Gabriel didn’t reply, only pulled the glove slowly until it slid away from her arm. Hectic color spread over every inch of Pandora’s skin. The sensuous way he’d removed it, in front of so many curious gazes, sent a wash of hectic color over every inch of her skin.
Lifting her bare hand, Gabriel turned it over and pressed his mouth against her sensitive inner wrist, before nuzzling a kiss into the vulnerable cup of her palm. A few happily scandalized gasps and murmurs came from the crowd. It was a gesture of ownership, of intimacy, intended not only to demonstrate his passion for his new bride, but also to rebuke his former mistress. By tomorrow, every fashionable parlor in London would be buzzing with the gossip that Lord St. Vincent had been seen openly fondling his wife at the Haymarket, in view of his former mistress.
Pandora didn’t want to be used to hurt anyone, not even Mrs. Black. However, as Gabriel gave her a warning glance, daring her to protest, she kept her mouth shut and decided to take issue with him later.
Mercifully the lights were soon lowered, and the play began. It was a testament to the quality of the production and the skill of the actors that Pandora was able to relax and laugh at the quicksilver dialogue. However, she was aware that Gabriel was enduring the comedy rather than enjoying it.
At intermission, while Gabriel and Winterborne met with acquaintances in the hallway just outside the box, Pandora and Helen talked privately.
“Dear,” Helen murmured, covering Pandora’s gloved hand with hers, “I can say from personal experience that it’s not pleasant to learn about the women a husband may have known in his past. But very few men lead a chaste life before marrying. I hope you won’t—”
“Oh, I don’t blame Gabriel for having had a mistress,” Pandora whispered. “I don’t like it, of course, but I can hardly complain about anyone else’s faults when I have so many of my own. Gabriel told me about Mrs. Black before we married, and promised to end the relationship, and obviously he has. She doesn’t seem to have taken it well, however.” She paused. “I don’t think he broke the news to her the right way.”
Helen’s lips quirked. “I don’t think there’s any way to end an affair happily, no matter how well-chosen the words are.”
“The question is, why would her husband tolerate her behavior? She was trying to make a scene right in front of him, and he did nothing about it.”
Helen glanced at their surroundings to make certain the box was quite empty, and held up her program on the pretext of reading about the next act. “Rhys told me just before intermission,” she said in an undertone, “that Ambassador Black was a Lieutenant General in the Union Army, during the American Civil War. It’s rumored that he sustained injuries in battle that make it difficult for him to . . .” Blushing, Helen gave a little shrug.
“To do what?”
“Perform his husbandly duties,” Helen whispered, turning even redder. “Mrs. Black is his second wife—he was a widower when they met—and obviously she’s still a young woman. That’s why he chooses to look the other way when she strays.”
Pandora sighed shortly. “Now I almost feel sorry for her.” With a wry grin, she added, “But she still can’t have my husband.”
At the conclusion of the performance, Pandora and Gabriel made their way slowly past the swarming hallways, foyers, and box-lobbies to the colonnaded entrance hall. Helen and Winterborne were a few yards ahead of them, but they were difficult to see amid the close-packed crowd. The play had been heavily attended, and the press of bodies was so close that Pandora began to feel anxious.
“We’re almost through it,” Gabriel murmured, keeping a protective arm around her.
As they emerged from the theater, the crowding was even worse. People jostled and milled in the portico area, clustering among the six Corinthian columns that extended to the edge of the pavement. A long row of private carriages and hansom cabs had massed along the thoroughfare, trapping some vehicles in place. Making matters worse, the gathering of theatergoers had attracted pickpockets, confidence tricksters, muggers, and beggars from nearby alleys and streets. A lone uniformed policeman could be seen trying to bring order to the scene, with little apparent success.
“Both your driver and mine are hemmed in,” Winterborne came to tell Gabriel, having pushed his way through the gathering. He gestured toward the southern end of Haymarket. “They’ve stopped over there. They’ll have to wait for some of the street traffic to depart before there’s room to move.”
“We can walk to the carriages,” Gabriel said.
Winterborne gave him a glance of wry amusement. “I wouldn’t advise it. A flock of cyprians has just crossed over from Pall Mall, and we’d have to go through the lot of them.”
“Do you mean prostitutes, Mr. Winterborne?” Pandora asked, forgetting to modulate her voice.
A few people in the crowd turned to look at her with raised brows.