was no longer paying attention to her. He was gazing at the theater, every once in a while scanning the boxes as if searching for someone. Was he working for her uncle now? Intent on finding a certain person and then…
She didn’t want to imagine what he would do—what he could do.
Most of society—the ones who had not retired to the country for the summer months—were at the theater tonight. Besides Lady Gilbert she could see Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn, Viscount Norbourne, the elderly Henley sisters, and the Holland family accompanied by the Earl of Rookewoode, just sitting down.
Impulsively she asked, “Whom are you searching for?”
“I have information,” he said absently, “that several aristocrats I’m interested in will be here tonight.”
The curtain to the box parted again and a handsome young man stepped inside. “Hawthorne! I never thought to find you at the theater.”
“My attendance is a wonder to all,” Gideon replied with a bite to his voice. “Messalina, may I introduce my business partner, Mr. William Blackwell. Blackwell, my wife, Messalina Hawthorne.”
Business partner? She’d had no idea Hawthorne had a business partner. Messalina extended her hand, being sure to keep the surprise out of her face. “How do you do?”
“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Mr. Blackwell said, bowing elegantly over her hand.
He wore a simple but well-cut nut-brown suit several shades lighter than his hair, which was clubbed back neatly. His eyes seemed iridescent, changing from blue to gray to green.
He slid a sly glance at Gideon. “You could’ve struck me down with a feather when I heard the news that Hawthorne had wed. He seemed a confirmed bachelor.”
“You’re hardly one to talk,” Gideon returned. “I can’t count the number of feminine hearts you’ve led astray.”
“You’ve painted me a cad,” Mr. Blackwell said with mock hurt. “I don’t know how I’ll gain your wife’s favor now.”
“Your skills at flirting are quite adequate on their own,” Gideon said drily as he stood. “You can practice them while I attend to some matters.”
With that Gideon bowed and exited the box.
Messalina couldn’t help staring after him with a sense of hurt. He’d not asked her opinion before abandoning her with a virtual stranger.
But what else did she expect? Gideon had made it more than plain that theirs was a union of practicality, not affection. Just because they’d been able to converse amicably this afternoon didn’t mean that Gideon had thrown away everything he’d said before.
And that was good. Uncle Augustus had threatened Lucretia. Now more than ever it was imperative that they leave just as soon as she had enough money. Nothing could stand in the way of that vow.
“I hope my presence doesn’t distress you, ma’am,” Mr. Blackwell said, drawing her wandering attention back to him. “But I couldn’t help seeing for myself when I heard that Hawthorne was in attendance tonight. I can leave if it pleases you.”
“Not at all,” Messalina replied warmly. “Will you have a seat?”
He grinned, revealing charming dimples at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you.”
Messalina nodded, thinking of how to phrase all the questions she had for him. “Forgive me my abstraction. I was just wondering how it was that you met my husband?”
“Ah, well, I’m afraid the tale doesn’t show me in a flattering light,” Mr. Blackwell said, sounding sheepish. “I was in a notorious gambling den some ten years ago when Hawthorne caused a commotion. He was collecting a debt owed to His Grace by a rather disreputable lord. Hawthorne couldn’t have been over twenty years at the time, yet he strode into that house as if he were the devil himself, malevolent and sneering. He caught the attention of everyone there.”
Messalina couldn’t repress a shiver. It wasn’t hard to imagine Gideon in that role. “What did he do?”
“He demanded payment from the younger son of a duke.” Mr. Blackwell shook his head. “Such establishments don’t like those sorts of disruptions, and they have bully boys to guard their houses. Hawthorne fought three of these bullies without turning a hair. By the time he got the money from his blubbering mark, everyone else had fled the table.”
Across the way Messalina could see the Hollands and Lord Rookewoode in their box. It appeared to be quite crowded, but someone was trying to push their way to the earl. Surely it couldn’t be…?
She realized suddenly that Mr. Blackwell had stopped in his story, apparently waiting for some comment from her. She cleared her throat, trying to remember what he’d been saying. “And