Chapter Eleven
Lady Lillian Tapper
The theater lobby was packed full of patrons.
It was intermission, and most people had left their seats to socialize.
Somehow, I had lost track of my family. I lifted onto my toes.
My height was an advantage, but the long hallway was so full of people, it was hard to differentiate anyone in the crowd.
People passed by me, some I recognized, and yet not a single soul stopped to chat with me.
A glass of punch in hand, I had to sidestep to avoid a couple who nearly ran into me. Liquid sloshed out of my glass and splattered my white gloves, leaving dots of pink. “Beg pardon,” I said, humiliated by my clumsiness.
The couple continued on their way, not even acknowledging my words.
How rude of them. My shyness often brought about ridicule.
I squared my shoulders and reminded myself that it was a poor reflection on them and not me.
I moved to the edge of the room, where it was less populated.
Corinthian columns bordered the gold embossed wallpapered walls, holding up the vaulted ceilings.
I sipped at the overly warm punch and shuddered at the sour taste. A waiter bearing a full tray appeared from a door embedded in the wall. Another figure slipped out as well, disappearing behind the column. I moved aside to allow the waiter to pass, and he trod on my toe.
“Ouch,” I said, stepping back to avoid further harm. He had the audacity to glare at me and passed without issuing an apology. My shoulder bumped one of the columns, and I leaned against the cool marble surface.
“Am I invisible?” I asked nobody in particular. It was a question I asked myself a lot. In a room full of hundreds, I was often overlooked.
“I see you,” Lord Kendrick said from behind me. There was no mockery in his statement but genuine sincerity.
“What a relief. I thought for a moment that I had perished and had become a ghost,” I said, relying on humor to cover my upset.
Warmth flooded my chest, and I blinked back the moisture from my eyes.
His solicitousness was touching. The dismissive way Miss Cameron had spoken to me was crushing, especially in front of the duke.
To add insult to injury, I had obsessed over the offense during the entire play, rehashing every word in my mind.
By doing so, I had given her the power to hurt me.
“I believe you are very much alive,” he said, amusement underling his words.
He settled a hand on my waist, and I noticed his broad frame at my back. I could feel the heat of his body through the ridiculously ruffled bodice of my gown. “Mr. Moran wishes for my stories to be authentic.”
“I think dying and becoming a ghost is going a bit too far for your craft. However, being invisible would have its benefits.” He dropped his hand from my person but remained behind me. “Avoiding entanglements for one.”
“Hence why you are hiding. Do you wish to avoid Miss Cameron or your mother?” I wanted him to put his hand back, but I dared not be so bold. He had made himself clear he didn’t wish to bed me. I was still insulted, but I understood his reasoning. I didn’t have to like it.
“You are correct on all fronts. Am I bothering you?” he asked. His low chuckle brought a smile to my lips.
Yes. “No.” I couldn’t tell him the truth. He was here to court another woman, a very unpleasant girl. I was used to being bullied, and until I stood up for myself, I would continue to be. Confrontation was difficult for me, and it was easier to let it pass than say anything to my tormentor.
“Good. I need some advice.”
“You are asking me for advice? What about Colt?” It was rare to see Lord Kendrick without Colt. When I thought of one man, I often thought of the other. The duke fascinated me. Colt challenged my mind. I desired both of them, which only added to my confusion.
“Colt isn’t here, and I’d like a woman’s perspective.” His earlier teasing manner disappeared.
“I am listening.” I rolled the glass in my palms, my head angled to await his every word. He still stood behind me, and I couldn’t see his expression. Curiosity was eating me alive. People continued to mingle, and the heavy scents of cigars and perfumed bodies clogged my nose.
“My mother is pushing for me to marry. You met Miss Cameron.”
Everything inside me rebelled at the idea of him marrying the heiress.
I bit back the protest forming on my lips and turned to look at him, my back to the room at large.
He was half-hidden by the column, his hip resting against the marble.
In his black jacket and white shirt, hair tied back, he was every inch the duke.
His clothes fit him to perfection, but I preferred his work attire.
It suited his character. “Yes, she is very, um, interesting.”
“Interesting.” A smile curled his lip, and he licked the bottom one.
My toes curled in my shoes, and a rush of sensation brought every nerve alive.
The kiss he had bestowed upon me rushed into my mind.
I wanted to kiss him again, yet at the same time run away.
How contrary I had become. In my defense, he had said he wouldn’t exchange intimacies with me, yet he kissed me. “I’m trying to be kind.”
“She was rude to you on purpose. You needn’t bother to think the best of her.” His eyes held chips of chillness as his nostrils flared. He was furious on my behalf, which was flattering to my ego.
“If I think the worst of her, I am no better than her,” I countered.
“You are nothing like her, but I digress.” He tugged at his tie, clearly uncomfortable in his formal attire.
“No, I’m not. She is young and very pretty. I am not.” It was a fact I had learned to live with. I was still young, but not in the bloom of youth like Miss Cameron. There was nothing I could do to change my appearance, but I could change how I viewed the world and its inhabitants.
“I beg to differ, but I am not here to discuss you.” The teasing light was back in his eyes.
A loud shout, followed by guffaws, sounded from close by. He moved behind the pillar, and I followed. I might be invisible, but people would rush to his side the second he was spotted. Like I wished to rush to his side. “You had a question for me.”
“You are right. She is young. What is your opinion on a man of thirty marrying such a young lady?” He crossed his arms, the material of his jacket straining at his shoulders.
“It depends.” I tapped a finger on my chin and tried to plan my response. “On the one hand, it is acceptable for a man of any age to marry someone young for the sake of propagation. Nobody would condemn you, and they would cheer her on for landing a duke.”
“And on the other hand?” He stole the punch from my hand and brought it to his nose. He tipped the glass, winced, and set it down on a small ledge carved into the column.
“If she doesn’t marry, she is a social pariah.
Her youth will fade and, with it, her worth.
Her family will pretend everything is as it should be, but they carry the burden of shame.
” I had first-hand experience of what it was like.
During my first season, I had such high hopes, but they were soon dashed.
My writing had filled the void, and I relished the ability to tell a story.
It was my story that led me to Lord Kendrick.
Life had a way of coming full circle. “As a man, you have no such restrictions.”
“You are correct on that score, save my mother. By her will alone, I am even attending tonight’s event.
” He studied me with his compelling stare.
I expected to see pity for my sorrowful tale, but he merely reached out and ran a fingertip along my wrist. We were alone in a sea of people, one column away from discovery.
“I have a third argument, so perhaps it shouldn’t be on the other hand but the other finger,” I said.
“Or foot.”
Laughing, I shook my head at his teasing. “For all her bluster, she is fifteen.” My amusement fled as quickly as it came. “I find it repugnant for a girl—because she is still a girl—to be forced to marry someone twice her age simply to appease societal expectations.”
Lord Kendrick rubbed a hand across his face, blocking his expression from my view. My stomach sank, and I cleared my throat.
“I hope I didn’t insult you, but that’s how I feel.” I waited for the fallout of my statement. He wasn’t old by any means, but Miss Cameron was still a child in my eyes.
“No, you affirmed my feelings on the matter. I would feel like the worst despoiler if I made her my wife.” He shook his head, his expression thoughtful. Although his hair was long, his sideburns were well-trimmed, accenting his powerful jaw.
“You could marry her and wait to, um ...” I couldn’t finish the sentence. It seemed easier to say such things in the privacy of his library. We had escaped notice, but it was only a matter of time before someone saw him.
“Fornicate?” he said, using my words.
“Yes.” I placed my palms on my warm cheeks, the silk of my glove cool against my skin.
“Even if she were twenty, I wouldn’t marry her.
She was unduly cruel to you, and I don’t take kindly to people insulting my friends.
” He clasped my hand and brought it to his mouth.
He kissed the back of it, the gesture sending shock waves throughout my entire body.
“Let no one tell you that you aren’t beautiful. ”
Tears pressed at the back of my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. Except it was hard not to. I had vacillated from happy to sad to happy once more. It was disconcerting. “I’m not beautiful.”
His gaze locking with mine, I couldn’t look away.
“Again, I beg to differ. Your eyes are exceptional, and you are possessed with a beautiful soul. The body is a vessel. It’s what’s in your heart that makes you special. I’m proud to call you my friend.”
My throat became clogged with emotion, and I willed myself not to cry. He thought of me as a friend, both a blessing and a curse. It was all he would give, and I was grateful.
He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it into my hand before dropping his own. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“You didn’t make me. I did it on my own.”
“I like a woman who voices her own opinion. Another positive trait,” he said, his fingers moving to the back of his neck. The way he contemplated me was suspect. What was going on in his mind?
The bell signaling the patrons to return to their seats sounded. I considered giving him back his handkerchief but thought better of it. He held out his arm. “Shall we find your family?”
“Yes.” I placed my hand on his sleeve. Where nobody had paid attention to me before, all eyes seemed to lock on us. I fought a blush, all of my earlier upset disappearing in the face of an unknown threat; public scrutiny.
“Did you recognize who is playing Hamlet?” he asked, nodding to a nearby couple, but he didn’t stop walking. A crowd of people was in front of us, blocking our momentum.
“No, I didn’t look.” I liked the theater and often came with my family, but I wasn’t familiar with the thespians. The playwrights were a different story. One day, I hoped I would adapt my book into a play. I had a sense that would never happen, given the change in subject.
He leaned in close and whispered, “Lord Golden.”
My footsteps faltered, and the woman behind me stepped on the heel of my slipper. I adjusted the footwear and tried to maintain my dignity. “Lord Golden. Are you certain? I mean, you are certain. Certainly.”
“Yes, I am certain. Of course, he isn’t speaking to me, but he will come around. He always does.” The crowd parted, and we took the nearby staircase.
A part of me wished he wouldn’t. I was jealous, and I had no right to be.
Curiosity drove me to act in ways I wouldn’t normally do.
I blamed the man walking confidently beside me.
He was proving to be irresistible. “Lord Golden doesn’t have to be Hamlet.
I mean, the man playing Hamlet doesn’t have to be Lord Golden. ”
Another man would be the perfect fit for Lord Golden, but he was hiding his true self.
At least I was fairly certain he was. It wasn’t my place to tell Lord Kendrick what I had observed about Colt.
Even the thought of the two men performing intimacies on each other sent delicious sensations into my core.
As Lady X, I would continue to pressure the duke to include me.
If I was going to remain a spinster, what was the use of keeping my virginity?
Now I just had to convince Lord Kendrick to see it my way.
He was acting the gentleman by refusing to bed me.
If I were bolder, I could push the issue.
We reached the landing, my family box visible from the top of the stairs.
Soon, I would watch the play, but instead of watching Hamlet, I would picture Lord Golden naked with the dark knight.
The need in my groin grew, and I pretended to stumble, using the excuse to tighten my arm around his.
Pathetic, yes, but it frustrated me in a way I had never been before.
Lord Kendrick wasn’t the only fish in the sea. I could find another man, one less honorable. Except I didn’t want anyone but him.
Well, perhaps Colt.
Colt and Lord Kendrick.
Lord Golden and the dark knight with Lady X in between.
With a few steps left to my box, my time alone with the duke had run out.
My one consolation was he had no intention to marry the vile Miss Cameron.
But he was intent to seek out Gavin. No matter how the top spun, it seemed to always tilt away from me.