Chapter Fifteen
Theatre Royal
Covent Garden
Once again Gregory was attending the opera, but this time he had been invited to share Biddleton’s box. Yet even though he adored the opera, he didn’t want to sit through a play tonight. Hell, he didn’t want to do much of anything except drown himself at the bottom of a bottle of brandy.
It had been six weeks, six bloody weeks, since he’d walked away from Constance.
And in that time, he hadn’t seen her let alone spoken to her.
Biddleton kept him busy enough, and when Gregory was able-in between researching and preparing for looming court dates- he spent time with the earl as well as the countess.
Were they doing it because they felt sorry for him?
Quite possibly. Did he care? Not overly much.
In fact, he didn’t care much for anything.
He’d been essentially dead inside since the night he walked out of Constance’s townhouse.
From what he could discern, his world essentially dimmed that night, and he wasn’t certain it would ever be lit again.
During one of his darker moments, he’d finally given in to his mother’s machinations and picked out one of her candidates to perhaps court.
The chit was a marquess’ daughter, which meant there was quite a large dowry on her head.
She was a couple of years younger than Constance.
Though her form and figure were stunning, the sheer fact that she wasn’t a widow with golden flecks in her brown eyes meant he would never hand her his heart.
For the past four weeks, he had been calling on Lady Melissa, but his attention had been scattered. Each day when he woke in the morning, it felt as if there was a noose tightening about his neck or a ring in his nose that would lead him toward a life he didn’t want, let alone wish to live.
And for what? To keep his damned standing in the beau monde? To further his reach in society by coaxing high-flyer clients to use his services as a barrister? As a solicitor? To please his parents when they’d done nothing in his life up until this point because he was only the spare?
All of that brought him to the opera tonight.
He didn’t care what the name of the play was nor if any of his favorite actors were in it, because every damned time he stepped foot in that theater, he remembered being there with Constance.
Besides, tonight, the woman sitting next to him was Lady Melissa, and from her own admission, she didn’t truly understand why anyone would enjoy attending the opera.
Lady Melissa tapped his shoulder with her closed fan. “Are we going into the box? I want to spy on some of the other guests with my opera glasses. Someone told me that Lady Jersey should be in attendance tonight.”
Of course, because the only thing that mattered was being seen while one was also watching. He cast a glance to Biddleton and the countess. “I’m not ready to go in quite yet.”
The earl nodded. He peered at his wife. “Why don’t you accompany the lady to the box? The two of you can relax and chat before Hamilton and I come in.”
“Very well. If you’re certain.”
Biddleton nodded. “I am.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t be long. You don’t want to miss the beginning.”
“I won’t.” Biddleton waited until the ladies had disappeared behind the red velvet curtains that marked the entrance to the box before he addressed Gregory. “What the hell ails you tonight? I’ve never seen you quite so morose.”
“Walk with me a bit,” he asked in a low voice. As they traversed the corridor that ran in front of the boxes on the east side of the opera house, he frowned. “I am feeling trapped within my own life.”
“We all have felt that way before each new phase.” The earl’s grin didn’t bring him any comfort. “Are you thinking about asking for Lady Melissa’s hand?”
“If I had my druthers, absolutely not.” Knots of worry pulled in his gut.
“Yet my parents are expecting such an announcement within the next few months.” As he let his gaze rove about the crush of theater goers, his chest seized and the air whooshed from his lungs as if he’d been punched in the breadbasket. “Shit.”
“What?” Biddleton frowned as he looked in the direction of Gregory’s interest.
“Constance is here.” It was difficult to force the words from his tight throat, and a pain squeezed about his heart. “Just there.”
Why couldn’t he divert his stare? He drank up her image as if she’d stepped out of his dreams. The silver gown she wore suited her pale skin to perfection, but it was the overskirt of the sheerest white tulle that sparkled in the candlelight and caught the eye.
Thin tulle lined the low bodice, and damn his eyes but he wished he still had access to her fantastic bosom.
Christ but he wanted to glide his lips along her nape.
Silver combs that sparkled with some sort of spangles glimmered in her upswept hair.
Then he finally realized she wasn’t alone. In fact, one of her gloved hands rested lightly on another man’s sleeve, the same man she chatted to with a soft smile curving her lips.
“That must be Conklin,” he said to his friend with a heavy dose of annoyance in his whisper. “Lucky bastard.” Once more, his heart felt shredded, and before she could see him, Gregory darted behind one of the Doric columns.
“Ah, very mature hiding because you don’t wish to be seen by a former mistress. Quite droll of you, Hamilton.” Biddleton crossed his arms at his chest. “Where is the harm if she sees you?”
“I don’t want her to see me,” he spat out with narrowed eyes as he watched her with the viscount.
“What the hell does she like about the man?” To his way of thinking, Conklin wasn’t good enough for her.
“His shoulders have a stoop, and does he have no pride in himself that the tails of his coat are wrinkled? Where the devil is his valet?” Though Constance peered up at the man, the bounder wasn’t paying her the slightest mind.
In fact, he was speaking to someone else.
“She deserves a man who will think she hung the moon.”
“Ah, but surely you are completely over brooding about losing her,” the earl said, and there was no mistaking the sarcasm in his voice.
Gregory shot him what he hoped was a withering glance. “I speak the truth.”
“Yet you couldn’t find the courage to speak it to her when you had the chance.”
“I don’t need the reminder.” Every day since he’d walked out of her house and her life, he regretted that he didn’t fight for her—for them.
The longer he watched her, the more his chest tightened.
When jealousy stabbed through him, he let a growl escape his throat.
“Will he know how to soothe her when an episode comes over her? Will he let her have the freedom to pursue her dream of helping downtrodden women? Does he only want her for a new mother to his child?”
“Why don’t you go and ask her?”
“You know why I can’t.” The knowledge still stung. What sort of man who wished to be hailed a hero didn’t fight for the woman he admired?
Hell, what was the purpose of lying to himself any longer. He loved her, was completely tip over tail for her, yet he’d given her up because he was a nodcock of the first order.
“I never thought you a fool, Hamilton.” The earl came closer to Gregory’s hiding place. “Here you are, hiding from a woman, the same woman who has left you gutted, yet you can’t summon enough courage to go greet her.”
“The risk is too high, and I’m more or less courting Lady Melissa.” But even that was wearing thin as an excuse.
“Gammon. You would rather spend the rest of your life pining over Mrs. Knight while married to another?” When Gregory didn’t answer, the earl continued.
“The greater harm is the fact you’ll marry Lady Melissa even though you don’t love her when you won’t do the same for Mrs. Knight even though you do. ”
“Well, I…”
Pity reflected in Biddleton’s eyes. “I assume you do have those feelings for her?”
He heaved out a sigh. “Yes.” The buzz of conversation in the air around them was punctuated by soft laughter. “Most desperately, I’m afraid.” God, what sort of man fell in love with a woman he couldn’t have?
“There is an easy solution, you know.”
“Do shut up, Biddleton. There truly isn’t.”
An expression of annoyance crossed his friend’s face. “Bollocks. Go be a man and charm her away from the viscount. There is a reason you are a barrister. Think up a brilliant argument and regain your life, your spark. I refuse to have a wet blanket as a friend for much longer.”
“It sounds so simple when you say it, but when I think over it? Not so much.” He rubbed a gloved hand along the side of his face. “It goes against everything I’ve been taught.”
“Everything good does.”
“The resulting scandal could very well break me and all that I’ve fought to achieve.”
“Your first meeting with her was steeped in scandal. And if potential clients can’t understand the lengths you would go to win a love, then they obviously aren’t well-versed with how determined you’ll prove on their cases.”
There was that. “If I lose clients or even my practice, how can I support a wife with no living?”
Biddleton eyed his askance. “I’d like to hope you are far more clever than that.”
Making the next step was a terrifying endeavor. “What if she rejects me? She never shared her feelings with me the last time we were together.” Neither did he, so he couldn’t fault her for that. Perhaps she was as afraid as he was.
“Then she does, and you will know. And with that knowledge, you can finally move forward. Marry Lady Melissa in good faith and learn to love her, have a family with her, but always carry your time with Mrs. Knight in your heart.”
I can never love anyone after her. She has become my reason for breathing.
“No.” He shook his head as he risked a peek from around the column. “If she rejects me, it’s over. I’ll wed Lady Melissa, but I can never love her.”