“You’re crying,” she said.
“I am not.”
This time, when she laughed, that breathy, tear-hued laugh, he captured it with his mouth. As soon as his lips touched hers, time disappeared, along with his breath, so he took hers: took her breath, took her love, and offered all of his. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her body to his. She matched his ardor. Her hands slid around his neck, the mask dangling from her fingers thwacking him and sending his lion’s head tumbling to the floor.
“We have to get out of here,” Rafe muttered against her lips.
“Yes.”
“Get home.”
“Yes.”
But that meant releasing her, and he could not bear to do that yet, could not remove his arms. Thea let her forehead fall onto his shoulder, and Rafe rested his cheek on her hair. His chest was still tight with emotion, and his body ached with desire. He reminded himself to breathe, but breathing didn’t seem to matter, not when he had found her and never had to let her go.
Time lost meaning, until the rising voices of the actors on the other side of the curtain reminded them to ease apart.
“Let’s get out of here,” Rafe muttered. He scooped up her fan, assessed the fallen lion’s head and decided it could stay. “The bishop has obtained a special license and set the paperwork to rights. We can marry tonight if you wish. Unless you want a big wedding.”
“All I want is you. Oh, I must tell Arabella. Oh, and Sally and Martha. And… Oh, but this was you! The theatre. Of course it was you!”
“I failed to stop Ventnor from burning your pamphlets, but I could still make your story heard. The Royal Household was eager to accommodate my request to present a play by the Luxborough Players.”
“The Luxborough Players?”
Her pleasure so delighted him, the Royal Household might as well have named him king. “All the best earls and countesses own a theatre company.”
She pressed a hand to his chest, her eyes concerned again. “You do so many things for me, and I do nothing for you.”
“Such things are easy for me. I’m an earl, remember, whether I want it or not. And you have done everything for me. Everything.” He lowered his head to kiss her again, remembered where they were, and stepped away. “Now that I know you, I know I want to be part of this world, with you. So I intend to take my seat in the House of Lords properly. There is much we must do better—improve conditions in asylums, abolish slavery, reform voting, provide education. It means we will live in London half the year, while Parliament is sitting.”
Thea’s eyes widened. “But all those people! All that talking!”
“It will be a trial,” he agreed glumly. “But I’ll be with you.”
“We’ll build you a darling little greenhouse here in London, where you can escape when you need time alone. And we’ll spend the other half of the year at Brinkley End, I hope?”
“You will not grow bored there? You know I do not need the company of many people,” he reminded her. “And if you do…”
“I would not say I need other people, although I do like them.”
“And if there are no people?”
She sighed dramatically. “Then I suppose you will have to do.” She grinned and patted his cheek. “I shall write my stories. Besides, a countess can do all kinds of useful things. I could fight rumors, for example, and give a voice to those who have none. Although I doubt I’ll be a very good countess, and society may not accept me.”
“You will be the very best countess and society will love you. They’ll deal with me if they don’t.”
“What about your plants and medicines?”
“Martha and I will hire others to work with her. I have agreed to let Sally and Martha live in the Dower House. It seems that they, ah, wish to set up a household together.”
“Together, together? Well, there’s a surprise. How marvelous for them.”
“It is rather, isn’t it?” He lowered his head then paused. “Bloody hell, if I kiss you again… Can we stop all this blasted talking and get out of here?”
They snuck up to the curtain like naughty children, and peered at the stage. It was nearing the scene at the ball, where the two dastardly knaves told society lies about Rosamund to bring about her ruin.
“I need to find the bishop,” Rafe whispered, his eyes scanning the audience. “Can you see him?”
“I cannot. Oh. Percy and Francis.”
Rafe ran his hand down her back. “Who are about to get their comeuppance. Do you want to watch that?”
“Um.”
He glanced at her face. “What are you scheming?”
Her thoughtful look melted into a mischievous smile. “There’s one more thing I need to do.”
Chapter 28
There were many things Thea wished to say to Percy Russell and Francis Upton, but she supposed the right thing would be to warn them that they had taken an intoxicant, and might not be quite themselves.
Unless Martha’s theory was right, and the drug made them more themselves.
When they saw her approaching around the edges of the audience, they elbowed each other and again bowed in unison. Francis’s wig fell off and he giggled.
Ah, so the drug had taken effect.
On stage, Rosamund stood in shocked horror as she faced her disgrace. In the audience, ladies and gentlemen were murmuring to each other. Several people spied Thea stopping next to Percy, and put their heads together to start whispering anew.
“That’s us up there,” Percy hissed to Thea. “We did that to you. Why are those actors performing our story?”
It wasn’t their story, Thea thought angrily; it was her story.
“Now everyone will know,” she replied. “Are you sorry?”
Percy laughed, drawing more stares. It was a bit like a donkey’s bray, his laugh. “It was great sport. Why be sorry?”
Francis giggled again. “The expression on your face when we lied about you at the ball!”
“It was one of my cleverest exploits!” Percy crowed.
“One of our cleverest,” Francis corrected. “Why be sorry for that?”
“Not sorry for that!”
Thea recalled her intention to warn them they had taken an intoxicant, but clearly they did not deserve the least bit of decency from her. Their roles in society had enabled them to ruin innocents like her for sport; now, she returned the favor. Besides, this complied with her three Rules of Mischief: It served the cause of truth, they were definitely villains, and yes, she was enjoying it.
“It’s true, you’re very clever,” Thea said. “Now everyone in society knows it. Look at them applauding, dukes and marquesses and earls. But they applaud the actors, not you.”
Percy sneered. “Stupid dukes and marquesses and earls. They should be applauding me. Me! Applaud me, you fools!”
“Applaud us!” Francis cried. “Don’t forget me, Percy.”
Thea leaned close to whisper in Percy’s ear. “This is your chance to ensure society knows how clever you are. Go tell them it was your plan. Tell them now.”