“It’s a very good play,” she murmured.
He nodded, not adding he had no idea what it was about since he was too busy watching her. “Why don’t we all go get some refreshments and be seen?” he suggested, not just to her but to their friends, as well.
Flora laughed. “We wouldn’t want to miss that, would we, dearest?”
Roarke let out a little groan, which made their party laugh. He made no secret that he didn’t love the social part of Society. Theo believed that Roarke would likely be perfectly happy to only be with his wife. He’d always thought that to be a silly notion, but now…
Well, the idea of being locked away with only Bernadette wasn’t a terrible one. Of course, she wasn’t his wife. She’d never be his wife. He’d known that when he was barely eighteen, hadn’t he? He’d certainly gone over that night many times in the recent days. Thought about how he’d strenuously refused Etta’s hand as a way to thwart his father and then briefly regretted it on the terrace later.
He always pushed the thought away and he did so now, instead offering her an arm to guide her from the box behind their hosts. When she took it, he thought her heard her slight intake of breath, but when he looked down at her, she smiled up at him like this was as meaningless to her as it was to him. Like it was just another night when they were out as friends.
One day that would be all they were again, and he didn’t want to think about how that made him feel. Protocol insisted that Theo and Etta leave the box first, as they were of higher rank than their hosts, and he guided her out and down into the crowded hall where theatre attendees had flooded out. It was loud and bright after the dimness of the box.
“It looks like they’re circulating with drinks,” Theo said above the din. “Roarke, should we make the effort to get some for the ladies?”
Roarke turned toward Flora with a playful bow. “I shall go into battle for you, wife.”
Flora laughed and immediately played along. “Be careful. I’ll wait for you.”
Theo glanced at Etta, but she kept her stare off to the distance, as if trying to make sure he didn’t make the same jokes to her. He tilted his head toward the ladies, and he and Roarke left them, pushing their way through the crowd, nodding toward friends and dodging feathers on some of the ladies’ massive headpieces.
“There,” Theo said, pointing through the crowd. “There seems to be a larger table of refreshments if we cannot find a servant with a tray.”
They moved there together and took turns pouring punch for themselves and their partners. Theo turned to go back, but Roarke caught his arm. “They’re deep in conversation, mate,” he said. “Best give them a moment.”
Theo looked across the room and saw that his friend was correct. Flora and Etta were standing close together in what seemed to be intense discussion. Flora squeezed Etta’s arm and Etta frowned, then continued to talk in what seemed an increasingly animated fashion.
He wrinkled his brow as a suspicion was born in him.
“I don’t know what they have left to discuss after this afternoon,” Roarke continued. “They already shared all their secrets.”
“Secrets?” Theo said, his stomach flipping. “What makes you think they were trading secrets?”
Roarke shrugged. “I can always tell when they’ve been swapping tales I’m not supposed to know about. Flora has very specific ways for changing the subject and making up for keeping them from me. To be honest, I don’t care. She can keep secrets, so long as they aren’t important.”
Theo could feel his face falling and he didn’t have the energy to put the mask of joviality back on. He looked at Etta again across the room. She glanced at him and then ducked her head. But Flora…Flora kept looking at him, her gaze flitting over him. Then she pursed her lips.
Etta had told her about him. Aboutthem. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. And then she’d told Flora not to tell Roarke. Was that because she remained concerned about her reputation, as she’d mentioned earlier when she feared Callum knew the truth? Or was she embarrassed?
Worse…was it all just an unimportant secret? Flora clearly hadn’t told Roarke, so perhaps itwasunimportant.Hewas unimportant beyond a fun tumble Bernadette would recall with faint pleasure.
The idea of that stung far more deeply than it should have.
“Come, we’d best return,” he said, hating that his voice was rougher. “They’ll want their drinks before the second act.”
Roarke looked at him with a strange expression but didn’t argue, and simply followed him back to the ladies. By the time they reached Etta and Flora, the women had stopped discussing whatever it was that had seemed to trouble Etta. When he reached her and held out the glass of punch, she smiled up at him, her face all brightness and beauty again.
“Thank you, Theo,” she said as she slid the glass from his hand, her fingers brushing his lightly.
The sting he’d felt across the room dissipated a little at that touch, at that look. Why had he felt it in the first place? They’d always been perfectly clear about what they were to each other, after all. There was no need to complicate things. If she wanted distance, especially in public, if she wanted no emotion…he could give that. He had to, if only to protect himself.
Not that he had feelings to protect himself from.
“Theo?”
He blinked as he realized Etta had been speaking to him. He slipped the mask back on, smiling at her with the same playfully flirtatious emptiness that he reserved for any lady who entered his sphere and returned to what he knew best: the game.
* * *
