“Yes, milady.”
Bone weary from the tug and pull of her emotions regarding Newbury and Mr. Sinclair, Penelope closed her eyes and was happy just to rest. Torn between her loyalty to her newly betrothed and her attraction to his cousin was wearing on her. On the ride through Hyde Park today, she found herself being pulled toward the duke. Surprisingly found herself interested and attracted to him. Of course, it helped that she sat on his good side. It seemed as if she rode with Mr. Sinclair. Was it possible they were brothers and not cousins? If that were true, why the secret? In fact, whenever in either of their company, instinct had her believing they both had secrets to hide.Why? And what were they?
Perhaps she would broach the subject with Mr. Sinclair this evening. He had said she could ask him anything pertaining to the duke. What she wanted to know was, who was he? Who was the real man behind the eye patch and scar? Sleep must have befallen her because before she knew it her maid was waking her up.
“I would like to wear the sky-blue gown this evening with the matching cloak.”
“Yes, milady. That gown will look lovely with your eyes.”
Sittingin the Seabrook family’s private box at the opera with Wentworth, Emma, the Earl of Bridgeton, and his wife and her half-sister, Amelia, Penelope’s eyes kept going from the empty seat beside her to Bella sitting across from them in the Northboroughs’ private box. The lamps were still lit, but by how quickly the hall was filling up she knew the performance would start any minute. Where was Mr. Sinclair? She wanted to think she would be relieved if he never showed, but the truth was she would feel rejected. By both Newbury and Mr. Sinclair.
An attendant came into their box, snuffed the lamps and closed the curtains. Attendants worked diligently to darken the entire place and then the stage lit up and the opera began. Leaning forward, her heart pounding, Penelope became engrossed in the performers and singers on stage. Never had she seen such beautiful costumes, heard such lovely voices, or seen more gorgeous people. So transfixed by what transpired on stage, she never noticed when the seat beside her filled. Not until his gloved hand reached for hers and squeezed, shocking her. She pulled away and whispered, “You startled me.”
He leaned close, his minty breath tickling her cheek. “Please accept my humble apologizes. I meant no harm.”
If she didn’t know Mr. Sinclair was going to take the duke’s place, she would swear the duke himself sat beside her. But she knew better. There had been no clicking of his cane, which would have notified all occupants of the box the duke arrived. Possibly, even all occupants of the opera house. Which saddened her. No wonder Newbury stayed home. She may as well come to terms with that knowledge because in two months it would be her new reality as his duchess. She must become accustomed to people staring and whispering. As if they weren’t already.
Before Mr. Sinclair spoke again, she felt the heat of his body leaning toward her and the warm air of his breath. “Have you attended the opera before?”
“No. And please be quiet.” Since he joined her, the opera had lost her attention as all her nerve endings prickled with awareness of the man beside her. Shame on her. Since when was she a wicked person? Led by her emotions instead of her mind? She was duty and honor bound to Newbury. Why couldn’t Mr. Sinclair move to the country and leave her be? Pain pierced her heart at the thought of him leaving even though it would be best for all parties.
The lights came on one by one and even though she’d never been to the theater; she knew it was intermission. Their lamps were lit, and the curtain thrown aside. She turned toward Mr. Sinclair and gasped.
“May I escort you downstairs for some refreshments?” Instead of Mr. Sinclair, the Duke of Newbury stood before her, offering his hand.
Her entire being paused, and she stammered, “But I…I thought you weren’t attending?”
He chuckled. “I changed my mind, so I cancelled my prior engagement.” The brow to his good eye rose in silent question. “Are you disappointed I’m here instead of my cousin?”
She recovered quickly. At least she believed she did. Her lips curved up into a smile as she placed her hand into his and stood. “Thank you. I’d love something to quench my parched throat.”
His brow rose higher. “You didn’t answer my query.”
Her eyes moved around the box and was shocked to find it empty of anyone but the two of them. “Forgive me. No. I’m very pleased you decided to attend. I was surprised because I didn’t hear you enter the box.” She cleared her throat. “What I mean to say is…”
“I understand. I managed without my cane. Not an easy feat, but I didn’t want to disturb anyone from enjoying the performance.” One side of his mouth quirked up as he held up his cane with the metal lion's head. “I have need of it now with the crowd gathered about.”
As they exited the box, Penelope and Newbury made their way awkwardly downstairs, being greeted by those members of the ton they were acquainted with. For her, the list was very short. For the duke, many bowed their heads and mumbled, “Your Grace.” She got the impression he was well respected, but people didn’t know how to handle his disfigurement so they almost ignored him or grumbled out his name or title. Uncomfortable pain reached her heart. How sad for Newbury. His peers should respect and honor him for his losses in defending the country against Bonaparte. His injuries weren’t that hideous. In fact, the more time she spent with him, the more attractive he became. His injuries blending into the background. The black patch as Emma said made him resemble a pirate. As did the scar. Penelope could think of Newbury as a romantic pirate who sailed the seas in search of his bride. And didn’t some pirates have a peg leg?
“Perhaps we should have stayed in the comfort and privacy of the box. It’s a madhouse out here. Come this way.” He led her to the right. “I see your family up ahead.” They joined them and sipped champagne until the signal that the opera would continue in five minutes. It took that long for the six of them to settle back into their box. No sooner had they gotten comfortable, when the lights in their box and the theater seats below went out. The stage lights eliminated to reveal the second half ofDon Giovanni.
The beautiful singing voices in Italian had Penelope leaning forward in her seat, mesmerized. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the performance unfolded.
Sitting beside Penelope,Harry couldn’t take his eyes off her. The box was shadowed in darkness, but he could make her out clearly because of his excellent sight. He spent enough time sneaking around in the blackness of night that his eyes adjusted well. His codename in the agency was Nighthawk because of his ultimate nighttime vision. And how he swept in for the arrest…or kill…depending on the circumstances.
Now, however, he enjoyed his better-than-average vision watching Penelope. Every emotion crossed her face as she concentrated solely on the performance on stage. Did she have any idea how the soft noises and subtle gasps she made had his insides coiling up tight with desire? Her eyes widening and lowering seductively. The tears streaming down her cheeks had his fingers itching to wipe them away and promise her anything never to cause her to cry again.
At one point, he frowned and took his eyes off her and watched the stage. Even though it was known as a great opera, it didn’t hold his attention. She called to him unknowingly, and he followed. Somehow, she turned him into a lovesick fool, and he’d yet to sample her. Her lips, her neck, her breasts…nothing. He’d sampled nothing, and yet she tied him in knots. Not something a gentleman wanted to admit. It was why he’d attended tonight as Harry and not Hugh.
He couldn’t stomach the way she looked at him the other night as Hugh. He wanted. No, needed her to look at him—Harry—that way. With curiosity and unabashed lust. With a twinkle of mischief in her eyes as she waited on a kiss. A kiss he so desperately wanted to shower upon her lips, her neck, and down to swipe his tongue across the creamy swell of her breasts visible above her low neckline. A low moan escaped his lips before he realized it. If anyone heard, they politely didn’t acknowledge it. Since he’d seen this opera once before he knew it would end momentarily, and he needed to turn his thoughts to something else besides the lovely woman who would become his wife.
As it appeared now, his breeches had a large bulge. It took ultimate restraint not to adjust himself and try to get it to behave. Fortunately for him, or unfortunately, no matter how you looked at it, his member wanted the lady beside him and it wanted her now.
The oil lamps were lit by workers at a frantic pace and the interior of the opera house came into clear focus, as well as their box. Time to make his exit before anyone noticed his extra snug breeches. Wentworth stood, stretched, and came to the front of the balcony. “Might as well sit for a time until the crowd thins out.”
Voices around him discussed the opera, and he listened intently to Penelope, his eyes transfixed on her lovely face, as she retold her favorite parts with emotional abandon. It made him wonder how she would look and sound when he brought her pleasure in the bedroom. He also glimpsed, for the first time, how young she really was. She’d always appeared mature and wise beyond her seventeen years. No doubt due to her upbringing. Which had him wondering if she was even innocent? Not that it mattered to him.
“Your Grace.” Penelope’s questioning voice startled him from his thoughts. “It’s time to leave.”
