When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,34

on the tip of her tongue to tell him. But then she remembered that he’d lived all his life without her advice.

He didn’t need her.

Messalina shook her head and proceeded through the door.

* * *

Gideon watched Messalina’s face as the carriage jolted over cobblestones. Since they’d left the house she’d grown quiet and was avoiding his gaze.

What else had he expected? One afternoon of something like a truce was not enough to make up for what had come before. Messalina was a proud, stubborn woman who knew her own mind. She wouldn’t be swayed into accepting him as a husband so lightly.

He needed patience.

Still he found himself searching her eyes when he handed her down from the carriage some five minutes later. She smiled slightly and his chest flooded with warmth.

Fool.

Gideon nodded at Reg, sitting in the box beside the driver. Earlier he’d ordered Reg to stay with the carriage when they went into the theater. A brace of bodyguards was too conspicuous.

Gideon was very aware of Messalina’s smaller body beside his as she shook out her skirts. The summer air was still warm from the day, and the night was alight with lanterns and torches. The classical facade of the theater was thrown into bright light and people crowded the steps.

Gideon held out his arm to her. “Ready?”

She glanced up at him as she laid her fingers on his forearm, her eyebrows arched pointedly. “Yes. Are you?”

He felt the corners of his mouth curl, the scent of bergamot teasing his nostrils. Within the theater before them lay his quarry. His pulse quickened at the thought, the coming hunt. But he had no need for nerves.

How could he fail with her on his arm? “We’ll find out, won’t we?”

Inside the theater the air was warm with the press of bodies and the heat of dozens of candles from three grand chandeliers. Gideon made for the stairs, aware as they moved that heads were turning to look at them. They left a trail of murmurs in their wake.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Messalina. She held her head high, a faint smile playing about her lips.

He bent to her, murmuring in her ear, “Very good.”

Her breath caught, but she said only, “I’m so glad you approve of me.”

“I do,” he replied. “I approve of your grace, your intelligence, and your strength. I don’t approve of your stubbornness, but I confess, I like it.”

That got him an indignant sniff. “Where is your box?”

“Third level,” he said, and added to provoke her, “Intimate and discreet. I inspected it myself when I bought the tickets.”

“Hardly discreet, since it overlooks the theater,” she replied tartly with her smile still in place.

“I assure you,” he drawled lazily. “I can most certainly find a way to be intimate.”

She glanced at him sharply. “The people across the way can certainly see us.”

“Yes.” His lips twitched. “But only above the waist.”

For a second her face was perplexed, and then bright pink flooded her cheeks, making her look young and unbearably pretty and he wanted…

He looked away. He had a plan, a series of steps to get what he wanted. Finding himself enthralled by his wife was not one of them.

He had to keep his head.

He was still thinking over the matter when they reached a landing on the stairs and a matron in a deep-orange gown and lavender-powdered hair cried out, “Messalina! I didn’t know you had returned to town.”

An outright lie, judging by the eager expression on her face as she stared at Gideon.

“Lady Gilbert,” Messalina replied sedately. “May I introduce my husband, Gideon Hawthorne?”

“Hawthorne? Hawthorne?” Lady Gilbert’s watery blue eyes turned sly as she held out her hand to him. “Why, I don’t remember any Hawthornes. Tell me, who are your people, Mr. Hawthorne?”

Messalina stiffened beside him.

Gideon took Lady Gilbert’s hand and bowed over it, not quite touching her knuckles. “My people are terribly scandalous, my lady.” He straightened and let his lips spread into a dangerous smile. “I come from thieves, whores, and murderers.”

“Oh my!” Lady Gilbert looked positively giddy with excitement.

Messalina’s face was blank as she nodded to the woman. They moved past Lady Gilbert and mounted the stairs.

“She’ll spread what you said,” Messalina muttered. “Everyone in the theater will be talking by the end of the play.”

“Let them.”

He felt her glance at him. “You want everyone to know your past?”

“There seems very little point in trying to hide it, so I’ve decided not to bother.” His lips twisted. “I won’t