The Wary Widow (12 page)

The overture played and then quickly moved into the first scene. Chloe loved this scene. Poor Susannah simply wanted for Figaro to validate her choice of hat, yet all he cared about was where they were going to put the marriage bed.

She watched the actors intently, trying to keep her eyes above Andrew's head rather than on it, but then he leaned into Lizzie and whispered something in her ear. Lizzie giggled and playfully swatted at Andrew with her ungloved hand.

Chloe turned away. How long this summer was going to be. She let out a low groan as the soprano screeched out a rather strained high note. Whoever thought Madame
Pizzarelli
was the toast of Italy must have had a serious hearing problem. Her cat could sing Susanna with far more skill than this overblown—and over aged—madam could. Visions of Tabitha decked out in skirts from the previous century, meowing
Giunse
alfin
il
momento
,
had Chloe giggling.

“Did I miss something?”

Chloe turned to
Michael,
embarrassed she had been caught mid-reverie. She said nothing.

“Please, Chloe,” he begged. “If there is something amusing, you must share, otherwise I might die of boredom.”

A smile cracked on Chloe’s lips. “Sorry, but I can’t possibly tell you what I was laughing at. You’ll think I’ve gone positively out of my mind.”

“Shall I guess, then?”

“You may try, but I’m sure you will never succeed.”

Michael opened his mouth to voice his first thesis when an agitated whisper cut him off. “Could you two please keep it down? We’re trying to enjoy the performance.”

Andrew leaned backwards to deliver this message, no doubt, on behalf of Lizzie. Lizzie was the singer in the family and she actually had a stunning voice, though her nerves prevented her from singing anywhere other than in the comfort of her own music parlor.

“You can’t be serious, Andrew,” Michael retorted. “This is absolutely dreadful stuff.”

“Just be quiet, will you?”

Andrew turned back around and flashed a reassuring smile at Lizzie, indicating that all had been taken care of. Lizzie, in return, gave a demure grin and refocused her attention on the squealing soprano. Chloe ruthlessly suppressed the jealous pang that twisted her stomach.

Though
shalt
not covet thy cousin's
fiance
, though
shalt
not covet-

“So, come on. What was so funny?” Michael interrupted her silent chant.

Chloe, not wanting to be reprimanded again, put a single finger to her lips to quiet Michael. Rolling his eyes, he settled back into his chair. Chloe did the same, and her mind began to wander to the man who sat before her. How could it not? He was close enough for her to be able to smell him
;
his scent as familiar to her now as her own. She closed her
eyes,
trying to put the kiss he'd given her that afternoon from her mind.

A hand came down on her arm and she jumped at the contact. She looked over to see Michael regarding her with familiar eyes. My, they really did look so much alike. It was hard to believe it was Michael she stared back at and not his brother. He had clearly gone for a haircut that afternoon after the party and now he looked more like his twin than ever.

“Would you like to get some air with me, Mrs. Hawthorne?” he asked.

Air? They’d just arrived, and the opera was only in its first act. Why on earth did he want to leave already?

A peal of laughter from her cousin broke into her thoughts and sent waves of jealousy coursing through her. She had done the right thing, she knew, but she didn’t know then that it would hurt so much to watch her with him.

Goodness, this was completely backward! How could she be jealous of something that was never hers to begin with?
“Yes,” she finally replied. “Air would be lovely.”

Twelve

Chloe darted out of the box, and Andrew was quick on her heels. It occurred to him briefly that it might not be entirely appropriate to be alone with her in the corridor, but he shrugged it off. She was a widow and chaperone, and it wasn’t as if she had any reputation to maintain. She’d barely been in London a week.

Her steps were quick and agitated as she paced back and forth in the hall. Clearly she was still mad at him for that afternoon. But she wanted
him, that
much was clear. The way she looked at Michael, thinking he was
him
, was enough to tip off even the most oblivious
nodcock
to her feelings.

Yet another thing to endear her to him.
Gently bred ladies had a way of masking themselves, assuming that was what every man wanted—an emotionless woman, who wouldn't trouble them with silly notions like love or affection. But Chloe was an open book, regardless of how hard she tried not to be.

“Are you all right?” he inquired, remembering that he was supposed to be Michael.

She stopped pacing and looked up at him. For a moment, he thought she might have realized it was him and not Michael who stood before her, but then she looked away again and shook her head.

“Yes,” she said, her tone clipped. “I just...”

“What?” He wanted to know.

She took a moment, obviously contemplating whether she should confide in him, and then shook her head again. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Do you mind if we just stay out here for a few minutes?”

Andrew sauntered closer to her. “I don’t mind at all.” He dropped his voice to what he imagined was a sultry baritone, hoping to clue her in to the truth without actually telling her.

She met his gaze, and he tried to speak with his eyes what he did not want to say. And then her mouth dropped open in astonishment.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Andrew quirked his brow.
“What do you mean?”

Chloe let out an annoyed grunt. “You and your brother are both despicable! With your eyebrow and your smiles and seductions.”

“Seductions?” She clearly had not caught on to their game.

“Yes, seductions.”

“Do you mean to say that my brother has...
approached
you?”

She looked so conflicted as to whether or not she should answer him, and he couldn’t blame her. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t so sure he would appreciate her sharing such things with Michael, if he were in fact Michael. But the fact of the matter was that he was Andrew, and he wanted to know what she was thinking. Perhaps if he acted more like a friend than a pursuer, he could find out the truth.

He looked at her and took a deep breath. “Chloe, you can tell me. I swear I won’t say anything to him. But you seem rather distraught.”

She nodded and looked away from him again. God, she was beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss her just then. To peel that powder blue gown from her shoulders and—

“He tried to kiss me this afternoon,” she finally admitted with a heavy sigh.

Andrew feigned surprise. “He
what
? Is that why you two were missing from the game?”

“Yes, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel so guilty every time I look at Lizzie, but...”

She trailed off and her expression grew pained. How he wanted to kiss away that pain. But the truth was that he was pained too. Conflicted, and for the same reasons. She didn’t even have to finish her sentence, because he knew exactly how she felt.

“But it doesn’t matter,” she continued. “Because he is engaged to my cousin, and no matter what I feel for Andrew, I feel a hundred times more for Lizzie. And I think, despite what I thought before, that Elizabeth might actually care for Andrew. I could never betray her.”

So there it was. Andrew didn’t stand a chance as long as he was engaged to Elizabeth. However, Chloe had it wrong. How could Elizabeth care for him while she was running amuck, kissing other men? He had to find a way to break it off. Chloe would never agree to an affair—that much she had already made clear—but would she agree even if their engagement were broken?

Certainly, if he broke it off, Elizabeth would be ruined and then Chloe would have to hate him forever. But perhaps he could persuade Elizabeth into breaking it off herself.

“You won’t say anything, will you?”

He looked up into Chloe’s brown eyes, wishing he could tell her, but knowing it wasn’t the right time. “Of course not.”

***

Chloe stared back at the man in front of her, wondering why she had decided to confide in him. Goodness, he looked just like Andrew. Well, some of the time anyhow.
Like now.
The way he dragged his hand through his dark hair.

Their parents must have had a time telling them apart as children. It wasn’t so difficult now. They both had their own very distinct personalities. Andrew was more apt to brood, while Michael’s face was warm and open.

But at first blush, one could easily mistake one for the other.

“Are you ready to go back in?” Michael asked.

She hadn’t realized how quiet it had become in the hall until he spoke.

“Yes.” She nodded, although she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to go back to the box. By the sound of it, the famed Madame
Pizzarelli
was struggling with her voice this evening. “Does she always sound like that?” she wondered aloud.

Michael’s lips broke into a grin. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Then perhaps we should wait until after her air is finished.”

Michael’s hearty laugh gave Chloe pause. They even had the same laugh. And the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled...

No. It couldn’t have been. They would never do anything so foolish as to trade places, especially in a public setting. How cruel that would be to Lizzie and herself if they ever did such a thing.

But the thought that it could be Andrew standing in front of her, alone in the hallway, sent desire shooting straight through her.

She tamped it down. They were twins—
identical
twins. How absurd of her to begin lusting after Andrew’s brother.

Thankfully, the aria came to an end just as Chloe was on the brink of inquiring as to Michael’s true identity. She did not relish making a fool of herself so soon into the Season.

They walked back through the velvet curtains, and Michael stood behind her as she took her seat, before sitting down himself. Chloe settled in and tried to look at the stage and not Andrew.

But curiosity had gotten the better of her. She wanted to know if they had indeed switched places. She remembered that Andrew had a small freckle on his neck, just below his right earlobe. Blast it, she should have checked while they were out in the hall.

Now, both of them sat to her right. There was no way to tell them apart without making a scene.

Unless...

“Lord Michael,” she leaned in to whisper. “Would you mind trading seats with me? I’m having a devil of time seeing the...ah...”

Lord, but this was a weak excuse. She had a perfect view of the entire stage. But Michael did not even wait for an explanation. He jumped from his seat and stepped aside so she could move into it. Then he took her seat on the left.

Perfect. This would be simple now. All she had to do was turn and offer her thanks and try to catch a glimpse of the freckle. But when she turned to face him, he already faced her, obscuring her view of his neck.

Blast him.

“Is that better, Mrs. Hawthorne?” he asked with a roguish smile.

Chloe returned his smile with a tight one
of her own
. “Much,” she replied and then turned back to the stage, now obstructed by Andrew’s perfect head of hair.

All right. What next?
Perhaps if she pretended to drop something to her right.
Then she would have an excuse to lean close to Michael’s head. Surreptitiously, she knocked her fan to the floor. It made a loud thud, drawing the attention of those in her party. Chloe was hopeful when Michael turned his head to the right and leaned down to retrieve her fan.

But all hope was lost when she realized his collar sat far too high on his neck this evening for her to see if the freckle was there.

Blast him!

She sat back in her chair with a loud sigh, feeling defeated and not just a little foolish. What was the matter with her? Grown men such as Andrew and Michael would never play such a foolish game. What would it gain them anyhow? It didn’t change the fact that Andrew was engaged to Lizzie. Surely, when the time came, if they had in fact switched identities, they could not pull such a scheme off all the way to the altar.

No, she would just have to trust them. So, she put her suspicions aside for the evening and settled in to listen to the rest of the opera.

It was too bad the Company was not really worth listening to.

***

At three o’clock that morning, Chloe sat bolt upright in her bed. Her face was dampened with sweat, and her breath came fast and heavy. She clutched the covers to her chest as she tried to make sense of her realization and why she hadn’t realized it before. Her suspicions had been right all along. That blackguard! How dare he try to pull such a scheme? What did he hope to accomplish, she wondered? Surely, he didn’t think her so naïve as to not realize their game. And surely he didn’t think she was going to go along with it.

If it weren’t the middle of the night, she would have marched right down to Berwick Street and given him what for. As it was, she would simply have to wait until morning.