But a fresh diversion? Some new amusement, the thrill of a possible scandal? He and Devon, locked in a battle for Charlotte’s attentions? Ah, now that might prove too delectable to resist, and if the widows couldn’t resist him, then…
Charlotte hadn’t a prayer of escaping him. Every party she attended, every wager she made, every whorehouse she ventured into, he’d be right at her heels, and with her friends’ blessing.
Would it work?He glanced into the pit. The leering faces below continued to gawk up at him. In the tiered boxes, dozens of opera of glasses followed his every move, their glassy eyes winking.
Why shouldn’t it work? It was working on the rest of London.
“Bloody hell.”
Cam’s curse was soft, but it jerked Julian from his reverie. He turned to his cousin in surprise, but he didn’t have a chance to question him before he was interrupted by another feminine sigh from behind him.
“He’s very handsome, isn’t he?” It was the Somerset chits—Iris again. She was whispering to avoid waking her grandmother, who’d slipped into a doze and was snoring contentedly, her head tipped back against her chair.
One of the other sisters snorted softly. “Very wicked, you mean.”
“The gossips exaggerate, I believe. It’s not possible a gentleman who looks so much like an angel could be soverywicked, is it?”
“The handsomeness likely led to the wickedness,” her sister whispered back. “That’s usually how it works, and I doubt Lord Devon is the exception to the rule.”
Julian stilled.Devon.He was the rake who was dangling after Charlotte. London’s murderous earl. He followed their gazes until he spotted a tall, lean man in a superbly-fitted black coat making his way toward Charlotte’s box. The man had sleek golden hair and a frighteningly symmetrical, perfectly aristocratic face. Iris Somerset was right—he looked more angelic than wicked.
Cam noticed the direction of Julian’s gaze. “Lord Devon. Looks harmless enough, doesn’t he?”
Robyn gave a harsh laugh. “Devon’s about as harmless as a flame is to a moth.”
Ellie wrung her hands. “He only grows more determined.”
They all watched as Devon entered Charlotte’s box. The wicked widows welcomed him with every appearance of delight, and he greeted them all with the utmost politeness, but his lips lingered longer than they should on Charlotte’s glove.
Robyn rose from his seat. “Shall we go and dissuade him?”
Cam rose as well. “I’d be delighted to dissuade him, by throwing him out on his arse.”
“No!” This came from both Ellie and Lily at once. Lily gripped Robyn’s arm and tried to urge him back into his seat. Her face had gone white. “No, Robyn. If you go, the next we’ll hear of it will be pistols at dawn.”
Julian stared at her. A duel? He turned to Cam. “Surely it hasn’t gone as far as that?”
Cam glanced at Ellie, whose face was even whiter than Lily’s, and lowered his voice. “Not quite.”
Notquite?Christ.
“If you go to her box now, it will only end in a scene and make things worse,” Ellie said. “It’s too late, in any case—everyone is already staring at them. If he visits her now, perhaps he won’t at the end of the evening. There’s less chance she’ll leave with him that way.”
Cam leaned over to murmur to Julian. “Did Sarah tell you where they’re going tonight?”
Julian shook his head. “No. I gather Lady Hadley was careful not to reveal her plans for the evening.” No doubt she’d remain careful, but if his plan fell into place the way he believed it would, he wouldn’t need Sarah at all.
Devon remained in Charlotte’s box until the curtain rose on the first act. Once he resumed his seat Ellie turned resolutely back to the stage. Lily did, as well, and after another moment Cam and Robyn resumed their seats. Neither gentleman was well pleased, but even their stiff fury was easier to watch than Ellie’s quiet anguish.
She kept her eyes on the stage, but Julian could see her anxiety in her clenched hands and the rigid line of her shoulders. She perched on the very edge of her seat, but as stiff as her spine was, she was trembling. Every now and then he saw her back shudder as if she suppressed a sob. Cam tried to soothe her, but even Julian could see it was hopeless.
His jaw went rigid, and the rage that seemed to be always ready to explode inside him began to claw its way to the surface. How could Charlotte put her sister through such anguish? There hadn’t been a flicker of remorse in those dark eyes at the brothel, not a bat of an eyelash this afternoon in the rose garden—not even when he reminded her of her obligations to Ellie.
Cold down to her very soul.
But he’d be colder still. The icier she was, the less inclined he was to feel anything at all for her, and as he lapsed by degrees into a comforting numbness he gained greater control over his volatile emotions. After all, the poisonous black mass that lived inside him couldn’t escape if it were frozen.
So much more peaceful, to feel nothing.
