When the music stopped, he counted out the minutes for everyone to exit their boxes and seats, waiting patiently.
He stared through the decorative grill that covered a portion of the wall just under the box seating. A small latch was level with his elbow on the inside, and the hinges were well oiled so he could exit without revealing the secret passage. He would only need a few seconds to succeed in his planned game.
Pulling out his watch, he checked the time. Intermission was nearly over … and then he heard her distinctive laugh, delayed behind the rest of the patrons returning to their boxes—she was following his instructions to a T. He grinned and counted each step she took toward the stairs going up to her box.
“I can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner,” Lady Charlotte said to her cousin and Lady Carleton. “I need to make use of the retiring room. Go on up without me; I won’t be overlong.”
She didn’t give them the opportunity to tell her no, and made her way down the stairs and then along the empty corridor toward the retiring room.
“Hurry back to us,” Lady Carleton said as she took Genny’s arm and led her chaperone back into the private box. Her tone seemed almost conspiratorial. Did she suspect Lady Charlotte was seeking out an admirer?
On the heels of that thought his body tensed—had he been discovered? And which was he … an admirer or a friend? He’d worry about those details later. Right now, he had a lady to steal away, and he moved into action.
Turning up the latch, he pushed the screen out that covered the hidden passage and reached for Lady Charlotte before she could wander farther away from him. He was quick to place his bare hand over her mouth and said in a low voice meant only for her, “It’s me,” so she didn’t cry out in fright and give his presence away. Not that anyone aside from a few ushers down the hall would take notice.
When he had Lady Charlotte safely ensconced in the servants’ walkway, he released her, turned her about while holding both her upper arms, and pressed a finger to her lips to bid her to hold her tongue. With a motion of his head, he led her along the tunnel that would take them to the dressing rooms, though they wouldn’t be going so far as that. Once they reached the belly of the theater he turned her around to face him once again.
Her eyes were bright with mischief, her smile secretive.
He tore his gaze away from the temptation of her lips. “We don’t have much time,” he said. “But I wanted to see you once more before you were off to Hertfordshire.”
“You did?”
“We had an agreement, my lady, and I would not renege on it.”
His reassurance had her visibly relaxing and at ease. “Have you come up with a plan, then?”
He put his hands out, indicating the dim tunnels around them. “You are in the midst of it. What will everyone say when you arrive back at the box late?”
“I simply said I would freshen up in the retiring room.”
“Yes, but you managed to come unescorted. How do you suppose that will look to all those in the audience that keep tipping their opera glasses in your direction?”
“That’s a good point.” She brushed away a loose tendril of hair from her brow. “So I’m to create a stir in the gossip columns with my mysterious disappearance for all of fifteen minutes?”
“My dear, dear lady. This is only the start of you stepping out of line in society.” He rubbed his hand down the length of her arm. “We will take it slowly.”
“I don’t have time to take this slowly, Castleigh. Come to think on it, I’m surprised Genny didn’t escort me.” She chewed worriedly on her lower lip.
He stepped closer, wanting to touch her. “She’s probably regretting that choice right now.”
“No doubt. And should she come looking for me, and I’m not where I’m supposed to be … Well, hell hath no fury like my cousin deceived.” She ran her fingers along the wall as she walked deeper into the tunnel. “Where does this lead?”
“To the dressing rooms.”
She turned back to him, giving him a shrewd look. “We could be caught together in a dressing room.”
“I can promise you that no one of importance would take note of it. I thought we had already discussed this?” He pointedly adjusted his cravat. “I also recall telling you that I liked my head attached to my neck.”
She sighed and stepped closer to him once again. “Breaking a few rules here and there simply won’t work. It won’t be enough to end my engagement.”
She rubbed her fingers over the lapel of his jacket, stopping mid-waist before leaning her face closer to his. If he stole a kiss, would it rekindle the fire that had burned so deep in them only a few days ago? Would she pull away from him this time? He decided he would wait her out, have her initiate the kiss once again.
“I think you should ruin me,” she whispered close to his mouth.
She didn’t know what she was truly asking for. Perhaps he hadn’t heard her right.
Her gaze dropped to his lips and then turned back up to meet his eyes. Her pupils were dilated and it wasn’t simply because of the dim light. “My father won’t call you out.”
He gave a slight shake of his head. Charlotte underestimated the lengths to which a man like her father would go to obtain what he wanted—he was ruthless in all his dealings.
“If you were my daughter—and thank God you are not—I would call out any man that dared to lay so much as a finger on you.”
She inched closer. The press of her skirts against his shins and the heat of her body were a welcome intimacy. His body tightened with anticipation, with a need so strong to pull her against him that it took everything he had to hold back.
“Are you thinking of touching me?” she asked in a husky voice that nearly undid him.
He slid the tips of his fingers over her jawline until they reached the soft point of her chin. Her head was tilted up, her lips parted in invitation.
“The things I imagine doing to you…”
She pressed her lips together and swallowed. “I think it’s very hard for you to resist ruining me.”
“No man could resist your charms for long, my lady.”
“Except you,” she had the audacity to point out.
His eyes narrowed. Was she goading him into making the first move? She had less than ten minutes to find her way back to her seat. A lot could happen in ten minutes. A kiss could happen, a whole conversation could happen … He could press her against the wall, hike her skirts up around her thighs as she locked her ankles around his back …
When he did nothing more than stare at her, she let out a sigh and looked away from him. “Stealing me away tonight won’t be enough to stop my wedding.”
“This meeting wasn’t intended to stop your nuptials. I wanted to see you again before you left to rusticate in the countryside.”
She gasped and her attention snapped back to him. He could no longer wait for her to make the first move. There was no sense in delaying a pleasure they both wanted.
He bloody well wanted her but didn’t know how he would ever be able to keep her without her father putting an end to it. Drunk on his own thoughts of desire and need, he stole her next breath with a kiss, and wrapped his arm around her, placing the flat of his hand to the small of her back. He walked her back a few steps until she was pressed to the brick wall. Her lips were just as soft as he remembered, her tongue shy as his explored her mouth. The tentative thrust of her tongue against his had all the blood in his body rushing south.
Oh, he wanted more. He wanted complete possession of her.
One of her hands wormed its way beneath his starched cravat, and the other hand squeezed his upper arm as she pressed deeply into the kiss—allowing herself to be consumed by the fervor that seized them.
What was he doing kissing Lady Charlotte in the dark of the theater? What did he intend for their future and that of Mr. Warren?
He released her mouth and turned his head aside. One of his hands was wrapped around her back, the other rested on the wall next to
her head. The only sound to be heard was their heavy breathing.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I thought that much was obvious.” His voice was sardonic.
Pushing off the wall, he summoned the strength to take a step away from her. He stared at her in the dark, trying to make out the puzzlement in her expression. She didn’t move; she just stared at him as though she didn’t know precisely what to say.
“Say something,” he said in a more placating tone.
“I don’t understand you, nor do your actions shed any light on your intentions. You confound me, sir.”
Tristan scratched his head and blew out a stream of air. Hell, he himself couldn’t figure out his intentions. “You’ll be leaving for three weeks. I wanted to see you. I can only come up with one solution where you’re concerned.”
“Marriage,” she whispered, and looked away from him.
“Can you think of a better alternative?”
She shook her head, never breaking her gaze from his. “I need to think on it even though it is the most logical solution. I never wanted to marry in the first place. So why should I say yes to you? It’s all so sudden.”
Her words stung his pride. Was it so difficult to contemplate marriage with him? “Have you got another plan up your sleeve that you aren’t sharing with me?”
“If I did, I’d certainly not be as worried about my predicament as I have been.” She stepped away from the wall, a frown creasing her forehead. “I don’t know how to respond to your offer. It’s generous, but extreme.”
“Say no more.” Tristan took her hand and led her back through the tunnels in the direction of the private box she occupied. Was she purposely unmanning him? Or worse … perhaps she only saw him as a means to an end. Did she care so little for him despite their similarities?
Now he had to question his sanity in coming here in the first place. When they stopped at the small door that opened to the stairs leading to her box, he turned her to face him.
“Write to me while you are gone.” His request sounded like a plea to his own ears.
“I cannot refuse the opportunity.” She pressed her hand over his upper arm. “We’ll have to be circumspect.”
“I assume your lady’s maid travels with you.”
She nodded.
“Is she trustworthy?”
“Yes,” she said, barely above a whisper.
After a pregnant pause, he said, “Think on my offer.”
Not being able to withstand another no, he opened the latch, ushered her out of the small passageway, and closed it before anyone noticed his presence.
A handful of questions bombarded him the second she was gone. Had he made a mistake in seeing Lady Charlotte tonight? Would she refuse his offer of help if he could think of nothing other than marriage? Would she cut him off after he’d been so bold with her tonight?
He inched back into the shadows, never so unsure of himself in all his life.
Chapter 10
A romantic opera spurs foolish lovers into rash decision making. There were two notable absences at the opera during the second act. One Lady C____ disappeared for more than a quarter hour. And would you believe that Lady H____ never returned to her box for the second half of the opera? That is quite odd considering her companions were still present.
—The Mayfair Chronicles, July 1846
Dear Lord Marquess,
Should I describe my daily activities or would you prefer an accounting of everyone here and who I think they might be smitten with? I’m not sure what else to say other than … I have been thinking about your suggestion. I cannot thank you enough for your assistance with my … predicament.
C
My dearest lady,
It would do you well to take lessons in letter writing. Still using “Lord Marquess”? I certainly hope the person handling your letters is discreet. My last two days have been spent in idyllic amusement: a picnic in Hyde Park with my children, then dinner and cards at a friend’s. Sadly, my daughter convinced … No, rather she coerced my son and me to sit at tea with her this morning. I wasn’t forced to wear an apron; my son, on the other hand, will certainly be traumatized at the very thought of tea with his sister again. Did I mention that the other guests were a porcelain creation from Paris—very sophisticated—and a brown bear wearing a dress that hails all the way from Russia?
T
Dear T,
I haven’t quite decided how I should address you in my letters. “Lord Marquess” seemed most natural since you appear larger than life to all the ladies who cannot spot a rogue at twenty paces. I on the other hand have proved much wiser than my age might suggest. I do wish I could have attended your tea party, only I would have made you put on an apron. How can you truly play along without stepping into the role completely?
The only idyllic pleasures to be had at present in this dreadful heat are walks in the garden with my dearest friend and Mr. T____. The man is always three steps behind us—I fear we’ll have no time to ourselves because of his constant presence. He’s an odd character, but kind to my friend, so I cannot complain about his poor attempts at poetry.
Your friend,
Char
My darling C,
You really must be more imaginative than “T.” Perhaps I will start calling you Lotte? Mayhap my given name is best. So long as you do not start quoting from Tristan and Iseult, unfortunately where my name derived from—my mother’s favorite story or some rot.
Is there no gossip to be had yet? Already a week has passed, and not one scandal has been printed in the rags. I’m almost disappointed. Perhaps I should have attended.
T
Dear T,
What happened to being discreet about our names? If you address me as Lotte, I’ll be forced to address you with an equally horrible rendition of your name. I have a strong aversion to Lotte. Lady H____ used to call me Little Lotte as a child. I felt like one of her corgis when she called to me in her shrill voice.
Char
“To whom are you penning another letter?” Ariel leaned over Charlotte’s shoulder.
Charlotte turned to her friend. They had escaped to Charlotte’s room to have an hour to themselves—an hour without Mr. Torrance hovering close at hand. “You can’t guess?”
“Oh, let me have a look, then.” Ariel slid the parchment from the desk so she could read the correspondence. “You are using tales about our childhood to seduce your marquess?” Her friend tsked. “You must be a temptress if you are to succeed in the plan we devised for you.”
Charlotte took the paper back from her friend. She hadn’t told Ariel that the marquess had refused to be caught in a compromising situation. And she definitely hadn’t told her friend that he’d offered marriage.
“I’m working my way around to that. These things take time, Ariel.”
There was an excited gleam of challenge in her friend’s eyes. “Let me help you pen something fabulously scandalous.”
“For a young lady with a mother that is the paragon of all that is virtuous, you should be—”
“More prudent in life?”
Charlotte grinned at her friend. “No. Just a little more innocent than you are.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we befriended each other at so young an age, otherwise I might have turned out exactly like my mother.” Ariel visibly cringed.
“And that would have been such a waste of a brilliant mind.” Charlotte pushed the paper toward her friend and stood from the vanity that faced the open window in her room. “You can replicate my handwriting. Sit.” She motioned to the now empty chair. “We’ll write it together.”
Having Ariel write her correspondence, at least this once, helped Charlotte put distance between her and the marquess. She was developing a tendre, which simply wouldn’t do. It was those damnable kisses that had started her feelings in that direction. In fact, that first kiss had changed everything between them.
“How is he supposed to take you ser
iously, when you compare yourself to Mama’s corgis?”
“But it’s the truth. And I really can’t allow him to address me as Lotte. So it stays. What do you think we should write next?”
“What has he said to you in previous letters?”
She didn’t want to mention that he had talked openly about his children right from the start, which was silly on her part. She truly was developing an attachment to him. Worse, she hadn’t even been able to tell Ariel that she’d been well and truly kissed by the marquess, and on two separate occasions.
She wasn’t sure why she had kept that a secret, but she didn’t want to tell anyone about what had transpired because she was still trying to make sense of it all. Maybe Ariel could make better sense of it than she? What Charlotte needed to do was detach her feelings from those kisses and not think of the marquess as a suitable match. She pressed her fingers to her mouth and sat on the edge of her bed. But what if those kisses had meant more to him, too?
Ariel looked up at her, tapping the top of the pen against her lips. “You should talk about wanting to see him again.”
“He’ll get the wrong impression.” She flopped back on her bed and stared up at the sprigged white canopy. “What if I tell him that his correspondence is in competition with Mr. Warren’s? Would the attention of another man draw his interest to me?”
“That might well work. But of course it’s a complete lie since I know for a fact you’ve received no correspondence from Mr. Warren. Why don’t you tell him about the letter your father sent?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and threw her arm over her eyes. She hated to think about that letter. It had been short, concise, and demanding. If she told the marquess that her father was moving up the announcement of her engagement, what would he do? She’d already turned down his offer of marriage—not that he’d properly thought through what he was asking. He couldn’t have really wanted such an outcome.
“I’m not ready to talk about my father’s demands,” Charlotte said. “I wish I could convince Papa how wrong he is to rush this.”
“But your impending marriage to Mr. Warren is precisely the reason you befriended the marquess—he’s to help you stop your engagement.”
Midnight Temptations With a Forbidden Lord Page 13