A Scarlet Bride (27 page)

He lifted her up into the carriage and climbed in beside her. When he rapped on the top, the servant called to the horses and off they went. Alexandra's body lurched with the sudden movement of the carriage. They were on their way and she felt a surge of excitement and anticipation.

For the next hour they spoke little in the silent, charged brougham as they made their way into Charleston. In the twilight she could feel his eyes upon her, but she gazed out the window, afraid of what she would see in his watchful looks.

When they arrived, Connor took Alexandra's hand and helped her alight from the brougham, then placed her hand on the crook of his arm as they made their way into the theater. Entering the lobby, Alexandra was surprised at the lavishness of the small theater. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and plush carpets covered the floor. Rich velvet curtains hung from the windows and separated the performance hall and lobby.

As they made their way through the crowds of people, Alexandra couldn't help but notice the whispers their entrance caused. Women lifted their fans and murmured behind them as she and Connor passed. Surprised glances were sent their way and snatches of conversations fell around them. Was the instant stir because of her and Connor or because of
Hester's Revenge
?

Connor patted her arm. "Smile at them, dear. They're all jealous of your beauty."

Alexandra almost laughed. "One thing about you, Connor, you're never lacking in confidence."

"Why should I be? I'm the luckiest man here and I know it."

They made their way up the elegant staircase to the boxed section. Their seats were located in one of the upper balcony boxes right next to the stage, where they would be able to see everything that went on in the production.

"Would you like a glass of champagne?''
Connor asked as he swept her evening cape from her shoulders, draping it across the back of her chair.

She turned toward him and felt the warmth of his gaze on her bare shoulders. "Thank you, but not right now."

Luxurious velvet drapes secluded them from the boxes on either side, enclosing them in their own small world. The dimly lit box and cushioned chairs created an atmosphere of intimacy, a feeling of just the two of them alone.

She took her new glasses out of her bag and laid them on her lap.

Connor took the seat next to her, their chairs so close that his shoulder rubbed against her naked skin. He gazed at her, and she felt as if she'd been touched by a flame. "You are the most beautiful woman here tonight. I'm glad you accepted my invitation."

"Please, Mr. Manning, don't ruin the evening trying to fill my head with pretty words that mean absolutely nothing to you. Let us just enjoy the opera." Her words sounded harsh even to her own ears and she wanted to snatch them back. Why couldn't she just accept his words instead of trying to find some hidden meaning in them?

He laid his hand on her cheek and gently turned her face toward him. His eyes were fiercely dark, his tone serious. "I never waste words on a woman. You look absolutely stunning tonight and I'm happy to call you my wife."

The gaslights dimmed and he released her chin, but Alexandra feared the pounding of her heart could be heard over the opening strains of the orchestra. Why did Connor always seem to have this effect on her? Why could her heart and mind not agree that Connor Manning was a rake who would only damage her more than Gordon ever had?

The music swelled and the audience clapped as the curtain began to rise and the actors moved across the stage. Soon, Alexandra was caught up in the story and she put behind her all thoughts of Connor, until the end of the first act, when he put his arm around her chair and laid his hand gently on her bare shoulder.

She glanced at him in the darkness, but he appeared engrossed in the tale of
Falstaff
. The warmth of his hand against her skin was somehow soothing, if not a little disturbing. His fingers were a link that bound her to him, a bond she seemed unable to shake.

When the curtain came down at intermission, she turned to face Connor, powerless to contain her delight. "This is wonderful. This company has done a tremendous job."

She leaned back against the chair and sighed. "As a child I wanted to be an actress, but Father squelched that idea right away. No daughter of his was going to become theater trash."

The look in his eyes was tender."What did your mother think about your desire to be an actress?"

Alexandra laughed. "Mama told me to be anything I desired. But she was much stronger than I was when it came to facing Father. At least she was until she became sick and died."

"You were young when your mother died?" Connor asked.

"Just like you, I was twelve. Old enough to be sent to boarding school, which Father promptly did."

A long silence ensued. Alexandra stood and picked up her evening reticule. "I think I will go powder my nose. I'll return momentarily."

Connor rose. "Would you like me to accompany you downstairs?"

"No, thanks.
I'll be right back."

"I'll get us champagne."

"That would be nice."

Alexandra hurried down the hall, to the stairs below. The sitting area was filled with ladies primping their hair or merely refreshing their facial powder. At her entrance, the chatter that filled the air suddenly ebbed until there was silence. The quietness hung like a noose around her neck. Quickly, she hurried behind the screen that hid the slop jar for privacy.

Talking resumed, and she knew the conversation centered on
Hester's Revenge
. Why had she ever thought that people would understand her side once they read the book? Or could it be that the book had only confirmed people's inclinations toward her. As she finished her business, a loud voice said, "I hear she was forced to marry a second time."

"Well, at least the second time around she snagged a
goodlooking
man," an older matron proclaimed.

"But how long will this one last?
Especially with a man like Connor Manning?"

"You know Lizzie
Rozili
has had her eyes on him since her husband died."

"Lizzie just wants a man.
Doesn't matter which man."

Their laughter faded as they walked out of the room. Alexandra knew she was intended to hear the conversation, and she tried not to let it bother her, but still she couldn't help but wonder how people could be so cruel. She stepped from around the screen and glanced over at the remaining women, recognizing some of the same ladies who had attended Suzanne's tea.

Silence once again prevailed and she looked into the women's eyes, but they quickly looked away. With her head held high, she left the ladies' room, determined this was the last time gossip would ever bother her again.

Quickly she made her way back upstairs, toward their box, the satin of her skirt rustling. As she pushed back the curtains to enter she overheard a feminine voice, one she had no trouble recognizing.

Lizzie.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and her throat felt tight and constricted. The moment her back was turned the scoundrel was back to his old tricks. What had made her think he would ever change? She hesitated a moment, her hand on the curtain, hoping to catch them at then game.

"You're looking deviously handsome tonight, Connor. I don't ever remember seeing you at the opera before."

"This is the first time I've attended since I was a child," Connor said, mildly amused.

"You never took me to places like the opera. We were never seen in public like a real couple," Lizzie whined.

"That's the past, Lizzie."

Alexandra peered around the curtain and watched in amazement as Lizzie leaned toward her husband, giving him a full view of her barely concealed bosom. And those
selfrighteous
women downstairs were afraid of being soiled by Alexandra's presence when one of their own was upstairs trying to seduce her husband. It was all Alexandra could do to stay hidden behind the curtain.

"It doesn't have to be. I've missed you terribly these last three months." Lizzie's voice had a husky sound to it.

"I thought by now you would have found someone else to take my place."

"There could never be anyone quite like you, Connor." There was a pause, before the woman asked, "Why don't you meet me tonight, after the opera? It could be just like old times."

Silence filled the air and Alexandra was tempted to step around the curtain and show herself. But she couldn't face the two
right
now. She couldn't let them see how much their words hurt. Instead, she turned and fled down the stairs, her feet fairly flying, her long dress held in her gloved hand. She pushed her way back through the returning crowd of people, into the lobby and through the curtains that led to the ladies' room.

Panting, she leaned against the wall, thankful the room was fairly empty as she closed her eyes to the one or two ladies who whispered in the comer at her disruptive entrance.

She hadn't wanted to hear her husband's response. She couldn't stand to listen to him arrange his assignations.

Opening her eyes, she stared into the mirror that stood in a corner. Her eyes were wide with trepidation. Her chest rose and fell with each hurried breath.

Why did she care about Lizzie and Connor? Why did she care if Lizzie was interested in her husband, unless she had feelings for Connor herself?

No. She refused to give her heart to another man. She'd sworn she would never fall in love again. But if she wasn't falling in love with Connor, why did her heart respond to each touch, each smile? Why did her heart give a little lurch when he strolled into a room, and why did she want to claw Lizzie's eyes out each time she saw the hussy with her husband?

No. She was Connor's wife, and though it was considered fashionable to keep a mistress, Alexandra wouldn't live with man's infidelity a second time. Once had been more than enough. Yet men needed sexual release and Alexandra wasn't willing to fulfill her husband's needs.

She held her head in her hands feeling so confused. What should she do?

Music began to play, signaling the end of intermission. She had to return to Connor, she had to face her husband. But could she sit beside him, wondering when he was going to leave her to meet his paramour?

Alexandra tucked a piece of hair back into place, pulled her shoulders back, and forced herself to stroll up the darkened steps. She would not be a coward. She would make it through this evening.

As she opened the curtain to their box, Connor glanced up at her.

"I was beginning to worry."

She took a deep breath, trying to quell the urge to run again. "I'm afraid it took longer than I expected."

Connor smiled at her warmly and handed her a glass of champagne.
"To a nice evening at the opera."

Alexandra smiled, her face feeling stiff and brittle. She raised her glass, resisting the urge to spill the bubbly liquid over his head. "Yes, to a lovely evening at the opera."

The night air was pleasant as they rode home inside the darkened carriage, facing each other, though Alexandra could not see Connor's face except in occasional beams of moonlight that reflected in the small brougham. And quite frankly, she didn't want to see his traitorous face.

She sighed and leaned her head back against the cushions. Why did his deception hurt so much? Why was she surprised he would want to meet his paramour tonight? After all, he wasn't receiving any pleasure in her bed, and he was a man. But God, she wanted him all to herself.

The thought stunned her and she quickly pushed it away.

When they left the theater, she had expected him to tell her he would return to the house later. But Connor had surprised her when he returned home with her. Obviously he must be planning on leaving after they arrived at River Bend. Yet the hour of his arrival at Lizzie's would be quite late. But then again, meetings like theirs were frequently held in the wee hours of the morning.

Why had she believed Connor had reformed and given up chasing women because he was married? Would she never learn that marriage vows were meant to be broken? Fidelity was not common for men in
today' s
world, though it was more than expected of women.

Yet Connor had taken her to the theater tonight, and had bought her a gift of the glasses. What about the moment when he'd told her he didn't waste pretty words on women he was serious about? His actions indicated one thing, while his words said something else. Which was she to believe?

Everything was quickly spinning out of her control. The book, Connor—and now even her own feelings were jumbled and baffled by this man. Months ago, the path she had chosen for her life had been so certain, and now all she felt was confusion.

"Thank you for coming to the opera with me tonight," he
said,
his deep voice soothing in the darkness."I haven't seen enough productions to compare to this one, but it seemed like the cast did a fine job. The soprano's voice was beautiful and seemed well matched with the tenor."