Page 20

Yes, indeed, she’d melt into a thousand droplets, right here in this box if he kept that up.

Lord, the temperature in the box had become stifling, and Mathias’s presence made it all the more difficult to breathe. Nicolette plied her fan faster, and the rotter had the ballocks to chuckle and tug a curl lying over her shoulder.

Why, the scoundrel had done that on purpose, simply to fluster her. Just as he’d asked about her novel yesterday, wicked man.

How could he possibly have known she was reading a gothic romance?

Well, she had hidden it beneath her gown, and likely he’d seen her do so.

Even now, searing heat encompassed her at the knowledge, and she refused to contemplate exactly what conclusions he’d drawn from her attempt to conceal the book.

She also studiously ignored the speculative glance Megan slipped her, and the pleased smile bending her mouth. Bother. Did she think there was something between Nicolette and her brother?

Naturally, such silly notions must be quashed at once.

Must they?

Mathias was the only man able to get under Nicolette’s skin or cause her comportment to slip. Ironically, he was also the only unmarried gentleman she felt genuinely comfortable with besides Ansley. The only one she considered a friend.

Friend?

Her ponderings regarding him most assuredly were not platonic.

Wetting her lips, she fervently wished for something to drink. Her mouth had gone dry as sandpaper when Mathias had whispered in her ear, and she regretted she hadn’t worn something a trifle dowdier. Something that wouldn’t have him looking at her with that scorching, knowing gaze. Perhaps a grain sack, or a horse blanket, or nun’s habit.

Instead, she’d chosen to wear her newest gown. A brilliant, shimmering lawn green masterpiece with a netted overskirt and trimmed in Brussels lace. She’d been quite pleased with her reflection in the cheval mirror except for the amount of décolletage visible above her bodice.

Even now, she resisted laying her palm over the ample cleavage.

Had Madam Lovellette taken it upon herself to alter the neckline to something bordering on scandalous?

Mathias chuckled again before relaxing back into his chair, likely in much the same indolent manner as he had yesterday when Ansley had come upon them.

Dearest Ansley.

Never one to mince words or skirt around an issue, her brother had declared what he believed to be the truth. However, she’d quickly explained Mathias’s purpose in visiting was to inveigle them to assist with his sister and not to pay his addresses to Nicolette.

Nonetheless, the conversation had proved remarkably awkward.

Inexplicable disappointment had flooded her, but she resolutely reminded herself that she didn’t want any man pursuing her, least of all a peer of the realm such as the Duke of Westfall.

With grim determination, and suspecting Mathias yet watched her and not the performance, she forced her attention back to the actors prancing and orating upon the stage.

Shortly thereafter, intermission was upon them, and they stood to stretch their legs. A footman poured them the iced champagne that had been cooling in a bucket atop a table beside the entrance. As Nicolette sipped the excellent wine, she regarded the throng milling about below.

They presented a colorful, jabbering horde.

A rueful smile bent her mouth as she took another sip. At one time, she’d adored all of this. The routs and balls, the soirées and musicals, the house parties and assemblies.

Now, every time she ventured into public, her behavior was all an act.

A performance, very much like that which they appreciated tonight.

Nicolette had assumed a role, had created a persona to prove to everyone she didn’t care a fig that she’d been jilted. That she could still enjoy herself and have a splendid time.

It was a well-orchestrated lie.

She was a sham.