“Russell, stop.” Jonas scrubbed a hand down his face, smearing the soot. “It no longer matters what he did. Our father is gone. Dwelling on his mistakes won’t make me miss him any less, and I don’t think it helps you either.”
Russell’s throat squeezed. Jonas was right. Learning of his father’s lies didn’t erase his grief. It only intensified the hollow ache that had been inside of him since his father died.
Jonas released a noisy exhale. “I know this doesn’t change anything between us. I’m sorry that I said anything. I never meant to tell you.”
“You must be kidding.” Russell scowled. “Apologize for being disorganized or too stubborn to follow my advice, but don’t ever say you are sorry for being my brother. I’m not sorry for it, and I won’t turn my back on you.”
Jonas shook his head in disbelief. “Gads! You sounded just like him for a moment. Your voice, not your words. I never realized how similar you sound. Why am I the only one to inherit his lack of business sense?”
His observation erased some of Russell’s anger. “That is a mystery we are unlikely to solve today. Why don’t we get out of here? My eyes are burning.”
“You are just making excuses because you are about to cry.”
Russell smiled grudgingly. “Go to the devil.”
When they stepped outside the cast and crew entrance, Russell gulped the fresh air. Tilde sidled up to him. “Benny took Claudine home. She was dizzy and wanted to lie down.”
“How are you?”
“I had a scare, but I am all right. I can’t believe someone would set the fire intentionally and try to trap Claudine and me. Lars thinks someone slipped past the guards. There have been several robberies in the neighborhood, and a woman was assaulted not long ago.”
He grimaced, recalling the guard who had left his post one day. A new man had been at the cast and crew entrance the next day. Russell found the other guard had been assigned to the front door, and when Russell had made the rounds each day after that incident, all three guards were where they were supposed to be.
Lars had cornered the guard at the cast and crew entrance and was firing questions at him. “You saw no one coming or going who doesn’t belong here.”
“No, sir. Only the usual.”
“Has anyone questioned the other men?” Russell asked.
“The guard at the front door reported the same thing,” Natalia said. “Nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, now that you use the cast and crew entrance, he said people rarely come to that door.”
Jane raised her hand. “Anastasia and I spoke with the guard at the side entrance. He said the door is kept locked, and he doesn’t know what he is doing there.”
Jonas groaned. “Thank you, Jane. I will provide further instruction, so he is prepared for tomorrow night.”
“Are we still performing tomorrow?” she asked.
“Is the stage still standing?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is anyone seriously hurt?”
“No, sir. I don’t believe so.”
Jonas shrugged. “Then opening night will continue as planned. Go gather your belongings. Mr. Hawke wants us to stay in a hotel tonight while the smoke clears out.”
Russell inclined his head. If he had thought of it first, he would have been the one to suggest it. He had to admit that even though Jonas didn’t have a head for numbers, he had a knack for working with people, and in the theatre business, the players were the most important resource.
“Jerome and Salem will keep watch over the ashes for a while to make sure the fire doesn’t catch again,” Jonas said to him as the cast went inside for their belongings. “The second guards will come this evening and keep watch all night as usual.”
“Very good.”
When the cast had packed their essentials, everyone piled into two hacks and moved to the Clarendon temporarily. Russell secured two rooms—one for Tilde and Lars, and a second for the women. His brother could stay in his rooms. While a footman escorted the others above stairs, he pulled Jonas aside.
“If a stranger didn’t come into the Drayton and set the fire, you realize what that indicates.”
“One of the cast or crew is responsible? No, I know them well. This wasn’t the work of anyone at the Drayton. It is their home. They are a family.”
Russell wanted to believe that was true, but it would be foolish to rule out anyone as a suspect now. “I want to look in on Claudine. Order food for everyone, but keep it reasonable. We have three sisters expecting to make debuts in the next few years.”
Jonas’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you think they will want to meet me someday?”
“I am certain of it, but we shouldn’t rush a meeting. It will take some time for my mother to accept the situation.”
It would take time for her to accept Claudine also, but he refused to wait any longer for her approval. After almost losing Claudine a second time, he knew what he wanted, and knowing what his father gave up to fulfill his obligations reinforced that he wouldn’t repeat his father’s mistake. Claudine was his destiny, and he would be damned if anyone kept them apart.
RESISTING ROMEO
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Claudine’s dizziness had subsided on the ride home, and now she wished she hadn’t allowed Benny to convince her to leave the theatre. She couldn’t stop worrying about Russell and Oliver. If they had come to blows this afternoon, she didn’t know how the rift could be smoothed over between them, because they were equally obstinate.
She was concerned about Tilde, too. Her friend had sworn she was all right, but Claudine would feel better if she had stayed longer to make certain, especially when her friend had just revealed earlier that day she suspected she was with child. Tilde had been planning to tell Lars this evening.
Benny appeared in the drawing room doorway. “Mr. Hawke has come to see after you.”
Claudine tossed her book on the side table. “How does he look?”
A gouge appeared between Benny’s rust-colored eyebrows. “He looks the same as he always does, Miss Claudine.”
She smiled. “Of course he does. I wasn’t thinking. Please, show him in.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Benny, is something wrong?”
He shook his head. “It’s just that Mr. Hawke told me the players are staying at the Clarendon tonight. I didn’t have a chance to see if Miss Rachel and the others were all right before we left. I hope they are well.”
Her heart warmed in response to his devotion to the other players. “I am concerned for Tilde, too. Perhaps you could take the carriage and look in on them. I’m sure they will be happy to see you.”
“But Mrs. Voss has gone for the night.”
She rose from the sofa, thinking she might need to retrieve Russell from the foyer before he began to wonder if she planned to turn him away. “I am sure Mr. Hawke will stay until you return.”
“I’m happy to stay as long as necessary.” Russell’s baritone voice washed over her, sending a thrill straight to her lower belly. Benny stepped aside as Russell approached to allow him access to the drawing room. “I hope you don’t mind that I found my own way. I was becoming concerned that it was taking so long.”
Claudine greeted him with kisses on his cheeks. “I am glad you came. Is Tilde all right?”
“She seems to have recovered from the fright. Lars, on the other hand, has been on a tear.”
“I am not surprised.” She smiled fondly at Benny, who hadn’t stopped fidgeting, revealing his impatience to leave. “Please give our friends my best, and don’t be concerned about rushing back. As Mr. Hawke said, he will keep me company as long as necessary.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A wide smile spread across his face, and he shot off without saying good-bye.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked Russell. “I might have some brandy in the study.”
“No, thank you. I don’t want you to question if I have my wi
ts about me tonight.”
She laughed and pulled the drawing room doors closed to allow them privacy until Benny left. “That certainly is cryptic.”
His eyes twinkled as he placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the sofa. “It is a relief to find you in a good humor after today’s ordeal.”
“Seeing you in one piece has restored my humor,” she said. “Now, tell me you left Oliver untouched, and I will be delighted.”
“We didn’t come to blows, although it was close.” He bade her to sit and joined her on the sofa. “Actually, I received a blow of a different nature.”
She sobered. “Was the damage worse than it appeared?”
“No, nothing of that nature. The stagehands are airing out the building, and we will go on stage as planned.”
She pursed her lips, wiggling them slowly side to side as she tried to puzzle out what type of blow he meant. He tugged off his gloves and draped them over the sofa arm. She had removed hers when she’d arrived and hadn’t donned another pair, since she wasn’t expecting visitors.
He skimmed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I cannot stop thinking about kissing these sweet lips.” Her heart skipped as his hazel eyes darkened. “This feels right, being with you.”
“Oui,” she said on a breath. “But feelings are not to be trusted, especially when one has a duty to fulfill.”
“Is sacrificing one’s own happiness the only honorable choice?” His smile lacked humor. “I think not, Claudine. My father made a mistake many men do. He chose duty over love. It is the ultimate betrayal to turn one’s back on the one he loves, don’t you think?”
She blinked as the significance of his words hit her. He was saying he loved her. She could barely believe it was true—not because she hadn’t felt the strength of the connection they shared. She did, and God help her, she loved him, too. But she couldn’t comprehend what good would come from acknowledging it. What place would she ever have in his life?
“Furthermore, it was a betrayal of my mother. My father knew his heart wasn’t his to give anymore. I cannot repeat his mistake. I won’t.” Russell leaned closer, sliding his hand to her cheek. “My heart doesn’t belong to me anymore either, Claudine.”
“What has become of it?” Her voice sounded sultry, challenging. She wanted to hear him speak the words aloud.
“I’ve lost my heart to you, mon amour.”
“Russell...” She captured his face between her palms and pressed her mouth to his. The kiss was soft, earnest, and too fleeting to satisfy her craving, but she refused to repeat her own mistakes. She was not meant to be his mistress. When she drew back, her chin quivered slightly. “What are we to do?”
“Do you love me, too?”
“Yes.” She dropped her forehead against his chest. “Yes, and I cannot see how we can ever be together.”
Russell cupped her nape, sliding his fingers into her hair and placed a kiss on her head.
“Stop dwelling on what is possible.” He tipped her face up to brush his lips across hers. “Tell me what you want.” His breath feathered over her cheek, warming her blood, sending it rushing through her veins.
“I want to belong to you,” she whispered.
When he slipped from the sofa and knelt on one knee, she gasped. He cupped her hands between his and gazed at her with such tenderness that she thought she might cry. “I want you for my wife. I cannot promise our life will be uncomplicated, but with my love comes my unwavering loyalty. I will stand beside you until death parts us. Please, tell me that you want to be with me forever. Tell me that you will marry me.”
The obstacles in their way seemed plentiful. Her past, her work on stage, Russell’s mother. She didn’t know how they would overcome them all, but she focused on that one little word that held so much power with her: destiny. She felt it, too. Russell was made for her, and she was meant for him. To run from one’s destiny was a thousand times more foolish than facing the barriers together.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I will marry you.”
His smile was a brief flash before his lips touched hers. The kiss was tender and sweet, and it awakened a hunger that had been dormant in her for too long. She buried her hands in his hair, angling his head to fit their mouths together more perfectly. He softly nipped at her mouth, capturing first her bottom lip and then her top between his. Their breathing grew jagged; the sound of his breath churning stoked the fire smoldering inside of her. She didn’t possess the same restraint he had. With a low moan, she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.
Russell wrapped his arms around her waist, dragged her from the sofa, and sank to the carpet with her straddling him. Their bodies were pressed together tight—lips, chests, thighs. She yearned for the feel of his hot skin against hers. His hands kneaded her bottom, exploring at his leisure while the tip of his tongue teased her mouth. She arched into him, needing to be closer still, and rocked her pelvis against his.
His restraint slipped, and he groaned against her mouth. She grasped his cravat and untied it before tossing it on the sofa and removing his jacket. She had started on his waistcoat when he abandoned all pretense of reining in his desire and deftly unfastened the back of her gown. He yanked the neckline, and her gown fell off her shoulders. Her breasts swelled above her corset, and he traced the curve of each with his fingers.
“My beautiful love,” he murmured to her in French. “I want to look at all of you.”
She helped him pull the dress over her head and unfasten the front of her corset. When she was free of her undergarments and stockings, she reclined on the carpet beside him. He propped his head on his hand and gazed down at her. She had never been shy of her body, but she bore scars she hadn’t shown anyone, and she was a bit apprehensive of his reaction. He drew slow circles on her skin with the backs of his fingers; his touch was light and intoxicating. When he reached a puckered line just above her navel, he didn’t attempt to avoid it. He skimmed the crooked outline then leaned forward to place his lips to it.
“So beautiful everywhere,” he murmured.
He settled his body between her legs and kissed a slow trail down her stomach and along her inner thigh. When he placed a kiss on her curls, she sank into the plush carpet, allowing him to love her completely without reservation. With tender kisses and sweeps of his tongue over her flesh, he brought her to the brink of climax but didn’t carry her over the edge. He lifted to his knees to shed his waistcoat and shirt and unfastened his trousers.
Claudine sat up to push his trousers from his hips, running her hands over his strong thighs, firm bottom, and the curves of his lower back. He kicked free of his boots and trousers then cradled her nape as he laid her back on the carpet and kissed her.
“I ache from wanting you,” he whispered.
She arched toward him, cupping his hip as she angled her body, giving herself to him. He held her gaze as he slid into her and kissed her when he filled her completely, smoothing her hair from her forehead. “I love you.”
When he withdrew and drove back into her, she met his thrust. His eyes flared and fire smoldered within their dark depths. She grasped his shoulder and rolled her hips again. He laced their fingers together and moved with her. They murmured endearments to one another between kisses as their bodies responded with a rhythm uniquely theirs.
When Russell ground his hips against her, she gasped at the pleasure he brought her. He grinned, showing his dimple. “Do you like that, mon amour?”
“No,” she teased. He repeated the motion, and she moaned. “Oui,” she said on an exhale. “I do.”
He rewarded her honesty with another sensual thrust, and he didn’t stop. She clutched at his back as her pleasure became too expansive to contain. When she came, the intensity of it brought her off the carpet, and she cried out. A heartbeat later, his husky voice sounded in her ear as he reached his climax, too. He dissolved against her without placing his full weight on her. His labored breathing stirred her hair and caressed her neck.
She stared up at the ceiling in wonder with her body wrapped around his. Her heart slammed hard against her chest in time with his. Tears filled her eyes and slipped from the corners to run down her cheeks.
Russell drew back. A crease appeared between his strong brows. “You are crying.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why.”
He kissed each of her cheeks. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She shook her head, her hair shushing against the carpet. “It has never been like this before. I am slightly overwhelmed.”
He smiled softly as he settled beside her and gathered her against his side. “I think this is how it is supposed to be when two people are made for one another.”
She laid her head against his chest and silently thanked the fates for bringing him into her life. “I love you, Russell.”
“And I love you.”
Once they had recovered, they gathered their clothing and retired to her bedchamber to make love again. Afterward, they lay tangled in her sheets, lying on their sides facing one another. He told her about his discovery that afternoon.
“I never knew Oliver was your brother,” she said and smoothed the damp hair from his forehead. “No one ever spoke of his father, except once. Oliver’s mother told me he had been an actor, and she had loved him deeply. Then she told me I needed to learn to mind my own affairs. It’s no wonder that your mother wants you to sell the Drayton. How can she not be reminded of your father every time she hears its name? Are you certain you shouldn’t sell it?”
“I’ve decided not to sell the theatre, but I can’t keep it either.” He captured her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Oliver is right. The Drayton is his inheritance. I believe our father wanted it to be his. Would you be in favor of me signing over the theatre to my brother?”
She blinked. “Why should I have a say? It is your property, and of course I don’t mind.”
“I asked because you are my partner.” He grabbed her, flipping her beneath him and raining kisses on her face. “You agreed to marry me, remember? Below stairs? Just before you lost your clothes and laid on the carpet? Remember?”
Once Upon A Regency Page 13