Chapter 19
T he following day, Dragon reported that his contact in the detective department had agreed to visit the print works in Clerkenwell and question Mrs. O’Cairre. In the meantime, Pandora could go about her usual activities, as the detective saw no reason for undue alarm.
The news was welcome, since Pandora and Gabriel had already agreed to attend a play that evening with Helen and Mr. Winterborne, and have a late dinner afterward. The comedy, a revival of The Heir-At-Law , was playing at the Haymarket Royal Theatre, the most fashionable playhouse in London.
“I’d rather not take you to a public place until the investigation is concluded,” Gabriel said with a frown, pulling on a shirt in his bedroom. “The area around the Haymarket is notoriously dangerous.”
“But I’ll be with you,” Pandora pointed out, “and Mr. Winterborne will be there as well. Furthermore, Dragon has insisted on going even though it’s supposed to be his night off.
What could possibly happen to me?” She glanced in the mirror on top of the mahogany dresser and adjusted the drape of her double-stranded pearls over the lace bodice of her lavender-and-ivory evening gown.
Gabriel made a noncommittal sound, folding back the cuffs of his shirt. “Would you hand me the cufflinks on the dresser?”
She brought them to him. “Why aren’t you allowing Oakes to help you? Especially when you’re dressing for a formal evening. He must be distraught.”
“Probably. But I’d rather not have to explain where the marks came from.”
“What marks?”
For an answer, he pulled aside the open placket of his shirt, revealing the little red places on his shoulder where her teeth had nipped him.
Contritely Pandora stood on her toes to examine the marks, her color rising. “I’m so sorry. Do you think he would gossip about it?”
“Good God, no. As Oakes likes to say, ‘Discretion is the better part of valets.’ However”—his golden-bronze head lowered over hers—“there are some things I’d rather keep private.”
“Poor man. You look as though you’d been attacked by a wild beast.”
A husky laugh escaped him. “Just a small vixen,” he said, “who grew a bit fierce in her play.”
“You should bite her back,” Pandora said against his chest. “That would teach her to be gentler with you.”
Curving his hand along the side of her face, Gabriel tilted her head upward. After nibbling gently at her lower lip, he whispered, “I want her just the way she is.”
T he interior of the Haymarket was luxurious and opulent, with cushioned seats and tiers of boxes decorated with gold moldings of antique lyres and oak wreaths.
The domed rose-colored ceiling was covered in gilded ornamentation and hand-painted depictions of Apollo, while cut-glass chandeliers shed rich light on the fashionably dressed crowd below.
Before the performance began, Pandora and Helen sat in the theater box and talked, while their husbands hobnobbed with a group of men in the nearby box-lobby. Helen was in glowing good health and full of news, and seemed determined to persuade Pandora to join a ladies’ fencing class with her.
“You must learn to fence as well,” Helen urged. “It’s very good for posture and breathing, and my friend Garrett—that is, Dr. Gibson—says it’s an exhilarating sport.”
Pandora had no doubt that was all true, but she was fairly certain that putting a woman with balance problems in the proximity of pointy objects would have no good outcome. “I wish I could,” she said, “but I’m too clumsy. You know I don’t dance well.”
“But the fencing-master would teach you how to...” Helen’s voice faded as she looked in the direction of the upper dress circle seats, which were on the same level as their box. “My goodness. Why is that woman staring at you so fiercely?”
“Where?”
“On the left side of the dress circle seats. The brunette in the first row. Do you know her?”
Pandora followed her gaze to a dark-haired woman who was affecting interest in her theater program.
She was slim and elegant, with classic features, deep-set eyes with extravagant lashes, and a pencil-slim nose angled perfectly over full red lips.
“I haven’t a clue who she is,” Pandora said. “She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she?”
“I suppose. All I can see is that dagger-like stare. ”
Pandora grinned. “It seems my skill at annoying people has now extended to ones I don’t even know.”
The striking woman was seated next to a stocky older gentleman with prodigious whiskers and a curiously two-toned beard, dark gray on the cheeks and jaw and white on the chin.
His posture was military-straight, as if his back had been tied to a cart axle.
The woman touched his arm and murmured to him, but he seemed not to notice, his attention fixed on the theater stage as if he were watching some invisible play.
Pandora felt an unpleasant shock as the brunette woman’s gaze met hers directly. No one had ever stared at her with such cold hatred before. She couldn’t think of anyone who would have a reason to look at her that way, except...
“I think I might know who she is,” she whispered.
Before Helen could respond, Gabriel came to occupy the empty seat next to Pandora.
He turned so that his shoulder partially blocked her from the woman’s lethal stare.
“That is Mrs. Black and her husband, the American ambassador,” he said quietly, his features hard. “I had no idea they would be here.”
Comprehending that it was a private matter, Helen hastily turned away to talk with her husband.
“Of course you didn’t,” Pandora murmured, surprised as she saw a tiny muscle jumping in Gabriel’s clenched jaw. Her husband, always so calm and sure of himself, was on the verge of losing his temper right there in the Royal Theatre.
“Would you like to leave?” he asked grimly.
“Not at all, I want to see the play.” Pandora would have rather died before giving his former mistress the satisfaction of making her leave the theater.
She peeked around Gabriel’s shoulder and saw that Mrs. Black was still glaring at her as if she’d been wronged.
For heaven’s sake, the woman’s husband was sitting beside her.
Why didn’t he tell her to stop making a public display?
The minor drama had now started to attract the attention of others who were seated in the dress circle, as well as some in the mezzanine boxes.
It must have seemed like a nightmare to Gabriel, whose every accomplishment and mistake had been scrutinized for his entire life.
He had always been careful to protect his privacy and maintain an invulnerable facade.
But apparently Mrs. Black was determined to make it clear to most of London society.
.. and his wife... that they had been lovers.
Knowing what a source of shame it was for Gabriel to have slept with another man’s wife.
.. and to have it made public in this fashion. .. Pandora’s heart ached for him.
“She can’t hurt us,” she said softly. “She can glare until her eyeballs fall out, and it won’t bother me in the least.”
“This won’t happen again, by God. I’ll go to her tomorrow, and tell her—”
“No, you mustn’t. I’m sure Mrs. Black would love nothing better than for you to visit her. But I forbid it.”
There was a dangerous cold flicker in Gabriel’s eyes. “You forbid?”
It was quite possible no one had ever said such a thing to him before. He certainly didn’t seem to like it.
Pandora touched his face with her gloved hand, gently stroking his cheek.
She knew that demonstrations of affection in public, even between husband and wife, were highly inappropriate, but at the moment, all that mattered was comforting him.
“Yes. Because you’re mine now.” She smiled faintly, holding his gaze.
“All mine, and I won’t share you. She’s not allowed to have even five minutes of your time. ”
To her relief, Gabriel took a slow breath and seemed to relax.
“You’re my wife,” he said quietly, catching her hand as she began to lower it.
“No other woman has claim on me.” He held it in midair and deliberately unfastened the three pearl buttons at the wrist of her elbow-length kid glove.
Pandora gave him a questioning glance. Staring steadily into her eyes, Gabriel tugged at the fingertips of the glove, one by one.
Her breath caught as she felt the glove loosen.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
Gabriel didn’t reply, only pulled the glove slowly until it slid away from her arm. Hectic color spread over every inch of Pandora’s skin. The sensuous way he’d removed it, in front of so many curious gazes, sent a wash of hectic color over every inch of her skin.
Lifting her bare hand, Gabriel turned it over and pressed his mouth against her sensitive inner wrist, before nuzzling a kiss into the vulnerable cup of her palm.
A few happily scandalized gasps and murmurs came from the crowd.
It was a gesture of ownership, of intimacy, intended not only to demonstrate his passion for his new bride, but also to rebuke his former mistress.
By tomorrow, every fashionable parlor in London would be buzzing with the gossip that Lord St. Vincent had been seen openly fondling his wife at the Haymarket, in view of his former mistress.
Pandora didn’t want to be used to hurt anyone, not even Mrs. Black. However, as Gabriel gave her a warning glance, daring her to protest, she kept her mouth shut and decided to take issue with him later.
Mercifully the lights were soon lowered, and the play began. It was a testament to the quality of the production and the skill of the actors that Pandora was able to relax and laugh at the quicksilver dialogue. However, she was aware that Gabriel was enduring the comedy rather than enjoying it.
At intermission, while Gabriel and Winterborne met with acquaintances in the hallway just outside the box, Pandora and Helen talked privately.