Page 71 of To Marry and to Meddle
The show wasn’t that good.
Oh, it wasn’t terrible—nothing that would embarrass him around town, nothing so awful that spectators would be tempted to walk out. But still, what had seemed so lofty to him when he first read thescript—the rejection of comedy for comedy’s sake, themessagethe play sought to convey—all suddenly seemed rather…
Well, pompous.
Beside him, Emily was biting her lip as she politely applauded, and he didn’t need her to voice her thoughts to know that she agreed with him. Could probably have told him this would be the outcome, if he’d been willing to listen.
She did not say anything, however, but took his hand tightly in hers.
It was comforting—more comforting than it had any right to be.
Just then, his father leaned past Emily, extending his hand, which Julian reached out to shake.
“Well?” Julian asked casually, as if he wasn’t terribly bothered by what his father had thought of the show, as if his opinion carried no weight at all.
“It was amusing,” the marquess said, something slightly dubious in his tone. “I’m not certain I entirely understood all the bits about religion, to tell the truth—a bit intellectual for me, I suppose,” he added, shaking his head. “The comedic bits were quite enjoyable, though, more in line with what I was expecting.” He cast an apologetic glance at Emily before adding, “I must say, though, Julian, considering how many gentlemen come to these shows, I’d expected it to be a bit more—well—” He cleared his throat. “Bawdy.” He gave his son an inquisitive look. “Perhaps there’s another production you might recommend, if I’m to be properly shocked?”
Emily let out a giggle at that, and his father actuallywinkedat her. Winked!
Julian, for his part, felt as though he were having some sort of otherworldly experience, in which everyone around him looked andsounded like themselves, but didn’t behave remotely as they were supposed to.
Something of Julian’s shock must have shown on his face, because his father leaned a bit closer, smiled at him, and said, “I suppose I shall simply have to come to another one.”
Some strange mood had overtaken her husband after his father’s departure, but Emily had little time to linger on it in the aftermath of the show. They were surrounded by friends, and then by a steady stream of acquaintances who popped into the box to say a word or two to Julian.
These were gentlemen acquaintances, of course—some in the company of their mistresses, some merely in a crowd of friends—and while she caught the occasional surprised glance when her presence (and that of Diana and Violet and Sophie, too) was registered, no one made any sort of a fuss. She supposed word would spread, however, that Lady Julian Belfry was in the habit of attending her husband’s shows—which was, of course, exactly what Julian wanted.
She was fulfilling her end of the bargain.
So she smiled politely and made pleasant conversation until at last she was alone with Julian in their carriage, rattling home along the cobblestones, the carriage lanterns creating a warm, cozy glow within.
“Your father came,” she said quietly, thinking there was no point in beating around the bush—she knew he must have had difficulty focusing on anything else for the rest of the evening, and she couldn’t blame him.
“Yes,” he said and lapsed into silence. His handsome face wasunsmiling—not stern, precisely, but thoughtful, the sharp angles of his cheekbones creating shadows on his face in the dim light of the carriage. For a moment, Emily didn’t think he was going to say anything else, and she was just beginning to wonder indignantly why she should be forced to pry every single confession out of this man, but then he spoke again.
“He enjoyed the play.”
“Of course he did,” Emily said, feeling a strange rush of pride, despite the fact that she was perfectly well aware that there was little about Julian that she could take credit for. But he washers, she thought in a sudden fierce rush—hers to be proud of, hers to comfort when comfort was needed.
Hers to… love.
Of course.
Because of course she loved him—how could she not? But, more important, how could she ensure that he did not know, did not ever discover her secret? Because, after all, in a marriage of convenience, love would be the most inconvenient surprise of all.
Julian was regarding her with something akin to amusement, his mouth quirked slightly up at the sides, and for a moment she worried something of her thoughts must have shown on her face, but then he said, “You say that as if it’s no surprise.”
“You put on good plays, Julian,” she said, reaching out a hand to gently touch his knee.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Didyouenjoy the show?”
“I… appreciated its ambitions,” she said diplomatically, though what shereallywanted to say was that she was rather in agreement with the marquess; she would have enjoyed one of the Belfry’s bawdy shows significantly more.
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “You didn’t like it, and I want you to say it.”
Emily felt a touch indignant. “I didn’t say that!”
“I know,” he said, that slight quirk to his mouth threatening to turn into a full-fledged smile. “Which is why I want you to. Say something impolite. Tell the truth, even if it’s rude.” He gazed at her in that maddening way, everything from his tone to that superior arch of his eyebrow akin to a taunt.
