“Much Ado About Nothing is on stage in two days’ time.” He walked to Annabel and smiled at her curious frown. Her shoulder was firm against his palm, but her collarbones were delicate. It would be too easy to injure her. Or worse. He should send her to Ramsbury until this was over. “Would you like to go to the theatre?”
“I love Shakespeare.” Realization lit her eyes, and she curved her warm, strong hand over his. “Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Annabel had never understood why her mother considered the theatre scandalous. For her, it was a book come to life. Time both stood still and passed too quickly as she’d watched her favorite characters repeat oft-read words in front of intricately painted scenes.
While the canvas backgrounds had always been disappointing, the actors rarely let her down. Tonight was no exception. Watching Beatrice and Benedick’s reluctant romance grow provided a pleasant distraction after the drama from the past week.
Even Jasper seemed to forget himself as the play unfolded beneath their box. His deep laughter rolled over her as the couple bantered their way into love, and he paid rapt attention to Don John’s plot to ruin the happiness of every party.
Hero’s funeral signaled the intermission, and the lights came up in a wave. Jasper turned to her with a smile on his face. “Fitting that we should both enjoy a play about gossip.”
“You never fail to surprise me,” Annabel said. “I wouldn’t have imagined you, willingly, at the theatre.”
He shrugged, though his grin turned wicked. “Perhaps I’m enjoying being out of the house and in something other than my dressing gown.”
It was nice to forget their concerns, if only for a few hours. However, they were likely the only box with an armed guard in the shadows. “And to have something to eat other than soup?”
“God, yes.” Jasper looked longingly at the empty refreshment tray. “I wonder if I could bribe an attendant for another visit.”
Annabel stood. “I should visit Lady Carmichael while we have time, and I believe I saw the Duchess of Rushford.”
“I’ll go with you. Though we should avoid being seen with the duke and duchess.” He winked at her. “After Stratford’s arrest, we draw attention when we’re seen together.”
She nodded, though she shot a glance across the theatre at the Rushfords’ box. As much as she wanted to visit with Thea, they needed to avoid the attention tonight of all nights.
Once in the hallway, and in the crush of people wishing to be seen and heard, Annabel regretted their decision to leave their seats. She went to move to the outside, meaning to protect Jasper, but only succeeded in stepping on his toes.
He draped his arm around her waist. “Relax, dearest. We’re fine.”
The weight of his hand shifted with every step, tightening when he swung his left leg. Annabel looked over her shoulder, fearing an attacker masked as a friend.
“The secret is to not look afraid,” Jasper whispered. “We’re just another couple at a play.”
“Lady Ramsbury,” Ellen Harrow cried as she approached with a smile. “I was just coming to your box.”
“Lady Carmichael.” Annabel reached for her friend, grateful to see someone she knew wasn’t a threat. “I’m lucky you found us in this crush. I was just coming to you.”
The crowd jostled them, and Jasper’s hissed curse sent a ripple of fear through her.
“Are you well?” Ellen asked.
“I’m fine, but we should get out of this hallway.”
“You both look worn through,” Ellen said as she took Annabel’s arm. “We’ll go to the retiring room for some quiet. My husband is at the bar, Lord Ramsbury.”
Annabel looked over her shoulder as she left Jasper behind. His height kept him visible longer than most would be, and his smile gave her the courage she needed to keep up with Ellen’s quick pace and steady stream of gossip.
The retiring room was at the end of two hallways, the shorter of which connected the wings of the building. Annabel looked into the shadows to ensure their safety and saw a flash of light blue silk fly around the corner. A muffled cry followed.
The hair on Annabel’s neck rose. “I’ll be right in, Ellen. Excuse me a moment.”
Halfway down the hall, it was clear there was a struggle at the other end. One a lady was losing. Armed with nothing but her fan, Annabel wasn’t certain how she could help.
“Annabel.” Ellen reached her in two strides. “Where are you going?”
Thank God. “The Rushfords’ box is on the other side of the theatre,” Annabel all but shouted. “I’d like to pay my respects.”
Heavy footsteps thudded down the adjoining hall, just as they made the turn. All that remained was a shuddering girl in a lovely dress.
Annabel reached for her shoulder, meaning to offer comfort, but the girl flinched away with a gasp. Annabel mirrored it when she recognized the victim.
“Miss Bainbridge?”
Charlotte gathered her shawl to her shoulders, but not quick enough to hide the finger-shaped bruises on her arms.
“Shall I fetch someone? Perhaps the viscount—”
“No!” Charlotte drew a deep breath. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine in a moment.” She bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you for your concern, Lady Ramsbury.”
It was the proper thing to say, but it wasn’t what Annabel had expected to hear from Charlotte. Nothing about this terrified girl resembled the young lady who had celebrated her engagement just last week.
Jocelyn Fletcher’s tales of Viscount Raines tumbled into Annabel’s brain and combined with what Annabel now suspected of him. The result put her in front of the young lady, blocking her escape. “Charlotte, do not marry a man who hurts you.”
The girl blinked. “I’m sorry?”
