Chapter Eleven
The theater was quite crowded. While it had been some time since Jane had been able to attend any performances, the number of people clamoring together to get a good look at the “Missing Marquess” seemed disproportionate to her memories. It also seemed to greatly exceed the number of patrons that the theater could, in fact, safely accommodate.
“Whatever else has occurred, thank heavens your friend, Highcliff, arranged a box for us. It would be positively nightmarish otherwise,” Jane uttered under her breath.
She didn’t see Marcus smile, but she could sense that he did. The houselights had just been shuttered and the orchestra was warming up.
“Highcliff is full of surprises,” Marcus replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “For example, I had no idea that we’d be utilizing the Royal Box and in full view of the entire gathering.”
Jane frowned. “Oh my goodness. It is. Such elevated circumstance and I didn’t even notice. My father may well disown me.”
“Are you certain?” Marcus asked. “If that is the case, Miss Barrett, I assure you that you have never been more appealing than in this very moment.”
Jane didn’t allow the giggle to escape, muffling it behind her hand. In truth, if they could both be disowned by their families, their lives would be infinitely improved. It would all be infinitely less complicated if they didn’t have such a convoluted history together and if there weren’t so many other people involved in what should have been a private matter between the two of them. Jane could admit freely, to herself at any rate, that had she encountered Lord Althorn as the man who sat beside her that evening, without any past knowledge of him, she’d have been utterly charmed by him and would likely have had no hesitation in agreeing to his courtship.
Was it spite against her father that prompted her repeated inclination to turn him down? It was an uncomfortable thought but one that had to be entertained. She didn’t think that was the entire reason for her hesitation, but she wasn’t foolish enough to discount it entirely. There was also a healthy dose of fear that kept her from giving him anything other than a very guarded “maybe” as an answer. She lacked the ability to keep her heart secure against him. The more time spent in his company the more certain she became of that. While his intentions were clear, his feelings for her were not. Being trapped in a marriage, loving her husband and having no hope of ever having her love returned seemed to Jane the worst sort of pain a woman could endure.
Preoccupied with her own thoughts, she found herself paying little attention to the actors on stage. She did, however, frequently steal glances at the perfectly-chiseled profile of the man beside her as she struggled with her own indecision and her own motives.
In fact, Jane was so lost in thought that when the curtain dropped for intermission and the applause began, she was quite startled by it.
“Are you quite all right?” Althorn asked her.
“I’m fine. Just a bit warm in here I think,” she said.
“I’ll go and fetch you something to drink if you’ve no wish to brave the crowd,” he offered.
“Nonsense, Cousin!” Charles protested. “One does not come to the theater to hide in one’s box. Miss Barrett, and you of course, are quite the talk of the ton. If you aren’t seen talking and flirting amongst everyone else during intermission then the opportunity to see and be seen has been wasted.”
“I really don’t care to see and be seen, Mr. Balfour,” Jane protested. The Duchess of Elsingham had clearly not been so hesitant. The very second the curtain had begun to drop, she’d been out of her chair and diving into the fray.
“You may not, my dear,” he continued in his same wheedling tone, “But others do. It would not do as the future Duchess of Elsingham to be seen as standoffish or cold. You must set an example.”
“She doesn’t feel well, Charles. Leave off. In fact, Miss Barrett, if you prefer, we can leave the performance early and return home,” Marcus offered.
“No,” Jane replied instantly. It would be utterly disastrous to be alone with him. She didn’t trust herself or him. Perhaps being in a crowd of people was the best possible option regardless of how distasteful she found it. “As much as I might dislike admitting it, your cousin is correct. We should socialize and behave as any other affianced couple might… regardless of the rather strange circumstances we have found ourselves in.”
“If you’re certain then?” Althorn asked.
“I’m not, but it won’t hurt anything to be sociable,” Jane replied easily.
He only arched one eyebrow imperiously. “Very well then. Let us go and entertain the masses. It’s a bit like being a gladiator in Rome, is it not?”
Jane rose and took his proffered arm. “They likely fared better and were less likely to be eaten alive,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
He was still chuckling under his breath as they made their way out into the lobby where the other patrons were gathered, drinking their lemonade and gossiping at a volume that was positively deafening. As they walked down, the crowd parted. Voices dropped to the merest whisper, but the sheer quantity of whispers still created an undeniable hum.
“Will it ever stop?” Jane asked softly. “Will we be objects of curiosity forever or will your disappearance and reappearance fall out of fashion as a topic of conversation?”
“There will always be new gossip, Miss Barrett,” he answered levelly. “Besides, isn’t this your stock in trade?”
“It’s very ungentlemanly of you to bring that up,” she pointed out. Then she teased in return, “One might think you weren’t brought up as a gentleman, in fact. You might not even be a real marquess!”
*
Marcus bit back the retort that instantly sprang to his lips. She wouldn’t appreciate offers to behave ungentlemanly enough to make her forget that she was a lady. Not to mention that they were hardly in a place to make such ribald comments. “Miss Barrett, you wound me. I’ve been devoid of the comforts of my English home for so long. Is it any wonder that I have forgotten such things?”
She didn’t laugh, but he could see the amusement in her eyes as she lifted her glass of watered down lemonade to her lips and sipped daintily. The round of well wishes began immediately. A nameless and faceless throng of people descended upon them, congratulating them on their betrothal, on his delayed return home, on the end to their enforced period of mourning and how lovely it was to be seen out in society again.
“Were you out in society all that much?” Marcus whispered to her.
“I was never out in society. There was no need for it. My father’s fortune had already caught a husband for me,” she answered rather acerbically.
“Oh, my dear heavens! We thought you were dead, my boy! Dead as a doornail!”
Marcus groaned. A simple outing with his betrothed and a small flirtation had now turned into a farce, except it wasn’t even remotely amusing. Lady Olmsworth was the last person in the world he wished to get stuck conversing with. She always had rather unfortunate breath and a propensity to be long-winded. The two did not go well together. Not to mention that she’d been half in love with Marcus’ father for the entirety of his young life and would, no doubt, wax poetic about just how much Marcus looked like him, just as she had on every other occasion.
“I am quite hale and hearty, as you can see,” he assured her. “Please excuse us… Miss Barrett has grown overly warm with the crowd. We must get her some air. Pardon me, Lady Olmsworth, Lady Devers.”
Taking Jane by the elbow, he led her toward the door. “If you could faint, much like you did at your first sight of me, it would be greatly appreciated.”
“I cannot faint on command!” she hissed back at him. “Where on earth are we going?”
“Anywhere that Lady Olmsworth is not,” he answered. “And unless you want to be regaled with tales of how handsome my father was, what a wild buck he was back in the day, and just how many times she cuckolded her late husband with him, you’ll try to look a bit peaked and wan right now.”
Jane blanched at is description. “Oh, dear heavens.”
“That’ll do nicely,” he said, taking in her horrified expression.
“Lord Althorn!”
They both glanced back at the bellowed greeting. It was Lord Ainstruther, a family connection to the duchess, who’d often been in attendance at the family’s home. The man was long-winded, loud, rather smelly and had an unfortunate habit of staring at Jane’s breasts as if they might actually pop out of her gown at any moment.
“If I feign a swoon, you must promise to catch me,” she said.
“I swear it on my life.”
Dutifully, Jane sank against him. It was overdone, possibly the worst display of acting in the history of the theater and would likely fool no one. It did give them a convenient excuse.
“It’s the heat,” he said. “Charles, we must go… I’m terribly sorry.”
Charles smiled. “Not to worry, Cousin. I’ve seen this piece performed several times already. Let’s get Miss Barrett home, shall we? I’ll collect her grace if you want to get her bundled into the carriage.”
“Straightaway,” Marcus agreed as he ushered the unnaturally limp form of his betrothed out the door. Next to her ear, he whispered, “You’d make a terrible spy.”
“Were you a terrible spy?” she asked.
“I was a very good spy. Maybe I’ll tell you someday,” he offered suggestively. “I’ve heard such tales of daring are very seductive.”
Her eye roll was all the answer he required. “Just get me into that coach before I trip and do injury to us both.”
Marcus glanced up and their carriage was in the line that flanked the street. It was already being pulled forward. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, it was just in front of them.
Helping Jane into the conveyance, he climbed in after her. His intent had been to leave the door open for propriety’s sake as they awaited Charles and his stepmother. But the carriage door closed with a remarkable amount of force and the horses lurched forward almost instantly.
Marcus reached for the handle of the door only to discover that it was curiously absent. His banging on the ceiling of the carriage was ignored by the driver.
“What is happening?” Jane asked.
“I believe we’re being kidnapped,” he replied easily.
“Surely you jest!”
“I do not jest… not now. We are being abducted and for what reason I cannot begin to say, but I’ve little doubt that Charles is behind it.
*
Charles waited for a full five minutes, giving the carriage ample time to get away. The driver had clear instructions to take them to a small cottage near one of Marcus’ lesser estates. He would recognize the dwelling and also recognize just how far removed it was from any other residence, including his own. In the dark and the cold, they would have no option but to spend the night there together without a chaperone. Unless, of course, he elected to jump from the carriage, but Charles wasn’t worried on that front. Marcus would never dream of abandoning Miss Barrett to the less than tender mercies of whomever might be responsible for their abduction.
Just as he’d imagined, the duchess cried out in dismay. “Where on earth is our carriage? Surely they would not have gone off without us!”
“I confess, my dear aunt, that I overheard them speaking of an elopement,” Charles said, just loud enough to be overheard by anyone else who’d stepped outside for some air.
“What a silly thing to do when they are already betrothed!” she pouted.
“They have waited far too long already… or so I heard Marcus profess to dear Miss Barrett,” Charles continued. “No doubt they will be wed by the time they return.”
The duchess cried out in dismay. “How could they do this to us? How could they deprive of us of the joy of planning a wedding… and a ball? And all of those lovely gowns we were going to shop for together! Oh, that hateful, vile wretch! I know it was all her idea!”
By the time the Duchess of Elsingham had finished her litany, two dozen eager ears were trained on them. Charles patted her arm congenially. “There, there! My poor, dear aunt! I’m certain that when they return from their elopement we can plan a proper ball to celebrate their marriage. Who could refuse to pay homage to such a joyous occasion, after all?”
The duchess sniffed and wiped away her feigned tears. “You’re quite right, Charles. I’m certain they didn’t mean to be selfish.”
It was all going just as they’d planned. “I’ll get us a hack for the journey home… I do apologize for the terrible inconvenience and for you having to ride in such a low conveyance.”
One of the many men listening intently stepped forward. “Nonsense, Balfour! I’d never dream of letting her grace ride in a lowly hack. Let me see you both home in my fine barouche!”
“Thank you, Lord Ramsleigh,” the duchess gushed. “How very chivalrous you are!”
He patted her arm and then brought her hand to his lips. “Think nothing of it, my dear. I couldn’t help but overhear what a trying evening you’ve had. How very thoughtless of your stepson and his betrothed to take off in such a manner and leave you stranded!”
She tittered and smiled as if on cue. “You are too kind, Lord Ramsleigh.”
Charles watched the other man lead her off and then fell in step behind them. The entirety of London society would be talking about the elopement. If they refused to marry when they returned, they would both be ruined. Smiling, Charles thanked his lucky stars for his love and the twisted machinations of her mind. Watching her with Lord Ramsleigh, even he was half-convinced she had been taken completely unawares by the absconding couple, much less had a hand in it herself.