‘Not at all. I’m sure there are many other people you need to parade me in front of so you can convince them of your new-found respectability.’
‘You are angry. We should go.’
Before she had a chance to object, to convince him she was not angry, not jealous, not shocked, all the things she actually was, he was leading her down the stairs and out into the cool evening air towards his carriage.
Without waiting for his help, she climbed inside, telling herself to stop acting like a petulant child. She knew what he was like. She knew he was the type of man she should never, ever be attracted to. But, unfortunately, she also knew that no one felt jealousy unless they were being subjected to a powerful attraction, whether they wanted to be or not.
She was tempted to punch the lush velvet upholstery of his carriage in anger and frustration. She had done exactly what she had told herself not to do, what she had thought she was far too sensible to do—she had fallen under the Duke’s spell.
As he took his seat on the bench beside her, she stared straight ahead and made herself breathe slowly and deeply. What was done was done. Shehadfallen completely and hopelessly under the Duke’s spell. It was foolish. It was irrational, but there was no point continuing to pretend otherwise.
What she needed to do now was settle down, think clearly and work out what on earth she was to do about this entirely unwanted emotional insanity.
Chapter Eight
Jacob should be pleased. He had got exactly what he’d hoped for. This trip to the Gaiety Theatre was supposed to be a way of reminding Miss Whitmore of the sort of man he really was. He wasn’t a man who wandered around art galleries. He wasn’t a man who was touched by the beauty and wonder of art. He was a man who attended riotous parties with men like Penvale. He was a man who had a series of lovers, including Helena Winterborne.
She had seen exactly what he was like tonight. The way she was now looking at him held not a hint of the undeserved admiration he’d seen earlier in the day. Her expression had returned to the one he was used to seeing, her jaw lifted, her lips once again turned down in a frown, her body stiff with disdain.
And yet he was not pleased. The discomfort he was feeling was more akin to shame and regret.
He’d liked the way she had looked at him earlier today—more than liked it. It was as if she’d seen him as a man worthy of her respect and admiration, as a better man than the one who regularly appeared in the gutter press. When she’d smiled at him with such warmth and affection it had terrified him, and he’d wanted to make it stop. Now, he wanted to see that smile again.
He should have taken her to a different theatre, one his friends did not frequent, somewhere he was unlikely to cross paths with a former lover. If such a place existed.
Instead, he had ruined everything. Now she hated him. He had to make this right.
As the carriage jostled its way through the still busy streets, he tried to think of something to say that would undo the damage caused by tonight’s encounters with his friends and Helena. But what?I’m sorry for being the man I am? I’m sorry that I am not, have never been and never will be a better man? I’m sorry I am not a man you could ever respect or admire?
The carriage came to a halt outside her family’s townhouse and still they had exchanged not one word. His footman opened the carriage door and Jacob reached over and closed it. They could not part like this. He had to say something.
‘Miss Whitmore, I can tell you are angry with me and I believe we should discuss what happened at the theatre before you leave.’
‘No, not angry. There is nothing to discuss.’ She shuffled across the bench and reached out to the door handle.
He placed his hand on her arm to stop her progress. She froze, slowly looked down at his arm, then just as slowly raised her head and released a slow sigh.
‘Oh, all right. Yes, I was angry about meeting Baroness Winterborne. And yes, I have no right to be. And it’s hardly news to me that the woman is your lover.’
‘Wasmy lover,’ he said quickly, although that made no real difference. ‘And I had no idea she was going to be at the theatre.’
‘Nor should I care what your friends obviously think of me,’ she continued.
‘I wouldn’t worry about them, and thinking is not something they do much of.’
That caused a slight curl at the edges of her lips, for which he was disproportionately grateful. But the smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
‘But you are correct. We do need to talk about what happened tonight.’
‘Good,’ Jacob said, although, apart from apologizing, he was unsure what he could say.
‘It is apparent that tonight achieved the purpose you intended.’
He nodded, then frowned. How could she know his intention had been to show her just what a cad he really was? An intention he had achieved but now regretted.
‘So I can see no need for us to have any future outings together.’
‘What?’ he blurted out in unaccountable panic. ‘No, Miss Whitmore, I can assure you that in future—’
