“We are well shielded from view,” he insisted.
“We are wedged between two boxes behind a curtain—a very thin curtain,” she countered. “This is the very definition of impropriety and recklessness.”
A faint glimmer of humor touched his mouth. “Then I shall endeavor to be brief.”
She folded her arms, though the movement brought her gloved hands closer to his chest, making her acutely aware of the breadth of his shoulders and the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The air between them felt charged, as though something unseen vibrated there.
“You had best.”
His voice lowered. “Did you receive the book I sent?”
Her breath caught despite herself. “Yes.”
“And?”
“It was unnecessary,” she said rather abruptly. The whole thing had charmed her and being charmed by him was dangerous.
“It most assuredly was not. It felt very necessary to me,” he protested. “Because I need you to understand, Eleanor, that not only do I see you, Iknowyou.”
She hesitated, remembering the weight of the book in her hands that morning — the fine binding, the delicate gilt, the familiarity of a story they had once debated with absurd seriousness. And the note, the tempting, lovely and hope inducing note. “It was… thoughtful,” she admitted.
His expression softened. “I thought you might remember the first time we quarreled over the ending.”
Her spine stiffened at the very thought of that long ago argument. “You declared Elizabeth Bennet insufferable.”
“And you did not speak to me for an entire day,” he said quietly. “A punishment I have never forgotten.”
Despite herself, her mouth threatened to curve, and she quickly suppressed it. “This is not the time for literary reminiscence. I am here with Lord Marklynne.”
“I am well aware. Painfully so.”
Something in his tone made her study him more closely. She became acutely conscious of how little space separated them — of the faint scent of starch and sandalwood that clung to his coat, of the warmth radiating from him, of the memory of his hand at her waist only hours before.
It would take so little to lean forward.
The thought startled her.
“He escorted you in,” Adrian continued. “And appears very satisfied with the arrangement.”
Her spine straightened. “And why should he not be?”
“It is presumptuous of him… he assumes that because he has called on you, because he has escorted you here that you are his to ignore at his whim.”
A swell of laughter drifted down the corridor as patrons began returning to their seats, the sound pressing in around them and reminding her how fragile their privacy truly was.
“Adrian, you cannot waylay me in shadowed corridors to voice vague objections,” she said, though her voice was softer now. “If you have something to say, say it plainly.”
He held her gaze for a long moment.
“I do not like the way he looks at you,” he said at last.
Her heart gave an unwelcome lurch. “He looks at me with respect.”
“He looks at you as though the matter is already settled. As if he need expend no more effort to win you than he already is.”
“And perhaps it is settled,” she countered. “Regardless, I am not a prize to be won. Is that what has prompted your actions? Some ridiculous need to win?”
“You know me better than that,” he said softly. “I would never have taken this step without their being truth behind it.”
