“Did you—” Jane began.
“Was it—” the earl said simultaneously.
They both smiled, each waiting for the other to continue. “Please,” the earl said.
“Did you have a satisfactory business meeting?” Jane asked.
“Yes. I’m investing in an East India import-export company.”
“Oh. And what do they import-export?”
“Spices, oils, silks, rugs, the usual exotica,” the earl told her.
A new silence, no less awkward, descended. The earl broke it carefully. “And how was the performance tonight?”
Jane sighed. “No more full houses. We had about two-thirds attendance tonight.” She set her sherry down. “The novelty is wearing off, and I’m afraid that soon we shall be closing this run.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Jane shrugged. “It’s part of the business. Every show has a life of its own—legs, we call it. I guess we shall be adjourning to Dragmore, then?”
“Yes, I guess so. Unless there is a reason you wish to remain in London?”
Jane thought of being at Dragmore, away from all of Society and the horrible gossip, away from Amelia and her likes, and she was suddenly eager to go. They would be a family—just the two of them and the children. She wished they could depart tomorrow. “No,” she said, deliberately hiding her enthusiasm. “I promised, and Dragmore is fine. Besides, it will be good for the children.”
“Yes,” he said, “I think so too.”
Their gazes cautiously met. Then they boldly held. His glittered like hot silver, stealing Jane’s breath and making her chest tight. Softly he said, “You are ravishing in that dress.”
Jane was about to say thank you when Thomas wheeled in the trolley table, replete with covered dishes, set with silver and crystal. The earl followed her to the table, then pulled out her chair before she could do so herself. He smiled at her surprise, seating her before sitting himself. He gestured for Thomas to pour the wine and begin serving them.
He could not take his eyes off Jane.
She was stunningly beautiful, and tonight, more than ever, she glowed with that innocent carnal sensuality that was such an intriguing contradiction. The earl had no desire to eat. All he wanted to do was watch Jane, listen to her voice, be with her.
She’d haunted him throughout the day.
As had the memories of their passionate night together.
The earl had had no intention of going out that evening. Not with Jane on his mind, in his very soul. He’d hoped she’d come home directly from the Criterion, and had been ill-pressed to hide his profound elation when she had. Maybe, just maybe, like himself, she wanted to be with him.
Would she invite him to her bed tonight?
He ached for her, even now, sitting at the table, the napkin barely disguising his arousal. He would gladly die a dozen deaths just to be in her arms again tonight. All day he’d been tormented with wondering if she’d changed her mind about their “agreement.” About the separate bedrooms. Yet he was so afraid of her answer that he could not, would not, ask.
He knew he was being selfish, but he wanted the play to fold, and soon. He wanted to take his family, his children, his wife, to the peace and solitude of Dragmore, where he could be alone with them, with her. The thought was exhilarating.
Yet he tried to chase it away, because he wanted Jane to be happy, and he knew the stage was her joy.
He tried to eat. He barely managed, and noticed that she too had little appetite. He kept thinking about what would happen after the meal. Different scenarios played themselves out: They would walk upstairs, pause at her door, she would say good night, and then disappear into her rooms, alone.
Or she would pause, blushing, not quite able to meet his gaze, and her voice, low, timid, indistinct, she would ask him if he cared to come in.
Or, better, her look would be direct, bold and sexy and suggestive of all the carnal pleasure they would share, and there would be no words. He would follow her in, her invitation silent, and she would turn, and then he would fall wildly upon her …
The earl shifted, thoroughly uncomfortable now. The meal could not be finished soon enough. Yet he dreaded its end too, dreaded the possibility of rejection.
Jane sighed, laying her knife and fork carefully side by side, indicating she was through. The earl promptly pushed his plate away, calling for Thomas. As the butler removed their dishes, the earl gazed at Jane’s bent head, at her small hands resting on the linen tablecloth. She wore only one ring, a ruby that had been her mother’s, and no bracelets. He was determined then to buy her jewelry. She looked up, her gaze wide and uncertain although unwavering, and gave him a small smile. The earl wanted to grab her and crush her in his arms.
