Chapter 4
Chapter four
Juliet feigned her most charming smile as Charles escorted her and his grandmother, the Dowager Countess Riley, through the elegant foyer and up the grand staircase.
The excitement in the air was palpable. Juliet adored the theatre, and she was unaccustomed to the social jitters.
Still, her mind and body screamed for her to flee from Drury Lane.
Perhaps the ghost of a wallflower had taken possession of her body.
It wouldn’t surprise her since nothing about her erratic feelings today made sense.
Befuddling Juliet further, the appreciative gazes cast in her direction did nothing to quell her nerves.
She should be reveling in the showered compliments about her lovely gown, and what a charming couple she and Charles made.
Normally, she relished being the center of attention, and yet, tonight, she wished she had worn a plain gray dress so she could blend into the background.
In retrospect, perhaps a part of her felt ashamed and shallow after Mother’s comments at breakfast. Adding insult to injury, Charles’s hubris knew no bounds, so he strutted through the crowd as if he were king of the world.
The scowling Lady Riley, going out of her way to ignore Juliet, certainly wasn’t helping her discomfiture.
They had no sooner taken their seats when a man with drooping jowls barged into their private box.
His tailcoat was so rumpled that he had to toss it on the floor at night, then jump on it a half dozen times.
His large belly strained the fabric of his waistcoat, the buttons threatening to pop.
And then there was his stench. Trying not to inhale the odoriferous assault of sweat mixed with a dirty chamber pot, Juliet pressed her gloved fingers to her nose.
“Good evening, Lord Riley,” the man said in an overly loud voice.
Charles’s jaw clenched, and his posture stiffened.
“And who are these lovely visions?” their uninvited guest asked.
If glares could kill, Charles would be charged with the intruder’s death.
Undaunted, the man raked his gaze over Juliet, lingering on her décolletage so long that she finally folded her arms over her chest.
“I am Warren Malestorm. You must be the lovely fiancée,” he said with an unsettling sneer.
Charles bristled.
Although the man made her uncomfortable, Juliet acknowledged him with a smile. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Malestorm.” Since Charles had not given this man her name, she would not provide hers.
Contorting his gotch-gutted body into an exceedingly awkward bow, Mr. Malestorm doffed his top hat in Lady Riley’s direction. “My lady, you look lovely.”
Giving him the deliberate cut, the dowager kept her gaze focused straight ahead.
“I see you have empty seats,” Malestorm said. “Mayhap I can join you?”
Charles surged upward and shoved Warren Malestorm out of the box. “Pardon me, ladies. I shall be right back,” he called over his shoulder as he followed the churlish man.
As if Juliet’s nerves weren’t frazzled enough, the awkward encounter left her sitting on the edge of her seat, her heart thumping against her chest. Alone with the unfriendly matron, Juliet broke out in a cold sweat.
Try as she might, she couldn’t recall what she had done to make the woman dislike her.
Juliet had two choices. She could dash from the theatre, hail a carriage home, and deal with the humiliation and her mother’s tears in the morning. Or she could exhibit charm and grace and try to connect with her grandmother-in-law-to-be.
Deciding on the latter, Juliet angled her body so that she could comfortably make eye contact. “My lady, these seats are splendid,” she said. Truthfully, they were so high the actors would look like ants.
As the dowager flicked her fan, her lips pursed as if she’d sucked on lemons. Even the fan’s fluttering blue feathers seemed to waggle indignantly at Juliet.
“How often do you visit the theatre?” Juliet asked.
The dowager sighed as if this conversation were a tedious chore.
Juliet would not be daunted. She could charm an ogre, after all.
She regarded the curmudgeonly woman, searching for something she could compliment.
The countess had impeccable posture, and she stuck her nose in the air like a right proper snob.
Since Juliet couldn’t point out either of these things, she was doomed.
But then, as if by divine intervention, the light from the chandelier caught in the sapphire teardrops adorning the dowager’s ears.
“My lady, I dare say, your necklace and earrings are lovely. Surely, you are the envy of every woman here.”
Charles’s grandmother snorted. “Do not get any ideas because I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”
Shoving down her indignation, Juliet affectionately squeezed the insufferable woman’s cold, bony hand. “I do hope we have many happy years together.”
The dowager tore her hand from Juliet’s grasp.
Folding her hands on her lap and gnawing on her lip, Juliet considered calling the dowager out for her nastiness. Not that it would do any good. The woman had vinegar in her veins and a hollow hole where her heart should be.
Charles stepped into the box. “I apologize for that intrusion,” he said as he took his seat. “It won’t happen again.”
“I should think not,” his grandmother said. “What is the likes of him doing here?”
Juliet caught Charles’s almost imperceptible wince. Leaning close, she whispered, “Is something troubling you?”
“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over,” he said with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
Juliet would appreciate having a choice in what she fretted about.
She opened her mouth to tell him as much, when the scent of floral perfume tickled her nostrils.
Although more pleasant than the rank Malestorm, it raised an unsettling question.
Why did Charles smell feminine? She inhaled again.
Sure enough, her fiancé smelled like roses.
He smiled that charming grin that had captivated her the second he sauntered into her aunt’s drawing room. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.
Juliet smiled back. She had been a fool to think he smelled like another woman. Malestorm’s stench had confused her nose. Well, that, and vivid olfactory memories of the masked stranger who smelled like fresh oranges still had her slightly discombobulated.
“I am having a delightful evening,” she lied, since the truth would be exceedingly ill-mannered. She should change the subject to something cheerful, and she knew just the thing. “I heard from my sister Emily, today.”
Charles’s frown was so wide, his brow furrowed until he resembled a wrinkled worm. “What did she say?”
Taken aback by what seemed like disgust, she swallowed before saying, “She asked me to visit her. Lord Chesterhill is sending a carriage for me—”
“Chesterhill?” Charles scoffed. “After his wife’s demise, the family has been disgraced. You will not have anything to do with them.”
How absurd. She could not disown her sister. Besides, even though his father and stepmother were slightly scandalous, her brother-in-law was exceedingly popular and beloved by everyone. Charles was behaving like a dramatic ninny.
As frustrated as she was, somehow Juliet kept her tone neutral. “But I wrote back and said that I could visit. My response is already in the post.”
“You should have talked to me first.” Charles held up his hand, halting any protest from her. “I forbid the trip. Write tomorrow and cancel.”
“But…” She had to say something to make him understand how important this was to her. “But Emily is my sister. She is my best friend.”
“I need you to understand something.” His whispered words were so harsh, they sliced at her soul.
“After I found out your sister had married into that scandalous family, I reconsidered asking you to be my wife.” He again swished that prejudiced, dismissive wrist. “I still proposed, because you are the loveliest woman in London.”
His cruel words were like a punch to her stomach. Juliet struggled to breathe.
“What are the two of you discussing?” the dowager asked.
“Nothing.” He huffed. “Our conversation is over. Finished. Finale.”
But this conversation was far from over. “I must ask you to reconsider, my lord,” Juliet said.
Lord Riley shushed her with a snake-like hiss and a finger to her lips. “The show is starting.” Giving her his profile, he focused on the stage.