He leaned forward between them. “My humble pardon. And what is it we are to see?”
Paulette raised her eyebrow in disbelief. “A Moliere play, of course.L’Ecole des Femmes.”
He groaned. “Don’t tell me,” he said heavily. “It’s in the original French.”
She looked perplexed, then shrugged.“Mais naturellement.”
Vanessa kept her eyes directed toward the stage, though her shoulders shook with silent laughter.
Hugh nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Naturally,” he muttered.
Trevor, seated on one side of him, smirked; Mr. Wilmot, seated on the other, looked at him with disdain. Hugh had the distinct impression he was in for a long night.
Later in the evening, after the requisite intermission to allow the patrons to stroll the halls, purchase refreshments, visit, exchange gossip, and, most importantly, be seen, the Mannion party settled back comfortably in their chairs to watch the second half of the play.
Vanessa sighed, her brow furrowing a moment with the effort of concentrating on translating the French dialogue. It was rumored the theater would soon begin producing plays in English as well as in French. She hoped the story was true. She would particularly enjoy seeing Shakespeare plays likeRomeo and JulietorTwelfth Night.She enjoyed the Moliere comedy, but the undivided attention necessary to achieve enjoyment could also engender throbbing temples.
Perhaps that was unfair. She was restless tonight, bound up by unknown feelings. She had toured the halls on Mr. Wilmot’s arm during intermission and felt content, almost proud to be seen in his company, for she’d noted many a considering eye turned in their direction. By the numerous nods and little waves he bestowed upon the different people they passed, he appeared to know all of New Orleans and not, judging by their attire, strictly the elite. He would not stop, however, to introduce her to anyone. Nor did he choose to stay near Adeline, Paulette, and their escorts to converse. He seemed to desire her to himself. She didn’t know whether to be piqued or flattered by his possessive manner. Nonetheless, she admitted she did find satisfaction and a measure of delight in his company.
Vanessa stiffened when she felt a light touch on the top of her shoulder. She looked over, shocked to see it was Mr. Wilmot’s hand resting there with a license she had never bestowed to him. And here she had just been thinking about how she liked him. His conceit was greater than Mr. Talverton’s if he believed that by returning his attention she was granting him license.
Very slowly and precisely, she raised her other arm to disengage his hand. He allowed his hand to be removed but clasped her fingers tightly in return. Stunned, she tugged, only to feel his grip tighten, though his thumb lazily caressed her knuckles. The blast of a cold, all-consuming fury shook her. Turning, she glared at him with frosted eyes, cold and glittering like icicles, and issued a silent, daring challenge.
In answer, he smiled, his dark eyes gleaming with something predatory flickering in their depths. Her eyes widened, her delicate nostrils flaring. Panicked, she tugged again at her captured hand. Suddenly she felt startlingly alone and helpless, although many people surrounded them.
Mr. Wilmot was a stranger, a man she didn’t recognize, and he frightened her.
Hugh Talverton looked over in time to see Wilmot clasp her fingers and Vanessa turn toward him. Her expression was hidden from him by the deep shadows in the box, but by her body's rigid set, he knew she was not pleased with the gentleman.
The situation amused Hugh, for he’d earlier thought she was no match for Wilmot. He turned the other way to poke Trevor in the ribs to share his appreciation of the scene. He was startled to see him already watching the encounter with outrage evident in the tight clenching of his jaw and his white-knuckled fists resting on his knees. He had never witnessed Trevor in a rage. He was always friendly and likely to be an arbiter of disputes, not a participant. Instinctively, Hugh knew he couldn’t trust his friend to act rationally. He’d heard duels were commonly fought in New Orleans over trifles, and this was no trifle. He had to diffuse the situation quickly. He saw Mr. Wilmot smile wolfishly at Vanessa while refusing to relinquish her hand. At any moment, he expected Trevor to jump to his feet and mill Wilmot down, then demand satisfaction.
He uncrossed his legs and swung his other leg up to change sides, letting the momentum of the swing carry his foot into the side of Vanessa Mannion’s chair with a resounding jolt.
“Oh, Miss Mannion, I’m terribly sorry. It’s these confounded great long legs of mine. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
The jarring action took both Vanessa and Mr. Wilmot by surprise. The man’s grip loosened, and Vanessa’s fingers slid free.
She felt disoriented, like a top, spinning off and dancing away. The force of her fury melted rapidly, leaving her dazed and numb. She slowly turned to face Hugh Talverton, struggling to pull her scattered wits about her, realizing he was speaking to her.
“No, no. I’m quite all right, I-I . . .” she stumbled, then paused. She found herself staring up into Mr. Talverton’s face and was astonished when he slowly winked at her. And there was no mistaking it for a wink, for at the moment he was not sleepy-eyed, and accompanying the wink was an audacious smile pulling up one corner of his lips.
He’d kicked her chair on purpose! The realization washed through her with an almost dizzying sense of relief, for he had saved her from an embarrassing situation. Immediately she recovered, a quick smile warming her features. Now it seemed every eye in the box was fixed upon her and she blushed.
“I understand. It was an accident,” she said as solemnly as she could manage, though her breathing was rapid and shallow. “It is a wonder that more such incidents don’t occur, as cramped as these boxes are,” she tossed out lightly, her laugh barely escaping hysteria.
“No,” he gravely protested, “you’re just trying to make me feel better, and I thank you, but Trevor here can tell you what a clumsy oaf I can be at times with this big frame. Isn’t that right, Trevor?”
With an effort, Trevor tore his hostile gaze from Mr. Wilmot, who appeared to be merely sitting at his leisure, his attention once again on the play.
“What? You, clumsy?” Instantly he felt Hugh’s heavy hand descend upon his thigh and squeeze. “Oh, oh yes, very clumsy,” he amended hastily, and the pressure was relieved. He looked askance at Hugh and massaged his mistreated limb.
Vanessa smiled wanly at the byplay.
"Chut!"remonstrated Paulette, turning around and pouting prettily at them all for disturbing the play.
Hugh nodded his apology and leaned back in his chair, shifting around again so his long legs were angled in Mr. Wilmot’s direction. It put him in immediate striking distance should the gentleman attempt to make another foray upon Miss Mannion’s person.
Mr. Wilmot raised an eyebrow, but Hugh merely smiled congenially back at him. He decided he needed to have a long talk with Trevor. Tonight.
