husband, Anna found herself alone in the care of the very man she wanted to avoid.
“Shall we go back to the box? I’m certain Lord Haverford is looking for me.”
“Let’s do that.” He indicated that she should precede him. A little hesitant to have him lurking behind her, she nonetheless gathered her courage and began walking.
She kept her eyes fixed forward, every nerve aware of his lean strength only a step behind. Could she really feel the heat of his body? No, that was her imagination. He wasn’t that close. She glanced back just to be sure.
He was closer than she’d expected.
He raised an eyebrow at her, and she faced forward again, cheeks warming, pulse skittering.
She marched along like a soldier to an invisible drum, her gaze fixed on her path. As soon as she reached the Haverford box, everything would be fine. Rome would retreat to his place in the shadows, and she would be safe from him, surrounded by her parents and husband-to-be.
They turned a corner. He took her elbow and firmly steered her in the opposite direction, down a deserted hallway.
“What—?”
He clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her back against him, arms pinned to her sides. She struggled in his grasp, but she was unable to loosen his firm grip. He staggered to a door and fumbled with the door latch, then managed to thrust it open. As she dug in her heels, he hauled her into the small, dusty broom closet and abruptly released her.
She stumbled forward, gasping for a decent breath. Behind her, she heard the door shut firmly.
“Now,” he said. “We have some things to talk about…Rose.”
Chapter 8
“Are you mad?” Anna clasped a hand over her bosom to calm her pounding heart. Rose. He’d called her Rose! “Open that door at once!”
He leaned back against it, nearly blocking the light coming from the cracks. “Not until I get some answers.”
She tried to reach past him for the latch, but he didn’t budge. “You know what will happen if anyone finds us alone like this!”
He captured her gaze. “I do know. And since we don’t have much time, let’s not pretend any longer.”
Her traitorous heart skipped a beat, but she let nothing of her inner turmoil show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you have something to discuss with me, why don’t you call on me tomorrow so we can converse like civilized people?”
He leaned down so his mouth hovered near her ear. “Because I don’t feel very civilized when I’m around you…Rose.”
Fear drained the blood from her face, and her stomach dropped with a lurch. “Mr. Devereaux—”
“Please, don’t deny it,” he told her, cynicism twisting his lips. “And cease this false formality. Even if you could somehow explain away the resemblance, there’s this.” He scooped up her cameo, his fingers warm against the skin of her throat. “I remember this bauble. I remember you.”
Panic swept through her on an icy wave. “Please let me out.”
“Oh, no, not until we’ve untangled this mess.”
“A mess indeed if you will not open that door!” Her composure slipping, Anna tried to squeeze past him, but only managed to wedge her shoulder and arm behind him. She grabbed the door latch and tugged. Nothing happened.
“Not until you tell me the truth,” he said, his expression unyielding.
She jerked herself out of the snug cocoon between his body and the door and turned away, unsettled by even so brief a contact. A gentleman would have recognized the impropriety of her shoulder pressed so intimately against his back, of her hip nestled so casually against his…
Well, a gentleman would never have closed them in a closet!
She tried to put distance between them, but their cramped quarters only allowed her a single pace. She wrapped her arms around herself, ashamed at her lack of control.
“I’m
not opening this door until you answer some questions.”
She glanced back at him. “Are you trying to trick me into an indiscretion?”
His expression hardened. “My dear Anna, don’t be foolish. If anyone has been tricked, it is I.”
“What?” She spun back toward him, unable to hide her astonishment. “You’ve locked us in this closet, knowing full well that your cousin will come seeking me, and you dare claim to be the victim?”
“Spare me the indignation of the innocent.” He folded his arms and regarded her with unconcealed disgust. “What’s your game, Anna?”
“I have no game!”
“Then why were you at Vauxhall Gardens that night, calling yourself Rose? Why did you allow me to think you a doxy?”
“This is outrageous!”
“Oh, come now.” He advanced on her, forcing her backwards up against the closet wall. “You never denied my assumptions. You let me believe you a lightskirt, and I treated you accordingly.”
Caught between the wall and his lean body, she couldn’t escape the heat of him, the scent. One whiff of his cologne transported her back to that dark niche at Vauxhall, when he’d touched her so scandalously.
So deliciously.
She forced the feelings back and looked up into his eyes, unable to maintain her pretense of denial. “And what of you, sir? Do you make a habit of associating with that set?”
“What I was doing there makes no difference. I wasn’t breaking every rule of society.” He cast a searing glance over her body. “I am not promised to anyone.”
Her pulse raced. She was trapped by the only other person in the world who knew her secret. Would he expose her? Would he confess his sins to Haverford, claiming ignorance as his petition for forgiveness?
“It was a private party. Only members of a certain organization were supposed to be present.” She cocked her head to the side. “Are you a member?”
“A guest of one, actually.” He leaned closer. “Now what were you doing there?”
“That’s none of your affair.”
“You made it my affair, Anna, when you allowed me to put my hands on you.”
Debra Mullins Page 10