His Obsession (27 page)

“He seems to be enjoying himself,” Aunt Lydia
noted.

“Indeed. If that woman sitting next to him
leans over any further, she’ll be sitting in his lap,” Elizabeth
complained.

“Elizabeth!” Lydia gasped.

“Look for yourself, aunt,” Elizabeth
suggested.

Aunt Lydia lifted her opera glasses for a
better look and nodded in agreement.

“Well, she does seem a little overzealous,”
Lydia admitted.

Will Grimsby was here in London. He was
Richard’s best friend and they were very close. If Will were here,
was it possible that Richard might be, too?

Once more, Kate turned her attention to the
man sitting in the shadows of the box opposite their own. Could
that be Richard? Had fate brought them together somehow, on this
very night?

As Lydia and Elizabeth chatted happily, Kate
continued to watch the stranger closely. The gentleman never leaned
forward nor turned toward the vivacious creature seated beside him.
Although the female seemed to be carrying on a lively conversation
with him, the man apparently remained unaffected by her charms.
Outside of a few gestures here and there, the man might as well
have been carved from stone.

At last, the house lights dimmed and the
opera began. From the first, Kate was enthralled by all that she
saw and heard on stage. She couldn’t help leaning on the box
railing as she eagerly anticipated the soprano’s next soaring aria.
The leading lady was a buxom woman and her leading man was of a
similar age, but they sang wonderfully together. By the time
intermission arrived, Kate had momentarily forgotten her
troubles.

Lydia declined to accompany them for
refreshments and remained behind in the box while Elizabeth and
Kate strolled into the corridor for some champagne and dessert. To
Kate, it seemed as though every gentleman who passed by looked at
her bosom a little too appreciatively. Elizabeth assured Kate
that’s what the gentlemen were supposed to do and she chuckled at
Kate’s discomfiture. Being ogled so openly by these gentlemen
embarrassed Kate all the same.

Elizabeth introduced Kate to some of her
friends, but the conversation typically ventured in a direction
that did not include her. Kate was just debating the wisdom of
attempting to locate Aunt Lydia’s box on her own when a gentleman
spoke from behind her.

“Countess?” he asked.

Kate turned, one delicate hand lifting over
her throat in surprise.

“Lord Grimsby!” Kate gasped.

Immediately, Grimsby reached for Kate’s
gloved hand and lifted her fingers to his lips.

“My lady,” he murmured. “How delightful that
we should meet here. This is a surprise.”

“Yes,” Kate answered, withdrawing her hand.
“I thought that I saw you before the performance, but with the
distance I couldn’t be certain.”

Grimsby grinned. He really was a very
striking gentleman. Elizabeth smiled at the new arrival, too,
obviously expecting an introduction, but Kate turned away.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Kate pleaded, turning
back toward the boxes.

She’d hardly walked a few steps when Grimsby
caught up to her again.

“I expected you’d still be at the estate,
perhaps redecorating the entire second floor?” he jested.

Kate chuckled nervously. “There’s really no
need. If the castle is already in the earl’s taste, I have no
immediate plans to change it.”

Grimsby nodded. “Then you are a rare and very
wise woman.”

“So, here’s where you got off to,” Elizabeth
interrupted, slipping one arm through Kate’s. “They’re about to
start again. I wouldn’t want you to miss the second act. Who is
this?”

“Oh – er – Elizabeth, may I present Lord
William Grimsby, a good friend of my husband’s? My lord, Lady
Elizabeth Brighton,” Kate offered.

Will took Elizabeth’s gloved hand in his and
placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“My lord,” Elizabeth politely
acknowledged.

“Lady Brighton. Perhaps you recall that we’ve
met once before?” Grimsby asked.

“Really? I can’t imagine where,” Elizabeth
smoothly replied.

“It was at the Linsley’s ball, two seasons
ago,” Will explained.

A brief flicker of recognition flared in
Elizabeth’s eyes. Apparently, it had not been a happy meeting.

“Indeed,” Elizabeth noted, forcibly removing
her fingers from Will’s grasp. “If it was that momentous an
occasion, I’m sure I’d remember it. Come, Kate. We must be getting
back.”

“Very well,” Kate acknowledged. “It was nice
to see you again, my lord.”

“The pleasure was all mine. Countess,” Will
replied, bowing low. “Lady Brighton.”

Elizabeth gave Will a glare that could have
melted steel. With an abrupt swish of her skirts, Elizabeth strode
rapidly in the opposite direction, pulling the diminutive countess
along with her. Will shook his head and he chuckled as he watched
the two women hurry away from him.

“Richard, old friend,” Will said to himself.
“Have I got a surprise for you.”

When he returned to his box, Will relayed his
news to the Earl of Devonshire with great glee. His large friend
seemed stunned that Kate was in the audience. A thousand questions
assailed Richard as the lights lowered and the second act
began.

Kate was in London! All other thoughts fled
in the face of that reality.

Richard stared at the actors on the stage
without really seeing them. The green peacock feather protruding
from the headdress of the lady seated beside him tickled his nose,
and he batted it away in irritation.

Slowly, Richard raised the opera glasses to
his nose and peered across the opera house. An elderly couple sat
in the first box nearest the stage. Although the woman watched the
stage avidly, her companion was slumped in his chair, obviously
asleep.

Two young women sat in the second box back,
chaperoned by a woman old enough to be the mother of one or both of
them. The first young lady had hair as dark as his own and the
amount of creamy flesh revealed by the footlights was in vivid
contrast to her low cut dress and dark coloring.

The second female was similarly attired.
Although her raised opera glasses concealed a good deal of her
features, Richard could see that her dress was cut astonishingly
low. Even from this distance, Richard noted the tempting swell of
her breasts revealed above the neckline of her gown.

Richard dismissed the two young women at
once. Kate wouldn’t have been caught dead in such a gown. His
demure little wife was much too straight laced for that.

One by one, Richard inspected the occupants
of the boxes during the second act, but he failed to locate his
wife. Rising, Richard finally walked to stand near the railing and
scanned the patrons below on the main floor. None of the women bore
Kate’s signature curly hair and none was dressed in anything but a
revealing evening gown.

On stage, there was a momentary pause as the
leading man glimpsed his lady love across the town square. In that
silent moment, Richard heard a familiar gasp.

His dark eyes flew upward, seeking the source
of the sound. The gentleman in the first box continued to slumber
on. Had the man said something in his sleep, Richard wondered?

But no. The second box was a hub of activity.
The older woman in the box hastily ushered one of the ladies toward
the rear of the box, while her dark-haired companion quickly
followed in their wake.

Richard’s curiosity was peaked. What had
happened to frighten them away? The action on stage had been at a
lull. One of the patrons must have said or done something to offend
them, but there was no one else in the box with them.

Suddenly, his eyes widened. Realization
dawned and Richard turned over his chair in his haste to quit his
box. He entered the hallway at a run, passing bewildered servants
who were busily clearing away the plates and glasses that had been
used during intermission. He quickly reached the other side of the
opera house, but saw no one of interest.

Swiftly, he flew to the windows. Below him,
Richard saw a plain black coach pull away from the entrance, but he
was too late to catch a glimpse of the two young women and their
older companion seated inside.

Still breathing hard, Richard retraced his
steps a little, at last entering Lydia Rathmoreson’s box. Gently,
he allowed his fingers to slide over the back of one of the
chairs.

Kate had been sitting in this chair. He could
still smell her perfume in the air, the sweet, delicate scent of
lilacs that he would always associate with his wife.

Richard sat down. He would remain here for
the rest of the performance. For the moment, he preferred his own
company to Will’s and the overeager attentions of Will’s female
friends.

Could Richard have been mistaken? Had his
mind been playing tricks on him, Richard wondered? It was difficult
for him to believe that the voluptuous female he’d caught a glimpse
of had been his wife.

To Richard’s knowledge, Kate knew no one
outside of Suffolk. Apparently, he’d been mistaken. There seemed to
be a genuine friendship between the two young women and their
companion had been apparently friendly and protective.

Tomorrow, Richard would begin his search.
Shifting his feet as he prepared to stand, Richard felt something
catch on the toe of his left shoe. Leaning over, he plucked a
lady’s long white glove from the floor. The glove was still warm
and the fabric smelled of lilacs.

Turning the glove over, Richard rolled down
the cuff and saw the maker’s mark highlighted in the footlights.
The Frenchman’s name was unmistakable. He’d ordered a pair of
gloves such as these for Kate before they wed. The family crest on
the label was his own.

Richard smiled. He had his proof at last.

For the next several days after their night
at the opera, Kate basically hid inside Lydia’s lavish estate. She
read for hours on end and even began to crochet an afghan to help
wile away the hours. Kate couldn’t help wondering that if Richard
had truly seen her at the opera, surely he would have tracked her
down by now.

What had happened, Kate wondered? Had Grimsby
refused to tell his friend that they had met in the hallway? What
reason could there be for that?

A small part of Kate’s brain nagged her that
it was possible the earl no longer cared to see her. Perhaps,
Richard preferred the company of women of dubious reputation
instead. No. Somehow, Kate found that hard to believe.

Once Kate had glimpsed Richard standing at
the side of the box that night, she’d felt the urgent need to flee.
She felt him near her even now, pursuing her relentlessly as he
narrowed the distance to his quarry. It was almost as though
Richard had tracked them through London, remaining only a short
distance behind. Elizabeth told Kate she was imagining things and
attempted to divert her attention by discussing some of the
upcoming engagements.

Kate flatly refused to accompany Lady
Rathmoreson and her niece to a musicale, tea and a subsequent card
party. Elizabeth contacted a few of her friends and somehow
obtained an invitation for Kate to attend the Fieldings’ ball, a
hallmark of the now dwindling social season. Unbelievably, Kate
refused to attend. Exasperated with her, Elizabeth argued with her
new friend loud and long, but Kate remained firm. The brunette
eventually departed with a swish of her long skirts, slamming the
door behind her.

Observing their angry confrontation, Lydia
sadly shook her head. The two girls were as alike as fire and
water. Elizabeth was a spirited young woman, brazen and independent
enough to tackle anything. Kate was calm and tranquil, with a
tendency toward shyness. Lydia sensed, however, that when Kate came
into her own, she and Elizabeth would be quite a pair.

Kate dreaded a confrontation with the
powerful Earl of Devonshire. Lydia sensed that it was coming, too.
Richard Warwick’s name had been linked with countless ladies in the
ton. If rumors held true, the Earl of Devonshire had been in and
out of more beds than Prinny himself.

Although Lydia privately condemned such
behavior, it was accepted that a man, no matter what his station in
life, was free to seek pleasure where he might. Yet, after reciting
his wedding vows, Lydia would have imagined the gentleman’s
activities would be curtailed.

Lydia had met the Earl of Devonshire once, a
few years ago. She remembered that Richard Warwick was very
handsome and elegant. His tall figure cut a wide swath through the
crowd of onlookers at any party or ball. After conversing with him
but a few minutes, Lydia had been impressed. The earl was
passionate and determined, just the kind of rake to stir a woman’s
senses – even her own.

Mentally, Lydia shook herself. She was much
too old for such foolishness. Quickly, she returned her attention
to the little countess seated on the other side of the
conservatory. Hiding from such a powerful man put a woman at a
disadvantage. Lydia considered it far better to meet such an
adversary with strength rather than with meekness.

Lydia rose and walked from behind the lemon
trees. She was very close before Kate finally glanced up and
noticed her. That, in itself, provided Lydia with a clue as to the
extent of the countess’ torment.

“Lady Rathmoreson. I’m sorry. My mind was far
away,” Kate told her, immediately straightening her body.

“May I sit with you, dear?” Lydia asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Lydia eased herself onto the stone bench
itself, making Kate shift slightly to the left to accommodate
her.

“This is such a lovely place. I really enjoy
sitting here,” Kate murmured.

“Thank you. I’m glad that you like it.”

“You’ve been very kind to me. I’m a total
stranger to you and you’ve treated me wonderfully,” Kate told her.
“I’ll never forget that.”