Chapter Ten
Despite leaving Lindley House with plenty of time, they still almost missed the start of the play. It took nearly forty minutes just to make it through the queue of carriages along Drury Lane to reach the front door of the theater. And then another fifteen to navigate the crushing crowds inside.
Lydia and Bridget linked arms as they followed closely behind Phin and Eleanor who led the way to the duke’s box.
Bridget released an excited squeal, “I told you Mr. Tremaine was going to be something.”
“You think this crowd is for him?”
“I know it is. I heard Mother and her friends talking about him. Lady Dunne said he was an exceptionally impassioned player. And Mrs. Sotheby declared him the most emotionally riveting actor to ever walk the boards.”
Lydia suspected Lady Greenridge’s friends might be experts in hyperbole.
Her cousin leaned closer to whisper, “And Lady Greville was quite adamant that no other Puck had ever been graced with such an impressive…codpiece.”
There it was!
“You really shouldn’t eavesdrop on your mother and her guests so often.”
“Why not?” the other young lady exclaimed. “They discuss such fascinating things. Besides,” she added with a shrug. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was in the room with them.”
Lydia shook her head. It always amazed her how her mother and Bridget’s mother could be so completely different despite being sisters. Granted, there was several years between them. But still…
“Either way,” Lydia replied. “There are far more interesting subjects in the world to discuss than a man’s…”
When Lydia allowed her voice to trail off without finishing the sentence, Bridget pulled her to a stop.
“Oh my God, Lydia,” the other woman exclaimed beneath her breath, widening her eyes. “You can’t say it, can you?” She leaned closer and whispered even lower, “Penis. The word is penis.”
Lydia snorted in shocked amusement that her cousin would dare so much in a crowded room.
“Of course, you could always resort to one of the many euphemisms,” Bridget suggested in a wicked whisper. “Manhood. Rod. Cock.”
Lydia gave Bridget a sharp nudge with her elbow—which only caused the other woman to giggle shamelessly—as she sent a swift glance about, hoping no one had overheard.
And who did her gaze find rather forcefully through the mass of bodies?
Lord Edmund Darlington, of course.
His intense amber stare was unbroken despite the many people passing between them. And when he noticed that she was trying very hard to suppress her laughter behind a stoic expression, his own lips curled upward and his brows dipped in question, as though he wished to be in on the private joke.
Lydia swiftly and very pointedly lifted her chin and averted her gaze.
How in hell did he manage to keep showing up in exactly the places she happened to be?
It was uncanny.
And extremely suspicious.
“Come on,” Bridget urged, “we’re falling behind.”
Lydia forced Darlington from her mind as she and her cousin rushed to catch up to Eleanor and the viscount.
The Duke of Lindley’s box was as fine as they came, and Lydia and Bridget settled into two seats at the front of the box while Lord Waring and Eleanor took seats behind them, despite there still being plenty of space available up front.
Bridget passed a sly, knowing look to Lydia, making it clear that she suspected the couple’s choice was related to the more private atmosphere at the back of the box.
Though she believed such a thing of Waring—who certainly had a bit of the rogue in him—Lydia didn’t think Eleanor would be so bold as to engage in anything… scandalous in public.
Even so, she made sure not to turn back to the couple once the lights dimmed and the performance began. It wasn’t difficult, since she quickly became enraptured by the players on the stage.
Most often the theater became a place where spectators engaged more with each other than they watched the performance. Not so tonight.
It proved to be as wonderful a production as had been reported. And while Tremaine was indeed a handsome man and a fabulously wicked Puck, she didn’t think his skills warranted the many swooning females she witnessed staring up at him in utter rapture from their seats below.
Bridget also seemed quite taken with his performance as she leaned forward to prop her elbows on the balcony railing and rest her chin in her hands.
But her cousin was known to become infatuated with a new gentleman at least once a week.
Lydia and Eleanor knew that her crushes were never serious.
Bridget enjoyed the drama and excitement of such things, but deep down, she more than anyone, craved that mythical, elusive thing called true love.
For the most part, Lydia managed to keep thoughts of Darlington from invading her mind. She convinced herself that his presence tonight was nothing but a coincidence. It would be ridiculous to even entertain the idea that he might be pursuing her.
When the lights came up for intermission, the theater erupted with movement and the rising din of hundreds of conversations. Though her cousins and the viscount stood, Lydia did not.
“Are you coming, Lydia?” Eleanor asked when she noticed that Lydia hadn’t moved.
“I don’t think so. The thought of entering that crush again is distinctly unappealing.”
The viscount glanced between the ladies. “Perhaps we should—”
“Don’t even say it, Waring,” Bridget interrupted as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m dying to stretch my legs and get some refreshment.”
“Please, go on,” Lydia said quickly. “I’ll be perfectly safe here.”
Eleanor eyed her curiously with her dark gaze, but then turned to her fiancé and gave a nod.
“We’ll be back shortly,” Waring assured.
Lydia waved them off with a smile.
Once she was alone, she released a sigh and relaxed into the plush seat as she cast a casual glance over the many people milling about below. And though she’d avoided scanning the other boxes through the entire first half of the play, she couldn’t stop herself from doing so now.
She didn’t see him.
Relief and disappointment mingled uncomfortably inside her.
She didn’t want to see him. He was nothing to her. An annoyance, really. A suspect curiosity, at best.
And yet…she found herself leaning forward over the railing, wondering if he was down below, engaging with one of his many paramours, perhaps. If he was, she couldn’t spot him. She leaned back again with a small huff.
“Looking for me?”
Lydia started and twisted in her seat to see the earl standing just inside the fall of heavy velvet curtains that closed off the box from the hallway beyond.
Though the lights of the theater had been brought up at intermission, he stood deep in shadow and far enough from the front of the box that no one below could see him.
Lydia had to forcefully ignore the way his presence so easily affected her equilibrium. “On the contrary… why have you been seeking me out, Lord Darlington?”
His smile lifted on one side. “Have I been?”
“Were you expecting someone else when you stepped past those curtains?” she asked with arched brows.
He chuckled then shrugged. “Conversing with you is entertaining.”
Lydia’s gaze hardened. “It’s wildly inappropriate.”
He shrugged and his mouth widened into a wicked grin that made her stomach flutter in a decidedly irritating manner. “I thought you wished to break free of societal expectations.”
Instead of responding to his taunt, Lydia arched a brow. “Have I somehow become trapped in a nightmare?”
He tilted his head. “Pardon?”
“It’s the only possible explanation for why I’ve become plagued by your presence every time I’m alone.”
“Not every time.” His lips twisted and gave her a narrowed look. “I wasn’t with you last night as you lay alone in your bed.”
His blatant impropriety knocked her off kilter. Why did she struggle so much to converse with such boldness? Desperate to hold her own in the verbal spar, she said the first thing that came to mind. “What makes you think I was alone?” In truth, she’d had the company of her two beloved calico cats.
He tensed, his eyes widening for a second, before he chuckled and stepped forward to take a seat in the back row of the box. “Our previous conversation gave me the distinct impression that you were not interested in taking a lover.”
Lydia twisted around to keep him in sight.
A dangerous endeavor since he lounged in the small red velvet chair with a decadent grace.
There was a physical ease in him. As though he were quite comfortable with his body and its capabilities.
Her skin warmed. She was not immune to the man’s sensual confidence.
“Although,” he assured with amusement still tugging at his lips. “I’d be quite happy to be proven wrong. In fact, I suppose I shouldn’t apply any typical assumptions to you. You’re undoubtedly the most unpredictable woman I’ve ever met.”
Lydia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I doubt that.”
He folded his hands over his narrow abdomen and tilted his head to give her a quietly assessing look.
Lydia would have liked to turn her back to him and ignore the way his gaze seemed to pierce to her core.
But she held firm, staring back at him with a lifted chin as he mused, “But it’s true. You’re not like other women.”
Lydia gave a harsh snort. “Such an erroneous statement suggests you know a lot less about women than a man of your reputation should. On the contrary, I’m exactly like other women.”
His expression revealed his amused skepticism. “Convince me.”
Holding his gaze, she replied, “I think it’s fair to say that all women wish to be seen for who they really are, not who they’re expected to be.
All women would prefer to have complete control over their own lives.
Though we may seek it in different ways, we all desire the opportunity to create a secure, lasting happiness. ”
His brows tilted over his steady stare. “Of course, but such things are sought by all everyone.”