Page 42 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

‘We will continue this conversation later,’ Lucy whispered as she settled back into her chair, smiling over at her husband as he reappeared.

The play was entertaining and had Jane laughing out loud through much of it. This was one thing she loved about her stay in London—getting to experience things she otherwise wouldn’t have in her sleepy Somerset village.

‘That was exactly what I needed,’ Jane said as the actors and actresses came out onto the stage to take a bow to a rousing round of applause. For two blissful hours she hadn’t thought about anything but what she was watching. It had been wonderful not to obsess about the kiss, not to worry about the next time she saw Mr Stewart, not even to feel down about her dwindling chances of getting her children’s stories published.

‘It was entertaining, wasn’t it?’ Lucy said, smiling back.

‘Shall we let a few people leave so we’re not in the press of the crowd?’ Captain Weyman suggested. They remained in their seats for a few minutes as some of the audience slowly drifted away, standing once the auditorium was half-empty.

As they made their way out of the theatre, Jane looped her arm through Lucy’s.

‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning her head in to speak to her friend.

‘You’re welcome. It has been a lovely evening.’

Jane was about to say more when she glanced up and felt her whole body stiffen. Ahead of them, walking directly towards them, was Mr Stewart. He noticed her a second or two later and Jane could see the surprise on his face. No doubt he thought himself safe from bumping into her here, in his world. The theatre wasn’t a hotbed of scandal, but the audience was mainly made up of smartly dressed middle class people, not the small group of the wealthy and titled that made up the ton.

Jane’s eyes flicked to his and she saw a flare of panic before he quickly recovered his composure. On his arm was a beautiful young woman with striking red hair and deep-blue eyes. She was dressed in a flowing emerald-green dress that fitted her body perfectly, showing off every curve without offending the more conservative of theatregoers.

She hated the flare of jealousy she felt as she saw how this woman turned to Mr Stewart with a question in her eyes, placing a hand on his arm as if to claim him. At the same time, Jane caught a glimpse of the shapeless lilac dress she had chosen for the occasion, choosing comfort over style when she had dressed a few hours earlier.

‘Mr Stewart,’ Lucy said, filling the silence that stretched out. ‘How wonderful to see you again.’

‘And you, Mrs Weyman, you look well.’

‘May I introduce my husband, Captain Weyman?’ Lucy waited as the two men stepped forward. ‘William, this is Mr Stewart, a friend of Jane’s.’

‘A pleasure.’

There was a pause as they all looked expectantly at Mr Stewart, waiting for him to introduce his companion.

‘This is Mrs Catherine Burghley,’ he said eventually. The young woman glanced at Mr Stewart, as if surprised at his reluctance to introduce her, and then cast a brilliant smile over the group.

‘How lovely to meet some friends of Mr Stewart’s. Did you enjoy the play?’

‘It was fantastic,’ Lucy said after a moment when it became apparent Jane wasn’t going to answer.

Jane felt as though her tongue had become stuck to the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the intimate way Mrs Burghley stood with her hand resting on Mr Stewart’s arm. Inside was a bubbling mix of jealousy she had no right to feel and shame at allowing herself to succumb to such an ugly emotion. Mr Stewart had never promised her anything. On the contrary, he had been very open about the sort company he preferred. Never had he denied his reputation as a rake. Never had he pretended his life was about much more than seeking out pleasure.

For a moment Jane closed her eyes. This shouldn’t even be an issue. She and Mr Stewart were at most friends—friends who had shared two incredible kisses, but friends all the same.

She tried to give a friendly smile, but as Mrs Burghley recoiled she realised it had been more like a grimace.

‘I’m a little warm,’ she managed to mutter. ‘Lovely to meet you, Mrs Burghley. I think I’ll meet you outside, Lucy.’

Without waiting for a response, she turned and fled, darting through the groups of people still lingering in the foyer of the theatre.

As soon as she had taken her first few steps, she knew she was heading in the wrong direction. The main entrance was back the way she had come, back past Lucy and her husband, back past Mr Stewart and the stunning Mrs Burghley. In her haste to get away from everyone, she had chosen the wrong way, and now she was striding through the narrowing corridor towards areas where the public wasn’t allowed.

‘Miss Ashworth.’ Mr Stewart’s familiar voice came from behind her, close enough for her to know he had followed her. ‘Miss Ashworth, stop.’

Determined not to obey, she pushed through the doors to the backstage area, surprised by the darkness. There were a few steps leading down to a narrow corridor which looked as though it ran the depth of the stage before turning abruptly at the end. There were voices in the distance, but no one visible. Jane hesitated, and at that moment Mr Stewart pushed through the doors behind her and caught hold of her wrist.

‘Jane,’ he said, his voice dropping now he had her to himself. It was the first time he had called her anything other than ‘Miss Ashworth’, and Jane felt a shiver of longing course through her body. She frowned to hide it, wishing her subconscious would behave itself.

‘You followed me.’

‘You looked upset.’