“Oh nooo.” Quentin looked as though he was going to be sick.
Vivian hurried to her cousin. “What is it?”
“I have to go home to gather my things, but I don’t want to miss a single moment.”
Some of the tenseness left Viv’s shoulders and she rolled exasperated eyes in Jacob’s direction.
“We can send a footman,” he offered, amused.
“Or I can loan you what you need,” said Tommy, sizing Quentin up with her eyes. “Are you feeling more dashing-rake-struck-by-ennui, or adventurous-sailor-about-to-embark-on-a-dangerous-mission?”
Quentin’s eyes filled with delight.
As Tommy led him to her multiple dressing rooms filled with clothes and disguises, Quentin trailed after her like a newborn puppy.
“She’s creating a monster,” Vivian warned. “Now she’ll never be rid of him.”
“Who wants to be rid of him?” Jacob kissed her fingers again. “It’s all harmless fun.”
“Maybe now,” she allowed. “But his abduction was hardly harmless. I don’t suppose anything will happen to Uppington for all the laws he broke?”
“That depends on how successful Chloe is in convincing Uppington’s mistress to testify against him, in exchange for sparing her own neck. Shewasharboring a hostage. Her servants were complicit as well.”
“I can’t blame the servants entirely,” said Vivian. “Their livelihood depends on obeying a person with the power of depriving them of food and shelter.”
“Couldn’t Miss Yates make that same argument?” he pointed out.
“Not particularly. She’s rich, from all accounts. And that roof over her head is in one of the fanciest neighborhoods in London.”
He considered that. “Being in bed with a monster doesn’t mean she’s loyal to him. A lord who’d kidnap a man he believed to be a baron wouldn’t hesitate to punish a mere courtesan for disobeying orders. Even if she wanted to walk away—or simply set Quentin free—she wouldn’t have been able to.”
“Power again,” said Vivian. “Miss Yates can have anything she wants, except freedom from him.”
“What doyouwant?” he asked softly. “The night is ours.”
She bit her lip. “Are you certain that Quentin—”
“He’s been locked in a nightmare for four weeks. Let his dreams come true tonight.”
Vivian cocked her head to the side, then nodded.
Jacob cupped her cheek and rubbed the pad of his thumb against its soft warmth. With luck, a dream would come true for him, too. One in which he and Vivian spent far more than one night together.
“I have something I’d like to show you,” he began haltingly. It was so important to get the next few minutes right. “But first, I have something I’d like to give you.”
She folded her arms, eyes narrowing. “I’ll bet you do.”
“That, too,” he admitted. “If and when you want it. But more important is a different sort of compatibility. Vivian, I want you to know how fervently I esteem and respect you. I can think of no greater honor than to be worthy of your time. Please indulge me by accepting a humble token that cannot begin to convey the depths of my admiration for who you are.”
He held out a small rectangular package not larger than his hand, wrapped in a square of soft white silk and tied with a Balcovian pink ribbon.
Vivan’s arms uncrossed to accept the parcel. Her palm bounced lightly as she felt its heft.
“If these are ‘Miss Vivian Henry, playwright’ calling cards,” she warned, “I must warn you that I already own enough of those to paper every wall in this house.”
He simply gestured for her to unwrap her gift.
She began to pluck at the pink bow, then froze with suspicion.“If these are ‘acceptance’ letters from disgruntled theater managers you’ve browbeaten into performing my plays—”
