And dear God—shecravedmore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Harriet put her head close to the door of the dressing room, listening for anyone passing by. Jeremy stood close behind, waiting to hear that the way was clear. Beyond, in the theater's auditorium, they could hear the applause of the audience and cries of encore and bravo. The performance was over, both the public performance by the actors and the private performance for its audience of two.
She was acutely aware of Jeremy's physical presence close behind her. His scent made her head spin, the feel of him made her want to press herself back and against him, feel his hardness once again.
It did not take much to undercut my resolve. If he is the feckless rake, the arch-seducer, then I have been well and truly hoodwinked. Taken advantage of. Though I don't think I much care…
She opened the door a crack. The corridor beyond was empty. She stepped out, and Jeremy followed. He took her hand andled her along the corridor until they reached another door. The noise of many footsteps and a babbling conversation came from the other side.
Jeremy opened the door and then discreetly pulled Harriet through with him. They stepped into a crowd that was making its way ponderously from the auditorium to the lobby. Some of the passersby looked at them curiously, but most were too intent on their animated conversations to notice.
Jeremy offered his arm, grinning at Harriet as she took it and they fell into step with the rest of the crowd, eventually stepping into the wider space of the lobby.
“Penhaligon!” came the voice of Alfred Winchester.
Harriet looked around in the direction from which the voice had come. She saw Alfred and Margaret Winchester making their way towards them.
“Lady Harriet, too. Oh, how delightful!” the Winchester Matriarch chimed, greeting the pair with a warm, affectionate smile.
“What did you make of it, Penhaligon?” Alfred boomed.
“Very amusing. Very humorous,” Jeremy commented non-comitally.
“Humorous? Did you think so?” Margaret asked, puzzled, “I thought the subject matter was rather serious.”
“Although, there was certainly a dry wit on display,” Alfred nodded thoughtfully, “yes, I see your point, Penhaligon. A most astute observation.”
Harriet realized she had been holding her breath after Jeremy's blind punt on what the subject of the evening's play had been. They, of course, had not seen a spoken word of it.
“Jeremy is a man of many hidden talents,” Harriet added, enthusiastically, “I have only just discovered one of them.”
She was, of course, speaking of his talent as an artist, but she now remembered their most recent activities. She felt herself blushing, felt Jeremy pat her hand, and looked down demurely.
“And what is that, dear?” Margaret asked gently, treating Harriet as though she were a shy doe.
“He is an excellent artist,” Harriet mumbled, still thinking of the double meaning to her earlier words.
Jeremy cleared his throat. “One doesn't like to brag when one is descended from a master. My great-grandfather was renowned for his paintings.”
“Humility is indeed commendable,” Alfred declared, “a saintly virtue.”
“A very modest and humble couple indeed,” Margaret nodded. “Our dear Simon has been at pains to point that out and reassure us concerning the foul rumors that we had recently become aware of.”
Harriet and Jeremy looked at each other, taken aback. “Jeremy seems to have a friend in Simon that even he did not know of,” she said with a smile.
“You do indeed, Penhaligon. And here he comes now,” the Earl said, glancing behind them.
Simon was threading his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on Harriet and Jeremy all the while.
“Good evening, Linwood,” Jeremy greeted as the man reached them, using his courtesy title.
“Your Grace!” Simon boomed back, far too hearty.
“I believe I owe you a debt of thanks,” Jeremy said with a smile.
Harriet could see the effort it required, though, in the tension around his eyes.
