Shewouldbe happy.
Henry’s face set, but he said nothing as she stalked forward and bought herself a new book with her pin money. But even that didn’t soothe the emotions roiling in her chest.
* * *
The next time Annabelle saw Jacob was two days later at the theatre. Unfortunately, her entire family except for Theo, who was claiming illness, was in attendance, so there was little potential for privacy.
The first time she had come to the theatre in a box, she had been captivated by the opera below. Every tiny detail had held her attention, and she had felt her heart soar with the music.
Now, she was achingly aware of Jacob’s muscular thigh inches from her own, radiating heat. The last time they had been together, he had done unspeakable things to her, and now she wanted him to do them to her again.
Her cheeks burned and she tried her best to focus on the elaborate staging, her opera glasses fixed to her eyes, her gaze unfixed and mindless.
With him this close, all she could think about was the sight of his head between her legs, and how she wanted him.
This kind of want wasn’t pretty—it was a raw, visceral thing that had her fisting her hands until her knuckles whitened.
He glanced across at her; the tiniest movement of his head, one she wouldn’t have seen if it weren’t for the fact her attention was wholly on him. “Annabelle,” he murmured, so low no one else could hear. He took her hand, straightening out her fingers. She was wearing little kitten gloves, and the grooves from her nails were visible in the fleshy part of her thumb. He smoothed over the material the way he might have smoothed over her skin.
She felt it all over.
What she desperately wanted was for the eyes behind them to vanish. In particular, she felt Henry’s glare boring into the back of her head. Before they’d left, she’d made him promise he would say nothing, but there was no need for words when his eyes told a story all of their own.
Jacob retained her hand a heartbeat too long before replacing it on her lap, his eyes down on the opera below.
Look at me, she silently begged as she too pretended to watch the opera.
A muscle in his jaw flexed, but he made no other movement. He could have been a fallen angel in all his dark perfection, and had they been alone, she might have given into her temptation to look at him. Just look, just watch, just wonder what it might be like between them if they were to come together again.
A new ache started between her legs at the thought and she pressed her thighs together. This was a new sensation and not an entirely welcome one.
His gaze darted down to the way her skirts had shifted, and he inhaled. His body tensed for a second, and she half thought he was going to run from the box. Then, the motion looking like a physical effort, he exhaled and relaxed.
“You’re missing it, little bird,” he muttered when she didn’t immediately look away from the tension in his hands.
Frustrated, she stared back at the stage, not taking anything in. A soprano was singing an aria, her voice rising and swelling in accents of agony that reflected in Annabelle’s chest. Jacob had insisted on meeting them at the opera house instead of accompanying them there, and now, he looked as though he did not want to be there at all.
Cautiously, for she knew her family were just behind, she reached out a hand and wrapped it around one of his.
Without so much as looking at her, he freed himself from her grip and placed her hand back on her lap.
The wave of disappointment was crushing. She told herself it was nothing, that he merely would not want to show her affection in public, but it brought back the memory of how he had sent her away immediately after . . . well, after everything they had done.
If that was the case, she already knew what his answer would be when she asked if he would marry her. Her throat thickened. Somehow, inexplicably, things had changed for her, but nothing appeared to have changed for him. She was just his personal history repeating itself, and he was not prepared, it seemed, to let that happen.
Her breath caught on its way out and Jacob’s jaw clenched.
A few torturous moments later, the curtain descended for the interval, and Annabelle gathered what tattered remnants of her courage remained. Now was her moment.
“Stay a moment,” she said as Jacob made to leave. Behind them, Henry hesitated, then remained with them. She sucked in a sharp breath of frustration. Unmarried, with her family around her, it was impossible to find privacy.
“I must speak with you,” she whispered, putting her hand on his arm. His eyes flickered down to the contact. “Please.”
“And say what?” His jaw worked. “If you want me to apologise for the last time we met, I—”
“No!” The word was little more than a hiss, but some of the tension seeped from his body. He sighed.
“Then what is it?”
