She let out a little giggle, somehow finding his protest funny. “Are you so much a prude, Mr. Roberts? With your reputation, I’d thought you’d be more adventurous than this.”
His reputation? He almost cursed aloud. The rake-like reputation he’d had to cultivate to dissuade women from taking interest in him? The reputation he’d practically ruined to avoid marriage long enough to find a way to marry Javenia? It seemed his sins were coming back to haunt him like a ghost in the night.
“You are mistaken, Miss Weston. London’s rumor mill has led you to believe I am a man of low morals. I am not. So again, please desist from accosting my person.”
Miss Weston’s coy smile faltered before she pushed it back into place. “All your self-righteous standards will not save you from my charms once we are married.”
He glared at her through the dimness. It was the first time she’d ever mentioned in so many words the connection their fathers desired. They’d danced around the subject for weeks, him refusing to acknowledge any actual discussion and her only showing interest when it suited her fancy. This evening, it apparently suited her quite a lot. But why?
“I understand,” he whispered, “that our fathers wish for a connection, but I do not, Miss Weston, and I do not think you do either. There are so many more suitable gentlemen at your disposal.”
There. That was as straightforward as he could be while still petting her vanity enough to keep her from counting him an enemy and making a scene.
Her fingers somehow made their way back to his sleeve. “Ah, yes, but not many are half so challenging.”
He swallowed. So that was why she’d agreed. Was she one of those women who found a challenge so tantalizing they’d push past any objections? He pulled his arm away again, but slower this time, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of his scorn.
“Lord Hamdon would be a greater challenge with a far better reward. He will be an earl one day and everyone knows his eye is hard to catch.”
The way the right side of Miss Weston’s lips ticked up with the arch of her perfectly lifted eyebrow soured his stomach. She reminded him of a cat ready to pounce.
“Yes, but who would I compete against? You said yourself that no one has caught his eye of late, except maybe one lady.” She glanced purposely at the duke’s box.
Algenon did the same, only to find Javenia looking right back at them. Realization dawned. None of this was about him at all. It never had been. It was about Miss Weston’s embarrassment in Reading.
After she’d cornered and kissed him, he’d let her know in no uncertain terms how he felt about her forwardness. His words had been gentle at first but swiftly turned harsh when he realized she was not at all penitent. Her mouth had hung open and her eyes had flashed with anger at his rebuke, but it was the red in her cheeks that had shown her true feelings.
Had she ever truly been rejected? Probably not, not with a dowry as obscenely large as hers, and most likely not by a man she viewed as beneath her.
Her gaze again settled on him, her smiling lips curling in a way that did not at all appear genuine. She dropped a hand on his thigh, gripping it hard to keep him from pulling out of her grasp. Her nails bit into his skin and he wanted to slap her away, but before he could she turned and flashed her strange smile at someone else.
He wanted to throw up. This was all a show to her, and the spectator was none other than the woman he loved most in the world. He didn’t even have to look across the opera house to confirm that Javenia was staring their way.
To Miss Weston, he wasnotthe challenge. Javenia was.
Was this some sort of sick revenge? But why on Javenia? She’d done nothing to Miss Weston.
Algenon reached down and carefully peeled Miss Weston’s hand off his thigh. “That is quite enough,” he growled loud enough for both his father and Lord Falcross to turn and observe them.
Miss Weston’s hand was still in his and he cursed under his breath before flinging it away and standing. He didn’t care how rude he appeared. It didn’t matter anymore. Nate had been right. A marriage with Miss Weston would be miserable. He’d be better off taking his chances with Javenia’s goodwill than allowing himself to be fed to this wolf.
“Excuse me, I am not feeling well.” He gave a curt bow and let himself out of the box, ignoring his father’s hissed objection.
It didn’t matter what his father had said, nothing could induce him to stay in this den of vipers. All of him wanted to cross the gaping divide between Falcross’s box and the Duke of Bedford’s, but he knew he wouldn’t be welcome. Not after the scene he’d just made, and not with Lord Hamdon in attendance.
Even under the best of circumstances, he may not have been welcome at all. He’d hurt Javenia. As much as he wanted to blame his father for all the pain he’d witnessed on her face, it was his inaction that had caused her heartache. Her eyes had begged him to intervene, to provide protection… and he had.
Just not in the way she’d expected.
He needed to speak with her… alone. John’s dinner wasn’t until Thursday, and he wasn’t certain Javenia would even still come. He could try going by her house again, but since shehadn’t contacted him, he had a suspicion that her parents had simply thrown away his card.
Tomorrow was the Fortescues’ soiree. Did he dare find a time to pull her aside there? He gave a short nod as he marched through the doors and out into the warmer than usual evening air. He would have to take what he could get.
Chapter 21
Algenon watched from across the street as Lord Hamdon exited Lord Upton’s home with Mr. Fairchild, their presence confirming that the family was indeed receiving. Why then had the butler told him otherwise? Was Javenia really that angry, or had Lord Upton dropped any semblance of civility and denied him access to the house?
He ducked his head, peering intently at the paper in his hands as the two gentlemen turned and walked up the street.
