“I’ve met him,” Colin replied. “A bit odd was my thought. Never married and spends his free time gardening in the country.”
Her brows rose in surprise. “You do know him.” She smiled again. “I like him; he’s never demanding, never intimidating.”
And obviously plants his roses on both sides of the fence, Colin knew, though he would never mention that to her.
“Of course there are the smaller parts,” she continued, “played by singers from all over England, including Stanton Lloyd, who plays Chief of the Gypsies, and John Marks, who plays Raul’s nephew.”
“And an opera wouldn’t be complete without musicians, stage hands, a director, conductor, theater manager…” he added with a roll of his wrist.
“Very true,” she agreed, “though not everybody is present at every rehearsal. In fact, we all won’t be together until we begin dress rehearsals several weeks from now. Until then, we share the theater at different times.”
He leaned forward on the coach seat, sweating from the blasted heat, though noting thankfully that they were almost home. He wanted to get to the heart of the discussion again before they arrived and she disappeared for the evening, leaving him alone once again with his thoughts and unabated desire.
“So tell me,” he said, lowering his voice as he rubbed his palms together in front of him, “just who among those you mentioned would gain from hurting you, or forcing you out of the opera by any means?”
She pulled back in returned annoyance. “Nobody, sir. That’s why I’ve tried to stress to you that this…incident that happened to me today was nothing more than an accident.”
There was far more to the incident than she admitted. She knew it—he could feel it to his bones. “What about Sadie? Would she have your part if you left the production? Wouldn’t that make her the star?”
She actually chuckled. “Sadie? Sadie and I are friends.”
“That’s not an answer to my question.”
“No, I suppose it’s not,” she returned sedately. After pausing a second or two to collect her thoughts, she explained. “If I were to become…indisposed, shall we say, another well-known soprano would be brought in from Ireland or the Continent to play Arline—one who’s probably already sung the part—or they would close production entirely. Sadie, quite frankly, doesn’t have the experience, nor a famous name behind her, to sing the lead with Porano or bring in the necessary money needed to pay the cast, much less the entire orchestra and crew. If she were given the lead, the opera house would certainly lose financially, and if that happened, rumors of every sort would begin. At its worst, from that moment forward, the best singers would decline invitations thinking they might never be paid, or worse, that they may sing with someone unknown in the lead, or to empty boxes; patrons would see no point in purchasing seats, and in the end, the Royal Italian Opera House would lose its standing as one of the finest theaters in Great Britain, if not Europe.” She relaxed in her stays a little. “And believe me, sir, everybody who is part of the production knows this.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “You’re telling me that you alone are responsible for the success of England’s best opera house?”
She shifted her feet on the floorboards. “That’s not what I said, nor what I meant, and you know it.”
“I do,” he remarked nonchalantly, “because you’re absolutely right. If you were to become indisposed, as you put it, I would give up my box. Why would I want to attend the opera without Lottie English on the stage?”
That made her hesitate, her brows furrowing with uncertainty. “Are you trying to charm me, your grace?”
He reclined deeper into the seat cushion. “I usually don’t have to try. I’m always charming.”
She shook her head, smiling crookedly in feigned disgust, then once again turned her attention outside.
He waited for a moment, eyeing her speculatively, then soberly asked, “Aren’t you the slightest bit angry about this?”
“What I’m angry about, sir,” she replied quickly, without even a glance in his direction, “is that everybody at the theater today will now believe you and I are lovers—”
“But since we’re not lovers at the present time, you won’t be lying when you correct them,” he cut in sardonically, hoping, in part, to drive that fact home.
It apparently worked. She fidgeted a little, adjusting her shoulders, tapping the tip of her fan on her fingertips.
“Speculation will still run rampant,” she said seconds later.
“But your reputation is safe,” he replied. “Operatic stars all over the world have lovers, Charlotte, and they’re usually admired for it.”
She gave him a thoughtful glance. “I understand this is my chosen profession, but in the end I’m still a lady.”
He nodded. “Yes you are. A married lady. Should anyone discover your identity, they’ll also assume you’re married to your lover.”
She continued to gaze at him for several long moments, taking in all of his facial features. Then she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat cushion, a grin of satisfaction twisting her lips. “Little do they know.”
That flippant comment made him mad. She was his wife but she certainly wasn’t his lover, and if she had it her way, they’d never be together intimately again. Colin had no intention of allowing that to happen.
Swiftly, he raised his body and moved to her side of the coach, squeezing in beside her, pinning her as he sat on her wide skirts.
Her eyes flew open and she gaped at him. “What on earth are you doing?”
With resolve, he grasped her cheeks with both hands and drew her lips against his.
She didn’t fight him. In fact, to his sheer delight, after her initial surprise faded, she began to respond to his unexpected touch, kissing him back with fervor, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him close.
It quickly became a steamy, heated kiss that made him hard with need. She moaned, clutching his shoulders through his shirt; he grasped her tongue with his, sucking, quickly losing control. His breathing grew fast, as did hers, and in the sweltering coach, he fought the urge to strip them both and make passionate love on the leather seat. God, he’d give her anything if she would only touch him where he ached!
He pulled back a little and began a trail of hot, wet kisses down her neck. She leaned her head back, clinging to him as she silently begged for more. He lowered his hand from her cheek and placed it on her chest, just above the neckline of her dress. She didn’t seem to notice.
He drew his tongue across her jawline in a trail of fire and she whimpered, caught up in a blissful torment that matched his own. Perspiration broke out all over his body, his erection strained against the tightness of his trousers, and just as he ventured lower with his hand, cupping a well-concealed breast and squeezing it gently, the coach came to an abrupt halt in front of his townhouse.
Startled, she stilled in his arms.
“Stop it. Stop it,” she gasped in a whisper, turning her face away from his.
Reeling, Colin inhaled a shaky breath, his hand lingering on her breast until she reached up and removed it for him as if it scalded her.
Suddenly their driver opened the door and she jerked as far away from him as she could get, pushing her palms against his shoulders with all of her strength.
He reacted quickly. In one smooth move he leaned around her and grabbed the handle, yanked it from his driver’s grasp and slammed the door shut.
“We’re not through,” he murmured huskily, gripping her chin with his free hand.
“You’re insane, sir,” she whispered, her confusion, even frustration, apparent in her impassioned eyes.
He placed his fingers softly on her lips. “You’re making me that way, Charlotte. I need you, and you know it.”
She blinked quickly several times, then swallowed and righted herself, brushing his fingers aside. “We’re making a spectacle of ourselves and rumors among servants—”
“
I don’t care about the servants,” he interjected, his jaw tight. “We’re married, my darling, and it pains me not to act that way, in and out of the bedroom, especially when I know from your response to my kisses that you need me just as much.”
The flush in her cheeks deepened. “You know what I need you for,” was all she could think of to say.
He almost laughed. “Yes, I do, and I want to hear you say it.”
She struggled, but he held her down.
“Say it,” he repeated in a low, intense murmur.
“Say what?” she seethed. “Say that I need you financially? I do. Now let me go.”
“You need me physically, as well,” he persisted, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb.
Furiously she slapped at his hand.
He didn’t budge. “Admit that, at least.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she spat.
“Tell me,” he said very slowly, his intent to show her nearly exceeded by his desire to make her believe. “Tell me that you know there’s passion between us, that you’re attracted to me, and that you need me physically.”
She glanced to the door, then back into his eyes. “And if I refuse?”
“I’ll make love to you right here, right now.”
Her expression turned to one of horror. “You wouldn’t.”
“And you would let me. I know that for a fact,” he breathed, gliding his hand down her neck to her chest.
Suddenly, to his great shock, tears filled her eyes. “I’m not stupid, Colin,” she whispered with a tremble in her voice. “You don’t want me. You want the infamous, sensual Lottie English, the fantasy you met backstage during a performance. You always have. Now let me go.”
It was a truly deciding moment for him. He blinked, his gut twisting even as she rendered him speechless. And during those few brief seconds of bewilderment and inaction, she slipped beneath his arm, grabbed the handle, and pushed the door open.
With a marvelous dignity, she offered her hand to the driver, who stood waiting next to the coach, expressionless.
“I think I’ll retire early,” she called over her shoulder. “Good night, your grace.”
Colin didn’t even acknowledge the man as he stepped from his coach and followed her silently inside, noting to himself that for the first time in his life, a woman, and her emotions, had shaken him deeply.
Chapter 10
Dinner had been routine and rather uneventful despite the awkward tension pervading the air. Although they’d only finished eating dessert a few minutes ago, Colin couldn’t even recall the main dish. Roasted hens, he thought. Or was it duckling?
As he’d done since their kiss in his coach three long weeks ago, he’d spent the entire evening concentrating only on his wife, dressed in peach silk, her glorious hair piled loosely on her head, her cheeks flushed with color as she laughed and sliced her poultry and chatted easily with his two friends’ wives, Vivian and Olivia, as if he weren’t even in the room. She’d hardly paid any attention to the other men, either, as the three ladies had been in deep discussion about female trivialities like perfume, seamstresses, and the latest fashion, topics about which he couldn’t care any less and frankly knew nothing.
Will and Sam had lightened his mood somewhat by recounting some of their boyhood antics, but he knew they wondered at his absent mind. He was usually the jovial one in any conversation, and yet tonight he’d been rather withdrawn, wallowing in his own internal irritations and musings, considering, for the first time, how lovely Charlotte looked by candlelight.
“So, brandy in the study, gentlemen?” Sam said from across the table, interrupting his thoughts.
Colin glanced up from what was left of his raspberries and cream, offering a smile he didn’t feel at all. “Excellent idea.”
“Yes, please go,” Vivian insisted with a wave of her hand. “The three of you are boring us terribly.”
“We’re boring you?” Will responded in feigned consternation, standing with ease as he placed his napkin on the table. “I’ve heard all I believe I’ll ever need to know about perfume tonight.”
Sam rose as well. “It’s hardly exciting, is it?”
Colin twisted his wineglass stem in his fingers. “Perhaps your perfumer of a wife can find a scent of the heart for mine, Samson. My darling Lottie should wear a fragrance both warm and exotic.”
His obvious sarcasm certainly stumped them all into silence. Everybody in the dining room turned to look at him, with various expressions of uncomfortable bewilderment, including Charlotte, who, after only a few short seconds, blushed deeply and glanced at her lap. It was enough to temper his irritation.
After downing the remainder of his wine, he stood abruptly and offered a slight bow. “Excuse us then, ladies?”
“Absolutely,” Olivia remarked almost haughtily.
Sam chuckled under his breath, which made him all the more annoyed, but without another word, the three of them walked from the dining room and wordlessly made their way to his study. Once inside, Colin headed straight for his oak sideboard, having to shuffle around the pianoforte to reach it.
“This is old,” Will said from behind him, stopping in front of the keys. “Is it hers?”
“Of course it’s hers,” he answered gruffly. “Have you heard me play?”
“Not lately, thankfully.”
Colin grunted. “In case you’re wondering, yes, she plays beautifully, as every good wife should.”
“Ah,” Sam piped in as he took a seat in one of the winged leather chairs. “Is she a good wife?”
“The question of the ages,” Colin said, pouring the amber liquid into three snifters from a crystal decanter. “What exactly is a good wife?”
Will chuckled, walked to his side to take his drink, then moved around the pianoforte to stand with his back to the cold grate. “You’re asking this already and you’ve only just married? I’m still trying to figure out what makes a good husband.”
“Before she leaves you?” Sam asked lightheartedly.
“Indeed,” Will replied. “I’m too old to go looking for another female to make me crazy with her whims.”
Colin only half-listened to their banter as he carried the two remaining snifters in his hand, offering one to Sam before he walked around the desk and sat heavily in his rocker. The silence lingered for another moment, and he raised one leg and rested his ankle on the edge of the desktop. He knew they were curious about his marriage, his absentmindedness this evening, most likely because he’d been adamantly opposed to finding himself in such a restraining state for nearly thirty-five years. Naturally, they didn’t disappoint.
“So, is she making you crazy with her whims?” Sam pried with raised brows, swirling his snifter in his hand. “Or is it everything you thought it would be?”
“Both.” Colin took a sip of his brandy, then grinned wryly to murmur, “And more.”
“More?” Sam stretched his feet out and crossed an ankle over the other. “That bad, eh?”
“Did I say that?” he rejoined, irritated again but trying like hell not to show it in front of his friends.
Will placed his arm lengthwise across the mantel. “Judging by tonight, I’d say things…probably haven’t gone quite by the plan.”
He grinned sardonically and raised his snifter in a mock toast. “That, my friends, is the secret to marriage. There is no plan.”
“Yes, but…uh…”—Sam cleared his throat—“you’re the only man I’ve ever known who has never failed once in charming the ladies. You certainly had no plan to do so tonight.”
Confused, he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “I don’t follow.”
“Meaning,” Sam explained, “that although you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of her, your wife hardly acknowledged you, and you’ve been married for less than a month. So, instead of trying to flirt with her or tease her to get her attention, you were sarcastic and glum, which is completely unlike you.” He shrugged, then added, “Will and I have never bee
n charming, but you? Something is amiss.”
Colin’s first thought was to tell them both everything was perfectly perfect in his married life, and more importantly, it wasn’t any of their damn business how he and his wife got on. But their good-natured concern gave him pause. True, he could brush the whole thing aside by lying, or offer a vague explanation in hopes of satisfying their curiosity, and yet they were his closest friends, here now, indirectly asking him if they could help. Discussing one’s intimate affairs with friends wasn’t exactly done, but it wasn’t unheard of either. He wasn’t sure he could talk about such things without humiliating himself, though a little humiliation might be worth it in the end if they could offer advice on how to handle a wife—both when she purposely kept things from him, and especially during private moments. In that regard, he could only assume his friends’ wives weren’t as unresponsive as his own since Vivian had delivered Will a son and Olivia carried Sam’s child even now. He supposed it was worth a try.
Growing exceedingly uncomfortable, Colin rubbed his palm across the back of his neck, then lowered his leg and sat forward, placing his forearms on the desktop, turning his snifter in front of him by the stem as he gazed at it contemplatively.
“I admit my marriage to the famous soprano has been a bit more…complicated than I’d first expected,” he revealed at last, his voice tight. To his relief, neither of them laughed.
“Marriage is always complicated in the beginning,” Will replied quietly. “Especially in your case where you married someone you didn’t really know.”
“And of course it takes time before one is truly comfortable in any marriage,” Sam added.
Frustrated because they offered nothing but standard comments he could get from a discussion with one of his sisters, Colin harshly raked his fingers through his hair. “Thank you for your simplistic answers gentlemen, but you have no idea what I’m talking about.”
Sam grinned. “You don’t think we’ve suffered like you have?”
The Duke’s Indiscretion Page 12
