Then Jack leaned down and whispered, “Run!”
With Jack, every moment became an adventure. One never knew.
23
We laughed most of the way down a flight of narrow stone steps that were not plushly carpeted, and certainly not lit. It released all the tension that had built like a band around my chest, and it was as wonderfully freeing as the night air.
“Many pardons for the hasty exit, my lady. I’m quite certain ole Favelroy wouldn’t mind a bit, my sitting in his unoccupied seat. He has paid for it, after all, and he’s a fine chap. He’s offered me the box once or twice, but I wouldn’t care to convince the manager of that. We’ve had run-ins before.”
“Shocking.”
“I came here once when I was in the circus to do an act with Lizzie, and he decided he disliked me to the extreme.”
“Did you do something to deserve it?”
“Of course.” We reached the bottom, a tiny circular landing with only one way out. He shoved his shoulder into the door to open it. “I broke his nose.”
My gloved hand flew to my mouth. “Over what?”
“What do you think?”
He took long strides into the night and I ran to catch up. “A woman.”
His steps slowed to match mine, and he tucked my hand into the crook of his arm, but he didn’t speak as we rounded the theater to Bow Street again and continued south. Those ill-fitting slippers rubbed my heels raw, but I couldn’t bear to stop now. Jack Dorian was a box full of surprises, and I never tired of opening it. I tucked my wrap tighter around me with my free hand and tried to hold the flats in place by curling my toes inside them.
When we came in sight of the arches of the Waterloo Bridge, looking about for a possible destination, I had to stuff down the temptation to ask the forbidden question. The heady smell of the water greeted me, and it was all very familiar. Wherewerewe going, though? We took the stone walkway across, watching horses trot past pulling carriages, then walked uphill to another section of town that still glowed with life.
Muffled orchestra music floated out into the slightly chilly night, and Jack’s footsteps slowed. “I’ve not made friends in this theater yet, so...” He made a hard turn onto the lawn of the great stone building and went around to an empty courtyard in the back. “Would you care for lawn seating, my lady?”
I smiled and he removed his coat, draping it across the grass for me and lying beside it. Uncertain, yet tickled with the unusual nature of our outing, I descended onto his overcoat, skirt ballooning around my legs, and lay back. He tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, as if absorbing the feel of the music through the ground. I could see why—the ground below trembled with every low note and the air seized up with the high ones.
In this private moment, with Jack’s eyes closed and darknesscurtaining us, I dared to force off the aching shoes with the toes of my other foot—just for a short while. I’d slip them back on before I caught my death, of course. I tucked my throbbing soles beneath my skirt, nearly gasping at the loveliness of the cool grass on them through my torn stockings.
“It was over Lizzie, actually.” Jack’s voice surprised me. “The broken nose, that is. It was because of her.”
“He made you jealous.”
“Angry. Thought his money gave him more rights to Lizzie than merely her performance onstage. I made sure he knew different.”
I shivered. “I once thought all your stories of heroism absurd. But you are a hero in your own way, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer.
“For all the women you pursue, it somehow doesn’t surprise me that you’d go to such lengths to protect the honor of one. You confuse me sometimes, Jack Dorian. I cannot make sense of you.”
“Part of my charm.”
“Indeed.” I ran my hand along the carpet of grass and wiggled my toes in it. “Have you worked any further on that ballet of yours?”
“Those main characters haven’t spoken to me lately. Especially the hero. Stubborn bloke, that one.”
“And the heroine?”
A pause. “I’ve discovered only what I did not wish to know. What makes her less a heroine every day.” His voice was hushed. “It seems she has a desperate need for affection, giving and receiving it, and is not content to let the hero alone fill it. I simply cannot imagine why they were in love—if they truly were.”
“Perhaps you merely don’t understand her yet. Why don’tyou begin by givinghera noble gesture? An interesting twist—she can even rescue the hero.”
“By throwing a shoe, I suppose.” There was a smile in his tone.
