She slid him a glance. “It’s all right. I am just glad you are feeling better.”
“Never turn down a gift, my dear,” Trudy said with a smirk from her other side.
“She’s right. I shall make it up to you,” Hart murmured.
The curtain rose on the stage, and the orchestra began to play. They both turned their attention to the stage as the show started.Othellowas not Lucy’s favorite, but Trudy had insisted on parading her and Hart out in public so that everyone could see what an innocent relationship they had. She let out a sigh. What she wanted from Hart was far from innocent. What she wanted was to climb into his lap and kiss him senseless.
He would probably push her away. Hart had some self-appointed rule that she was off limits. She’d run the hurtful scene after his accident through her mind over and over. He had said she could do better than him, that she could choose anyone. Why didn’t he want her to choose him? Was it really about his scars? Or was that just his excuse to keep her at arm’s length?
Lucy chewed on her bottom lip, barely glancing at the stage as she stewed. The soft candlelight flickered from the back of the box, casting long shadows across the dark red carpet in front of her seat. She tapped her slipper on the floor as she stared down at them. Hart’s hand moved to her knee, stopping its bounce.
Then his lips were at her ear. “Cassio doesn’t die here. He is only injured.”
“What?” She furrowed her brow but didn’t dare turn her head when his lips were so close.
“You looked worried. I fear you are damaging your perfect pout.”
“Oh.” Lucy ran her tongue over her abused bottom lip. “I was just thinking. Remind me to tell you what I found out about that symbol in your father’s letters,” she whispered back.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hart nod and then shift back into his seat as he turned his attention back to the play. But his hand didn’t move from her knee, and Lucy smiled into the dark as she enjoyed the warm weight of it through the silk of her skirts.
Chapter Eleven
At intermission, Hartstood and attempted to subtly stretch his shoulder. Having it in one position for the last hour had made it ache. Hell, it ached when he moved it, and when he didn’t move it, it was a lose-lose situation.
Trudy stood and turned to the two of them. “Be expecting that people will come by to see us during the break. You two need to stand at least two feet apart at all times. No more holding hands in the dark.”
“We weren’t holding hands!” Lucy blushed.
Hart felt heat creep into his cheeks as well. It was true; they hadn’t been holding hands. Although his hand resting on her knee probably hadn’t been entirely proper. But Lucy had seemed so agitated. He had drawn soothing little circles across the silky fabric covering her knee every time her leg began to bounce again. Something was definitely bothering her.
“Aunt, I promise to be on my best behavior. Of course, I don’t know if this one can.” He jerked his thumb at Lucy.
“Really.” Lucy huffed and walked to the back of the box. She snatched up a glass of champagne from the silver tray on a slim side table.
“Just teasing, brat.”
Trudy gave him a stern look. She took his arm and walked to the balustrade. “Hartwick, who will you introduce her to this evening? Have you narrowed our list to appropriate candidates?”
Hart shook his head. He hadn’t thought about the blasted list in days. None of those men were good enough for Lucy anyway.
“Well, then I’m thinking the Earl of Rawlings’s son. He is a handsome boy, and I see he is here escorting his sister tonight. Adeline and Lucy are already acquainted. I’ll send a note to invite them to come visit our box.” She bustled off.
Hart glared out at the auditorium. Lord Rawlings’s son was… well, there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. He was three years older than Lucy, a perfectly appropriate age. But he was also rather bland, a typical cutout of a young aristocrat. Hart supposed that Viscount Danbywouldbe a step up from her solicitor fellow. At least he would have a proper income to take care of her in style.
As he scanned the crowded theater, Hart caught the gaze of a woman who sat in a box one row down across the way. The last woman he ever wanted to be snared by in any way again. Lady Mirabelle’s red-painted lips curled up into a friendly smile. Hart gave a small nod and turned his back to her, finding Lucy stood right behind him. She held out a glass of champagne.
“Do you know her?” Lucy peered around him, eyes narrowed.
“Yes, from a long time ago.”
“Ah, she was part of your harem.” Lucy took a sip of her wine.
“More like I was part of her harem. She led me to believe I was important to her, but in fact, she was married with a husband in the navy.”
Lucy’s mouth formed a smallOof surprise.
He shrugged. “I was very young. It was a good lesson learned. I will never settle for being someone’s alternative again.”
