The Wayward Debutante. Sarah Barnwell Elliott
for goodness sake. It wasn’t the same.
Eleanor closed her eyes and tried to remember the stranger’s face. Since she’d dreamed about him just the other night it wasn’t that difficult. She sank back into her seat and looked up at the plasterwork ceiling. She couldn’t help grinning. Dear God, why have you made me so depraved? His boldness had shocked and thrilled her, and all he’d done was smile at her with a little more masculine approval than she was used to. Few men had ever flirted with her; she wasn’t used to that sort of attention.
The sound of a large form easing into the seat in front of her drew her attention back to earth. That form was a very tall and spherical man.
Oh…!
She frowned at his broad back and leaned her body to one side and then to the other, trying to see around him. How dare he not only come in late but obscure her view, as well? She stared at the back of his bald head, willing him to change his seat. She certainly wasn’t going to move. In the first place—just as a matter of principle—she’d sat down before him. In the second place, however, looking for another seat would require standing up, searching about and drawing attention to herself in the process. Just when she’d been avoiding notice so well.
With an annoyed sigh, Eleanor realized she had no choice but to crane her neck.
From the comfort of his private box, James looked out over the audience. He wasn’t really paying attention since he’d already seen the play, and had actually only come along because Jonathon had invited him for a closing night drink. With each successful play, he came closer to repaying the loan, and he liked to celebrate.
His gaze faltered as it drifted across a blond head. A woman, seated on the right side of the theater. Unlike most of the audience, her face was turned toward the stage, and she appeared to be following the play with interest. She was also completely alone. He narrowed his eyes, instantly certain he’d seen her somewhere before, although he couldn’t remember where. Other than the fact that she was alone there wasn’t anything remarkable about her. Her body, what he could see of it, anyway, was slim and covered in a dreary, gray dress. Her hair was pulled into a severe knot.
He watched with amusement as she shifted her weight, apparently trying to see around the large man seated directly in front of her. If he’d been any closer, he was certain that he would have heard her huff in annoyance.
Where had he seen her before?
With a frown, he reached for Jonathon’s opera glasses. As he watched, she leaned forward once again, trying to crane her head around the impenetrable form blocking her view. He chuckled as she sat heavily back into her seat in frustration.
As if she heard him, an impossibility from that distance, she turned her head to the side quickly, almost suspiciously. He stopped laughing, his eyes on the face that was now presented to him in profile. Suddenly, he remembered.
“See anything unusual through those?” Jonathon asked, regarding him with mild interest.
“Perhaps.”
Jonathon glanced down at the audience toward the nondescript blond woman. She still fidgeted miserably. “Really?” he asked dubiously.
“Have you seen that woman before?”
Jonathon frowned. “Don’t think so…honestly can’t remember. Have you?”
He shrugged. “When I was here last…about two weeks ago. She was unaccompanied then, too.”
Jonathon sighed. “What a nuisance. Do you want to remove her, or shall I?”
James didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to throw her out, not until he’d satisfied his curiosity, anyway. He didn’t know why she so intrigued him, but he’d thought about her several times since he’d first seen her. She was quite pretty, but she definitely didn’t seem out of the ordinary. Yet he remembered a slightly different picture from before: bottomless azure eyes; flushed cheeks; full, parted lips…he hadn’t expected to see her again, and he wasn’t going to let her run away so soon this time.
With a departing nod to the still-doubtful Jonathon, he left the box, heading down the dimly lit flight of stairs to the seats below. It took only a moment to locate her, and he had to hold back another grin as he walked slowly down the aisle. If she’d been paying attention before, that was no longer the case. Her attention now seemed to be entirely focused on boring holes with her eyes into the man’s thick neck. She was so absorbed that she didn’t even notice as he took a seat directly behind her. She just exhaled loudly in frustration and craned her head once more.
James watched her for several minutes, enjoying her irritation. The act soon ended, and the man rose and walked off, presumably to stretch his legs before the second half of the play began. With a relieved sigh, she leaned back into her seat.
And he leaned forward, his lips only inches from the back of her head. In a whisper, he asked, “Why don’t you change your seat if you can’t see?”
She didn’t turn around. He wasn’t sure if he’d expected her to. For an instant she looked as though she was about to jump out of her seat, but then she merely stiffened her shoulders. She was pretending not to have heard him.
He narrowed his eyes. The volume in the theater had increased as the scenery was changed, but it wasn’t that loud. She’d heard him, and it wasn’t as if she had anyone else to speak to, either. She was just sitting there, intentionally ignoring him. James wasn’t used to that sort of treatment. He slid from his seat, stepped over the row of seats in front of him, and sat down right next to her.
Eleanor kept her neck as rigid as a flagpole. She’d no idea who this beastly man was, and she certainly wouldn’t dignify his presence by looking at him. Making eye contact would only invite further liberties; better just to ignore him and hope that he’d go away. She’d rehearsed this tactic many times in her head just in case such a scenario should pass.
“Are you enjoying the play?”
She made no answer and still didn’t turn her head. Instead, she imagined what he’d look like. Pudgy. Ugly. His nose would be bulbous and lined with red veins from too much drink.
He sighed elaborately next to her, leaned back in his seat and stretched out his legs. In turn, she edged sideways in her own seat and tried to make herself as small as possible so she wouldn’t accidentally touch any part of him. Odious man.
“Well, you must like it, as I’ve seen you here before,” he said. His voice was deep and rich and didn’t fit the unattractive physique her mind had conjured up. “Unless, of course, you just make a habit of wandering around the less savory parts of London by yourself at night.”
She hoped he didn’t notice her eyes grow slightly wider as the meaning of his words sank in. Had he really seen her there before? Her muteness was positively killing her, but she refused to speak, hoping that if she ignored him long enough he’d get bored and leave.
But he didn’t get bored. He got impatient, and he reached out and grabbed her hand, tugging gently.
She gasped and pulled it away with a jerk. She was so outraged that she completely forgot about ignoring him and turned her entire body around to rebuke him. But the nasty words that were ready at her lips died before they were ever formed.
Oh, no.
“Hello again,” he said, his voice laced with humor.
She didn’t reply. She was still too stunned. He wasn’t supposed to be there, but there he was. Right next to her, regarding her with curiosity and waiting for her to say something. And she could think of nothing to say. Her head felt as if it had been emptied of all intelligent content and all she could do, again, was stare. She’d thought he was handsome the first time she’d seen him, but now, up close…she really shouldn’t be looking at his lips. She lifted her gaze from his mouth but instead became trapped in his eyes. Mesmerizing eyes, not dark at all as she’d previously thought, but leafy green with veins of gold and