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Chapter 13
What a bloody idiot he was, Blake thought as he sat next to his quiet, rigid wife. Blake had an unyielding suspicion that she had seen the note.
Why did he have to open it in front of her? He could’ve made a stealthy exit or just put it in his pocket and opened it later. After all, he was almost sure as to the contents of the note before he even opened it.
Now, Annalise sat with her back as straight as a lance, her eyes fixed upon the stage with an unblinking stare. She didn’t let him touch her anymore; she didn’t throw coy, flirtatious glances his way either. As a result, the second act of the show dragged on at a torturously slow pace.
No, opening that note in the box wasn’t the reason he was an idiot. The main reason for his idiocy was taking his wife to a show performed by his former mistress. Not that he knew she would be performing. He hadn’t checked the calendar. Besides, at that time, his thoughts were consumed by his wife and how to make her happy.
Blake hadn’t given his former mistress a single thought from the moment he got captured, and he still wouldn’t have if it weren’t for this blasted note.
Blake couldn’t fathom the reason why Melissa, a beautiful actress and an expert seductress, would even want to see him again, but he wasn’t about to find out. He might have been an idiot, but he did have a modicum of intelligence left to ignore the summons of his former paramour and stay by his wife’s side.
As soon as the show ended, Blake expelled a deep breath. He offered Annalise his arm and smiled sweetly at her.
“Did you enjoy the show, darling?” he asked with the hope that she wouldn’t cut him in front of their friends.
“Very much.” She threw him a quick flash of a smile, probably for the benefit of their companions, and placed her hand in the crook of his arm.
Blake covered her hand with his and patted it as if in reassurance. Who he was trying to reassure, her or himself, he wasn’t quite sure.
They moved toward the exit, weaving their way through the crowd, which forced their bodies closer together. Annalise was pressed against his side, the scent of her perfume penetrating his senses. The softness of her limbs was a sweet kind of torture. Blake wanted to wrap his arms around her, pick her up, and leave this crowd with all haste. Instead, he was forced to walk slowly behind the old lords and ladies, smiling and making conversation as they did so.
By the time they reached their carriage and exchanged farewells with their companions, Blake felt irritable and anxious. He handed Lady Lavinia and Annalise into the carriage and beheld her surprised face as he entered after her.
“Is something amiss?” he asked as he settled next to her.
“You are coming home? With me?” she asked as if even the thought of it was difficult to fathom.
“Of course, I am coming home. Where else would I go?” he asked with a frown and then closed his eyes briefly. He couldn’t play the aggrieved husband, surprised at her inability to trust him. She had reasons to mistrust him, after all. “You saw the note,” he whispered hoarsely.
Annalise nodded.
“Let us discuss this later,” he said quietly.
Annalise folded her hands demurely on her lap. She raised her head, smiled, and turned to her friend. “Did you enjoy the show, dear?”
“Very much,” her friend answered exuberantly. “Thank you for inviting me tonight. I am glad I didn’t miss the show.”
It was clear to an untrained eye that both women were putting up a facade and trying to pretend that everything was well when their worlds were crumbling.
“Olivia had a beautiful gown on,” Lady Lavinia commented.
“Yes, I believe it’s one of the gowns she ordered during our last outing.”
Lady Lavinia smiled sadly. “I remember.”
“St. John has been a long-time friend to her, hasn’t he?” Annalise asked.
“Mm, yes. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I am just wondering if he is the gentleman she fancies.” Annalise turned to Blake. “Do you know if St. John is Olivia’s suitor?”
“No.” Blake shook his head. “I am certain he is just being polite by escorting her places. Their families have been friends for generations. Although with him, one can’t ever tell.”
Annalise frowned at him. “But he’s your friend. Don’t you ever talk about things like that?”
“About women?”
