Beth admired the interpretation of the actress, however. She broughtintelligence and dignity to the part. Beth consulted her program to seethat the actress was Mrs. Blanche Hardcastle. In brackets after her nameit said, “The White Dove of Drury Lane.” A chill crept down her spine.Without moving, Beth slid a glance at her husband. He was absorbed by theperformance but nothing on his face betrayed personal involvement. HadLord Deveril’s words had meaning?
Then Desdemona floated into a dance, executed with marvelous fluidityof movement and classic elegance. Beth looked at her husband again and thechill seemed to eat into her bones. The smile on his face could only becalled doting. Was this, in fact, where he had disappeared this afternoonwith such alacrity, not in search of news? Of which he had significantlyfound so little.
Beth looked back at the exquisite creature on the stage. She couldn’tblame any man for loving such beauty. How could Lucien’s interest in BethArmitage be more than dutiful when the White Dove was waiting for him?Marital duty. The phrase he had used. Though once Beth would not havecared, now to be taken in the marriage bed out ofdutywas unbearable.
Had his considerate reasons for not consummating the marriage beenmerely a polite fabrication to disguise his unwillingness?
After all, on that last night her willingness must have been clear, andthey had both known he could overcome her fears if he tried . . .
The pain Beth felt was so deep she was surprised he could not sense it.But why should she expect him to be sensitive to her hidden hurts when histrue love moved fluidly on the stage before him?
How cloying he must have found her, thought Beth, when he wanted onlyto return to his true friends and his true love. If there had been anyway, Beth would have fled, never to face her husband again.
The horror passed, as such things are inclined to. By the time of thefirst intermission Beth was able to discuss the performance in a rationalway and even compliment the leading actors. She listened closely to everyword her husband spoke, but he said nothing exceptionable about the WhiteDove.
Then it was back to watching the lady once again and tryingunsuccessfully to block all awareness of Lucien’s warm reaction to theperformance. Beth was pleased with herself. She behaved throughout theevening with calm good breeding, steadfastly ignoring the cold, hard lumpof pain which had taken up residence in her heart.
When they returned to Marlborough Square they took supper. The duke andduchess retired, leaving Beth alone with her husband. She looked up to seehim thoughtfully studying her, and she had a moment’s paralyzing horrorthat Lucien might choose this night, of all nights, to demand his right toher bed.
“You look tired,” he said. “We should never have gone out on our firstnight back. You mustn’t let us bully you, Beth. If you don’t want to dancethis mad caper then say so.”
“The duchess says I must be established. And presented.”
He grimaced. “I suppose so. But that doesn’t demand constantsocializing.Mamanis a creature of extremes. She either lives very quietly atBelcraven or descends on Town like a hurricane, unable to leave any momentuntouched. You don’t have to play the game by her rules.”
“I have to do something,” Beth said and then regretted what might soundlike a plea for his company.
“There are any number of more stimulating events. I’ll see whatlectures are scheduled at the institutes. If you like, I’ll introduce youto Fanny Ball. She’s the sister of a friend of mine and a regular bluestocking.”
For some reason this did not attract Beth. Was she so changed? “I don’tknow,” she said, then added impulsively, “I would like to visit theDelaneys.”
He smiled. “A wonderful idea. Tomorrow afternoon?”
“Will they be at home?” Beth asked, meaning in the formal sense.
“There’s no point in any of that with Eleanor and Nicholas,” he saidcarelessly. “If they’re out we’ll do something else and visit them anothertime. Go look over the Royal Academy, perhaps. You may want to buy apicture or two. If you’re for bed,” he added cheerfully, “I think I’ll popout.”
And I know where, thought Beth bitterly.
Her choice appeared to be between dragging him to hismarital dutiesor waving him off to his mistress. With a verytight smile she did the latter and marched up to her lonely room.
For his part, Lucien went to his club and had a miserable time. He wasdepressed by those who took the military situation seriously and irritatedby those who carried on as if there weren’t a battle in the wind at all.All the time he was wondering what would have happened if he’d given in tohis baser instincts and carried Beth up to her bed and seduced all herfears away.
Chapter Seventeen
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The next day Beth had to admit that regardless of the way he spent hisnights, her husband was doing his duty during the day. He presentedhimself after lunch to escort her to the Delaneys and also provided herwith a neatly written list of the more interesting intellectual eventstaking place in Town over the next few weeks.
Hannah More was scheduled to talk, and Maria Edgeworth. There was apresentation on the sculpture of the Renaissance and a lecture on themigration patterns of birds. As an indication that such events were notbeyond the bounds of thehaut tonthere was a musical and literary entertainment under thepatronage of the Marchioness of Salisbury and the Countess of Jersey.
“Perhaps I should set up as a patroness of the arts,” she said.
“If you wish.”
Beth searched his face for any change, for any hint that he had spent anight of passion with his mistress. There was none.
“If you don’t object,” he said as they left her room, “we could walk toLauriston Street. It’s not far and it’s a pleasant day.”
