Page 18 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
“I’d been led to believe the maid would be accompanying us; otherwise I’d have brought you one,” he said.
Angling her chin defiantly, she held his gaze, feeling a need to challenge him because his presence warmed her entire body. “It appears Annie is suffering another megrim.” She was not going to admit he’d caused her to doubt the maid’s ability to protect Gina from his possible naughtiness. “Besides, one does not bring a gift for the chaperone.”
“You hardly appear the chaperone.”
“Trust me, my lord, I shall be ever alert and ensure no shenanigans occur under my watch.”
“I would expect nothing less.” His words didn’t quite match the challenge in his eyes, as though he were contemplating testing her. No doubt her wanton musings placing thoughts in her head again. He’d made no untoward advances, was standing there like a perfect gentleman. Too perfect.
“We should be off, shouldn’t we?” Gina chirruped.
“Yes, of course,” Tillie responded, grateful something had broken the mesmerizing spell she’d fallen into. Rexton had a way of drawing her into a vortex of confusing emotions. If he was doing the same for Gina, her sister was handling it much better, as though she hardly recognized the man breathed sensuality in to the room with every breath.
Rexton offered Gina his arm and escorted her to the door. The butler opened it, and Rexton stepped aside, indicating Tillie should precede them.
“The chaperone follows,” she told him.
“Not when she’s a lady.” His tone indicated he was offended on her behalf.
She wanted to argue with him. She didn’t need him standing up for her, but her throat knotted up with the realization he was the first, other than Gina, to defend her position, to show her any measure of respect since the ill-fated night when she’d been caught “practically crawling up a footman.” Her father had been so blistering mad at her that he’d seldom spoken with her after reading the account in the gossip sheets. He’d never asked why she’d done what she had, why she would have risked public censure and ridicule rather than remain in her married state. Divorce was for the weak. A woman of any substance would have tolerated marital discord and simply moved into another wing in her residence, assuring the couple retained mutual respect for each other while each person went on his or her merry way. Her uncle had fallen in line behind his brother and not hidden his censure of her. Now, she could do little more than give a brisk nod before carrying herself over the threshold and into the night, hating herself for wishing she was the one on the marquess’s arm rather than her sister.
He wasn’t going to feel guilty because she’d taken the bait, because he was glad to have her here.
She was beautiful. As they moved slowly through the theater following the crowd toward the stairs, Rexton fully understood why Landsdowne had wanted her for his wife. He suspected it had little to do with the dowry she brought to the arrangement, even if the earl was in desperate need of funds. It was her regal poise, the grace with which she moved, the way she held herself with pride even as people turned away from her.
It was fascinating to watch those around them striving to give her a cut direct while not offending him when he was standing so near to her. He halfway wished she, rather than her sister, was on his arm, as it would communicate loudly that she was under his protection. He wished he’d arranged for close friends to approach, to engage her in conversation. He didn’t like that she was viewed as a pariah.
“Take my arm,” he ordered Lady Landsdowne quietly. Gina was already clinging to his right, her gaze darting around with delight as though she’d never before been in a theater. Perhaps she hadn’t. But her interest in the surroundings had her failing to notice the scornful looks tossed her sister’s way.
With her finely arched eyebrows meeting in a crease, Lady Landsdowne jerked her attention to him, clearly confused by his request.
“Going up the stairs can be treacherous with so many about,” he said. “Even for a chaperone.”
She gave a slight nod, before slipping her arm around his. He didn’t fail to notice the gratitude that sparked in the blue. Nor did he fail to notice the tiniest of tremors cascading through her. Damn, she was courageous. She was here to protect her sister from the transgressions he’d hinted at this morning, but still to put herself through this—it spoke not only of devotion but of love.
Why hadn’t those emotions transferred to her marriage, to Landsdowne? And why was it that he found himself far more intrigued with the countess than with her sister? Why was he drawn to her bared shoulders? Why did he want to take his mouth on a journey over them, feel their silkiness, and taste them? Gina’s gown revealed smooth, alabaster shoulders, and yet they interested him not in the least. Was it because he wasn’t truly seeking her as a wife?
He’d often lusted after other women he had no desire to marry. Both of these women were forbidden. Gina because of her innocence. The countess because of her notorious reputation. Yet at that moment, he knew if he could have only one in his darkened box, he would have chosen the countess, her reputation be damned.
He couldn’t recall ever wanting a woman so much, and yet he couldn’t identify exactly why she appealed to him. It was obvious she neither liked nor trusted him. But when he’d seen her on the stairs, for an insane moment, he’d considered rushing up them so he could take her in his arms.
Once they reached his box, he drew back the curtain and escorted them inside. He assisted Gina in sitting, turned to assist Lady Landsdowne—only to find her already seated in a chair on the row behind. “Come and sit beside your sister.”
“I’m the chaperone. This will suffice.”
It occurred to him that perhaps she preferred the shadows to the front of the box where people might be better able to stare at her. “Ladies sit in the front, gents in the back,” he stated succinctly.
“And if I were the maid?”
“You’re not the maid.”
“I’m perfectly fine where I am.”
“I’m certain your sister will enjoy the performance more if you’re sitting beside her.”
She angled her head like a dog striving to decipher its master’s command. “Why will she not enjoy it if you are sitting beside her?”
“Because I detest theater.”
