Page 29 of Tamed By a Duke
"You might not," Hugh promptly answered, enjoying playing the part of the toplofty aristocrat.
In fact, he was enjoying himself so much that he had not noticed that his mother and Brandon Drew had taken their seats beside him, or that the play was about to begin. It was only when the gas-lights began to flicker and the roar of the crowd died to a distant hum, that Hugh remembered where he was.
Seated in full view of theton, making doe-eyes at a young woman.
He quickly wiped the silly grin that he had been wearing from his face, as he became aware of dozens of pairs of quizzing-glasses glinting in his direction. It would make the papers no doubt, though Hugh rather liked the idea of his name entwined in ink with that of Miss Drew. It appealed to the masculine sense of possession he felt toward her, a feeling which was remarkable, given that he had never felt possessive of any woman in all his thirty years.
On stage the play began to unfold, though it held little interest for Hugh. He abhorred Shakespeare, having been forced to learn it by rote in Eton, and The Taming of the Shrew was his least favourite of the Bard's works.
"Is His Grace not enjoying himself?" Charlotte whispered, after Hugh had crossed and uncrossed his legs for the umpteenth time.
"It's not one of my favourites," he admitted in a quiet whisper.
"Nor mine. I can't say that I find a work about punishing a woman for having opinions enthralling. Though I'm certain that my grandmother would see it as somewhat educational."
The glum note in Charlotte's voice touched at Hugh's heart; Miss Drew was in a constant battle against a world which did not wish for her to be herself.
"Society does not like women to hold opinions and they like it even less when they voice them," Charlotte continued, plucking at the skirts of her dress with restless hands.
Against his better judgement, Hugh reached out and placed his hand over hers. He had merely been seeking to offer comfort, but he was shocked by a stirring of something else within him, as he felt the warmth of her hand in his.
One gloved hand touching another was hardly the height of eroticism, especially for a man of Hugh's experience, but the jolt of desire that coursed through him was so strong that Hugh forced himself to take his hand away.
"Thank heavens there are some women who do not heed society's diktats," he whispered, "For I fear the world would be a much duller place if they did."
There, he thought, as he settled back into his chair, he had offered comfort with his words. As for touching Miss Drew—he would not attempt that again.
Unless of course she required rescuing of some sort.
As the actors ploughed on through the play, Hugh happily daydreamed about various scenarios in which Miss Drew might require a knight in shining armour to come to her aid. He had just rescued her from drowning in a lake, when the gas-lamps flickered and illuminated the theatre once more.
"Jolly good performance," Hugh muttered, to no one in particular.
"Did you think so?" his mother queried, as she rose from her seat, "Because I could have sworn I heard you snoring during the final act."
"I do not snore." Hugh retorted, before ushering the quartet from the box.
Downstairs in the foyer the crowds' scrutiny was ten-times what it had been earlier. People openly turned their heads to stare as Hugh, flanking Miss Drew and tailed by his mother and Mr Drew, made his way toward the door.
"I have never witnessed so many people smiling at me," Charlotte whispered, with a wry laugh, "Usually people prefer to take no notice."
"I find it difficult to believe that anyone could fail to notice a woman of your beauty."
Hugh had not meant his words to sound quite so loaded, but his idle compliment had left his mouth sounding almost like a growl. That Miss Drew was able to inspire spontaneous flirtation and joking was something of a worry to him; as a rule, Hugh despised spontaneity.
Still, as he escorted her out the door and waited alongside her for the Drew's carriage to arrive, another impulse came over Hugh.
"I shall call on you tomorrow," he said, quite aware that his words sounded almost like an order.
"Oh, you will, will you?"
An irritated eyebrow arched in reply to his commanding tone. Miss Drew was not a lady who liked to be ordered about.
"I will," Hugh held her gaze a moment, hoping that his eyes mirrored the burning intensity of his desire.
Thankfully, the carriage arrived before Miss Drew had a chance to rebuff his declaration, and Hugh took her hand to assist her up into the compartment.
"Until tomorrow, Miss Drew," he said, offering her a slight bow, before he turned and bid goodbye to Brandon Drew.
