“What made you think your uncle would attend the theatre tonight?” Naomi glanced into the auditorium. The crowd’s laughter proved contagious, and she chuckled, too. “Would he not have arrived in time for the performance?”
“The aristocracy likes to make a statement,” Aramis said, settling his wife’s gloved hand on his thigh. “They come to be seen, not to watch Madame Vestris and her amusing burlesques.”
Excitement coursed through Theo’s veins. He lived to wipe the smile off Berridge’s face. “And when he finds us in his private box, this horde will watch the pompous Earl of Berridge reduced to a laughingstock.”
Berridge had been goading the men at White’s to make bets as to which one of Theo’s brothers would die first. It didn’t matter that Theo had been hit with the lead ball. The fact a fool had found the courage to fire weakened his family’s defences.
They did not have to wait long for the battle to begin.
Yet it was not the pathetic Earl of Berridge who barged into the theatre box, eager to cause a scene. It was the devious Miss Darrow.
“Good evening, Mr Chance.” Swathed in a pink satin cloak, the lady projected an air of confidence while pinning Theo to his seat with her intense green gaze. “You’re a hard man to find.”
Damnation!
How the devil had she known he was at the theatre?
“Missing me already, Miss Darrow?” He cursed inwardly, vexed by the prospect of being publicly berated by a shrew. “I should think you’ve seen enough of me to last a lifetime.”
As part of her nursing duties, she had changed his bandages and mopped his brow. He’d drawn the line at a bed bath. He’d not give the woman the satisfaction of knowing her touch roused a cockstand.
The lady whipped back her hood, revealing waves of lustrous red hair—the mark of a vixen. “I prefer your temper to your teasing, sir. You know why I’m here. After all I have done for you, I demand you stop treating me like a fool.”
Miss Darrow had the devil’s cheek. She had kept him talking in the shop, offering her little witticisms while Delphine conducted an illicit encounter in the yard. Doubtless she giggled at his naivety every time she escaped to the fitting room.
Arching a brow, he attempted to look bewildered. “Forgive me if I have given you the wrong impression.” He turned to Aramis, keen to make this woman pay for every wicked lie she’d told. “Nurses often become infatuated with their patients. It’s a common malady. As you can see, poor Miss Darrow is desperate for my attention.”
Mischief—the harmful kind—swirled in Miss Darrow’s stormy green eyes. “Only a woman lacking in self-respect would seek the company of a libertine.”
Theo clasped his injured shoulder. The damn thing still pained him. “You wound me, madam. Though it would seem we have some things in common. Arranging secret meetings and lying to hide your deception are the traits of a scoundrel.”
A sly smile touched her lips, lips he’d admired before discovering they belonged to a devil. “You make an excellent point, sir.” She slipped the gold button on her cloak, drew the garment from around her shoulders and draped it over the empty seat beside him. “Perhaps keeping you company is the best way to achieve my goal.”
Aramis and Naomi grinned. Apparently, they found the situation more entertaining than the farce on stage.
“I don’t recall inviting you to sit,” Theo said when the lady gathered her skirts and settled into the plush velvet chair.
Miss Darrow leaned closer, filling his nostrils with the sweet scent of jasmine. “As you said, I am suffering from a dreadful malady. An obsession with my patient. An addiction I cannot control.” Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “I mean to hound you night and day until you give me what I want.”
Oh, he would give her what she wanted, and he wasn’t referring to the silly sewing box. Despite trying to avoid staring at her soft breasts, pressed enticingly against the fashionable pink gown, his traitorous gaze dipped.
Merciful Lord!
This woman would make a monk question his vows.
Thankfully, her perfidious character lessened her appeal.
“I know what you want,” he uttered, draping a languid arm over the rail of her chair. “But I have taken a vow of celibacy and have no plans to make love to any woman, least of all you.”
Her eyes blazed. “No. The only thing you make love to is your own reflection. I suspect there’s an enormous mirror at the foot of your bed, littered with smudge marks where you’ve practised kissing.”
A chuckle burst from Aramis’ lips, though he quickly averted his gaze to the stage when Naomi nudged him.
“You’ll never know, Miss Darrow.” Theo’s blood simmered with the need to prove a point. “Be assured, I’m no amateur when it comes to kissing.” He could have the lady panting in seconds.
The flash of curiosity in her eyes accompanied her satisfied grin. “The truth is, Mr Chance, I know exactly what you keep in your bedchamber at Fortune’s Den.”
It was a lie. Women weren’t permitted inside the gaming hell, let alone given leave to search their private rooms. “Feel free to enlighten me.” This was another attempt at manipulation, a common stratagem of the fairer sex.
“There’s a large gilt mirror propped against the wall,” she remarked casually, diverting her attention from him to the unfolding farce on stage.
“Most people keep such an object in their chamber.”
“The entire room is painted midnight blue. I suspect your carved ebony bed came from France. The opulent rug is Persian.”
What the devil!
His pulse rose a notch.
The minx excelled at this game.
“No doubt Delphine has been exercising her tongue again.” What had his sister said about him? Perhaps she had spoken of his selfless deeds, the kind gestures that made a man look feeble. “They say a woman shares her deepest secrets with her modiste.”
The lady looked at him, the shadow of an unknown burden dulling her eyes. “Yes, you’d be surprised what information people entrust to a stranger. I admit, Delphine told me your room was blue when we spoke about the colour of her favourite gown.”
While Miss Darrow’s confession brought a triumphant smile to his lips, a subtle undercurrent of disappointment left him perplexed.
Was it wrong to wish she had been a more formidable adversary? Why did he enjoy these verbal tussles? What was it he liked about this cat-and-mouse game?
