Page 58 of Unraveled By the Duke
“What did you think?” Celia asked.
Alexander realized that he had taken in nothing of the play; he could not even recall the story.
“Interesting,” he said.
“Did you think so?”
“Not at all,” he admitted after a pause. “It didn’t hold my interest.”
“It was tedious, wasn’t it? Would you like to do something that isn’t tedious?”
Alexander raised an eyebrow, and Celia blushed, averting her eyes.
“There is a place not far from here. We will be overdressed compared to most who frequent it, but it is a very nice way to pass a few hours.”
Alexander was intrigued despite himself. “Very well. Would this be one of the discoveries made while incognito on the streets of London?”
“It is. The one and only time I have been out all night. I had the devil of a time sneaking back into the house at dawn.”
They left the theater, proceeding outside in an orderly fashion like all the other patrons. But while they spilled out onto Drury Lane and made for the restaurants, clubs, and coffee houses, Celia and Alexander took his carriage south towards the river.
They stopped at a signal from Celia and alighted on a cobbled canyon running between the blank edifices of towering warehouses. Everything was black, shutters tightly closed as were the doors, but the raucous music reached them from somewhere close by. Fiddles, drums, stamped feet, and voices raised in song.
“This way!” Celia took him by the hand and led the way along the street until they came to a narrow alleyway.
There, braziers cast flickering firelight from the road down to the river. The air smelled of roasting meat, sour mud and tar, tobacco, and peat. Men and women whirled in frenetic jigs while fiddles and tin whistles played. People clapped and stamped and drummed.
“Isn’t it joyous! Beats Almack’s any day of the week!” Celia cried, whirling from his hand and into the throng of dancers.
Alexander watched for a moment as she danced. She was a fey spirit. He had never met anyone quite like her.
A sailor, barefoot and bare-chested, was moving towards her, swigging from a large tankard and watching her as intently as Alexander. He reached her and executed a courtly bow, offering his hand.
Alexander felt a growl rising in his chest, a surge of jealousy. He stepped forward as Celia’s eyes flicked from the courteous sailor to him. The sailor looked at Alexander as he caught Celia around the waist. No words were exchanged, but the sailor found another woman to dance with.
“Are you jealous, Alexander?” Celia asked.
“Do not be ridiculous,” Alexander bit out. “I do not want tonight to have been for nothing. I sat through that tedious play to be seen with you in a respectable setting.”
“No one with an important opinion will see us here,” Celia breathed in his ear.
CHAPTER 18
They danced.
Alexander seemed reticent and reserved at first. Celia felt at ease among these ordinary people, safe among folks who would not judge or gossip. Folks who simply accepted her.
The sailor's approach provoked a response from Alexander that sent a warm thrill through Celia.
He is jealous. Possessive. I do not think anyone has ever been possessive of me before.
That seemed to break through the ice, and Alexander let go of his reservations. She had thought he would fit into this street theater, this world of loose morality, free-flowing ale, and lack of inhibitions.
She saw the sailor who had offered to dance with her swaggering down the road with a woman on his arm, while another couple used a shadowed doorway to hide their kiss.
Surely an environment that would suit a rake. Even a recently reformed one. But he seemed reluctant. Perhaps the reputation I have been allowed to believe is not all it seems.
Finally, they walked through the streets of London, away from the sluggish Thames. Alexander’s cravat dangled from his coat pocket, and Celia walked on stockinged feet.
