He hadn’t seemed to. He actually seemed to have been enjoying it.
She all but held her breath, waiting to see what he would do.
“Of course I shall keep Lady Beatrice company,” the duke announced, resuming a dignified stance, head high, hands folded behind his back. “No doubt it will be most amusing.”
“But we agreed you are rather large,” she drawled.
He shot her a mischievous look. “I shall fit just fine if your uncle goes and sits with Benjamin. If Kit and Margaret sit just there”—he pointed to the two red-and-gold chairs to his right—“we shall all cram in like sardines together.”
“That is a most interesting thought,” she replied but found herself far too happy that he had decided to stay with her.
Which was quite a surprise in itself. When had she begun to wish for his company?
Her uncle inclined his head, all but bouncing with his pleasure at the outcome. He backed out of the box again and into the hall.
Beatrice considered how it would feel to sit with the duke in the dark.
Nearly touching, their bodies close as they both sighed and gasped and watched the actors upon the stage as antics ensued. She felt her blood warm, and not as a result of the crowded theater.
Suddenly, she wondered if it was such a very good idea at all.
Would she even watch the play with him nearby? Would she be able to think of anything else but him? And the dream of his lips upon hers?
Chapter Eight
He had no idea how he’d been maneuvered into sitting next to Lady Beatrice for a play that lasted two and a half hours. It was wonderful and awful.
It was like having a cake put in front of him that was the most delicious, wonderful thing in the whole world. And yet he was not able to eat it.
And bloody hell, he wanted to devour her. She was a temptation to his mind, his soul, his body.
His entire frame felt on edge, and it was all he could do not to positively vibrate next to her like a piano string that had been struck.
Deliberately, he drew in slow, deep breaths to keep himself from fidgeting like an overzealous school boy next to his first experience of carnal admiration.
But here, in the box, he was sitting so close to her that his boot brushed the hem of her silk skirt. His thigh nearly skimmed hers.
His chair was but a relegated few inches away from hers, and she was leaning slightly toward him, and he toward her.
He did not know why. Were their bodies unwittingly drawn to each other?
It was true, he was a large man. There was no denying it. He did take up a great deal of space. As he was doing now.
And in the sensual hush of the darkened theater, the lights fading so that the audience could focus upon the stage…he felt drunk with her nearness.
Lady Beatrice was no petite creature herself. And because of that? The possibility they might touch substantially increased with every moment that passed.
He swallowed and stared at the stage as musicians began to play. As the jolly tune filled the air and the singer bade the audience to not sigh for lovers due to men’s inconstancy, he felt himself drifting away, unable to listen to the ensuing witty banter of the characters below, though he dearly adored Much Ado About Nothing.
It was a great play. One of his favorites.
It was a powerful tale of jealousy, friendship, misunderstandings, and ultimately love in the most unexpected of places.
He enjoyed reading it to himself at night by the fire when he had a few moments. His father and mother had loved it, too.
It was why he still would turn to the pages, reading it time and time again. In those words, he was filled with nostalgia for a happier time.
But sometimes it was also was painful.