20. Chapter 20
twenty
D avid waited in the carriage for his wife to emerge from the theater, the newspaper he’d brought along for company forgotten on his lap.
His knee bounced a quick rhythm and his attention caught on every person that walked past, only to dart to the door again in case she’d managed to sneak out while he wasn’t watching.
He’d gone home to get dinner in order before hurrying back to wait for her at the curb with a look on his face he imagined very much like the one Harry gave her across the dining table.
Only, love had nothing to do with it. Lust drove him. It had driven him across the channel to her dressing room. Jenny had bewitched him and wasn’t done with him yet. He was so taken with her, he could have had her in her dressing room had she but given the word.
The tall theater door opened and his breath caught when she stepped outside.
She wore a dove-gray dress that was short on embellishments.
It was cut in the current style with a minimized bustle, but the only flair was the artful draping of the skirts.
A thin black cape covered her shoulders and a nondescript hat perched on her head.
Still…she was a breathtaking sight. He loved the delicate shape of her face, from the point of her chin to the artful curve of her cheekbones.
Her eyes were intelligent and always seemed to know more than he revealed.
He liked that about her, how she could look at him and kn ow his thoughts, as if he’d somehow transmitted them in a way only discernible to her.
She was chatting with a young woman at her side.
She smiled and his pulse rate increased.
He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her.
He loved the way her eyes almost…well, very nearly did twinkle with her laughter.
His attention was so fixed on her expression that she and her companion almost walked right by his hired carriage before he gathered himself enough to step outside.
“My lady,” he said, catching them both off guard as he all but stumbled out.
Both women whirled, eyes wide with surprise. Jenny recognized him immediately and her eyes softened but then began to smolder. He grinned. Whether she liked it or not, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He’d bet his life on it.
He pulled himself up to his full height and ran a hand down the line of buttons on his coat. He rarely hurried enough to become flustered. This was somewhat disconcerting.
“Mademoiselle,” he greeted her companion with a slight bow of his head, only then realizing that it was the girl from her dressing room.
“Lord David,” Jenny said.
“Wife.” He reveled in the sound and shape of the word on his tongue. It was more appealing than he ever imagined it could be.
She paused to digest the word. “This is Lucienne Blanc, my friend and roommate,” she said, apparently choosing to ignore it.
“Mlle Blanc.” He switched to French. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The girl blushed and giggled a bit as she sank down into a curtsy. He didn’t miss how his wife struggled not to roll her eyes.
“I’ve come to take you to dinner,” he said to Jenny. “We can drive Mlle Blanc to the boarding house, if she pleases. Unless she’d care to join us?” Etiquette demanded he make the offer but he hoped the girl would refuse.
“Thank you, my lord, but the ride home will be enough. Thank you.”
He stifled a sigh of relief as he helped the girl into the carriage while Jenny gave the driver the address, and then he helped his wife inside.
Her hand lingered in his briefly and they both glanced at their clasped hands.
The layers of their gloves were between them, but it didn’t matter. The contact was enough for now.
She hastily drew back and sat beside her friend, while he took the seat across from them. It immediately became apparent that his wife intended to ignore him, because she turned to face the window rather than engage.
Mlle Blanc looked from Jenny to David and back again before deciding to fill the silence.
“Thank you again, Lord David. It’s been my pleasure to get to know Jenny these past weeks.
She’s been an inspiration to me for longer than she knows.
While she hasn’t performed a lead role, I saw her in a small performance last year and I was lucky enough to have a few lessons with Mme Wilson before that. Jenny is a wonderful singer.”
“She is,” he agreed. “She graced our engagement dinner party with a performance and I was astonished by her talent.”
Jenny blushed and glanced down at her clasped hands before looking back out the window at the passing buildings.
“Then you sing as well?” he asked the girl.
She nodded and eagerly went into an explanation of her career aspirations.
Her mother had been a costumer’s assistant and taken her to work with her, which is how she’d developed her love of opera.
She hoped to land a leading role soon. She kept up the conversation for the few minutes it took them to maneuver through traffic to reach the boarding house.
Though Jenny hardly said a word, he liked this peek into her life and who she was when she wasn’t with him.
He hopped out when the carriage stopped to help Mlle Blanc down. She gracefully thanked him again and called a goodbye to Jenny. Jenny leaned out and asked her to inform the mistress of the house that she’d be late tonight.
He waited for the girl to disappear inside before he got back into the carriage and it started off again. “There’s no need for you to stay at the boarding house. You can stay in our home while you’re here.”
“Our home?” She eyed him doubtfully.
“We have holdings in France and Kit enjoys the cuisine and culture. Alfred bought a property here in Paris years ago. It’s not large, but it’ll keep you comfortable without having to become a lodger.”
She shrugged and looked down at her gloved hands. “I don’t mind.”
He frowned but decided not to push the topic yet. It was difficult to say yes to a situation one had no knowledge of. He’d bring it up again after dinner, when she’d seen the house. He really shouldn’t care either way, but he wanted her there for reasons he didn’t dare examine.
He asked a few benign questions about rehearsals and the theater, but when she didn’t seem inclined to engage any more than answering his questions, he picked up the newspaper and attempted to read through the falling darkness and the amber carriage light.
Instead, he found himself staring at the tip of her black walking boots peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirts.
They seemed a little worn with scuff marks too deep to be buffed out.
The hem itself was a little stained and frayed.
Not so much that anyone would notice, but something he could see in the hazy twilight.
A future duchess should be presented better. He made a mental note to have new shoes brought over for her to choose from. He’d have a seamstress sent for her measurements. It should be easy enough to have a few dresses made before he returned to England.
She flicked her skirts and the boot tip disappeared. He found her watching him. He swallowed, certain that to address her inadequate wardrobe would put her off even more. Folding the newspaper, he said, “We’re almost there.”
As he’d hoped, her attention drifted to the neighborhood. “Here?” she asked, a touch of incredulity in her voice.
Plaine-Monceau in the seventeenth arrondissement had seen extensive renovations over the past several decades. The crowded and unsanitary medieval buildings had been demolished to make way for expansive, tree-lined streets and expansive, beautiful homes had followed.
“Alfred and Kit were enchanted by the area and bought one of the newly built homes.” He pointed to the terraced home on the corner. It was a modest three floors, not including the basement servant quarters and kitchen.
Her eyes widened and she barely moved when the driver came around and opened the door. David thanked him and then waited patiently for her to take his hand.
“I wasn’t expected something…like this,” she said when she emerged.
“What were you expecting?” he asked.
“A flat…or something…smaller.” She smoothed her hand down her skirt in a way that seemed vaguely self-conscious and her brow crinkled.
He thought of their earlier conversation about people in society laughing at her and finally understood that he had no chance of convincing her to stay for longer than the evening if she kept thinking that way.
He didn’t know why it was so important to him that she stay, but it was. He wanted her near him.
“Shall we?” He offered her his arm and was gratified when she accepted.
Leading her down the pavement to the door, he explained, “I fear I should warn you we have a very limited staff on hand, I’m afraid.
My valet and the footman who accompanied me, along with the housekeeper who is in residence year round. ”
“Oh dear, how shall we ever make do with a mere three servants?” She mimicked a perfect upper class London accent without missing a step.
He grinned, reminded of their time making fun of aristocrats flitting around the ballrooms of London. “We must persevere.”
The footman greeted them, efficiently taking their outer garments before announcing dinner would be ready in a half hour and leaving them alone.
David couldn’t stop himself from watching his wife take a turn around the elegant hall.
Kit had insisted on leaving the walls a vibrant white, unlike the dark and sometimes vivid colors of their homes in England.
Moldings adorned the walls and ceilings to delightful effect, making the place seem sophisticated and airy.
Many art pieces in thick, gilded frames decorated the walls with large expanses of white to draw the eye to the dark wood floors and copious rugs.
The hall itself was more of a round room with openings going off in various directions that led to parlors and living areas deeper in the house.
The stairway curved around the room with an iron scrollwork railing that he’d always thought quite beautiful.
A large, crystal chandelier lit the space softly.
Finished with her perusal, Jenny turned back to him. His breath caught at how lovely she was, even in her well-worn clothing. He really wished she would stay.
“It’s not quite as modest as you led me to believe,” she accused him .
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Do you find it suitable?”
“It will do.”
He laughed. “Come, I’ll show you our rooms.”
“Our rooms?”
He paused, not wanting to overstep. She was like a stray he’d only just managed to coax inside. One hint of impropriety might send her running back to the night.
“Alfred and Kit have rooms back there.” He pointed past the stairs to the back of the home. “My rooms are up here.” He indicated the stairs. “As my wife, you are entitled to my rooms.”
She eyed him as if trying to parse out his intent. Finally, she nodded. “Lead the way.”
He walked to the stairs, taking her hand as he passed.
This time, their fingers were bare. She didn’t pull away and instead curled her fingers around his.
He took shallow breaths for fear of sending her running if he gave any indication he noticed.
He walked up the stairs silently with her at his side.
Once at the top, he took her on a brief tour.
There were no apartment-sized quarters here like back in Heathercote.
There was a bedroom on either side at the front of the house, separated by the landing.
Down the hall to the back, his room was to the left and the room intended for his wife was to the right.
A bathing chamber was tucked between them at the end of the hall.
The large window over the stairs overlooked the street and let in a good bit of sunlight during the day.
Tonight, wall sconces flickered on the wall.
The doors to the bedrooms were open, so they briefly peeked inside.
He opened the door to his own room and let her precede him.
Unlike the other bedrooms, which were more neutral in color and style, he’d selected all the fabrics and furniture for this one.
It looked remarkably similar to his room back at Heathercote with the blue he favored. He’d left the walls a soft cream.
A smile lit her face as she turned to him. He felt her attention deep in the core of his being. Everything inside him tightened, heightening and preening in awareness.
“I feel as if I’ve already been here,” she said. “Your favorite color is blue, isn’t it? It matches your eyes.”
Of course she should notice his eyes. There was nothing novel about that, but he felt pleased nonetheless. He felt drawn to her in a way he couldn’t control. His feet literally walked across the thick carpet as if pulled there against their will.
“I like the color blue, as well,” she added.
“I’ve missed you.”
She startled. Her mouth opened and closed and then opened again. She stared at him with wide eyes as if he’d stated something profound and poetic.
He paused before her, his hands almost touching her waist but stopping before he could close the gap between them.
She wasn’t his to touch. “I meant to go on with my life as it had been before.” What in the devil was wrong with him?
He had not intended to say any of this. “I tried. I almost succeeded.” Stop.
Talking. “The truth is that I was relieved to come home and find the contract waiting for me. I came because I wanted to see you.”
The room was only barely lit by a single lamp and moonlight filtered in from outside, but it appeared as if her cheeks darkened.
He relished making her blush. She did it so easily.
A slew of expressions crossed her face. Her shock was gradually replaced by the vapid mask she sometimes wore, but whatever had made her flush was too strong.
It burned the mask away and she was left with the expression he had seen so little of in the time he had known her but was coming to crave.
It was the one bare of all artifice and humor.
He felt as if he were seeing the real her.
It’s how she looked at their wedding when he’d held her hand as he repeated his vows.
It was her. The real her. The one he longed to know more.
“I missed you, too,” she whispered.