by Sadie Bosque
Blake wished he could take the worries off her shoulders and carry them himself. He wished he could solve all her problems, but it wasn’t something he could do. He couldn’t even give advice. The truth was, he had never cared about anybody else’s plight the same way his wife worried about her friends.
A column had come out in the paper just this morning declaring the Marquess of Roth’s untimely departure from this world. The paper didn’t specify the cause of his demise. It simply stated that the old marquess’s heart ceased to function. Of course, it had, but the precursor of such a tragic event wasn’t revealed.
The carriage swayed and halted. Blake helped Annalise out, and they both entered Lady Lavinia’s home. It was a nice and spacious townhouse with a dome-like hall. But the feel of the house was ominous.
The moment after that thought entered Blake’s mind, a shriek came from somewhere above, and then the sound of shattered glass.
Blake exchanged a worried glance with his wife. There was a roar followed by slurred cursing, then the door shut violently, and hurried footsteps ran down the stairs. A beautiful lady in a provocatively low-cut gown descended the stairs. She palmed her disheveled hair as she walked and wiped at her face.
“Annalise, my darling! How glad I am to see you,” she exclaimed as she finally noticed them. “Lord Payne.”
Blake sketched a bow as she lowered herself in a gracious curtsy. She then walked toward Annalise and took her hands in hers. “I am so glad you are taking our dear Lavinia out to a theater. She is overjoyed.”
“Is everything well?” Annalise asked with a strained smile.
“Yes, my dear. All is well. I shall go fetch Lavinia. She shouldn’t keep you waiting so.”
As the lady left, Blake turned to Annalise and raised a brow.
“Lavinia’s father has a drinking problem. And when he is foxed, he has a temper problem.” She grimaced.
Blake swallowed. His father had been the same way. And although Blake had never been physically violent with Annalise, he had been cruel. If he hadn’t been taken by thugs, would he have eventually turned into his sire?
“And the lady?” he asked, to change the subject of his dark thoughts.
Annalise furrowed her brows in confusion before her features cleared. “Oh, you mean Lady Birch. She is Lavinia’s stepmother.”
She seemed too young to be anybody’s stepmother, but he also knew the old lords and their desire for younger wives to bear their heirs. Since Lady Lavinia was Lord Birch’s only daughter, it seemed like the plan hadn’t worked well for the old man.
Lady Lavinia rushed down the stairs a moment later. They exchanged pleasantries and quickly returned to the carriage.
Once they settled against the carriage seats, Lady Lavinia smoothed her skirts and addressed Annalise without taking her eyes off her hands. “I read this morning’s paper about Caroline’s uncle.”
“Devastating, isn’t it?” Annalise asked softly.
“Heartbreaking. I know how she loved her uncle. He was her only family.”
Annalise uncomfortably cleared her throat.
“Who will be taking over the title? Do you know?” Lady Lavinia asked.
“No. As they said in the paper, the solicitor will be looking for an heir, a distant relative. But Caroline doesn’t know who that might be.” She paused. “But it shouldn’t matter anymore. Not to Caroline… She will soon become the Duchess of Kensington.”
A tense silence hung in the carriage. Lady Lavinia turned and looked out the window, her brows furrowed.
“I am so sorry, darling,” Annalise said softly.
Lady Lavinia sniffed, and Blake fished out a handkerchief from his coat pocket.
“Here,” he said and extended the piece of cloth.
She took it and wiped her face. “I suppose it wasn’t meant to be,” she said with a sad smile.
* * *
By the time Blake, Annalise, and Lady Lavinia reached their reserved box, their friends were already inside. Blake used the term “friends” loosely. He’d invited Jarvis, knowing full well he would bring his long-time friend Miss Olivia Manning and her parents, the Viscount and the Viscountess of Landen. Annalise and Lady Lavinia were happy to see Miss Olivia. Apparently, the three were friends.
Townsend also arrived at the box. He didn’t bring company, and Blake assumed he was only there to show his support for Blake.
After they exchanged pleasantries, Blake led Annalise to the seat in the front and settled next to her. Townsend escorted Lady Lavinia and sat to the right of Annalise. The Landens and Jarvis took the second row.
Conversation flowed around Blake as people exchanged gossip and discussed frivolous details of their days, but he was interested in none of that. His complete attention was absorbed by his wife, sitting demurely next to him, smiling at everyone and occasionally contributing a word or two to the conversation. With people busy conversing, he could finally sit and ogle his wife as much as he wanted.
Annalise wore a dark blue gown with silver embroidering on the bodice and sleeves. Her decolletage revealed just enough flesh to make his gaze constantly return to that part of her body. Her beautiful golden hair was swept up in an intricate coiffure.
As much as he loved to see her with her hair down, at the moment, he was glad he could see her milky white neck and the perfect shape of her ear. He wanted to lean in close and suckle on her earlobe. He’d dip his tongue into her ear and—
Annalise turned to him and raised a brow. Had he done something without realizing it? Perhaps he’d verbalized his thoughts? Blake’s neck heated.
Then he raised his head to see everyone looking at him quizzically.
Jarvis cleared his throat behind him. “Forgive my friend,” he said, with humor lining his voice. “I believe he was distracted by the vision that is his wife. Not that anyone can blame him.”
Ah, so he had been asked the question. Well, Jarvis—although not subtle—wasn’t wrong.
“Completely understandable,” Landen chimed in and patted his wife on the hand. “If I hadn’t seen my Edith in over a year, I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off her either. I am surprised you are here at all, sharing her attention with us. Wouldn’t have faulted you if you locked yourselves in your townhouse for a month or two,” he added with a laugh.
Blake glanced toward Annalise as she blushed pretty pink.
“Can’t deprive the world of this beauty,” Blake said, not taking his eyes off his wife’s heated cheeks. He took her hand and gently brought it to his lips, placing a soft, slow kiss on her knuckles.
“I was saying,” Lord Landen said after clearing his throat. “When are you planning on joining us in Parliament?”
Blake raised his head and reluctantly peeled his eyes away from his enticing wife to regard the older man. “As a matter of fact, Townsend has been bringing me up to speed for the last several days. I think I am almost caught up with all the issues and am ready to take my seat by the end of the week. I just need to shear my hair and powder my wigs,” he said with a grin.
“Good, good, we sure can use your help. I believe Townsend is a perfect person to bring you up to speed on these matters. It wasn’t long ago that he was plucked from another country and seated at the House of Lords.”
“From another country?” Blake turned to his cousin with a frown.
He looked at Townsend intently. The man had dark circles around his eyes. He looked tired, and he had a fresh, thin scar that disappeared behind his ear. What was that about?
“Yes, I was in France.” He cleared his throat. “Painting, collecting art, auctioning it off. That sort of thing. You know about it. When I received the letter informing me of your… disappearance, I had to leave it all behind. Took me some time to get here. And even more time for me to get reacquainted with English shores before I felt comfortable enough to show my face in the House of Lords.”
Blake narrowed his eyes in thought. “How long had you been in France before you received the let
ter?”
Townsend gave a shrug. “About two years. In fact, the letter about your father’s passing reached me at the same time I received the news of your disappearance. I was quite in shock, to say the least.”
“I don’t think I knew that,” Blake grumbled and turned away.
If that was true, and Townsend had been on the Continent when Blake had disappeared, it was unlikely he was the one to orchestrate the capture. Miles away, without up-to-date knowledge of either Blake or his father’s whereabouts, it wasn’t the perfect position for the nefarious plans. More importantly, he didn’t seem happy about having to return to England and look after failing estates when he was just making a name for himself as an artist.
The conversation continued flowing about him until Lady Olivia—who’d sat picking at her gloves all this time and not participating in the conversation—pointed at the stage with her fan in delighted glee. “Oh, look, the curtain is opening!” She stood and started clapping.
Everyone’s attention turned back to the stage, and Blake was glad.
He didn’t want to converse about the House of Lords. And he didn’t want to think about his disappearance anymore. He would think about it when he got home. For now, he could resume silently feasting his eyes on his wife.
* * *
Blake kept staring at her. Annalise felt his gaze burn through her to the bone. Her skin on the left side felt like it was on fire.
Why was he looking at her? She peeked at him through her lashes and caught his gaze. He winked at her, not at all embarrassed at being caught watching her so. Annalise returned her gaze to the stage but could no longer concentrate on the play.
Blake leaned in closer, his breath moving the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck. “You look exquisite,” he said in a low, seductive voice that sent shivers down her spine.
“Would you watch the show?” she whispered back, not breaking her gaze from the stage.
“No,” he said firmly, unapologetically. “I’d rather be watching you.”
Annalise’s cheeks caught fire, and she fanned her face, trying to cool them.
“Why didn’t you wear the necklace I bought you?” he asked thoughtfully.
“It was too grand to wear to a simple theater outing. I believe a piece of jewelry like that requires a proper outing, like a queen’s ball or—or a duke’s wedding.” She grimaced as she said the last. She didn’t mean to insinuate anything by it, but she knew Blake’s mind would jump straight to Kensington.
“I see,” he said, his voice unfathomable. “Just as well; I like seeing your bare neck.”
“Would you stop that?” she hissed between her teeth and finally turned to look at him.
Blake’s eyes were glinting with mischief. A joyous smile played about his lips. He looked so young and carefree, the same Blake she had fallen in love with. Annalise couldn’t hold back her own smile. His gaze dropped to her lips then and grew more intense, his eyes darkening. Annalise’s breath started coming out in short gasps. Her heartbeat accelerated, and she felt a strange tingly feeling down low in her belly.
“Watch the show,” Blake said in a hoarse whisper, returning his gaze to her eyes.
He winked at her, and Annalise shook her head before doing as he asked and turning back to the stage.
No matter what she did, though, she was not able to concentrate on the play unraveling before her eyes. Actors were moving across the stage, proclaiming their love, crying their outrage in dramatic tones, and all Annalise could think about was that intense look in Blake’s eyes.
The left side of her body tingled with awareness of him, and she had trouble sitting still. As if feeling the same way, Blake shifted in his seat. He leaned closer to her as if to peer at something in the auditorium below, and the fabric of his coat brushed against the already sensitive skin of her arm. Annalise closed her eyes, marveling at the sensation. Blake shifted again, and now his hand brushed against her gloved forearm.
Annalise opened her eyes and looked at him. Blake was watching the stage now, with rapt attention, his gaze intent, his mouth slightly open as if mesmerized by the play. His hand, however, still hovered over her arm. He ran his fingers slowly, lightly down her arm until he encountered her hand. He started drawing tiny circles on the back of her hand with feather-light touches. The action caused heat to course all through her body.
Annalise turned her hand palm up and caught his fingers, unable to take this sensual torture anymore. She heard a slight snort from his side and threw him a sideways glance.
Her husband, still not taking his attention from the stage, quirked his lips in a quick smile. He moved his hand and threaded his fingers with hers, his thumb running back and forth over hers. Annalise took a deep breath.
Somehow, this simple action, threading their fingers, made her feel content. She didn’t feel like fidgeting anymore; she didn’t feel the butterflies in her stomach. She felt as though the world had righted itself, and now, she was finally where she was supposed to be. She was home.
Suddenly, the audience erupted in cheers and applause. The box occupants jumped to their feet in excitement. Annalise instinctively dropped Blake’s hand and stood, clapping and faking excitement when inside her, panic took hold where contentment existed just a moment ago.
A smile and a touch. Was that really all it took for Annalise to forget all the misery Blake had put her through? Was she really that naïve to simply forgive and move on, as if none of that had happened?
A footman entered their box and handed Blake a note. He opened it, and even though he held it closed in his hand, Annalise managed to see the writing.
It was written in a woman’s hand. Just one word: Come.
Chapter 13
What a bloody idiot he was, Blake thought as he sat next to his quiet, rigid wife. Blake had an unyielding suspicion that she had seen the note.
Why did he have to open it in front of her? He could’ve made a stealthy exit or just put it in his pocket and opened it later. After all, he was almost sure as to the contents of the note before he even opened it.
Now, Annalise sat with her back as straight as a lance, her eyes fixed upon the stage with an unblinking stare. She didn’t let him touch her anymore; she didn’t throw coy, flirtatious glances his way either. As a result, the second act of the show dragged on at a torturously slow pace.
No, opening that note in the box wasn’t the reason he was an idiot. The main reason for his idiocy was taking his wife to a show performed by his former mistress. Not that he knew she would be performing. He hadn’t checked the calendar. Besides, at that time, his thoughts were consumed by his wife and how to make her happy.
Blake hadn’t given his former mistress a single thought from the moment he got captured, and he still wouldn’t have if it weren’t for this blasted note.
Blake couldn’t fathom the reason why Melissa, a beautiful actress and an expert seductress, would even want to see him again, but he wasn’t about to find out. He might have been an idiot, but he did have a modicum of intelligence left to ignore the summons of his former paramour and stay by his wife’s side.
As soon as the show ended, Blake expelled a deep breath. He offered Annalise his arm and smiled sweetly at her.
“Did you enjoy the show, darling?” he asked with the hope that she wouldn’t cut him in front of their friends.
“Very much.” She threw him a quick flash of a smile, probably for the benefit of their companions, and placed her hand in the crook of his arm.
Blake covered her hand with his and patted it as if in reassurance. Who he was trying to reassure, her or himself, he wasn’t quite sure.
They moved toward the exit, weaving their way through the crowd, which forced their bodies closer together. Annalise was pressed against his side, the scent of her perfume penetrating his senses. The softness of her limbs was a sweet kind of torture. Blake wanted to wrap his arms around her, pick her up, and leave this crowd with all haste. Instead, he was forced to walk slowly b
ehind the old lords and ladies, smiling and making conversation as they did so.
By the time they reached their carriage and exchanged farewells with their companions, Blake felt irritable and anxious. He handed Lady Lavinia and Annalise into the carriage and beheld her surprised face as he entered after her.
“Is something amiss?” he asked as he settled next to her.
“You are coming home? With me?” she asked as if even the thought of it was difficult to fathom.
“Of course, I am coming home. Where else would I go?” he asked with a frown and then closed his eyes briefly. He couldn’t play the aggrieved husband, surprised at her inability to trust him. She had reasons to mistrust him, after all. “You saw the note,” he whispered hoarsely.
Annalise nodded.
“Let us discuss this later,” he said quietly.
Annalise folded her hands demurely on her lap. She raised her head, smiled, and turned to her friend. “Did you enjoy the show, dear?”
“Very much,” her friend answered exuberantly. “Thank you for inviting me tonight. I am glad I didn’t miss the show.”
It was clear to an untrained eye that both women were putting up a facade and trying to pretend that everything was well when their worlds were crumbling.
“Olivia had a beautiful gown on,” Lady Lavinia commented.
“Yes, I believe it’s one of the gowns she ordered during our last outing.”
Lady Lavinia smiled sadly. “I remember.”
“St. John has been a long-time friend to her, hasn’t he?” Annalise asked.
“Mm, yes. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I am just wondering if he is the gentleman she fancies.” Annalise turned to Blake. “Do you know if St. John is Olivia’s suitor?”
“No.” Blake shook his head. “I am certain he is just being polite by escorting her places. Their families have been friends for generations. Although with him, one can’t ever tell.”
