Page 48 of Never a Duchess
ChapterNine
Covent Garden Theatre
Bow Street
“We’ll wait here for you,” Adam said from the dim confines of his carriage. “You’re to keep to the shadows. Under no circumstances are you to venture into the main auditorium.”
Hearing every word, Lillian nodded. Yet her mind and body were in the verdant boxwood maze, reliving the moment Dounreay’s tongue danced with hers. How he’d touched her so intimately she thought she might die from the pleasure.
No wonder ladies lost their heads.
Kissing Dounreay was beyond divine.
“Keep the hood of your cloak raised,” Eliza warned. “You’re bound to encounter a rakehell or two in the corridors. They’ll likely be sotted. Let them think you’re an actress or Dounreay’s mistress.”
The last role had immense appeal.
A groan left Adam’s lips. “Perhaps we should come with you.”
“Dounreay will protect me.” It was time Adam got used to hearing gossip about his wayward sister. A woman determined tolivewould feature regularly in theScandal Sheet. Still, she had to be somewhat mindful of her reputation for her family’s sake. “Do you have the letter?”
Adam reached into his coat pocket and handed her the letter Mr Daventry had procured from Viscount Melbourne. The peer served as Prime Minister and Home Secretary and had given written consent for Mr Daventry’s agents to investigate the poisoning of a Scotsman on English soil.
Adam withdrew his watch and observed the time beneath the lamplight. “It’s almost eleven. The performance will end soon. Best get inside before the audience emerges.”
As if he had read her brother’s mind, Dounreay appeared from his vehicle and entered the alley off Bow Street. As arranged, he waited for her in the gloomy passageway. A masterful figure in the darkness.
It was Lillian’s cue to join him. “I shall be thirty minutes at most unless Madame Delafont is disobliging.” She raised the hood of her blue travelling cloak and climbed down from the carriage.
Scanning left and right, she hurried into the alley.
The thrill of this dangerous encounter had her pulse galloping faster than a Derby winner. Or did it stem from being in Dounreay’s presence so soon after they had kissed and touched each other intimately.
He seemed unaffected.
“Do ye have the letter?” he said, his shoulders tense, his voice devoid of the sensual undertone that melted her insides.
She gave him Lord Melbourne’s letter, which he read briefly before taking her hand and leading further along the grimy passage.
“Is everything all right?” He seemed preoccupied. Did he regret kissing her so deeply, touching her so scandalously?
He sighed. “I shall feel better once ye’re safely inside.”
“Oh, you’re worried someone might see me?”
“What else?”
“You might wish you’d not kissed me tonight.”
He cast her a sidelong glance, the familiar glint returning to eyes as warm as a winter fire. “I like kissing ye. I thought I had made that clear.”
“Good. Because I like kissing you.” She hid a smile. Satisfied in the knowledge she would feel his mouth on hers again soon.
Dounreay stopped at a paint-chipped door and hammered hard with his clenched fist. The stench of urine and other unpleasant smells hung in the air, invading her nostrils, making her want to retch.
A minute or two later—after the third attempt to rouse someone’s attention—the door flew open, and a thin, bespectacled man glared at them.
“You’ll find the main entrance on Bow Street.”
