When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,35
apologize to anyone for my birth.”
They would know exactly what he was—and why they should fear him.
She was silent a moment and then said softly, surprising him, “No. You’re quite right.”
They came to the third floor, and he stopped and looked at her.
Messalina met his gaze, and he saw that her clear gray eyes were defiant. “It’s not your birth I object to.”
“No?” He leaned closer to her, inhaling bergamot. “Perhaps you should detail my flaws in our box.”
She scoffed. “That would take all night.”
He snorted.
She was witty, his wife.
Too witty. He was in danger of forgetting his mission here.
The thought made him uneasy. He couldn’t lose his drive, his pride, himself in her.
They’d reached the rented box, and he pulled back the curtain for her, letting her enter first.
The box was almost over the stage, and from it they could see not only the actors but the milling audience in the center of the house. Gideon seated Messalina before taking his own chair and glancing about. He’d had information from Pea and his gang that the Earl of Rookewoode, Sir Barnaby Bishop, and Viscount Hardly would be attending tonight, yet Gideon couldn’t make out any of the men.
His gaze was drawn back to the stage. Several performers were dancing about, but no one appeared to be paying any attention to them.
Gideon frowned. “I thought the play had begun.”
He felt Messalina glance at him. “It has. Or rather the entertainments before the main play have begun.”
“Ah. Of course.” He nodded curtly.
People were still entering the theater, and half the boxes were empty. In the occupied boxes, more than one pair of eyeglasses was aimed at him.
He showed his teeth.
“Have you not been to the theater before?” Messalina asked softly beside him.
He glanced at her.
She looked at him curiously, but without any sort of scorn.
“No,” he said.
Her eyes raked his form, and she pressed her lips together as if repressing words.
Then she relaxed, her smile mocking. “You don’t enjoy the entertainments?”
“I haven’t the time for entertainments.”
She cocked her head, drawing his eyes to the long, sweet line of her neck. The dress she wore tonight exposed the upper mounds of her breasts. Her skin was so white it seemed to glow in the theater’s candlelight. “No entertainments at all?”
What was she probing for? “No.”
She stared at him. “Music?”
He felt his mouth flatten. “No.”
“Gambling games?”
He arched a brow. “Gambling—or rather other men gambling—is a business for me, nothing more.” He glanced back to the audience. “Or it was. I’m moving into different endeavors now.”
“What—?” She shook her head. “No, I shan’t be diverted. What about books?”
He stiffened, turning to meet her eyes. “I can read, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking if you read books,” she said gently.
He’d never reached that skill with his letters—how could he when he’d never had schooling? But he held her gaze. It was too humiliating to confess his weakness. “No.”
She was silent a moment, and a great roar of laughter rose from the audience.
Gideon glanced at the stage. One of the players was bent, his coattails lifted to expose his buttocks to the audience. The player was swaying from side to side.
Gideon blinked. Was this really what the aristocracy enjoyed?
“Is there anything in your life you do simply for…amusement?” Messalina asked.
He turned to her, honestly confused by her questions. “Why? I work for my bread. You know that.”
“Mm,” she hummed. “I do know that. You’ve made it more than plain. But most people, even the absolute lowest among us, find ways of playing. I’ve seen ragged boys throwing knucklebones on the street. I’ve seen two old beggars singing together. I’ve seen a scullery maid use a month’s pay to buy a book. Really, I’m not sure that working for your bread has anything to do with it.”
He shook his head, glancing back at the stage, where a vigorous sword fight with wooden swords was underway. Impossible to explain to her his drive to gain money and power. How could she understand—she who had never wanted for food or shelter?
He drew a breath. “I cannot let play distract me from my goals.”
She was silent a moment, then said, “That sounds like a very dull life.”
Gideon looked at her. Messalina’s gray eyes were wide and sincere.
“What do you like?” He cleared his throat. “For entertainment?”
“Books.” Her lips quirked, and she leaned a little closer to him, as if she were telling him a secret. He could see the swirling gray of her irises. “And not the instructive type.