Only Blayne knew the truth about Carlton’s past. Carlton had unwittingly disclosed it to him in a fevered haze when that wound Maher had dealt him had gotten infected. It had taken a week for Carlton to recover – a time Blayne still referred to as the fight he’d once had with the devil.
“Me father was an artist,” he told Regina smoothly. “Nothin’ more.”
Her shoulders slumped as if in defeat. “I see.” Her voice, filled with disappointment, made him wish he could trust her with the truth. The trouble with that, however, was that trust often made a fool of even the wisest of men. He’d seen it happen to his father first hand. Which was why he always lived with the keen awareness that even those closest to you could betray you.
Tightening his jaw, Guthrie greeted some of the theatre workers, actors and actresses as they passed them. He didn’t come here often, but when he did, he knew he could count on being welcomed because of the high tips he gave them all after each performance. And because of the handsome fee he paid for the private box he kept there. It was located directly next to the stage and had its own separate entrance, allowing Carlton to avoid the rest of the theatre goers.
Leading Regina toward it, he ushered her into the box and closed the door behind them. A velvet drape hanging to the left meant that they could remain completely hidden from the audience while still enjoying a perfect view of the stage.
Having pushed back her hood, Regina undid the ties that held her cloak in place. Without even thinking, Carlton stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. A tightening deep in his belly the moment he heard her sharp intake of air and felt her heat permeate his skin made him freeze for a second. He drew a deep breath to steady himself, but instead he felt more undone than ever by the sweet scent of honey and chamomile clinging to her hair. Swallowing, he buried his fingers deep in the folds of the cloak, clutching the garment while seeking the strength he required to resist the temptation she offered.
She cannot be yours.
He took a step back and hung the cloak on a hook near the door.
“This is so strange,” Regina said as she took a seat next to the drape. Her voice was soft, with a dreamy quality to it. “We’re in a theatre surrounded by hundreds of people and yet we’re completely alone. Like we’re tucked away in our own private world.”
Smiling with more pleasure than he’d felt in years, he took a seat beside her. He loved the joy she was able to find in the simplest of things. He’d not done much, but he’d given her a different experience. And she was enthralled, as evidenced by her wide smile and the light that danced in her eyes. Within the confines of his chest, in a dark place behind his ribs, his heart beat harder than ever before. It beat for her and for the purity of her soul.
With difficulty, he resisted the urge to place his hand over hers and chose to rest it on his knee instead. “Few aristocrats come here, so it is unlikely that you will be recognized,” he murmured next to her ear. “Most of the Adelphi Theatre’s patrons are clerks, barristers, and solicitors, but you should probably stay behind the curtain anyway. Just in case.”
She turned her head and her eyes met his, like inky-blue water reflecting the stars. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He merely inclined his head and waited for her to return her attention to the stage.
8
The loud chatter of voices and rustling of people moving about was muted by the low hum of a bow sliding over a cello’s strings. A vibrating murmur of violins joined with the tooting of trumpets and flutes until all the instruments sounded like they were arguing with each other. And then they fell silent, leaving the theater completely devoid of all sound, as if all ears waited to hear what would happen next.
Regina held her breath. And then the sweetest, most melodious piece of music she’d ever heard sifted through the air like a moonbeam carefully casting its light through a window at night. The instruments that had seemed so disjointed during their tuning joined in perfect harmony now as they welcomed the performers to the stage.
A man and a woman dressed in bright sixteenth century clothes proceeded to sing a jaunty duet filled with humorous phrases resulting in bursts of laughter.
With a grin of her own, Regina allowed the musical play to distract her. But she could never quite ignore the man who sat by her side. Her awareness of him caused ripples of warmth to caress her skin whenever he moved. To think that he’d come to affect her so completely during the short time she’d known him was both confusing and frightening.
Deep inside, she’d hoped that he would confirm her suspicions when she’d asked about his father. She’d hoped that Guthrie would turn out to be the sort of man a woman like her might marry.
Which was almost too silly to think of. He was everything she ought to avoid. Besides, even if he had been some prominent lord, his history made him completely unsuitable for her. The fact that she would forget that proved how easily she’d been influenced by his kiss. But the truth was that if she was going to save her reputation, she would need to make a respectable match.
“How do ye like it so far?” Guthrie’s voice traced the lobe of her ear and a shiver sailed down her spine.
How many women have you kissed? How many have you bedded? Who were they? What were their names and did they matter?
“Very much,” she told him while burying all of the questions she wanted to ask him. He had no reason to share such intimate information with her just as she had no reason to care about any of the answers that he might give.
And yet she did. More so with each passing second she spent in his company.
She also wanted to know why he’d really been forced to leave home when his parents had died. She wanted to figure him out and understand him – to learn all she could about Carlton Guthrie, the notorious crime lord, Scoundrel of St. Giles, protector of prostitutes, mentor to children, and her very own savior.
“Thank you for a lovely outing,” she said when they left the theatre later. “The performance was excellent and so very different from the opera, which is the extent of my theatrical experience. Being allowed to catch a glimpse of what goes on behind the stage was especially interesting. I never imagined so many ropes, rolled up sceneries, props, curtains, or people, all to offer a bit of amusement to a crowd of spectators. It just—”
“Ye are very welcome,” Guthrie said with a grin.
Heat rose to her cheeks, making the cool evening air a welcome relief as they stepped out through the back entrance. Regina took Guthrie’s arm without even thinking. It just felt natural now. “I hope you can forgive me for nattering on. I’m just so excited about everything I’ve experienced this evening.”
He frowned at her even as he smiled. “I get the sense that ye crave an insight into the simpler facets of life. Takin’ ye to the Theatre Royale, while appropriate, would not have made the same impression. Would it?”
How could he possibly know her so well? “I would have enjoyed it and found it nice. But it would also have been a theatre experience like any other while this...this was a welcome departure from what I am used to.”
He hailed a hackney and helped her climb in before issuing orders to the driver. “It won’t be yer only experience this evenin,’ luv,” he said once he’d sat down opposite her and the carriage had taken off. “Have ye ever been to Vauxhall Garden?”
A flutter of excitement swept through her. “No. Not yet. My Season was filled with dinner parties, balls, and musicales. I dare say there wasn’t the time.” Which wasn’t entirely true. When she’d asked her parents if they would take her to the pleasure garden one evening, they’d told her it wasn’t an appropriate place for young ladies to venture.
“The most scandalous things happen there in the dark,” her mother had said.
“But surely if I am with you and Papa it will be all right,” Regina had tried. “Several of my friends have been and their reputations have not suffered from it.”
“Then they are most fortunate. But I’m not prep
ared to take the risk. Going to Vauxhall is out of the question.” Hedgewick’s words had been final and the subject had not been brought up again.
“Then it’s a good thing we’ve nothin’ but time at the moment,” Guthrie told her. A heavy pause followed. Through the dark interior of the carriage she could see him tilting his head as if in speculation. “Unless of course ye’d rather return to The Black Swan. I don’t want to press ye into any—”
“No.” The word shot past her lips in an almost desperate plea. Taking a breath, Regina relaxed her shoulders and settled more comfortably against the squabs. “I would love to visit Vauxhall with you.”
“Excellent.” His voice was low, almost a purr, and it hummed through her body, increasing her anticipation. Tonight’s experiences were only made possible thanks to Guthrie. Without him, she wasn’t sure what might have become of her after she’d run away. Most likely, she would have returned home that very same day, provided she’d managed to find her way and avoided getting hurt by those thugs she’d run into. She would have married Stokes once her father had managed to explain the delay, and her life would have gone on much as before. Albeit with a husband she didn’t want and who did not want her.
“I’ll have someone stop by Fielding House tomorrow,” Guthrie said as he led her along one of Vauxhall’s walkways a short while later. All around them, hundreds of gas lights painted the air with an ethereal glow. Soft lyrical music performed by a string quartet near the entrance followed behind them like tiptoeing fairies. “While his butler did say he would let me know when he returned, I don’t really trust him to do so.”
Regina tightened her hold on Guthrie’s arm, drawing closer to him. Nearby, a group of young men out for a bit of fun laughed uproariously in response to a joke one of them had made. “You want me to leave?”
“I want ye to do what makes ye happy.” He paused before saying, “I thought ye were hopin’ to make him an offer.”
“I suppose…”
Guthrie snorted. “Well I dare say Fieldin’s a fortunate man. The joy in yer voice when ye speak of him is so overwhelmin’ it just might inspire Byron to write a poem.”
Without even thinking, she slapped his arm and grinned. “You’re terrible.”
“Ye’ll not hear me argue that fact,” he muttered.
Sobering, she tried to consider his comments more seriously and finally said, “I cannot stay with you forever.”
“Not even if I tell ye that ye’re welcome to do so?”
He’d pulled her to a halt, a little off to one side so they stood near a thick line of trees. The lights were further apart here, the yellow haze not quite reaching his face. And yet, when Regina looked up, she could still see the need he subjected her to. Perhaps because it was also in his voice.
“Why?” It was all she could think to ask.
Why?
It was an excellent question that Carlton didn’t know how to answer. Least of all when she was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. Which he probably had.
In no time at all, he’d allowed this Society woman - a debutante, no less - to sneak past his defenses. She’d caused him to want in a way he’d not wanted before. And she’d made him wonder what it might be like to simply forget his whole reason for being, to abandon his need for revenge and pursue a life of normalcy for a change. With her, he might find genuine happiness and contentment.
But she was like a diamond that sparkled in a world filled with soot. She didn’t belong in St. Giles, and she also deserved far better than anything he was able to offer. Not to mention that it was unlikely she would ever love a man like him. At least not once she realized how ill he’d used her and how much he’d lied.
“Guthrie?”
Her expression had changed into that of perplexed curiosity and he realized he’d taken too long to answer. “I’ve taken a likin’ to ye,” he said with a careless shrug. Determined to treat the comment as though it held no great significance, he prepared to recommence walking.
Except the smile she gave him was so incredibly blinding he found himself rooted to the ground. Indeed, it was like the sun had just made a surprise appearance right there in the middle of the night. And her eyes…they sparkled like pieces of silver caught in the moonlight. Carlton held his breath for no other reason than that he was starting to think inhaling might actually kill him. After all, nothing else was as it should be. He ought to be indifferent to Regina, not smitten by her. He should be plotting Hedgewick’s demise, not trying to romance his daughter with theatre visits and intimate walks. So then, since the world as he knew it was obviously flipped upside down, why not presume that drawing air into his lungs would result in death?
“I like you too.”
Carlton blinked. “I’m sorry?”
She grinned and it was as if an angel had blessed him with a heavenly glow. “You just said that you’d let me stay because you’ve taken a liking to me, and I’m telling you that I like you as well. Quite a lot, actually. “
And then, as if she hadn’t just punched him straight in the gut, she rose up onto her toes and pressed her lips against his.
His heart shuddered and for a brief moment, when his astonishment had passed, he feared he might weep. Because unlike the previous kiss they’d shared, this one had been incited by her in a way that confirmed the truth in her words. But then his muscles flexed and the masculine need she’d instilled at his core broke free from the tethers he’d used to bind it.
Without even thinking, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her between the trees, away from the revelers filling the path and into their own wooded world.
“Guthrie! What are—”
He spun her around, pinning her roughly against the nearest tree. Her breaths grew rapid, though not from fear. No. Her response was entirely born from excitement so keen he could practically smell it.
“Why did ye do that?”
She raised her chin and stared back at him through the darkness. “Because it felt right.” Swallowing, she asked with the sort of hesitance that might break him, “Do you mind?”
Undone by her innocence and the wonder with which she experienced life, he told her honestly, “No. Minding isn’t the problem. “
“Then what is?”
It was a dangerous question he ought not answer. But he couldn’t resist. Not any longer. And certainly not where she was concerned. He simply didn’t want to.
Moving closer, he placed one hand at her waist while using the other to trace a path over her cheek. “The problem, luv, is that it isn’t enough. I want more.” And with that declaration, he lowered his mouth to hers like a madman seeking his sanity.
For a moment, he sensed the uncertainty building within her, questioning whether to push him away or yield to his expert command. But then he felt her surrender, like an anxious bird willing to trust the fox. A sigh of relief swept through him, transforming into a groan of pleasure the moment she parted her lips beneath his and granted him entrance.
Dear merciful God in heaven, she tasted exquisite, like dewdrops clinging to rose petals in the morning, or sunbeams falling on poppy fields during the summer. And she was arching into him now in her quest for additional friction in just the right places.
His own body responded. How could it not when she was a dream come true - the most perfect creature he’d ever encountered? Gripping her firmly, he pressed up against her and deepened the kiss. She gasped but didn’t retreat. Instead, she met him every step of the way until he was left completely breathless and suffering from discomfort.
Pulling back before he found some excuse to explore her more fully with his hands, he considered apologizing for his advance, but then changed his mind. Because he wasn’t sorry. This kiss was perhaps the best thing he’d ever experienced in his life, and he would not let her think he regretted it in any way. And considering how she was gripping his jacket as if reluctant to let him go, he didn’t think she regretted it either. Which only made him want to kiss her again.
&nb
sp; A firework burst overhead, showering the sky with bright flashes of color. The sounds of chatter and music drifted toward them, reminding Carlton of time and place. If he kissed her again he would only want more, and the last thing Regina deserved was to be ravished against a tree in a public setting.
Christ!
He’d had countless women over the years, all experienced lovers. But Regina’s innocence slayed him. Her novice approach, so tentative at first, followed by her increased eagerness as she learned what to do, was so fresh and compelling and unlike anything else he’d experienced before. It was also bloody erotic and made him eager to take her to bed. He wanted to strip her naked and give her pleasure, to feel her quiver in his arms and to witness her ultimate surrender.
Mine.
The word shot to the front of his mind, attacking what remained of his reasoning. She was his now whether she knew it or not, and as that fact sank in, his world righted to a state of normalcy once again.
Slowly, he unhooked her fingers from his lapels and took her by the hand. “Come.” He guided her back to the path, and she came with him carefully, as if in a daze.
Arms linked, they continued on in silence. Carlton wondered if he should say something to spark a conversation, but he rather liked just being with her without the need for either of them to speak. And since she seemed to be processing what had occurred between them, he thought it best not to distract her.
It wasn’t until they were coming back on the central walkway that she chose to say, “Your moustache is very soft.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Really?”
“It surprised me the first time you kissed me as well, since I thought it was going to be rough and bristly.”
“Does that mean ye like it?”
She was quiet a moment. “I cannot claim to dis-like it, but I would like to kiss you one day without it being in the way.”
Carlton tightened his hold on her arm. “Is that so?”
“Unless of course you meant for that kiss to be a onetime experience. A lapse in judgment on your part perhaps?”
The Forgotten Duke Page 11
