Page 19 of How to Court a Rake
Lady Carys offered a feeble resistance Caine quelled with a look before she spoke a word. ‘Lady Mary needs air,’ was all he said as he guided her past the guests in the box, the whispered comments starting to fly behind fluttering fans. He led Mary through the intermission crowd in the saloon to a space by one of the big windows overlooking Bow Street. This was the most privacy he could afford short of risking scandal for her.
‘Thank you,’ Mary breathed. A waiter came by, circulating with a tray of iced champagne. Caine took two.
‘Take it, you look like you need it.’ Caine handed her the glass and grinned to put her at ease. He clinked his coupe against hers. ‘Have a few sips and then tell me what has happened.’ She was definitely pale. Whatever this was, it was more than her father dredging up another duke. That might be unpleasant, but it was not unexpected. She’d known such a move was coming. Something else had surprised her, shaken her.
‘It’s all been arranged between them,’ she whispered, clearly conscience of being overheard. ‘I am to marry Amesbury. In August, before the Season ends. Likely, my parents think to make the wedding the last big event of the social whirl.’ There was real anguish in her eyes and Caine’s sense of protection surged. ‘It was decided without me. I was simply reassigned as if I were an interchangeable piece in the machinery of society.’
Caine studied her over his coupe. Her outrage was in line with what he knew of her, with what she’d revealed to him that night in Carford’s garden. She valued having a sense of choice. But he did not think this was the entire source of her distress. There was fear beneath her outrage.
‘So, your distress is about the principle of the arrangement?’ He pressed the issue gently, aware that the longer they stood here, the more notice they attracted. He wished there was somewhere better to take her, somewhere they could be alone to talk at will. This was not a conversation to be rushed, but it must be because of who they were and what society would think.
‘Yes, and no.’ She shook her head, the little opals at her ears dancing. ‘Yes, I am outraged that my father would treat my marriage so cavalierly. I’d expected an array of suitors and from that array to make a choice. Not this…forcing. I thought there’d be at least a facsimile of choice.’ Exasperation was evident. ‘I thought I might at least know the gentleman in question to some degree, slight as it might be.’
Her eyes dropped, embarrassment flushing the pearly sheen of her skin. ‘I am being married to a stranger who doesn’t even know me.’ Her gaze flicked up to meet his, her voice shaky. ‘And he is vile.’ There was something more to that, but Caine would explore that later. He knew enough for now and time was ticking.
He pressed her hand, letting his touch steady her, comfort her. ‘What can I do?’ He gave a nod to cue her. ‘Quickly, your mother and Amesbury are making their way over and your father has emerged from wherever he went visiting.’ He felt her tense and wished he could take her away from here. What did it say of her family or her situation if she was safer with a rogue?
‘Do you know him? Can you find out about him? Perhaps there is something in his past that would turn my father away from him.’ She spoke rapidly, unfurling a fan that matched the blush rose of her gown.
‘Yes.’ His own gaze narrowed as Amesbury approached. Perhaps, too, there was a reason her father had chosen Amesbury for his daughter, sight unseen. What did Amesbury have that the Earl of Carys wanted badly enough to trade his daughter for it? Society would say it was his title. Caryshadbeen adamant about wanting a duke for her. But Caine wondered if it might be something more.
‘There you are, dear.’ Lady Carys fixed a false smile on her face, much like the one she’d worn in the drawing room this afternoon. ‘The second act will be starting, we must return.’
‘I am glad you are feeling better.’ Amesbury offered his free arm to Mary, but Caine took Mary’s arm in a bold move.
‘Lady Mary has convinced me to stay for the second act.’ Caine gave a feral grin, holding the other man’s eyes with his own. ‘And I’ve accepted her gracious offer.’ The saloon lights dimmed calling everyone to their seats. ‘Lady Mary, shall we?’
***
There was a wealth of meaning in those two words.Shall we.Shallwetake London by storm as we cross the saloon to the box? Aswetake our seats and earn more attention from the opera glasses than the second act? It was a delicious fantasy to play along with as Caine steered their course, the muscles of his arm taut and evident beneath her fingers. In reality, she knew better. There was no ‘we’. There was justhim. Well-bred young ladies strove to be invisible, to demurely avoid avid, overt attention. But Caine Parkhurst attracted attention wherever he went—even when there was a play to watch, he upstaged it.
She was envious of that and the freedom he had to be so bold, the freedom to draw attention and not live to regret it. Some day she wished to possess the confidence he did, to walk across a room knowing everyone was looking, everyone was commenting and not give a fig. For now, it was enough to walk beside that boldness, to feel his muscles flex with confidence and strength in the confines of his coat and revel in the knowledge that he had come for her when she’d called. Whatever he felt he owed her, the debt was paid.
At the entrance to their box, she slid him an appreciative glance. Good heavens, she could look at him all night and never tire of that face with its strong lines, long, straight nose and dark eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she managed to whisper, noticing for the first time that while he’d come for her, he’d not come dressed for the theatre. The realisation was both flattering and uncomfortable.
She cleared her throat. ‘Especially if I am taking you away from something else tonight.’ Or someone else, she thought belatedly. In her desperation, she’d not thought about where or how her note might find him or who he might be with. Had he been at Parkhurst House or had the message gone on to somewhere else? Guilt and curiosity pricked at her, along with something strongly akin to jealousy. Had he been with someone else? One of his mistresses perhaps? Or atonnish widow?
‘Let’s allow the others to enter ahead of us,’ he murmured at her ear, dropping his hand to the small of her back, his touch warm and steady, unlike her pulse, which was just warm. ‘And, no, I was not doing anything I couldn’t leave,’ he said quietly as her mother and Amesbury moved past them.
At the seats, Amesbury allowed Mary’s mother to precede him and then took his seat, tossing Mary an expectant, almost predatory smile as she came down the short aisle of the box, Caine’s hand at her back lending her strength. With Caine beside her, she could tolerate Amesbury. She made to step into the seat and felt Caine’s hand press at her back in warning. ‘Perhaps you’d like to sit on the aisle, Lady Mary?’
She smiled, picking up on the reason for the unorthodox suggestion. He would sit beside Amesbury. He would be a buffer, much to Amesbury’s evident chagrin.
‘I thought Lady Mary would want her seat back.’ Amesbury’s politeness bore a steely edge. Caine would defend her, she knew, but she could also defend herself.
‘I am fine on the aisle—thank you for your concern, though,’ Mary said sweetly, making it seem as if Amesbury had done her a favour. After all, if it was a favour, there was nothing to argue over. She’d effectively taken away any reason for him to be angry.
Mary gratefully took the aisle seat and sat back, relaxing. Caine would be her shield. It was more than she’d expected. She took a deep breath and then sniffed again. He didn’t have the usual scent about him. It was tainted with something. ‘Are you sure I haven’t taken you away from entertainment?’
‘Just a bridegroom’s final hours of freedom drinking in my drawing room.’ He gave her a wide smile. ‘Someone’s drink spilled on my coat and I didn’t stop to change it.’
The envious knot in her stomach eased. He’d not been with one of his mistresses. Not that she should care. But she did care. He’d kissedher. He’d made her burn, made her yearn for things she hadn’t even known she wanted. And she’d thought in the moment that he had burned, too. She didn’t like the idea of him burning with someone else. Did that make her wanton? She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the thought. How wicked she’d become since Caine Parkhurst had waltzed literally into her life.
The theatre went dark. Caine leaned close to her ear. ‘A penny for your thoughts, Minx. They must be quite decadent to put a blush on your cheeks.’
She gave a throaty laugh. ‘If so, maybe they’re worth more than a penny.’
‘Maybe they are,’ he whispered. ‘Enjoy the play, you’re safe as long as I am with you,’
