“Thank you, no. I believe I’ll stay here.”
Trevor turned his attention back to the now empty stage. Once he heard them all shuffle out, he rotated his aching shoulders and slowly rolled his head, trying to ease some of the stiffness.
“Does it hurt a great deal, my lord?”
Startled, Trevor turned and saw a slender, feminine hand resting on his shoulder.
“I have told you before not to address me as my lord, Meredith.”
“Whatever you desire, Trevor.”
She had leaned down and whispered her reply into his ear. Her breasts pressed against his back, the soft swells causing an immediate ache and discomfort in another part of his body.
Before he could reprimand her, she began a gentle massage of his shoulders. He tensed against her touch, but she only pressed down harder, digging into the knotted muscles.
Some time during the performance Meredith had removed her gloves. Her bare fingers worked diligently and with surprising skill. Trevor’s eyelids lowered as the ache began to lessen.
“Is that helping?”
“Yes.” A sigh of pleasure escaped his lips. “Though I do believe the best results of a massage are achieved against bare flesh.”
Her hands stilled for an instant, then resumed their magical work. “I would encourage you to remove your coat and shirt, but I fear you would quickly comply. And that sort of activity is best left for the privacy of our chambers.”
The marquess’s eyes snapped open. He had not meant to make such a suggestive comment about bare flesh. Or had he? It seemed more often than not his famous control was sadly lacking when it came to his extraordinary wife.
Desire, sharp and liquid, spread through him. Desire he could not allow.
He turned and she smiled. “You seem to be in less discomfort,” Meredith said. She moved to the chair directly behind his. “I am so glad I could make you feel better.”
Her expression was all innocence, but Trevor was not convinced. He had a sneaking suspicion his beautiful wife was relishing the effect she was having on him. Despite his annoyance, he could not help but admire her. She was such a unique person, so unconventional compared to the other women he had known, even Lavinia.
“First a kiss at the racecourse and now a massage at the theater. I am beginning to believe you enjoy making a public spectacle of yourself, madame.”
“Does that displease you?”
“Not really.” He meant it. The conventional, polite rules of this stodgy society had not held any power over him for nearly a decade. Though he teased her, Trevor acknowledged Meredith had shown far more common sense and discretion with regard to those rules throughout all of her life. “I fancy a bit of fresh air. I believe I will stroll down to the lobby for a few minutes.”
Meredith’s eyes widened minimally. She said nothing, asked nothing, yet he felt her intense regard. Though he preferred to be alone, Trevor recognized when he was defeated. “Would you care to join me?”
“How lovely.”
She rose gracefully. He stepped back to allow her to precede him, and when she passed, he brushed his arm deliberately across her breasts. He could almost feel the faint shudder that traveled through her body, yet she presented no outward sign of discomfort. Most likely he was the only person in the theater who knew she was unnerved. The marquess smiled, pleased at that exclusive advantage.
Trevor kept a proprietary hand on her waist as they negotiated the crowded staircase down to the main level. There were fewer people here, as most were already returning to their seats.
The marquess was about to signal a footman to get them some champagne when a rumbling noise caught his attention. Meredith must have heard it also, for she grasped his arm tightly.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
Trevor grimaced with concern. He heard shouts and jeers from inside the theater, then the unmistakable crash of objects being hurled. “It sounds like the drunks in the pit are losing control. One makes a comment, another disagrees and soon they are brawling in the aisles. I have seen it happen on several other occasions, and ’tis not a pretty sight. We had best get out of here before it becomes a full-scale riot.”
Apparently many of the crowd were of a similar mind. Patrons began leaving in droves, scuttling out of theater, down the stairs, and rushing for the exits. There was an unmistakable undercurrent of fear in their movements.
“We cannot leave without the others,” Meredith cried.
Trevor lifted his head, his eyes darting about, searching the surging crowd. “I can see the duke and Miss Harriet on the opposite side. I assume Wingate and Miss Elizabeth are near them. There is an exit directly to their left.”
“What about us?”
