“I’m going to stand in the back. Hopefully, I’ll see you later.” His eyes twinkled mischievously, as they so often did, before he turned and strolled to the wall behind the last row of chairs.
As Sabrina made her way to Cass and Miss Lancaster near the front, she noted Constantine was still speaking with the same gentleman. His gaze met hers, and his brow briefly furrowed. He gave her a slight nod, which she thought was meant to reassure her that he would join her for the musicale.
She reached Cass, who apologized for not finding her earlier. “I’m afraid we got swept up in some drama with Miss Carrington.”
“Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good.”
“She spilled ratafia on her gown,” Cass explained. “You would have thought it was the end of days.”
Miss Lancaster pursed her lips, and Sabrina couldn’t quite tell if it was from exasperation or that she was trying not to laugh. They took their seats in the third row, with Cass between Miss Lancaster and Sabrina.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t attending you,” Sabrina said. “I’m afraid Constantine distracted me.” And still was, if she were honest. She looked in his direction and happened to catch his eye once more. He mouthed “sorry” and gave her a regretful stare. Then he and the gentlemen hastened from the room as the music began.
Disappointment curled in Sabrina’s chest, but she shrugged it away. Her husband was an important and busy man. Still, he’d taken the time to come to the musicale where he’d rescued her before giving her a kiss she would never forget.
Chapter 16
When Sabrina emerged from the staircase hall in her evening finery—a stylish, sparkling headpiece that wound about her elegantly styled hair and a gown made of deep garnet silk—Constantine almost suggested they send word to the Brightlys that they were ill. However, he didn’t think it was yet time to progress their burgeoning relationship to a more intimate level. They were getting closer, if last night’s kiss was any indication.
Constantine stepped forward and took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of her ivory glove. “You look radiant.”
“Thank you. I apologize if I kept you waiting. I’m afraid we lost track of time with the preparations for the ball.” She pulled the vibrant Kashmir shawl draped over her arm around her shoulders. Woven in vivid colors of red, blue, gold, and purple, the woolen garment perfectly complemented her gown.
“It was well worth the delay,” he noted with a smile, his gaze sweeping over her once more. “We should be on our way, however.”
He guided her outside, and she pulled her shawl up around her shoulders to shield against the cool evening breeze. A few moments later, they were settled side by side in the coach, their thighs barely touching. It was both a provocation and a torture.
“I wanted to apologize for having to leave so abruptly last night,” Constantine said. “It was imperative I meet with someone regarding the apothecaries bill.”
She tipped her head toward him, and in the light of the lantern, her blue eyes shone like the surface of a lake on a bright summer day. “There’s no need to apologize. I know how busy you are.”
“You are very kind,” he murmured.
“Was it a productive meeting?”
“I hope so, but it’s hard to tell. This has been long in the making. For over twenty years, in fact.” If something had been done much sooner, his mother might be alive today. “I’m trying to gain support for the bill and working to make sure there is a draft that is acceptable to all parties and can be passed. It’s very difficult to get everyone to agree, but I believe, after all these years, we are finally getting close.”
“What do you hope the bill will specifically accomplish?”
“Practitioners will need to complete certain education, be of a minimum age, and have received examination. There must be regulation in place to ensure the safety of our society. There are too many surgeons or apothecaries and the rest who should not be practicing.” He realized his voice had climbed and his hands had moved animatedly as he’d spoken.
She gently placed her fingertips on his forearm. “This is an issue about which you care very much. Is there a particular reason?”
Constantine’s throat constricted. He never discussed this with anyone. A week ago, he would have avoided answering the question. “My mother died at the hands of an inept surgeon. He should not have been practicing.” He spoke softly, but the words cut like a rapid hail of arrows.
Her touch became a clasp, her hand closing around him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“We don’t discuss it. My father refuses. I’ve tried to speak with him about this bill, but he always finds another topic of conversation. I sometimes wonder if he feels guilt—he sent for the surgeon and trusted him.”
“What happened?” Her gaze was so gentle, so encouraging. “You needn’t tell me if you don’t want to. I don’t wish to press.”
For the first time, he wanted to tell someone. The pain of losing his mother, of not being at her side, was a burden he’d never shared. “She had some sort of pain in her belly. It went on for several weeks and the surgeon insisted that bleeding, in addition to a regimen of unknown medicinals, would help. My mother didn’t survive. I have always believed that if I had been home instead of at Oxford, I would have been able to prevent what happened.”
Sabrina turned completely toward him and brought her hand up to his cheek. “You can’t know that.”
“That’s the devil of it. I’ll never know if I might have been able to save her.”
“You mustn’t blame yourself. She wouldn’t want that.”
He smiled sadly—because Sabrina was right and because he missed his mother so very much. “You are very wise for such a young, sheltered lady,” he whispered.
“I don’t know about that, but I see and hear the love you had for your mother, and I know she felt the same for you.”
He stared at her, bemused by her understanding when her own mother hadn’t demonstrated such emotion. “You are wise, against the odds, I will add, given what I know of your family.” He put his hand over hers against his cheek.
She leaned forward and touched her lips to his. The connection was a balm to his soul, easing an ache he’d thought could never be alleviated.
The coach stopped, and they abruptly parted. She withdrew her hand, and he let her go, though he wanted nothing more than to keep holding her in any way that he could. What was happening to him?
The door opened, and they exited the coach. They walked close together to the door, her arm entwined with his. A few moments later, they strolled into the Brightlys’ parlor.
Mrs. Brightly, a cheerful woman approaching thirty with a heart-shaped face and round, brown eyes, dropped into a formal curtsey. “Good evening, my lord, my lady.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Brightly,” Sabrina responded with a smile. “We so appreciate your invitation to join you this evening.”
“It is our honor.” Mrs. Brightly stepped forward toward Sabrina. “Come, let us sit for a bit before dinner is served. Would you care for sherry or marsala, or something else?”