Page 92 of Unforeseen Affairs
They’d stolen away from their private box, and were moving purposefully through the empty halls back toward the entrance gallery. It was, at last, time to enact their plan.
As they approached the landing at the top of the grand staircase, Charlotte felt her heart leap, and her skin prickled all over her body.
A warning?
She frowned. No, surely not.
Even still, she stopped and put out her hand, which ended up on Colin’s chest as he ran into it from behind her. He halted immediately, his brows drawn.
“What is it?”
He looked awfully nice, dressed in a jacket and trousers that were slightly more fashionable than his usual stuffy garments, the ones more befitting a naval man.How did he look in his uniform?she wondered, not for the first time.
She did not realize until just then how fond she was of the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. She felt a small smile lift the corners of her lips, which she did not bother to conceal.
“Nothing,” she breathed.
And then she pulled him to her, and kissed him roundly. It felt good to be able to touch him whenever she wished. He slid his arms around her, melting into her heat, then pushed her back against the wall. Charlotte allowed him to take over, and she tilted her head to the side so that his mouth slid away from hers and down to her neck, sending a shock of pleasure throughout her body. He had said he would marry her, if only to protect her…
A loud, collective gasp from within the auditorium caused them both to jump.
Colin chuckled, but she could feel his heart racing underneath her hand upon his chest. She tried to ignore the thrumming of her own heartbeat.
Their passion halted for now, he placed one more gentle kiss upon her cheek.
“Shall we get on with it, then?”
Charlotte nodded, still feeling strange at the thought of being his wife. But the longer the notion stayed with her, lingering in the corner of her mind, the more she discovered she did not find it altogether unpleasant. The air between them crackled with an energy just beyond sight, close enough to brush it with her fingertips yet not close enough to grab hold.
She took a deep breath and glanced sidelong at him.
“Do you have any questions?”
“No. I’m ready.”
She stepped back a slight distance from Colin. This first step she entrusted to him.
The communal areas of the theater were small, like those of many newer establishments, but it did boast the convenience of an adjoining saloon bar, so that attendees could partake in refreshments before shifting easily across the threshold to take their entertainment as well. This saloon bar was his first destination.
Colin rolled his shoulders and, with one last innocent grin for her, he strolled down the grand staircase and through the side door to the saloon, looking very much the fit, good-natured, and careless young man Charlotte had once dismissed him as. But Sir Colin Gearing was anything but that; she recalled him in the hotel earlier that day, head bowed over her, his hands pressing her down into the bed as he attentively unraveled her pleasure.
Careless? Hardly.
After a minute she drifted down the staircase herself, running her hand along the balustrade, which felt cool even through her glove.
What would Mrs. Stone say when Charlotte returned home, triumphantly clutching a Mancunian newspaper proclaiming the downfall of Mr. Bass in exhaustive detail? More than likely she would snatch the paper away and ask Charlotte—in a furious, high-pitched voice—just what she’d been thinking, running off with a young man like that. And not justanyyoung man, but one of considerable public interest and renown.
She could not help but smile at the image. And what, then, would Mrs. Stone say if she found out that Charlotte had agreed to marry him? Her stomach fluttered at the thought. What would her father say? Her stepmother? Feeling quite hot now, she raised a hand to her brow. What would Colin say to her, if she asked him to make good on his promise?
Her daydream was suddenly interrupted by a paralyzing shiver running down her spine.
Charlotte steeled herself and looked behind her, half-expecting to finally spot a specter. A flash of movement at the edge of her vision set her heart pounding again. She spun around, skirts swishing.
No one remained in the entrance gallery, save for a few ticket-takers and doormen idling about. She looked nervously about the entire lobby, feeling very much as though someone had walked over her grave.
What was it? What did it mean?
Her whole body tensed as she examined her surroundings, yet still she spotted nothing. Distantly she could hear the dramatic turns of Mr. Bass’s voice, followed by a light smattering of applause. But the silence of the lobby loomed, seeming to grow ever louder somehow, filling her ears and crawling beneath her skin.
