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“Dull,” he answered, hoping that she understood he’d held up his end of their bargain. “And the country?”
Her gaze flicked to Kingsley for the first time since Ethan had joined them. “Very good.”
But her hands had pressed together, and she shifted uncomfortably. Did she not like Kingsley or had Ethan’s presence made her nervous? He clenched his fists at his sides as Kingsley reached for her elbow, pulling her a touch closer.
Rage simmered just below the surface and he found himself taking a half step to close the gap between them. Upton moved too, clearly ready to back him if necessary.
But Kingsley only gave him a triumphant smile. “We should start for my box. Exceptional seats just to the right of the stage. But you know. I’m assuming you’re sitting in His Grace’s, which is next to mine.”
“That’s right,” Ethan said, his gaze narrowing. Where was the man going with this?
“And where is your box, Lord Somersworth?”
Natalie gave a small gasp and Ethan realized the game. Kingsley was pointing out that Ethan couldn’t afford a box. “You know very well.”
“Oh, I do,” Kingsley said with a cold smile. Ethan didn’t bother to answer and Kingsley gave Natalie a small tug, leading her away.
She still watched him, her large, worried eyes tugging at every instinct he had to rip Kingsley’s hand from her arm and draw her close.
What would happen if he did? He had a duke here as his second. Might be worth the risk…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Natalie stared at Ethan, whose anger was making him rigid. He looked no less handsome with his fists balled and his jaw clenched. In fact…
She passed by him, catching a whiff of his scent of sandalwood and the outdoors. She drew in another deep breath, having missed it.
She was still furious with him and determined to move on, but they had unfinished business. Which was why she twisted her wrist, causing her reticule to fall to the floor. “Oh,” she cried, as though it was an accident, and then she pulled away from Kingsley, turning toward the silk bag.
She was making an opportunity. Ethan was on the bag in an instant, scooping it up and then stepping close. “Miss Blake.”
“Meet me in the hall halfway through the first act,” she whispered before grabbing the bag and turning back to Kingsley.
Her mother always left to powder her nose at the end of the second song. Natalie would pretend to follow and then she’d have the conversation with Ethan that she needed.
They’d not even made it a step when she heard Ethan’s friend rumble, “Why didn’t you tell me we were here for a woman?”
That almost made her smile. Was he here for her? But then her chin snapped straighter. She was not here for him. Her gaze darted to Kingsley, and Natalie knew she was most certainly not here for the marquess, either.
She’d thought he’d make a decent match, and maybe he would. But Natalie had nearly allowed events to sweep her away again, and for timidness to push her toward compromise. Her spine straightened. A fortnight of thinking, and being courted by the wrong man, had bolstered her resolve. She’d not change her plan out of fear. That was not what her bargain with Ethan was about.
It was that thought that carried her through until her mother rose right on cue, and Natalie knew she’d be gone for most of the third act. Leaning over Kingsley, she caught Ethan’s eye in the box just beyond.
He gave an almost imperceptible nod and she started to rise to make her escape. But before she could stand, Kingsley caught her arm. “Natalie,” Kingsley whispered, leaning close. “I’ve been hoping for a chance to speak with you privately.” His fingers tightened and from the corner of her eye, she saw Ethan’s gaze narrow.
“My lord?” she squeaked, sitting back down.
“You’re so lovely,” he said, then edged closer, his knee brushing hers.
She moved back a touch, attempting to create space between them. “That’s very kind.”
He shook his head. “I’m not being kind. I feel we have a connection and I’d like to explore those feelings.”
Connection? Feelings? His scent hit her nostrils and it was all wrong. Stale and perhaps a bit sweet. She leaned back, wanting distance. “My lord, I’m not certain—”
His hand came to her knee, his fingers gripping hard in a way that made her shrink back in fear. “I can see you need time.”
“I…” she started. She didn’t need time. She just didn’t feel that way about him.
