Page 76 of Notorious

Drusilla paced.Would he come to her?

His words from last night, You are a goddess, came to her unbidden and made her belly tighten.

She tried to consider his statement objectively. Would he have said such a thing if he had not meant it? And the expression on his face when he’d uttered the words. Lord. Just recalling the hunger in his eyes sent desire licking through her body. No, it had not been a lie. At least not in that moment, in that moment he had believed her desirable.

But then she’d behaved like a shrew. Not only that, but she’d seen the two women reputed to be his mistresses tonight: they were both beautiful.

When she’d realized whom she was watching onstage, she’d been furious—and glad she’d snubbed him this morning. But then she’d recalled it was not Gabriel who’d made tonight’s arrangements. He hadn’t looked pleased or relaxed, and she’d seen that it was all he could do to greet Visel and Tyndale with a smile: he’d been as tense as a coiled spring.

No, he’d not been the one to orchestrate a mess like this evening. That realization didn’t eliminate her jealousy, but it did make her feel relieved to know he did not enjoy situations that caused her discomfort or embarrassment.

Fletcher set her ivory hairbrush down on the dressing table. “Will that be all, my lady?”

Drusilla looked at her reflection. She’d left her hair down, just as he’d requested. Fletcher had not commented when she’d said she didn’t want either a cap or a braid, but the knowing look in her eyes had made Drusilla blush.

Her dark curly hair glowed from brushing, the heavy mass striking against the plain white lawn of her nightgown. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled. She should have felt embarrassed, but instead all she felt was expectant. And aroused.

“That will be all, Fletcher.”

She was too anxious to get into bed, so she went to her dressing room and took out her favorite dressing gown—the one she’d put on the night they’d gotten married. As she tied the sash, something crinkled in her pocket. She took out a folded piece of paper: the message from Theo. She had forgotten all about it after reading it. She opened it:

Dear Drusilla:

I apologize for my behavior today. I do hope you will forgive me and chalk it up to my extreme shock and disappointment. I am sorry I made you uncomfortable and wish you every happiness in your new life. I hope we can continue to work together. I am making excellent progress on all three establishments and would hate to think I’ve jeopardized the future happiness of untold women with my foolish behavior.

Lastly, I hope we shall continue to meet on Thursdays but will understand if you feel you can no longer work with me.

Respectfully yours,

Theo

She had been angry with him—not so much for his behavior at the tea shop, but for his ill-advised message and how it had appeared to Gabriel. She frowned. She realized she had done more to offend Gabriel this morning than Theo’s letter had done the other night.

Although she’d been angry at the time, she had already forgiven Theo. He’d been repentant and nervous, eager to apologize. She could understand that. She felt as if she should apologize to Gabriel and had agonized over the words she would use. But he’d been gone when she’d finally come downstairs and hadn’t returned again until it was time to dress for dinner.

And dinner? She grimaced. Today’s awkwardness was all her fault. She glanced at the clock—it was not quite midnight. She decided to pen a brief message to Theo and let him know all was well and forgiven.

That took less than ten minutes, so she riffled through the pile of invitations and selected a few she’d decided they should accept. She wrote brief responses to all of them, which only took another fifteen minutes.

Where was he?

She pulled the bell and gave the letters to the sleepy-looking footman who answered her summons. “See these go out first thing in the morning, please.”

Alone again, she crept toward the dividing door. All was silent on the other side. Perhaps he’d already gone to bed?

Drusilla leaned against the doorframe and chewed her lip. She should apologize. He’d come in peace this morning—even bringing her breakfast—and she’d recoiled from his affectionate behavior as if she found his touch repulsive. Not only had she flinched away from him, she’d behaved like a tongue-tied fool after. Why should he come to her, expecting such a reception?

She took a deep breath, arranged her hair over her shoulder, and knocked.

And waited.

And waited.

She’d just turned away when the door opened.

It was Drake. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

The man’s demeanor and voice were as mild as milk, but Drusilla couldn’t help imagining he regarded her with disfavor. “I was looking for Mr. Marlington.”