Scandal of Love (9 page)

Quinton looked over the audience, seeing precious gems twinkle in the dim light. The mingling of perfume was overwhelming, but that was a usual occurrence at the theatre.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Aubrey lean toward Sera and whisper, “There’s Lord Bromley on the other side. He seems to be looking at you.”

With a nod, Sera smiled across the way at the duke before turning her attention to the stage. It was the polite thing to do, Quinton knew, but the surge of jealousy he felt had him taking her hand, giving it a light squeeze.

His breath caught as she looked to him, a sweet smile a woman in love would give her fiancé rested upon her lips. He knew it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. But that fact didn’t detract from its potency.

Leaning toward her, he whispered in her ear, knowing others in the audience watched them with rapt interest. “Tonight they will be performing
The Lady Spade
. I must say I hope it’s better than their last opera,
The Viscount Laurimore
. My ears are still ringing from their performance,” he said with a cheeky grin.

Surprise crossed her features, followed by a furious blush, then laughter. “They can’t be that bad,” she said, fighting through her giggles.

“Just wait. You will understand after a few moments.”

“I dare say I hope you’re wrong. I couldn’t bear for my ears to ring for a month after this.”

He shrugged playfully, enjoying the banter between them. Had he known she possessed a sense of humor? He couldn’t recall a time where he would have been able to explore it, to figure out what would provoke her lighthearted laughter.

The stress of their situation would grate on anyone’s nerves, effectively drowning out any playfulness. He didn’t know why, but knowing she could have fun, laugh at a small joke, caused him to expel a deep breath. Had he thought her boring?

No. Never boring. Just, not fun.

He was happy to be wrong. Her sense of humor would only make their marriage better and their relationship more agreeable.

“They should begin any moment,” he said, taking out his opera glasses. Looking down at her empty hands, his eyebrow raised. “Did you forget your glasses?”

“Hmm?” she asked, as she watched a juggler on the stage. Finally looking down at his glasses, she realized what he had asked. “Oh, no. I don’t own any. I fear I don’t come to the opera often enough and never saw the need to purchase a pair.”

“I come to the opera far too often,” he said dryly as he handed her his pair. “Here, use mine tonight.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t.”

“I want you to. Perhaps you don’t come as often because you cannot see the actors properly. I assure you, these glasses change the entire performance.”

She held on to them and chuckled. “I appreciate your offer, but if you must know, my father despises opera. That is the reason why we seldom come.”

He looked at her with mock surprise. “You mean your father dislikes men running around the stage in tights, singing about lost love, and all together making fools of themselves?”

Her laughter fluttered over his skin like a caress. He could never get bored with the sound. “You have a point.”

The lights were completely snuffed out at that moment, the curtain rising to show a woman in red, her generous bosom frothing out the top of her bodice.

“She is playing a courtesan who has fallen in love with a lord. I assume she will be scantily clad for most of the opera,” he told her.

Her golden brow arched over her deep blue eyes. “And you said that my father doesn’t like opera because of men in tights?”

He had to fight to suppress his laughter. “There aren’t scantily clad women in every opera, you know.”

“Really? Name three,” she challenged.

“Well…” he trailed off, racking his brain for examples. After a moment he grinned. “I can’t seem to think of any,” he said sheepishly. “I’m sure if I think on it, examples will come to me.”

“No doubt,” she answered dryly, raising the glasses to her eyes. “You weren’t kidding. These really do make a difference.” He watched her lean forward, her delicate neck bending slightly to view something on stage.

Desire hit him more quickly than he had anticipated. He wanted to take a bite of her, nibble on the sensitive spot right where her neck connected with her shoulders. Her skin looked smooth, creamy, and he could only imagine the exquisite taste of her.

“I can even see some of the beading on her gown. Remarkable. Perhaps I might have to purchase a pair after all.” Sending a smile his way, she returned her attention to the story. Leaning back, her nose wrinkled as if she smelled something foul. “You were right. They’re terrible. My ears hurt already,” she said, chuckling softly.

She was incredible. He knew he was lucky before, but being with her now really drove that point home.

He felt sorry that she wasn’t able to choose her own future, her own husband. But he was glad that he had gotten so lucky as to have her.

His desire for her was strong, but curiously, he found his desire for her friendship to be equally as potent. This was someone he could see himself going to operas with, laughing with, having a family with. The fact that she could joke with him, find humor in such a strained situation, told him much about her character.

He took her hand in his, low enough so that the balcony’s railing concealed it from their voracious audience. She didn’t react, didn’t look over at him. She acted like nothing had changed between them. But when she returned the squeeze, he knew she was aware of him.

He wondered when she would cease to surprise him. He hoped she never would.

For the first time in a long time, Quinton looked forward to his future with hope. Sera would be his wife.

***

Sera was exhausted by the time Quinton dropped her off, making sure she was secure in her home before escorting Aubrey and her aunt to their townhouse. It wasn’t especially late, but most of the household had already turned in.

She didn’t want to have to wake up Lydia, knowing the girl worked so hard during the day, but she wouldn’t be able to get out of her dress otherwise. Entering her room, she was relieved to see her maid dosing in a chair.

Quickly undressing out of the teal dress, she got ready for sleep. Five minutes later, after taking the pins out of her hair and donning a nightgown, Lydia extinguished the candles, allowing Sera to fall dreamlessly asleep, her ears still ringing from the opera.

Upon waking the next morning, she was surprised to find the sun shining brightly into her room. What time was it?

Leaning to her bedside table, her mouth dropped open at the late hour. She planned on meeting Aubrey on Bond Street in two hours to shop. She would need to make haste to meet her friend there on time.

Forty-five minutes later, after an exhausting whirlwind of clothes, ribbons, and hairpins, Sera was out the door.

“I should make it right on time.” She looked out of the carriage window at the shiny cobblestones, recently wet from a light sprinkle. It was sunny now though, not a cloud in the sky. Perfect weather for shopping. That was the great thing about London. When it rained, it could end just as suddenly as it began. Then again, it could begin raining just as quickly.

It didn’t matter. Sera was being optimistic. It wouldn’t rain again today. Not when she had several hours to shop with Aubrey.

Alighting at the dress shop of Madame Devereaux, the most fashionable modiste in London, Sera walked through the doors to meet Aubrey.

“Excellent. Right on time,” Aubrey said, greeting her with a smile. “I need your opinion. What do you think of this light orange muslin?” She held the fabric across her body. “Does the color suit me? I can’t tell.”

Cocking her head to the side, Sera looked at how the color seemed to drain away her friend’s pearly complexion. “It isn’t the best, I think. How about that mint green over there? I think that would be a better choice.”

“Ladies, it is lovely to see you this afternoon. Is there anything in particular you are looking for today?” Madam Devereaux asked, wandering into the room from behind a curtain. The gently aged lady looked exquisite in a blue creation that hugged her curves. Her chestnut hair was piled high atop her head, decorated with sapphire pins, which attested to the success of her shop.

Aubrey smiled at the woman. “Yes. We are in need of a new dress or two.”

“Oh la. You’ve come to the right place.” The modiste’s words were said in a romantic French accent. Stepping forward, she took the orange fabric away from Aubrey, shaking her head at her choice. “Lady Sera is correct. The mint would suit you much better I think.” Narrowing her eyes, she studied Aubrey’s figure. “Perhaps the burnt-gold silk as well.”

Sera smiled at the woman as she took a seat in one of the red-velvet upholstered benches. “We’d be happy to see anything you have that might be a fit for us.”

“Excellent. Would you care for some tea while you wait? I can have a maid prepare it while we gather your measurements.”

They both nodded.

Madam Devereaux walked behind a large curtain for a moment, returning with a measuring device. “Your beverages will be here shortly.” Gesturing to a step in front of a curved wall of looking glasses, the modiste said, “Lady Sera, if you please.” After Sera stepped onto the platform, she continued, “What type of dress are you looking for?”

“A morning dress and perhaps a walking dress. I could use another spencer jacket as well and some gloves.”

Madam Devereaux nodded, stepping forward to measure her bust, waist, hips, torso, and arm length.

After measuring Sera’s neck, she paused. “May I congratulate you on your upcoming wedding, Lady Sera?”

Quinton’s image flashed through her mind, causing a slight tingle in her stomach. “Thank you.”

“You are a lucky woman indeed, but I don’t need to tell you that.” The modiste winked. “If half of what they say is true about his time on the continent, you are lucky indeed.”

Sera’s heart raced a bit faster. His time on the continent? Could Madam Devereaux possibly know what he had been doing there? Trying to sound casual, Sera said, “Yes I am. There is so much being said about his travels. What in particular are you referring to?”

The modiste laughed. “I’m not speaking of any one thing.” Leaning forward she whispered so only Sera and Aubrey could hear her. “There was more than one heart-broken woman when he left Paris.”

“No doubt,” Sera said dryly.

“Was there ever any gossip about why he left England?” Aubrey asked, jumping into the conversation.

The modiste’s shoulders shrugged as she measured the length of Sera’s legs. “Not much was said about it.” She paused, looking around the shop to make sure they were alone. “But I have heard whispers.”

Sera leaned forward, willing the modiste to continue. Could she know why he left?

“It is said that Lord Devericks had a terrible fight with his father the night before he left.”

“What about?” Aubrey asked.

“I’m sure that you know the late earl had a gambling problem.” Both girls nodded. “It was how he dealt with his disappointment. The earl had tried to force his son into a marriage, but Lord Devericks wouldn’t have it. The late earl gave him an ultimatum to try to force him into the marriage, but it didn’t work. Instead, Lord Devericks left the next morning, and didn’t return until his father died.”

Sera gasped. “His father tried to force him? Why?”

The modiste shrugged again. “No one knows. The earl probably began to gamble after his son left to deal with his disappointment.”

“That’s terrible,” Sera whispered. Quinton had fled the country to avoid being forced into a marriage and now she was forced to marry him.