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She peeked at him from under her eyelashes.
He shrugged, his face gentle. “I’ve already told you: I was angry at him, yes, but never at you. It wasn’t such a hardship to marry you, after all.”
Faint praise was better than none, she supposed. Or at least she told herself that as she pressed a fingernail into the bark of the tree. “I still don’t understand. Why did he never tell me what straits we were in?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I expect he was protecting you.”
Megs had rather dark thoughts about gentlemen who believed it best to protect ladies by leaving them in ignorance. At least Godric had told her the truth about her brother and his still.
She sighed and pushed away from the tree. “I suppose I ought to go now and inquire of Daniels if my new gowns will be ready in time for the theater.”
But as she made to walk past him, he forestalled her by the simple expedient of grasping her hand.
His fingers were cool as they wrapped around hers, and she froze, looking at him before he dropped her hand again as if her warmth had burned him.
He licked his lips, and if she didn’t know better, she’d say that Godric was nervous. “I actually came out here to tell you something.”
She tilted her head in inquiry. “Yes?”
“I’ve decided”—he focused those clear gray eyes on her face—“I’d like to consummate our marriage tonight.”
SHE’D GOTTEN WHAT she’d wanted: Godric’s agreement to come to her bed. Why, then, was she so nervous at the prospect?
A wave of laughter rose from the theater audience, and Megs focused on the stage where a pretty actress dressed as a young man was strutting about. The actress turned and threw a mischievous glance over her shoulder as she made some quip, and the audience roared again. Next to Megs, Hero was giggling and even Griffin wore a grin, but Godric wasn’t even smiling.
Perhaps he was as nervous as she about tonight.
The four of them sat in an elegant box over the stage at Harte’s Folly. Swaths of red velvet lined the interior of the box and gilt trimmed the rail. A small table of wine, tiny cakes, fruit, nuts, and cheeses sat to the side, and Megs couldn’t help reflecting how expensive the theater box must be to rent. If Griffin had been in financial straits three years ago, he didn’t appear to be so now.
But then he hadn’t seemed to lack for funds before marrying Hero either.
Megs blew out a restless breath, wishing she could have fifteen minutes alone with her brother. Wishing she could forget that when she and Godric returned home tonight, he intended to bed her.
She glanced down and then sideways at him. He wore a coffee-colored suit tonight, the cuffs and pockets worked in dull gold thread. Underneath, a silvery blue waistcoat hugged his torso, emphasizing the flatness of his belly. She’d seen him—briefly—without a shirt and had been stunned by the image. What would he look like entirely nude?
He seemed to sense her regard. His chin moved infinitesimally and his eyes flicked to her face. She caught her breath. His eyelids were half lowered, nearly but not quite hiding the gleam of those intense clear gray eyes. He looked at her as if he were deciding how, exactly, to eat her. Without thought, her lips parted and his gaze dropped, his eyes brooding as his nostrils flared slightly. Then he raised them slowly again, staring into her eyes, and Megs forgot entirely how to breathe.
The audience broke into applause and Megs jerked at the sudden, thundering sound.
Griffin grunted. “Shall I fetch some ices before the second half begins?”
Hero smiled up at her husband. “Yes, please.”
Griffin nodded before glancing at Godric, his expression wary. “Join me?”
Godric raised his brows but rose willingly.
Beside her, Hero stirred and held out her hand. “I see my brother across the way. Will you accompany me to greet him?”
“Yes, of course.” Megs rose, staring worriedly at the retreating backs of her husband and brother.
“Don’t fret.” Hero drew her hand through her arm as they began strolling companionably toward the opposite side of the theater. The corridor behind the boxes was crowded as everyone took the opportunity during the interval to find acquaintances or to simply parade to show to best advantage their costumes. “Griffin and Godric will come to terms.”
“I wish I were as certain as you.”
Hero squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Griffin loves both you and me, and Godric is very fond of you, I know. They both have incentive to make up this little quarrel.”
Megs slanted a glance at her sister-in-law, strolling serenely in a mist-green frock trimmed in blond lace. “Godric is fond of me? However can you tell?”
