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Yet how could he ever again call himself a gentleman if he didn’t save a sixteen-year-old girl who’d strayed into disaster? He caught back a tortured groan at the thought.
Fulvia was still rattling off Shakespeare’s verse. Even after their marriage, it would take a few years for the gossip to die down. The stuffiest of matrons would always consider her suspect.
“Oh, gentle Romeo,” Fulvia whispered, her voice soft but somehow clear enough to reach all corners of the room, “If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully.”
Fiennes looked around again. A normal production of Romeo and Juliet wouldn’t hush this audience. But Fulvia’s passionate portrayal held every person in her grip.
Slowly, it dawned on him that the room was not silent merely because of the scandal.
“Damn,” the Duke of Lennox breathed beside him. “She’s good. Really good.” His duchess was gazing at the platform, lips parted, utterly enthralled.
Fulvia was questioning Romeo now, chiding him for putting himself in danger. She was probably one of the best actresses Fiennes had seen in his entire life.
Fiennes believed her.
Her Juliet was independent, complicated, young, naïve, brash … all at once. He found himself leaning forward, because … Was Fulvia actually blushing as she offered to send Romeo a ring?
He’d never noticed that detail in the play before.
No woman had ever sent him a ring—it hardly needed to be said. Yet Juliet’s offer made sense when Fulvia blurted it out, asking Romeo to marry her, going against every social rule, past and present, to do so.
Beside him, Regina made a scoffing noise.
He hadn’t missed the suppressed air of triumph around his former fiancée when she announced Fulvia’s role. With her years and knowledge of society, she had known perfectly well that Fulvia would put herself beyond the pale with this performance.
She met his eyes, a vindictive little smile curling her lips. “So sorry you’ll have to break another betrothal,” Regina mouthed.
Fiennes let his expression show revulsion, making her flinch before he looked away, dismissing her.
At the front of the room, the lovers wrapped up their plans.
When he was a boy, his father had sent him away to Eton at the early age of six, explaining that because he would inherit a title given in tribute to extraordinary wealth rather than blue blood, Fiennes had to go away and learn to be a gentleman.
After that, he was forced to stay away.
He was rarely allowed to come home, even for vacations, instead being sent to Jonah’s or Devin’s houses. He had loved his father fiercely and missed him. He even missed his morose mother. He had been lonely, surrounded by other families but never his own.
Yet if he remained glued to his seat when Fulvia wrapped up this scandalous performance, he would abnegate all the sacrifices his father made.
Because his father had loved him dearly, and had missed him.
No.
He was a gentleman, first and foremost—even if that title would lead to his sacrificing his future happiness, just as his father had sacrificed Fiennes’s childhood happiness for the same goal.
As Fulvia said a last goodnight to Romeo, Fiennes came to his feet. Heads around the room swung toward him, their faces startled.
Regina tittered, likely thinking he was going to publicly repudiate his scandalous fiancée.
Fiennes strode around the table, caught up Fulvia’s hands and kissed them before turning to the room.
“I can think of no better way to conclude this magnificent performance than to announce that I consider myself the luckiest man in the British Isles. Lady Juliet has agreed to be my Lady Peregrine in the near future.”
He flicked a glance at Thomas Woodward, and the actor slipped like smoke toward the exit from the dining room.
Fulvia turned pink and looked adorably confused. A cynical voice in the back of Fiennes’s head queried whether she was now acting as a “young maiden,” but then, she was young.
“Applause for the finest Juliet we’ve seen in many a day!” Devin shouted, jumping to his feet and clapping madly.
