Page 30 of Portrait of a Lady
Rising to her feet, she carried the note and sketch over to the small box she’d left sitting on a table near the window. Beside it sat the arrangement of flowers he’d sent a few days ago, still standing tall and opening to the light of the sun. Inside the box, she stashed this sketch along with two others and a handkerchief he’d left in her possession, which still held his scent.
Such a sentimental thing to do, but she could not help herself. Her time with Hugh could not last forever—she knew this. But she would keep these tokens as a reminder of a time in her life when she’d reached out and sought what she’d wanted, earning herself a blissful reward. If she never took another lover for as long as she lived, she would have this to cling to in her loneliest of hours. Now that she was coming to know Hugh, thinking of his inevitable absence from her life left a dull ache in her chest. However, she’d begun this knowing it could never last, and constantly reminded herself of this fact. Hugh had aspirations that made no room for her, and gave no indication that he wanted anything from the future other than a career as a portraitist.
Those thoughts nearly ruined her good mood, but she brushed them aside as quickly as they had come. She and Hugh had only just begun, and they would continue at least until he’d found his footing in the world as a painter. Which gave them until summer at the very least. Evelyn had only ever seen his sketches, but if his paintings proved half as good, he was sure to earn his place in the Exhibition. From there, he would become quite in demand. He did not have to tell her that he would then have no need to go on acting as a courtesan; she knew this without having to ask. And so, she would throw herself into soaking up every minute of the time he had left to give her, and she would enjoy it thoroughly.
She penned a quick note accepting his invitation and sent it off in Joseph’s hands.
Hours later,she sat beside Hugh in a box overlooking the masses within the Theatre Royal. Hugh had come for her as promised, handing her up into a hired hackney, which had carried them to the theater in Covent Garden, where the rest of his companions had promised to meet them. She’d been nervous about meeting his friends, as she always was before making the acquaintance of new people. But, Hugh had taken her hand and reassured her that she had nothing to worry about.
“Dominick and Aubrey are some of my best friends, and you can be certain they will treat you well,” he’d told her during their ride to the theater. “As well, you needn’t worry about our secret. You see, Nick and Aubrey are also courtesans. Their companions for the night are in similar arrangements with them as you are with me.”
That had been enough to ease her fears a bit. While she was not a popular figure among thebeau mondeand knew few would take interest in who accompanied her to the theater, she had worried that Hugh’s friends might want to delve deeper into their association. Knowing that their companions would also be fellow courtesans and their keepers, Evelyn rested a bit easier.
They’d met the foursome in the principal lobby of the theater an hour before the first act, where they’d indulged in tea and conversation before going up to their borrowed box. Hugh’s friends had turned out to be quite charming indeed, and she found them easy to like.
Dominick fit the role of a rake on sight, with a boyish smile brimming with mischief, tousled brown hair, and heavy-lidded eyes. She was familiar with his family name—he was the son of an earl—and possessed the sort of personality that could draw people to him in droves. He led the conversation, his words ripe with innuendo and witticism which kept them all in stitches from the first sip of tea until the curtain rose on the first act. His companion—a lovely, petite creature named Minette—hung onto his every word, her peaches and cream complexion flushing pink whenever Dominick settled his gaze on her.
Aubrey was Dominick’s polar opposite, though Evelyn found him all the more charming because of it. She’d been enthralled by him on first glance, his skin as dark as the night and his eyes equally as fathomless. There seemed to be a quiet power about him, from his towering height to the width of the shoulders stretching the seams of his tailcoat, impeccably altered to fit him like a glove. He stood more than a head taller than Hugh, with hands that looked as if they could crush a ribcage with very little effort. She put him in mind of Benedict, who was of a similar build. But, despite the intimidating air of his presence, the moment he’d smiled and took her hand in introduction, Evelyn had been put instantly at ease. He spoke little, but when he did everyone fell silent to listen, and not one word was wasted. He seemed to pay particular attention to Evelyn in an effort at making her feel welcome among them, even asking how she was enjoying Hugh’s company. She’d felt her face warming at that, her memories flooding her with images of Hugh lying in her bed, smiling at her, reaching out to touch some exposed part of her. She had murmured that they were getting on fine, covering her discomfiture with a swallow of tea.
Aubrey’s keeper, Lavinia, was even quieter than him and only spoke when spoken to. While she was obviously the one financing their arrangement, Evelyn got the sense that it was Aubrey who maintained control. He treated Lavinia with polite coolness, though the young woman seemed starved for every word or glance from him, her face lighting up like the night sky each time he spoke to her or looked in her general direction.
As the second act commenced, Hugh leaned close, his mouth brushing her ear. “Are you all right?”
His hand came down over both of hers, which she’d clenched tight in her lap. She’d been more relaxed in the lounging room than in this box, elevated so high above the other spectators. Having only ever taken a seat in the pit amongst the crowd, she hadn’t given much thought to how sitting up here would make her feel as if she were on display. When they had first entered the box, several hundred pairs of eyes had swiveled in their direction, alight with curiosity. It hadn’t helped matters to have Aubrey among them, who seemed to draw eyes with every move he made, though if he noticed the scrutiny he did not let on.
“It’s all right,” Hugh had reassured her. “They are only searching for a glimpse of Benedict.”
The owner of the box, she’d been told, had made himself quite notorious in the past few years with his exploits. The son of a viscount, Benedict was rumored to be at odds with his father and scorned the man with his every action. Hugh had told her that whenever Benedict appeared in polite company, he never failed to draw attention as everyone seemed to wait for the viscount to also appear, treating them to a scandalous spectacle.
Evelyn had assumed the scrutiny would shift away from them once it was realized that Benedict was not among them, but that turned out to be only half true. While many seemed to forget about them, others glanced up at them from time to time, trying to discover who occupied Benedict’s box and how they might be acquainted with him. It had caused her to fidget and squirm throughout the performance, making it difficult for her to enjoy it.
She turned to Hugh now, taking solace in his nearness. “I am fine, truly.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “We can leave if you wish. I don’t want all the attention to rob you of your enjoyment of the play.”
Guilt assailed her at the notion of her own anxieties ruining the evening for him. He’d wanted to come out with her and introduce her to his friends; she would not spoil that.
Tightening her hold on his hand, she gave him the best smile she could manage. “No, I want to stay. I will be fine, I promise.”
He spent the rest of the evening clinging tight to her hand in a silent show of support. It was easier to forget the glances of those below them in the pit, though the slow circles he made on the inside of her wrist with his thumb proved to distract her from the performance. Despite her gloves, she felt his touch down to her bones, goosebumps prickling the surface of her skin as she gave herself over to thoughts of how the night might end. Her distraction grew so unbearable, it was all she could do to keep from telling him she’d changed her mind and they had to leave right away. But, to leave now would only draw more attention, and the last thing she wanted was for people to notice and begin speculating over the woman who had made an early exit from the theater on the arm of the son of the Earl of Perth. Hugh might no longer hold much of a place amongst the people of theton, but he could still provide the sort of fodder that would keep the gossip mill churning for months.
So, Evelyn suffered through what remained of the performance. When the curtain finally dropped it was all she could do not to leap from her chair as if her skirts were on fire and drag Hugh out into the night. Instead, she took his offered arm and traded banal remarks with their companions about tonight’s performance—what little of it she could recall—with a tight smile on her face.
When Dominick invited them to join the others as a nearby coffee house, Evelyn had tightened her hand on Hugh’s arm and glanced up at him. Without a word, she communicated her desire to be alone with him, which he seemed to interpret with very little effort.
“Perhaps another time,” he said, placing a hand over hers in the crook of his arm. “I should get Evie home.”
And to bed,she thought, excitement coursing through her in a heady rush.
She was finally ready, and now nothing stood in her way. The moment they were ensconced within her bedchamber, she would make known her desires. A small smile curved her lips as they navigated the stairs down to the lobby, now allowing her thoughts to tread the places she’d avoided during the play. Evelyn became so occupied imagining Hugh undressing her, kissing her, laying her down and finally joining their bodies in that irrevocable way, she nearly stumbled when he came to an abrupt stop just outside the doors of the theater. His arm tensed beneath her hand, and he drew in a sharp breath as he stared with wide eyes at whatever had snared his attention.
Evelyn righted herself, clinging to Hugh’s arm with both hands as she glanced about for the object of his clear distress. Following his gaze, her heart plummeted into the pit of her gut as she noticed the tall, slender man with Hugh’s facial features and dark hair. He’d come to a stop as well, his gaze falling onto Hugh for a moment before darting away to fix on something beyond them. Despite being very much aware of their presence, he seemed to actively ignore them, a fact that had Hugh fairly vibrating with barely-contained emotion.
“Marcus,” Hugh said, his tone clipped.
So, she’d been right to assume this man was one of Hugh’s brothers. If she hadn’t missed her guess, they stood before Viscount Radcliffe himself, first son and heir to the earldom.
Marcus flinched when Hugh said his name but did not respond. Neither did he make a move to walk around or away from him. Hugh heaved a frustrated sigh and shook his head in disbelief.
