Chapter Thirteen
By the time they entered the theater, Charles thought the majority of London was in this one building.
Inside, it was a sea of people like he’d never seen in one place all at once.
He’d been to the theater a couple of times on Wight, but the patrons were a lot less than here.
He felt it hard to breathe and reminded himself to relax.
The family box wasn’t what he’d been expecting.
It was well located in relation to the stage and was easy to see all that was going on beneath them.
The evening was his and Cathryn’s first public appearance as husband and wife.
They sat to Arthur and Daphne’s right, the two women sitting beside each other.
Immediately, he felt a thousand eyes staring up at the box, all vying for even the slightest glimpse of the newlyweds, though Charles knew better. Some wanted to see the duke’s brother who’d been hidden away all these years. The mad spare.
They would be disappointed that he didn’t fit the image they had in their mind’s eye. As he peered down at the stage, he felt Cathryn’s reassuring hand on his. It was odd to him that something as simple as her touch soothed the beast within him.
Lights began to go down and people scurried to their seats.
The peerage, though, took their time. Scurrying would be like mice, and they were anything but.
For them, an evening at the theater was to be seen and to add to one’s list of growing acquaintances.
To be seen in the company of only the best the ton had to offer.
Even in the box with the lowered lights, he felt their stares.
He pretended not to notice but rather to take a great interest on what was happening on the stage in front of them.
Everyone else was mesmerized about what was transpiring.
He knew he couldn’t leave right now. That would be rude, or they would think something was wrong.
That the madman was barely civilized to be part of society.
His poor wife would be pitied as they talked amongst themselves about how she could have been duped into marrying such an oddity.
Feeling her hand squeeze his gently, he gazed at her momentarily. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he heard her ask.
“Yes, I find it quite unique,” he replied. “And I’m not talking about the play.”
She returned her attention back to the stage and he continued with his vigilance of seeing who was who by where they were when they sat. The royal box sat empty this evening. He decided they didn’t attend every performance. They saved their appearances for performers they thought well of.
Charles heard polite clapping as the first half concluded. It wasn’t the enthusiastic applauding one would expect, but then the ton was never known for being over enthusiastic.
He and Arthur stood and waited as Daphne and Cathryn left the box.
Joining his brother for a whiskey, he wondered how long it would take before someone knocked on the door wanting a word with Arthur.
His brother was, after all, an MP now, having taken over their late father’s position, and there was always someone who wanted Arthur’s ear.
Coming to visit him at the box was a good excuse to meet Arthur’s mad brother.
The entire thing was absurd. Perhaps true to some degree, but absurd nonetheless. It would make the perfect novel. The entire idea was one he’d been contemplating for a while but he had the one project he had to finish. For now, he’d make notes, figure it out, and write it soon.
“What do you think of the play?” Arthur finally asked.
“Truthfully? I found the audience far more entertaining than what was transpiring on stage.”
Arthur chuckled. “I’m afraid I have to agree with you on this one.”
“Poor acting and execution,” Charles continued.
A knock on the box door had both brothers tense up. “Save that thought,” Arthur said as a well-dressed man entered. Overweight, hair slicked back, his face flushed from drink. He headed straight for Charles.
“You must be the mad twin,” the man said without introducing himself.
“Charles, this is Percival Williams, Marquess Sutherby.”
“My pleasure,” Charles said. “I am afraid you’ve gotten your stories up. I am not mad. A twin, yes, but mad? Never.”
“I apologize. How are you enjoying London?”
Before Arthur could put a stop to this, he saw his brother was going to answer the man. “It’s been quite interesting. There is so much to see and do, but I long for the tranquility of the country.”
“True. I do enjoy my summers at my summer country home.” The marquess turned to Arthur, a slight not lost on either Charles or Arthur. “I do hope you and the duchess will join us for our famous country party.”
“I’ll check with her and see what’s on her schedule. I’ve heard your parties are quite original and are talked about months after they’ve ended.”
“You’ve heard correctly.”
Charles heard the chimes indicating the second half of the play was about to begin. Hopefully now no one would come calling.
Just then the door swung open and in walked both women. They each accepted a flute of champagne a footman offered before returning to their seats. Quietly, Charles and Arthur took seats next to them and waited for the play to begin.
Again, the theater went dark and the first of the men moved about back to find their wives.
This time he did catch a glimpse of a small group of women sitting in a box and glancing in their direction.
Word traveled fast during intermission about his attendance.
Those who continued to look at the box were hoping for a sighting of him.
This time, at least for now, he wouldn’t give them what they wanted.
He sat back in his chair and when that didn’t work, he guided Cathryn to one of the chairs in the row behind them. Now they wouldn’t be in the spotlight.
By the time the foursome climbed into the carriage after the performance, it was late.
It had been harder than normal to get to the carriage as they seemed to be the center of attention.
And that made it impossible for them to go to a restaurant for dinner.
Luckily Daphne had the foresight to realize this might happen and asked the cook to make something simple for when they did arrive later in the evening.
When they finally sat down in the breakfast room, footmen served them Cornish pasties, which were still hot. Cook knew they were well liked and made for an easy dinner. With it there was a selection of cheese and seasonal fruit. Perfect for such a late evening out.
“This beats any fancy restaurant meal,” Daphne muttered.
“No noise, no having to shout to have a conversation either,” Cathryn agreed.
Charles, who had eaten two pasties along with fruit and cheese, pushed himself away from the table. “If you all will excuse me, there are some things I need to take care of before I retire for the night.”
“It can’t wait until morning?” Cathryn asked.
“No, I’m afraid not.” With that, he walked out of the room, leaving the remaining three staring at each other with confusion.
Arthur spoke up first. “I believe he has a new idea for a book and just wants to write down notes, so they don’t escape him.”
“Oxford is coming up as well, and I’m sure he has to prepare for that,” Cathryn said.
“You don’t sound too happy about it,” Daphne said.
“I’m proud of him, of course, and don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with him going by himself. He just doesn’t open up like most people.”
“You knew that going in,” Daphne reminded her.
“Yes, it’s just he can be so eccentric and doesn’t realize he’s being odd.”
“Give him time. He’s adjusting better than I thought he would,” Arthur said.
“I know, and I will,” Cathryn replied. “If you two will excuse me. I’m sure you’d like part of what’s left of the evening to yourselves. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Cathryn headed upstairs to their wing. Rather than bother her husband, she went to her dressing room and readied herself for bed.
She picked up a book she’d started reading and headed to the sitting room.
She startled when she saw Charles sitting in front of a writing desk furiously writing something down.
He hadn’t heard her come in, so she inched closer and gently placed her hand on his shoulder.
He didn’t appear to notice she was there.
“I’m going to go read in bed,” she said, knowing saying anything regarding not staying up too late was wasted on Charles when he was in the middle of something.
Charles himself never recalled his wife having come to say good night.
When his attention was focused on something such as his writing, he was completely immersed in his own little world.
He knew he needed to try and fix that. How he wasn’t sure, but one thing he was sure of was that it was late, and he was tired.
The evening in particular had been exhausting.
It was time to get some rest. Everything he’d just done would be there in the morning.
He hadn’t realized how tired he was until his head hit his pillow.
Cathryn lay beside him, facing toward the far wall, gently snoring.
He snuggled in behind her, wrapping his arm around her.
Immediately, he felt his body begin to respond to having her so close.
He lay like that until he couldn’t stand it any longer.
Turning her onto her back, he spread her legs and in moments, he was inside her.
She was ready for him. How, he didn’t understand, but he began a steady rhythm, and as he felt himself nearing his own orgasm, he gently placed his hand in between them, stroking her nub until she awoke.
Startled by the sensation, she cried out as her body exploded in ecstasy.
He found himself unable to control his own response and plunged in one final time, feeling his seed drain into her.
Rolling off her, Charles leaned over and kissed her, and she responded lazily. He pulled her close to him.