Despite the talent of the actors and the masterful production that had ensued, Jilly could not say that anything had captured her attention so much as the man seated beside her. She felt the threat of his presence like a knife at her back, despite the fact that he had maintained an entirely appropriate distance, that he did no more than sit silently beside her, by all appearances watching the performance and enjoying his glass of champagne.
Neither Nora nor Robert had seemed to notice anything amiss at all. They were both engrossed in the play, though Nora seemed to be glancing around the theatre every so often with her opera glasses, pausing to wave at acquaintances she glimpsed among the crowd.
By the time the intermission between the first and second act arrived, Jilly was quite certain that James had something planned. She didn’t know how she knew, but she felt that she had learned him well enough in their brief acquaintance that he certainly hadn’t wished only for her company at the theatre. He wanted something more, and, as the curtain dropped, signifying the end of the first act, she had the feeling that she was about to find out what it was.
It wasn’t anticipation that fluttered in her chest, surely.
Nora climbed to her feet with a giddy giggle, having consumed more than her fair share of the chilled champagne. She snagged Robert’s hand in hers, pulling him toward the door. “Come,” she said. “It’s the interlude; time to go visiting!”
Robert, conscious of Jilly and James, hung back, resisting his wife’s tugging on his arm.
“Yes,” Jilly said, in what she hoped was a cheerful voice, as she rose to join them. “That sounds lovely, I—”
James waylaid her with a hand on her shoulder, stopping her when she would have caught up with them. “You go ahead,” he said, his voice low and velvet soft. It did not invite argument, and whatever protest Jilly might have made died in the face of the intent scrawled across his features.
Robert hesitated. “We’re chaperoning,” he said. “We can’t leave you alone—”
Nora fluttered her free hand dismissively. “It’s a theatre, Robert,” she said. “What mischief could happen? Really.”
By Robert’s expression, Jilly assumed rather a lot—certainly more than Nora had considered.
James’ hand tightened on her shoulder, but when he spoke, she knew that his words weren’t for her. “Lady’s Promise,” he said.
Robert whipped round at once, allowing Nora to pull him through the curtains toward the door. “See you, Jilly,” he called. And then as if to himself, he muttered, “It’s only fifteen minutes. What could happen in fifteen minutes?”
Jilly heard the door open and close, and the furor of the patrons milling around on the theatre floor only feet below them faded to white noise. James’ hand on her shoulder burned even through the sleeve of her gown. And it continued to burn as he slid it down her arm, down to her wrist, where he wrapped his fingers.
“Come,” he said.