Chapter Twenty-One
William had waited and grown concerned. After procuring their drinks, he’d returned to their meeting point by the second arch. Five minutes later, and with his glass half empty, he’d headed toward the ladies room and, uncomfortably, lingered a minute outside the entrance. Still, no Rose — though plenty of ladies gave him a curious or disapproving look.
Finally, he’d started to wander around the lobby and then, at last, he’d spied her glorious copper-colored silk gown. However as he closed in on her, his eyes seemed to be lying, for his Rose was in the arms of another man, being held extremely close.
Rage, white hot, rushed through him. As he reached the pair, who didn’t apparently notice his approach, William dashed the glasses down on the floor behind his betrothed. It was the most civilized thing he could do in light of the explosive anger that boiled in his heart and threatened to result in a brawl, right there in the lobby of The Boston Theatre.
“Step away from my fiancée.”
As the pair broke apart, William directed his focus on the only person who mattered.
“This is the second time I’ve found you with this man.”
Rose had appeared quite contented resting against the chest of Phineas Bennet. Moreover, her old “friend” seemed quite content holding her.
As she moved toward William, her lovely face pale with guilt, her dark eyes huge, his heart sunk to his shoes. There was something terrible and destructive happening, and his world was about to change, unless ...
“Rose, say something.” He heard the pleading in his own voice.
However it was Bennet who spoke. “She was threatened and nearly abducted. I helped her. She’s a bit unsettled.”
William spared the man barely a glance as he watched Rose’s face for some small indication that everything was going to be fine.
“Who threatened you?” His perfectly normal question felt anything but. “Whywould someone threaten you?”
Finally, Rose found her voice only to lose it a moment later. “Because I ...” She stopped abruptly and looked to the man behind her for answers.
That alone cut William like a blade.
“This has something to do with you,” he said to Bennet. “She has been put in some danger because she knows you. Have I surmised correctly?”
Bennet looked at Rose and then back at him. Bennet nodded and simply said, “Yes.”
The electric house lights went up and down. The audience — both those who were and those who weren’t fascinated by the tableau being played out in the lobby — returned to their seats to watch the second half ofThe Lady of Lyons.
The three of them remained where they stood.
“Who is this man?” William demanded.
Rose’s cobalt eyes filled with tears, which terrified him further.
“Not here,” she whispered at last. “Please. Just take me home.”
For a moment, William felt a surge of surprise. He could almost believe that it was Bennet who would take her home, and that he, her fiancé, was merely the interloper.
Without another word, she walked stiffly toward the coat check counter and waited for him to catch up with the ticket stubs. He tipped the young lady and eased Rose into her velvet evening cape, barely touching her because suddenly, she seemed like the most fragile, brittle creature in the world. She stared at the floor while he did so.
“May I take your arm?” he asked.
She glanced at him, tears glistening on her cheeks, and nodded. In silence, they left the theatre.
It was the longest ride of his life, with Rose’s occasional sniffling being the only sound other than the horse’s hooves and his own heartbeat, which seemed to be pulsing loudly in his ears. His misery was made worse when they reached her street without having spoken.
Then, she broke her silence and said almost angrily, “No. We should go to your house.”
Without a second thought, William drove them to his home on Phillips Street where, for the most part, he lived alone with two servants and occasionally hosted his parents when they were in the States. Neither of them mentioned the utter impropriety. It simply wasn’t done, and yet, they did it.
***
