A Lady to Remember Page 6

  The leading man’s wife strolled from the dressing room they shared. “Mercy! I cannot believe my eyes.” Tilde pushed past her fellow players to gather Adele in a hug. “Adele Sinclair, what a delightful surprise. How did you find us? Have you been well? How is Harry?”

  The woman was firing questions at Adele faster than she could answer and smiling like she had stumbled across a bag of gold.

  “How does Adele know them?” he murmured to Russell.

  His friend shrugged.

  The two young men flanking her seemed less interested in this unlikely reunion unfolding in front of them than in staring at him. Not for the first time, Marcus questioned what he really knew about her.

  Natalia’s door flung open, and she bounded into the corridor, laughing. “I’ve never seen such gob smacked expressions in all my life.” She came up short when she spotted strangers in their midst. “Who is that?” she asked one of the other actresses—a young girl who spoke softly and blushed often.

  Something flashed in Adele’s dark eyes, something alerting him that she had woken from her daze. “I am Mr. Fletcher’s betrothed. Whom, might I ask, are you?”

  Natalia tipped her head, taking Adele’s measure. “You never mentioned a fiancée, sir.”

  “Because we are not betrothed,” he said with a slight growl.

  Adele came forward, lifting her chin stubbornly. “Oh, we most certainly are, Marcus Fletcher. My brother has the marriage contract to prove it.”

  Six

  Adele held her head high as Marcus glowered at her. He was as handsome as she recalled, but his face was all hard lines and sharp angles now. She didn’t know this formidable man who towered above everyone in the corridor, exuding fury and electrifying the air.

  “Your brother kept the betrothal contract,” he said through gritted teeth. “Are you suggesting he would force a marriage between us?”

  “I was not—”

  She took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts while his nearness filled her with pleasant and distracting tingles. She had half a mind to go to him and kiss him, heedless of the onlookers. It was an illogical urge given his reception, but she couldn’t help feeling a kiss would begin setting everything to rights again.

  “Is force really necessary, Mr. Fletcher?”

  Marcus didn’t answer. A gentleman who looked to be Marcus’s age came up beside him. A friend, perhaps.

  “Should I insist she leave?” he asked softly.

  “Yes.”

  Adele’s heart sank. When Marcus’s friend stepped toward her, Jefferson and Leo moved in front of her to block him.

  “Keep your distance,” Jefferson warned.

  “I only wish to speak with the lady.” The man peered around Leo’s shoulder, smiling kindly at her. “Lady Adele, if I may be so bold as to introduce myself, I am Russell Hawke, owner of the Drayton. I think it would be best if you called on Lars and Tilde at a more convenient time. I am certain they are eager to converse with you. Morning visits might be preferable, if it pleases you.”

  Adele inclined her head. “I understand, sir. Forgive the intrusion.” Jefferson and Leo looked at her in askance. “We should go,” she said.

  She exchanged good-byes with Lars and Tilde, promised to call another day, and turned to leave.

  “No. Damnation,” Marcus blurted. He raked his fingers through his hair. “Stay or go. It matters not to me.”

  Adele took a cleansing breath and tried to puzzle out what he truly wanted. They stared at one another, neither speaking. When she had been writing to him all those months, her quill had flown across the page with ease. Now her words stuck in her throat.

  “Perhaps the two of you need a moment of privacy,” Mr. Hawke said. “You may speak in the auditorium without anyone disturbing you. Lady Adele, your escorts are welcome to wait here for you.”

  A beautiful woman with auburn hair held up two tumblers half filled with amber spirits, offering them to Leo and Jefferson. “I’ve poured brandy. Or if you prefer tea, the stage manager keeps a kettle in his office.”

  Her brothers formed a huddle with her. “What would you have us do, Adele?” Jefferson asked. “We could stay with you if you prefer.”

  Adele shook her head. “I am safe with Mr. Fletcher, and you will be fine with Lars and Tilde. Allow me to make introductions.”

  She presented her half-brothers to her theatre friends and was grateful when Tilde introduced her to everyone else loitering in the corridor. For some reason, learning the name of the actress who had been so familiar with Marcus seemed important.

  Natalia. She couldn’t recall if the actress involved in the scandalous argument with Marcus at the Clarendon Hotel had been named in the gossip sheets, but she could well imagine the woman causing a scene after what Adele had witnessed today.

  Jefferson accepted one of the tumblers from the lead actress, Miss Bellerose, while Leo struck up a conversation with a young woman named Jane. With her brothers satisfactorily occupied, she thanked Mr. Hawke for the offer to use the auditorium.

  Mr. Hawke clapped a hand on Marcus’s back, grinning. “I trust you do not require my escort.”

  A corner of Marcus’s mouth slanted up. It was the first sign of the smile she had fallen in love with in Paris. “I am safe with Lady Adele.”

  “Splendid,” Mr. Hawke said. “Take as long as you like.”

  Marcus regarded her grimly. “This way, my lady.”

  He led her around a corner and down a dim corridor that eventually brought them back stage.

  “You seem to know your way around the theatre,” she said.

  “I’ve spent a fair amount of time here.”

  Jealousy coiled in her chest. “With Natalia?” She cringed as the words left her mouth.

  “Occasionally.” He sounded detached, and his expression was impassive as he offered his hand to assist her down the stage stairs.

  A burning started at the back of her eyes. She blinked to keep her tears at bay. For some time, she had suspected his interest had shifted toward other women, but hearing him admit to it wounded her.

  They sat on one of the hard benches. She folded her hands in her lap, lowering her gaze. “Natalia is very pretty. I hope she pleases you.”

  Marcus scoffed and Adele’s head shot up. He regarded her with steely blue eyes. “Are you accusing me of being faithless?”

  “No, of course not.” She licked her lips, nervous that he might twist the meaning of anything she would say. “I was expressing a desire for your happiness.”

  “God’s blood,” he bit out. “Do you truly believe I am capable of finding happiness with Natalia or any other lady, love?”

  As the term of endearment tumbled from his lips, a thrill passed through her. It might have been wrapped in sarcasm, but it carried her back to Paris to a time when everything had been right between them. Once, Adele had basked in his sweet words of love. His beloved. How she longed to return to such an honored position.

  “I do not know what is possible,” she admitted.

  Color rose in his cheeks, and his calm façade began to crumble. “I assure you, if I could replace you in my affections, I would do so at once. You are like a plague visited upon me. I feel as if I am doomed to want you until I draw my last breath.”

  Her heart faltered before battering against bone. His admission was delivered with such anger, yet it provided her with a shred of hope.

  “Perhaps we are both cursed,” she murmured, “for you are in my thoughts always.”

  His jaw began to lose its hard edge, but it was the only sign of him warming toward her. He veered the conversation away from them as a couple. “How do you know Lars and Tilde?”

  She frowned, thinking of him in that awful prison. “You must have been released before I wrote to you about meeting them at the theatre in Brussels. Do you recall that I took in sewing for a bit?”

  He stared at her blankly; she waved her hand, dismissing the detail as unimportant.

  “I took
in sewing for a while, but it was sporadic work until the theatre hired me to outfit the players for one of their productions. Tilde and Lars were members of the company.”

  “Why, in God’s name, were you in Brussels, and what was your brother thinking by putting you to work?”

  His judgmental tone left her feeling prickly. “I told you I wanted to stay close, and Harry thought doubling our efforts would allow us to earn enough for your release in half the time.”

  “Wait a moment.” Marcus’s strong brows lowered over his intense eyes. “You said you wrote to me in Paris. How many letters were there?”

  “I cannot say exactly. I wrote to you at least once a week. Sometimes more. Do you think some were lost?” When he didn’t answer, queasiness began to stir inside her. “Dear Lord, did you receive any of my correspondence?”

  “No,” he said quietly. His blue gaze thawed a bit more. “You must have visited the prison, too. How else would you know about the fine?”

  “Of course I came to the prison. I told the commander you were with me in the gardens. I vouched for your innocence, but he said it did not matter. He demanded a hundred pounds.”

  She couldn’t bear the distance between them anymore. To have him so close without touching him was torture. She scooted toward him on the bench, taking his hand between her two.

  “Marcus, I would never have left you in that horrible place, but you must know we had no choice. You are my betrothed, the only man I have ever loved. Harry and I were coming back for you.”

  His fingers grazed her wrist. Lifting her hand, he placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles. Her pulse quickened as his steady gaze seemed to probe into her mind, seeking answers. “You left Paris, darling. Why should I believe you intended to return?”

  Her breath caught. “Because you know me, Marcus.”

  “Do I?”

  She searched his face for a sign that he was playfully teasing, but the twinkle was absent from his eyes, and there was no hint of a smile on his lips.

  “Of course you know me,” she said. “You asked me to marry you. We would be married now if everything had unfolded as we had planned. We would share a marriage bed, and you would know me as no other man ever has or will.”

  “Yet, we are not wed.” He released her hand and stood, placing distance between them again. “Perhaps we should consider it an omen. We are not meant to be.”

  She huffed in frustration. “It is not a blasted omen. Our nuptials were delayed because my brother made a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” His fury returned, leaving him visibly shaking. “Your brother committed a crime and blamed it on me. Do not excuse his behavior.”

  “I am not.” She jumped up from the bench to take his hands when it appeared he would storm away. “At least, I did not mean for it to sound as if I am. What Harry did to you was inexcusable, and I am deeply sorry I did not come to your defense at once. You did not deserve to be taken to that horrid place. Please, tell me what I must do to earn your forgiveness, because I do not want to lose you.”

  She held tightly to him, fearful this would be her only chance to make amends.

  “How could you lose me when you have a marriage contract to prove I am under obligation to marry you?” His sarcasm was like a dagger through her chest.

  “Oh, Marcus. I do not want to be an obligation.” She couldn’t hold back her tears this time. His image blurred.

  “Faith.”

  He exhaled and his rigid stance seemed to soften. Reaching into his jacket, he retrieved a crisp handkerchief. She accepted it and dabbed the corners of her eyes. With his hand on the small of her back, he guided her back to the bench and sat with her. This time there was no distance between them as he kept his arm around her waist. His thigh pressed against hers.

  “I never intended to make you cry,” he said. “Forgive me.”

  She shook her head. “You owe me no apology.”

  “I do. I was being too harsh.”

  “If it eases your conscience,”—she sniffled—“I cry a lot lately. I’ve become a watering pot. There is something you probably don’t know about me.”

  Her attempt at humor earned a small smile. “I imagine we both have secrets to discover about one another,” he said.

  “Have you become a watering pot, too?” She was teasing, but she wanted to hear that he was struggling as well—that he was just as miserable as she was.

  His smile spread, lighting his eyes. “Maybe. You will not tell anyone, will you?”

  “I am capable of keeping secrets. Are you?”

  “Indeed.” He sobered, and for a moment, she feared he would pull away again. He didn’t move an inch. His body heat warmed her to the bone, and she leaned into him. He stiffened. “I want more than an obligation, Adele. I’ve seen marriages where the spouses live as strangers, and I know what it feels like to be in love. I proposed because I adored you and wanted to build a life with you. I trusted you.”

  Adored, wanted, and trusted. Words referring to the past. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “And now?”

  He touched her chin, urging her to look at him. “I cannot deny my desire for you is as strong as ever, but the trust has faded.”

  “Will I ever be able to earn it again?”

  He stroked his thumb across her chin. “I hope so, love. I want to give it to you, but I do not want to be played for a fool.”

  “I would never make a fool of you.” She swiveled toward him, placing her hand lightly against his cheek. “Allow me time to earn your trust again, please. Allow me to see you, and if we cannot rebuild what we had, I will toss the marriage contract in the fire. No one will ever know it existed.”

  It was an act of desperation, a risk she had to take. If she left the theatre without any idea of when she would see him again, the sorrow might crush her.

  He covered her hand on his cheek, lacing his fingers with hers. “It is a little late, is it not? You just announced the contract’s existence in the presence of your half-brothers.”

  “Jefferson and Leo are not gossips. If I ask them to tell no one, they will listen.” At least she hoped they would. “What about Mr. Hawke? Can he be counted on to keep our secret?”

  “Russell is a trusted friend. He will say nothing.”

  It seemed promising that he wasn’t arguing with her.

  “We could meet privately so no one will speculate on our association,” she said. “Perhaps here at the theatre if Mr. Hawke agrees?”

  Marcus’s smile reappeared. “Are you suggesting a clandestine affair, Lady Adele? My, you are full of secrets.”

  She laughed, circling her finger around the small divot in his cheek. She had always loved his dimple for it hinted at the seductive wickedness hidden inside him. “I would not call it an affair, sir. It is a courtship.”

  “Very well.” He pulled her hand to his lips, kissed her palm, and released her. “Before you consent to such an arrangement, you should understand my terms.”

  Adele eased away from him, wary about what more he could want from her. She was already risking her reputation by agreeing to meet with him privately, and she had promised to release him from the contract if necessary.

  He quietly gulped, betraying his nerves. “I need a wife who will stand by me. If your brother comes first in your heart, I will not hold it against you, but I cannot be last. I will not be last.”

  “If you are worried about Harry coming between us, he will not.”

  “He already has, Adele, and if you want a life with me, you must accept that he is not welcome in my home.”

  She flinched. “You want me to disown him?”

  “Not disown. He is your brother. I expect you will want to see him on occasion, and you may go to him whenever you like.”

  “But he cannot be part of our lives.”

  “I am afraid that is how it must be.”

  No holidays together nor family celebrations? Her heart sagged in her chest from the heaviness filling it. She had spent too
many holidays with no family of her own. Harry had often stayed with school friends between terms, and her father had never sent for her. She hadn’t imagined she and Harry would be separated again, but neither could she believe Marcus understood what he was asking. He was not a coldhearted man.

  “Thank you for your honesty,” she said. “I will give your wishes careful consideration.”

  “When might I expect an answer?”

  She blinked in surprise. Did she truly need to make a choice? Since she wasn’t convinced there was no other way around it, she smiled, evading his question. “When may I see you again?”

  “I am here most days by two o’clock.”

  “Splendid. I will see you tomorrow at two. I’m sure Jefferson or Leo would be happy to escort me.”

  Eventually, she expected Marcus would find it in his heart to forgive Harry, but that would require an apology from her brother. And she had no idea how she would get the two of them in a room together, or insure there would be no blood shed in the process.

  Seven

  The next morning Adele arrived to the breakfast room before Harry. Despite her brother’s talk of returning to bed yesterday afternoon, he had rallied and carried himself off to the House of Lords, claiming he was recovered. The session at the Lords must have run late, because he hadn’t come home before she’d readied for bed and fallen asleep.

  Last night she had been relieved to be excused from discussing her secret arrangement with Marcus, but now dread settled over her like a heavy mantle around her shoulders. Harry wouldn’t like her sneaking away to meet Marcus, especially when there was no guarantee of marriage, but her decision was made. Leo would come for her later and provide his escort to the Drayton Theatre.

  Adele suspected her youngest brother had been eager to volunteer his services, because it allowed him an opportunity to further his association with Jane, the shy little actress who had caught his eye yesterday. Adele guessed they were close in age but too dissimilar in temperament to cause concern about a serious attachment forming between them—at least she hoped that was the case.