Page 62 of Teach a Rogue New Tricks
Ada elbowed him. Then she felt a rush of relief course through her. If he froze at the mention of courting, marriage couldn’t be on his mind.
Her father guffawed, a loud, hearty thing, and playfully punched Cass on the shoulder. “You know you have a rival, Lord Albee.”
Oh no. She’d not yet told anyone about the letter she’d written to Lucas yesterday. No one knew, and she refused to announce it on the street.
Cass nodded slowly, rubbing his shoulder where her father had punched him. He snuck a glance at Ada, raised an eyebrow, cocked one side of his mouth upward. “I don’t think there’s much competition at all.” He returned his attention to her father, stood straighter, seemed to gain a military bearing as he squared his shoulders. “But I’ll fight for her all the same.”
Any relief Ada had felt disappeared, drained right out of her feet, seeped through her boots, and flowed like rainwater down the walkway.
Her father chuckled, unperturbed by such momentous announcements. He slapped Cass on the back. “Lord Albee, we are attending the theatre tonight. Join us.”
Cass scratched his jaw. “Hmm. I do not think I have other plans.”
“But you must.” Ada stepped between the two men. “You’re a busy viscount, after all.”
“But few know yet I’m in town,” Cass said.
“That can be remedied.” He’d warned her plenty of times. Surely, he noticed the warning now in her voice.
He smiled at her father. “I am free, and I would be delighted to join you.”
Her father stepped back into the house, a satisfied grin on his face. “Excellent. I look forward to it, Lord Albee. I need another man about to keep me company and relieve me from this bevy of women. Delightful though they all may be, I miss my nephew Jackson’s male companionship. I look forward to this evening, my lord. Come along, Ada.”
Ada followed her father on numb legs. Before he shut the door behind them, she glanced over her shoulder at Cass. He winked, the door closed, and he disappeared.
Shehad never felt so lost as she did now. What did the man mean with all his talk of marriage? He’d accepted an invitation to the theatre! From her father! Looked like courtship, that did. Impossible.
Not because she thought he’d never marry or was not good enough to marry but because now, more than ever before, he oozed rake, rogue, dangerous man.
What had happened at Astley’s had been some sort of turning point for him, and he’d returned to his old ways. Nora and Willow had the right of it. He intended to seduce her. A new intention but unmistakable nonetheless. Because the other option—courtship, marriage—could not possibly explain his actions
“Ada?” Her father’s voice, gruff with concern. “Are you unwell?”
She shook her head. “Not at all, Papa.” She flew up the stairs.
“Ada!” he called after her.
When she shut herself behind her bedroom door, she shut his panic-laced voice out, too, and she turned and rested her forehead against the silken wood with a groan.
Seduction or courtship? Which game did he play? If it were marriage, she could not play along. She’d just taken her freedom for herself. She would not give it up so easily. But if it were seduction…
No, she couldn’t play that one, either. Rather, sheshouldn’t.
But why not? The usual answer for an unmarried woman was that she could not lose her innocence to a man not her husband. She’d leapt over that gate long ago with Lucas. She had no innocence to give a husband, and she did not intend to wed the man she’d slept with, so why not use her experience for herself? And since she had determined to never marry, she held no worry about angering a husband with an amorous past.
She shook her head, scraping her skin until it burned red and raw. She couldn’t. Not again. Could she?
Chapter Seventeen
Adastepped out of the Cavendish family coach and onto the street, craning her head back to look up at the massive edifice before her—the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. A week ago, her heart would have yearned for the theatre and its fantastical contents, but her feet would have thought to run—so big, so crowded, so different from her usual scene and pace of living. Now, her feet ached to dance, to tear into the building and find their box, damn the crowds, the size, the pace.
Damn. Ha. Not language befitting a lady. Cassius was rubbing off on her.
And it did not feel like a bad thing. In fact, rubbing might prove a very good thing indeed.
“Ada. Ada!”
Ada blinked out of her excited haze, hiding her surely blushing cheeks.
