Chapter 88

A terrible waste of money?
Sinking down on the wooden bench inside the theater box, Splendor's eyes glazed. She'd said that? To Gabe of all people? How could she? And what the blazes had she come out with that stuff about Lady Kertouche's patronage for when it was fantasy? Win the competition first? Put herself second?How could she think that either?
She must go to his lodgings right this instant and tell him they'd leave for Gretna Green within the hour. She'd marry him in what she stood up in. How could she have said otherwise? Because she owed a few pounds?
"Fine," Stillmore said. "Bring the tray over here."
Because of this finger-snapping ass. That was why she'd said it. This ass who had dragged her to the theater, as he'd dragged her to that ball last night at Lady Kertouche's. A place that had worked on her senses, as this one wasn't going to.
A champagne flute danced inches from her nose on a shining silver tray. It was no trouble to grab the stem. She wasn't just going to go to Gabe's lodgings, she was going to end this entire farce now--and how--although she must admit, the box itself might have been sparse, furnished with a bench to sit on, no more, it might have been shadowed by spangled candlelight, if it was anything like the box opposite, then the frontage was surely not something she should look at. Not worth a glance, in fact. She flung the glass of champagne down her throat.
That frontage was ornately painted though, wasn't it? The softest woodland greens and oranges. Damn it, why was she looking at that when she meant to end this now and how? More champagne? Why not? Drink the glass in one gulp too. She wiped her gloved hand across her mouth. Reached for another glass.
"There is some reason you're behaving like this?"
"What's wrong Your Grace?"
For his information right now, this behavior was about getting a moment to think. Wasn't that as elusive as a unicorn in the finer glades of hell? She set the empty glass back down on the liveried waiter's tray then curved her lips. "You mean Nathan didn't tell you about my little secret? The one I've been trying so hard to hide?"
She covered her hand with her mouth. Not that she did it often, but when she put her mind to it, she could belch with the best of them. She did it now. Not that she wanted to disturb the actors, tripping their way through the opening lines of Lady Fanshawe and The Duenna, but the noise ripped through the box a bit like gunfire.
Now she'd see what he said to that.
He shrugged his elegantly clad shoulders. "Your secret? Oh, the cursing? I shouldn't worry too much about that if I were you."
She wasn't worrying, certainly not when that gleam in his coal-black eyes said if anyone was worried, it was he. His reaction may not be what she'd hoped for-she wouldn't want to spoil his dragging her here in order to make some other woman jealous, while she turned down her own fianc?now would she-it was still better than nothing.
"I'm not worried. I'm just thinking ... "
Bollocks was what she was thinking.
"Whatever you're thinking, I suggest you be quiet and face the front." His mouth, long, straight, was more sensuously sulky than she had ever seen it, "I never asked you here to think."
"Bollocks."
"What?"
"Bollocks."
She might as well say it again. He might have thought he'd misheard the first time. Anyway, it was what all of this was.
"Bollocks and-" She clasped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Your Grace. It just sort of slips out. I call it my other self. I should have warned you."
His shoulders tightened. He tweaked the flap of his coat across his beautifully trousered knee. "Well, do try not to let it slip out in here, won't you?"
Was that as much as he was going to say? When he'd forced her to come here to make that Langley woman jealous and she'd said what she had to Gabe'Well, do try not to let it slip out in here, won't you,' wasn't nearly good enough. In fact, it was ...
"Bollocks. I mean, of course I will. I will try my absolute best. I do assure you. It's just ... bollocks. Maybe if I had another drink?" She shot out her hand. Ice scrunched as she fastened her fingers around the bottle. "I feel I need another drink."
Maybe just not straight from the bottle. Actually, straight from the bottle was best. She tipped it to her lips. "You've no idea how wonderful it makes me feel."
Oh, what it was to see a plan, a world, collapse in dust and ashes at your feet. To fix your seamless gaze across a room while hell burned beneath you and pretend everything was fine. Especially if you were Earl Stillmore. Now he'd know how she felt refusing Gabe. She hadn't refused Gabe. She'd told him she'd talk about it later. And she would. They would be married. As soon as she told Earl Stillmore where to put his chess competition and his theater trip, they would.
In the meantime, Stillmore's set jaw and muttered snarl was music to her ears. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought we had an agreement. Last night you said you'd help me."
"That was last night. This it today. It's something you need to learn about women. Consider it the lesson."
"I don't need to learn anything. I certainly don't need to learn it from-"
"That our minds are constantly flowing rivers, changeable-"
"You do remember what I said?"
"Goodness, now what would that be? Hmm, let me think, Your Grace. It's not something people think I'm much accustomed to doing as a rule-"
"About there being those who would soon silence you here if you damn well behaved like this?"
"Oh, that?"
He turned his head. She'd thought he had the look of a fallen angel. She was mistaken. This was so devilish she thought herself in hell with someone who had never lived anywhere else. His eyes, darker than she'd ever seen them, held hers. Even his soft, tousled hair seemed to gleam with a predatory sheen. The champagne must have gone straight to her head. Three glasses in ten minutes was rather a lot.
"Do you know what I will do to silence you if you do not cease from engaging in this stupid behavior right now?"
"I'm all ears. Do tell me."
"This."