Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Surely you have not forgotten the last time we were here!” Philippa exclaimed, dragging Amelia by the arm up to their box.
“We came to see that comedy by Goldsmith. And that rotten cousin of yours, Mary-Ann, got up halfway through because she was bored. I can still remember the horrified look on your uncle’s face as he was forced to accompany her home with all the audience watching. ”
Nicholas walked a few paces behind the women with George, inexplicably absorbed in their conversation. He and Amelia had only been married for two days.
She had implored him to attend a play at the Sheldonian Theatre with Miss Ashwood and George—who, according to Amelia, had decided to court officially at their wedding and needed their full support.
“Hopefully there will be no fleeing women tonight. I shall die of embarrassment if such a thing occurs,” George muttered as they found their box, shown inside by an usher.
“What?” Nicholas asked, eyes trained on Amelia.
“I said—” George cut himself off, turning to watch the usher leave, the heavy maroon curtains falling shut behind him. “Never mind what I said. I have never known you so distracted, old boy. Is something wrong?”
“Of course not,” Nicholas lied, mind racing with thoughts of Amelia, her warm and wet body, the time ticking down on their marriage.
“It has been a long day, made longer by this absurd outing. Really, The Stranger is hardly worth watching. I have seen it twice in London and was left disappointed both times.”
He clapped George lamely on the shoulder as he made his way to his wife, taking the chair beside her.
She continued to talk to Philippa, though Nicholas could no longer hear what was being said over the hum of the crowd in the pit.
He wrung the program in his hands, angry with himself for feeling so unsettled.
When I proposed marriage, I made it clear that ours would be a marriage in name alone, that I would not harm nor touch her. What happened in the reading room was a betrayal of every vow I made to her.
And worse yet, he realized, the way Amelia seemed unfazed by their encounter troubled him most of all. He examined her secretly, watching for a sign of discomfort—be it yearning or even hatred for him—hoping to find one. But she was as perfect as ever, radiant in her red gown that evening…
The color a temptress wore when she had no idea how tempting she truly was.
Eventually, the theatre settled into silence. Footlights cast the first actors to appear on stage in dramatic shadow, and Nicholas felt exposed by the bright chandeliers overhead.
Restless, he leaned over to Amelia, wanting to make a vain comment on the play that evening.
She turned to him expectantly, and his heart skipped a beat.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind him, and Samuel entered.
His brother grimaced as he took the empty seat beside Amelia, George and Philippa sitting separately on the other side of the box.
Nicholas could feel the stares of the occupants of boxes opposite theirs, watching Samuel charm his way into Amelia’s company.
“Better late than never,” Samuel whispered as the first actors began their performance. “You would not believe how busy the town can get at this time of the evening! Naughty young scholars going about their naughty business, no doubt. The roads were packed tight.”
Amelia smiled. “We are glad to have you.”
“You flatter me, dearest sister. But your husband does not look glad,” Samuel said, shaking his head playfully at Nicholas. “Did you not know I was coming?”
“No,” Nicholas replied, wondering who had invited him, Amelia or George. “But so long as you are quiet—”
“He is always like this,” Samuel whispered to Amelia, leaning in too close for Nicholas’s liking.
“So serious at the theatre. Did you know he wanted to be an actor when he was young? Father strictly forbade it. We were not allowed to visit the playhouse for years because of Father’s fear that Nicholas would elope with a troupe of actors and never be seen or heard of again. ”
Amelia giggled, covering her mouth.
Nicholas scowled. “You exaggerate.”
“I do not!” Samuel argued. “If your marriage to our loveliest duchess is to survive the year, you will need to start being honest with her about all the elements of your past. Especially the embarrassing ones.”
“You are too harsh on your brother,” Amelia chuckled, patting Samuel’s leg. The blood inside Nicholas boiled at the gesture. “He has proven an exceedingly forthcoming gentleman so far.”
“Ha!” Samuel laughed too loudly, then realized his error as several pairs of eyes turned on them from other boxes.
“If that is the case, then he is merely on his best behavior to impress you,” he added quietly.
“And who can blame him? Any gentleman would be eager to get themselves in your good graces.”
By the time the intermission arrived, the program Nicholas held had been twisted into a stiff roll of paper. He shoved it into his vest pocket as his party were rejoined by their private usher, taking orders for drinks.
Samuel and George excused themselves with Philippa for air while the drinks were prepared elsewhere, leaving Nicholas and Amelia alone.
She leaned forward on the balustrade, staring down at the pit below.
“You will fall if you are not careful,” he said, crossing one leg over the other. “And that will put a quick end to this abysmal play.”
Amelia turned her head on her hand. “What has von Kotzebue done to offend you so terribly? You have been surly all evening.”
“It is what he has not done—written a compelling piece of theatre. The character of the Stranger is inelegantly misanthropic.”
“Perhaps you see too much of yourself in him.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A man deeply mistrustful of others… But the play has a happy ending for him, does it not? Your brother spoiled the final act, though I do not mind. I like to know what awaits me at the end of a story.”
He fought a smile. “Your unflagging optimism is also inelegant.”
“It is far from unflagging,” she argued, straightening. The light of the chandeliers made her hair glitter, illuminating her long eyelashes, transfixing him. “There are many things which I am pessimistic about.”
“Such as?”
She shrugged one-shouldered. “I shall not tell you now. That would ruin all the fun. Samuel joked that he was trying to get in my good graces, but perhaps I am still trying to work my way into yours.”
Smiling, she scooted back her chair and positioned it next to his. The proximity of their bodies immediately comforted him. And he leaned forward conspiratorially when she did.
“Are you happy for them?” she asked.
He correctly assumed she referred to George and Philippa. “They make a successful pair.”
“And what constitutes a successful pair to you, Your Grace?”
“One which appears to fit to the other. Two individuals who suppress what is worst about each other and work toward common goals.”
“It is a good thing you do not write plays, then,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You would depress all of England with that sort of rhetoric.”
She turned toward the half-open curtains separating them from the rest of the theatre.
“I think they make a fine pair because they trust one another and make the other laugh,” she began.
“Though Philippa would never admit as much. And in that sense, they complement one another too. She has a bitterness within her that Mr. Elston expunges. That is a working couple to my mind. One that does not suppress bad traits but brings them to light and resolves them.”
She made a persuasive argument, but Nicholas was not convinced.
“Did you invite Samuel here tonight?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I believe it was Mr. Elston who asked him to join us. Philippa mentioned your brother was coming just before the play began. Supposedly, Mr. Elston felt bad about denying your brother a room at his apartment and suggested he could accompany us to the theatre as consolation.” She cocked her head to the side. “I thought you would be glad.”
“I shall be, once he ceases to pester you,” he muttered into his cravat.
“He does not pester me. I would like to see more of him. I like Samuel.”
But how much? Nicholas wondered, surprised at the intensity of his burgeoning jealousy.
A moment later, they were rejoined by the rest of their party. Samuel wasted no time dominating the conversation with Amelia, making her laugh with her head thrown back in a way Nicholas had never done thus far, even as the charming and inconsequential Mr. Moore.
“Your wife has just invited me to dine with you at the week’s end,” Samuel said once the play concluded an hour later. “But I sense you will scoff at this development.”
Nicholas paused in the foyer, watching Amelia leave through the doors with Philippa and George. He slipped into his coat and turned to his brother.
“I am only concerned that you are being unfair to her,” he muttered.
“How do you reckon that? She is a delightful creature.”
He waited until the foyer emptied some more before responding. “When first you learned about our entanglement, you claimed she had feigned her collapse to ensnare me. And let me not remind you what you claimed about her family.”
Samuel looked at him, aghast.
“All our lives, you have criticized me for being too unserious. Yet now you are taking me most seriously indeed. I have not changed, so the only conclusion that can be drawn from this attack is that you have changed. You have a sensitivity for the duchess—”
“I have no such thing.”
“You have a sensitivity for her that you are not willing to confess.” Samuel sighed angrily, and in that moment, he looked so much like their late father.
“I do not know the terms of this marriage of yours—Lord knows you would not tell me even if I asked.
But I know that you have not entered it solemnly, for the fact of you being who you are—a rakehell I could only ever aspire to be.
“And yet… you like the woman more than you care to admit, do you not?”
Nicholas marched away. Samuel followed him.
“Come, brother. It is an obvious fact! If you did not have any sort of affection for her, you would take no issue with my flirting with her!”
“So, you admit it was flirting,” Nicholas retorted. “You cad.”
“Whom do I not flirt with?” Samuel grabbed Nicholas by the arm.
They were alone now, thank heavens, the final theatregoers having just departed.
“I am not playing with your wife. I am not ignorant of what is said about her, but now that I have spent some time in her company, it seems her madness is largely overstated. She is no madder than I.”
“On that point,” Nicholas concluded, “we agree.”
“I will come to dinner at the week’s end, and I will behave with the Duchess as I behaved tonight, because there is nothing wrong with it. I have committed no crime.”
Samuel pushed open the door, and a cold draft swept in. Oxford, Amelia, waited beyond.
“If you continue to take issue with the innocent attention I afford your wife—my sister-in-law—I suggest you look inward rather than out.” Samuel performed a mock bow and put on his hat. “Good night.”
The door slammed closed behind him, leaving Nicholas in the empty foyer, alone.