The three beaux she had chosen stumbled over themselves to clear a path through the chairs scattered around the box. As Sophie passed Alex she raised her head, nodding a greeting.

“My lord,” she said demurely. He could swear that the small smile trembling on her lips was a conspiratorial one. An answering gleam lit his eyes.

Sophie continued out of the box, a little startled despite herself at Alex’s sensual appeal. Charlotte was lucky, she thought almost wistfully. Then she emerged from the corridor, causing something of a riot, and all thought of Charlotte flew from her mind.

With one eye Alex noted that Will was talking quietly to the young woman sitting beside him, rather than hanging over Charlotte’s bosom. He cast a minatory glance at the young bravo who had his hand on the back of the chair Sophie had just vacated, about to sit down, and the man snatched his hand back as if the chair burned, sinking his red ears into a high starched collar. Alex smiled at him kindly and sat down himself. For a moment Charlotte didn’t turn her head. She knew, of course, that he was there. She knew the minute he entered the box.

Alex stretched out his long legs, ignoring the loud reaction of those theater patrons who had not left their seats, hoping to see precisely something like this. Lady Charlotte Daicheston and the Earl of Sheffield and Downes, seated side by side! Sarah Prestlefield, who had just entered the Brandenburg box to greet her dear friend Eloise, felt a glow of satisfaction. This was such an interesting tangle. The only shame, thought her scandal-loving soul, was that Charlotte’s parents weren’t at the theater. She would love to see the so-calm Adelaide put out by her daughter’s obvious penchant for the Ineligible Earl, as everyone was calling him.

Finally Charlotte could not pretend to be listening intently to the flimflam of the young man on her right any longer. She turned to Alex, an involuntary smile lighting her eyes.

“My lord.”

“Lady Charlotte.”

There was a small pause. Alex wanted, very badly, to lean over and kiss Charlotte’s neck. Then he would pull her to her feet, walk to his carriage, and rip that bit of muslin she called a dress right off her. His eyes darkened and he felt himself growing hard. Damnation.

“What do you think of the play?” he asked, nodding toward the now empty stage.

Charlotte considered his question. “I liked the first two acts very much, but the third act was flimsy…. Would a mad king really wander about the moors with only his fool? And why did that monkey suddenly appear?”

“Yes, the monkey.” Alex scowled. “Didn’t you read Shakespeare at school?” he asked.

“Of course. But there were many plays they wouldn’t allow us to read, and then there were always blacked-out parts in the plays we were allowed to read.”