Living London

chapter Eight



I fingered the peacock-feathered headdress as I waited for Libby to finish setting out my clothes for the evening. Every evening I had an engagement of some sort — such a stark contrast from my former routine of making dinner and watching "The Bachelor" at night.

Tonight I would be going to Drury Lane Theater. Just the thought made me sigh out loud. How often had I read about that place? Sitting in a box seat with opera glasses, the men dressed up with their top hats and the women in their sparkling jewelry, watching. The evening couldn't begin fast enough.

"Now, miss, remember, don't be going off by yourself. Take Miss Amelia with you," Libby instructed me. Her constant instruction was more than helpful. "Just follow Miss Amelia's lead, and you'll be fine. Enjoy yourself," she added as she put the final touches on my dress and hat. She placed a large emerald around my neck that accented my matching clipped earrings. The dark green made my eyes seem deeper. A regency debutante stared back at me when I gazed into the mirror. Every inch of my reflection was ladylike, mature and feminine. My gown wasn't a 'little black dress' but a lighter hue that was just as sexy. The light grey was as close to black as I could get without being in mourning, and the rich green velvet complimented the grey perfectly. My emerald green satin slippers only peeked out from beneath the overly long gown, but they provided the perfect accent. Adjusting my headdress, I thanked Libby again and made my way to the door.

****

The steps into the theater were littered with people glittering from head to toe. Kean would be playing Shylock, and everyone who was anyone had turned out. At least that was what Amelia had said when I met her at the theater's entrance.

The buzz of human voices became a dull roar as we moved further into the throng. A large chandelier hung from the ornately painted ceiling, and crystals from the light piece reflected onto the walls. The illuminated hall was decorated in rich, bold colors that were highlighted by the stark white of pillars and winding marble staircases leading to the balcony. As I followed Amelia up the stairs to her box, I asked her to stop so I could simply absorb all the details of the room. The high ceiling, archways, and artwork all glistened with candlelight. It was better than any book had ever described, and I was living it. I almost tripped on my gown, but I righted myself without anyone noticing other than Amelia, who gave me a stern look.

"I know you don't remember this place, but you'll cause a scene if you continue to stare." Then in a quieter tone, she added, "You don't want any more attention. I'm just trying to help."

"Thank you. You're a dear friend, Amelia." I meant each word.

"Yes, well, I know." She arched her eyebrow playfully and led me into a box high above the stage. She announced our arrival to her brother Nigel and his wife Lorena before directing me to a seat at the very front of the box. As I leaned over the edge, she touched my arm softly.

"You mustn't lean over. Glance." She showed me a perfect postured glance over the edge, and I tried to mimic her actions. "Much better."

"Ah, ladies, a pleasure to see you both." Turning toward the voice, I saw Lord Ashby take a seat behind us.

"Oh, no, Lord Ashby, you're my guest! I must insist you sit here in front. You don't mind, Jocelyn?" She looked pointedly at the seat next to me, and I caught her drift.

"Of course not. Please, sit." I smiled and motioned to the empty chair.

"Thank you, Miss Westin. I trust you're looking forward to tonight's performance?"

"More than you can imagine. I believe it will be as if I were here for the first time." I spoke playfully, hoping he'd catch on.

His eyes crinkled, and his smile widened. "Yes, I would imagine so."

"I almost lost my balance earlier I was so absorbed in trying to notice each detail. This place is beautiful."

He paused, regarding the room." You're right. I suppose one grows accustomed to its grandeur once it's been experienced repeatedly. But I see what you mean." He began to study the moldings in the ceiling and the carved arches of the boxes. "It is magnificent, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," I agreed.

The orchestra began to play, and I felt myself leaning forward slightly to watch them warm up. A tingling sensation on the back of my neck caused me to glance up. Lord Ashby grinned sheepishly as I caught him watching my rapt attention on the orchestra.

"Don't stop on my account, the music is the best part most times." He leaned forward with me as I focused once again on the orchestra. Even though he wasn't touching me, our shoulders were close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off his body. The warmth made me shiver, and I wanted to be closer.

Glancing over, I found him watching me again. The cool blue of his eyes set my belly to tingling. His gaze moved from mine and caressed my features before focusing on my lips. He cleared his throat and pulled slightly away.

Unable to move, I waited as my heart pounded violently. He didn't even touch me. Who knew a look could be more intimate than a kiss? Blinking, I leaned back and focused my attention onto the pre-performance antics taking place on the stage.

"Saw that," Amelia whispered in my ear.

"What do I do?" I whispered back. Short of working a fan, I had no idea how to flirt properly. It wasn't something I was naturally good at anyway.

"Talk. I gave you the opportunity… do something with it." She winked and went back to conversing with her sister-in-law.

Thank you, Amelia.

"Miss Westin?" I turned to face Lord Ashby, waiting for his question. "Would you do me the honor of riding in Hyde with me sometime?"

"Tomorrow?"

My hopeful reply brought a grin to his full lips. "Tomorrow sounds brilliant."

"Morning?" I asked, raising my eyebrows and hoping my attempt at flirting didn't fall flat.

"Even better," he responded.

With that, the performance started, and I was lost in the art. The only exposure to Shakespeare I'd experienced had been in high school and college lit. Oh, I had read Romeo and Juliet a few times, but seeing Shakespeare's work brought to life on the stage was mesmerizing. Kean was fantastic, and I found myself lost in the story. The dim lights and live music gave it a magical feel, almost as if I were part of the performance.

Occasionally I'd glance over to Lord Ashby. In the dim light I could only see shadows shift across the features of his face, but it was clear he was enjoying the performance as well. As the final act before the intermission finished, the lights grew brighter. People began to stand and move about, exiting the theater and conversing.

"So, Miss Westin, did you enjoy the performance?" Lord Ashby asked, diverting my attention from a lady bowing her head and tickling her husband's nose with an ostrich feather. Suppressing a laugh, I turned to face him.

"It was unlike anything I've ever experienced," I answered, belatedly realizing that I'd mostly likely been there before. To Lord Ashby's credit, he didn't comment on it, but his eyes did take on a teasing light.

"Kean was exceptional," he added as he looked to the stage. As I studied his profile, I noticed his nose was a bit crooked, and I wondered what had caused it.

He noticed my perusal, and I bit my lip and looked down, embarrassed to have been caught staring. When I looked up again, a wicked grin accented his features. "Don't worry, I shamelessly watched you while you were absorbed with the play. We're even." He grinned, and I lost all embarrassment.

"And here I thought you were as absorbed with the performance as I was!" I teased.

"Oh, I was. I just enjoyed a different performance than the one you saw."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You were far more entertaining than Kean, I must say."

"If you're trying to compliment me, sir, you're failing," I quipped with a smile.

"Ah, I must improve my skills, it seems. I shall endeavor to try harder in the future." His smile tilted up more on one side than the other, and his eyes twinkled with mischief.

I nodded. "See that you do."

He glanced over my shoulder and asked me to join him for some air. Of course I agreed, and we walked out of the box and into the hall. It was much quieter than I had expected, Draperies hung from each box entrance and lined the walls to mute the noise.

"Would you like to get a closer look at the stage and orchestra?" he asked in a whisper that tingled in my ear.

"Of course! Can we do that?" My eyes went wide with excitement.

"Certainly. Follow me." He took me down the stairs and into the general entrance. The common people milled about, and I felt their stares as we passed. The separation of the classes was a severe line I was unaccustomed to. The gentry did not mix, and I felt apprehensive as Lord Ashby led me to the front of the theater.

"Why are they staring?" I whispered.

"It's not common for one of the quality to be down on the floor level. Many dowagers would consider it vulgar, but since it's the intermission, I believe we will be fine."

He didn't look concerned, so I put the worry from my mind and took in my surroundings. The orchestra pit was full of instruments, some abandoned as the player left for a short break. I turned around and gazed up at the boxes to get a taste of what it would be like from the actors' view. Large crystalline chandeliers hung gracefully from the ceiling, their brilliant lights accenting the rich colors. The acoustics caused the hum of voices to reverberate throughout the entire hall. It reminded me of The Phantom of the Opera.

"Much different from here, don't you think?" Lord Ashby asked.

"Much." My reply was breathless as I continued to take in the splendor.

"I thought you would enjoy this perspective. Even though the boxes are by far more fashionable, you miss the allure and beauty of the theater in my opinion."

"I would have to agree with you, Lord Ashby." I tore my attention from my surroundings and focused on him. Even with the opulence surrounding us at that moment, his eyes were far more captivating, far more interesting than anything else I had seen. The voices of those around us faded as I lost myself in his deep blue gaze. The fullness of his lips was accented by a quick intake of his breath as he closed his eyes and then turned slightly away.

"I'll escort you back, Miss Westin." He spoke crisply and held his hand out for me to accept. I nodded and followed his lead. Under my glove, the heat from his body was easily noticed, along with the strength in his forearm beneath his jacket. Our gazes locked, and I swallowed compulsively at the smolder in his eyes as he watched me. Before I lost my nerve I asked a question, one I wanted answered from his perspective, not Libby or Mrs. Trimbleton's.

"Was there ever — more — between us?" I asked. How could I have maintained my distance from him?

At my inquiry, he broke eye contact and began to lead me back up the aisle towards the main entrance. "I've often asked myself the very same question," he replied earnestly as he glanced at me.

"Forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, but…" I paused, not knowing how to articulate what I was feeling, or even if I should.

He laughed quietly, as if sensing my internal struggle. "Miss Westin, I promise here and now not to ever condemn you for speaking the truth."

"Thank you. I'll be sure to remind you of that should I ever offend you," I teased back, feeling more at ease.

"Pray continue." He nodded as we left the main hall and ascended the stairs to our box.

"Remember your promise." I glanced at him sideways. "If you wondered the very same thing, does that mean no? And if so, why?"

I bit my lip as I realized how forward I sounded. I took a quick breath to explain myself, but he stopped, and I turned to face him. His blue eyes were stormy, cloudy with indecision. He glanced about and pulled me into an alcove in the hallway.

"Miss Westin." His words were spoken softly. The theater dimmed as lights were extinguished in anticipation of the next act. In the pale light I saw his gaze drop to my lips as he leaned forward slightly. Breathing became difficult as I realized he was about to kiss me.

Slowly, with prolonged moments, he studied my face. The candlelight teased shadows across his strong jaw and slightly crooked nose. My eyes followed his, and I couldn't hold back a small gasp when his eyes flashed up to mine. Gone was the indecision, a smoldering desire in its place.

Tentatively he reached up and slid a gloved finger across my cheek before cupping my face in his palm. Closing my eyes, I leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and intimacy. When I opened my eyes again, I reached up with my own gloved hand and traced the shadow of his jaw line, feeling a shiver of desire course through me — desire that was echoed in his eyes.

His hand left my face and met with his other around my waist, drawing me closer into the circle of his arms. The close embrace led me to settle my hands behind his neck. His head descended further, and I closed my eyes in anticipation. Warm breath caressed my lips.

"Jocelyn?" Amelia's voice startled me from his warm embrace. My gaze found Lord Ashby's. He stepped back and grasped my hand, raising it to his lips. He kissed it — not the air above it, as was proper — his gaze never leaving mine. Shivering with delight, I smiled at the devilish grin that broke out on his face.

"Your hand will have to do for now." With a wink, he stepped back and offered his arm.

A few seconds later, Amelia came into view. Her scolding expression changed to one of excitement when she saw my blush. "The next act has begun." She stated the obvious, still watching my expression.

"Thank you," Lord Ashby replied, leading me into the box, a grinning Amelia following behind.

The rest of the performance passed in a blur as I only had attention for the man sitting next to me. Often I'd glance over at him and find him already watching me. With a smile, he'd return his attention to the stage. After the performance and the thunderous applause, he escorted me to my carriage.

"Tomorrow?" he asked as he helped me up.

"Morning," I replied, winking. My belly flipped at his rich laugh, which sent shivers up my back. His smile was genuine, but spiced with desire. I couldn't wait for tomorrow.

"Yes, Miss Westin, tomorrow morning." With a wave, he shut the carriage door, and I headed home.