Her own brows rose; she was intrigued despite herself.
“The what of where? I’m not up to date with all the London gossip yet. You’re going to have to enlighten me.”
“It’s been the talk of Covent Garden for months. I’m surprised it hasn’t reached your ears.”
“I don’t frequent the area as often as you do,” Lucy said sweetly, relishing the way his lips compressed at her saucy inference. Covent Garden was known for its proliferation of brothels and taverns. Arden, she was sure, was no stranger to either. “Lenore mentioned that you were ‘particular friends’ with an actress?”
Lucy had digested that news with hardly a pang. Arden always had a woman on his arm. He attracted everyone, from dairymaid to duchess, and he rarely denied himself female company.
The twinge in her midsection haddefinitely notbeen jealousy.
He sent her an easy smile. “You’re referring to Kitty? Or maybe Barbara? Either way, we’ve parted company. But that’s beside the point. I know the gossip about Drury Lane Theater because I have a financial stake in the place.”
“How so?”
“When the previous building burned down, my father donated funds to rebuild it and became one of the major shareholders. He gifted me his stake three years ago. Just after you left for lands unknown.”
“Oh.”
Lucy couldn’t quite hide her surprise. She’d never imagined Arden as having any interest in business. He’d always seemed too carefree to bother with such serious matters, but perhaps he wasn’t quite such a dedicated libertine as he’d once been. Perhaps the war had changed more than his physical appearance.
The thought was intriguing, but she quashed it. Leopards didn’t change their spots.
“Tell me about this Phantom, then,” she prompted.
Arden glanced over his shoulder and then leaned in, as if imparting a great secret, and her heart stuttered as she caught a delicious whiff of his cologne.
God, he always smelled delicious.One day she was going to find out exactly which scent he wore and buy a bottle for herself. For no particular reason, of course. She most certainly wouldn’t put a drop of it on her pillow so she could breathe it in while she slept.
His broad shoulders blocked out the rest of the room as she pressed back into the corner, simultaneously breathless at his proximity and irritated at herself for such a reaction.
Her body clearly wasn’t as discerning as her brain.
“The Phantom is a masked figure who’s haunted the theater for months,” Arden said.
“He sits alone, in the highest box on the left-hand side of the stage. Sometimes he stays for an entire performance. Other times he only appears for a moment, then vanishes before he can be accosted. Everyone’s desperate to know who he is. And whether he’s real, or an apparition.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Of course he’s real. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Arden raised his brows. “Are you sure?”
“Your ‘phantom’ is flesh-and-bone, Arden, I guarantee it. But why are you so keen to unmask him? If he’s got people talking about the theater, and buying tickets on the off-chance that they might see him, you should be grateful for the free publicity.”
He tilted his head in wry acknowledgment. “I can’t deny he’s been good for business, but it irks me not to know who the fellow is.”
“Have you ever seen him?”
“Not personally. But plenty of other people have. The rumor is that he’s a veteran, hideously scarred by a grenade. He wears a mask so people don’t scream in terror when they see him.”
Without meaning to, Lucy glanced at Arden’s own injury, and his lips quirked as he noted the direction of her gaze.
“Do you findmehideous now, Lucia?” he teased, clearly unworried about his own scar. “Do I make you want to scream?”
Lucy’s heart was hammering against her ribs. His words sounded as if they had another, far more seductive, meaning. How had things suddenly become so intimate? It felt as if they were the only two people in the ballroom.
She clenched her fingers into a fist against the sudden bizarre desire to touch his injured face, and rallied gamely. “Scream? Only in aggravation.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “Hmm.”
