Rule's Bride (9 page)

She gave up a defeated sigh. “All right. I should love to see London and I would particularly enjoy a night at the theater.”

Dimples appeared in his cheeks and her stomach lifted alarmingly. She hated that he could do that to her so easily.

“Excellent! I shall make the necessary arrangements. Starting tomorrow, I am going to show you London. Once you see what an extraordinary place it is, you will never wish to leave.”

But already she wished to leave. She wanted to see Jeffrey. She wanted to hear his voice and bask in his warm,
adoring smile. She wanted him to tell her how much he loved her, make her forget her absurd, unwanted attraction to a man to whom she meant nothing.

Only a little while longer,
she told herself. Surely she could manage a bit more time in company with her soon-to-be-former husband.

Violet ignored the little voice that warned she was making another mistake.

V
iolet spent all the next day with Rule. As promised, he took her on a drive around the city, putting the top down on the fancy black landau he chose so that they might enjoy the sunshine. The carriage rolled past the elegant mansions in Mayfair and the expensive shops in Bond Street where, as promised, they luncheoned in a charming little French restaurant.

Later in the day, he ordered the coachman to drive them through fashionable Hyde Park where the trees had begun to leaf out and the first spring flowers pushed up through the soil. There wasn't time that day to visit the museum, which was holding an exhibition of Egyptian art, but Rule promised they would see it soon.

The following day he took her to the amazing Crystal Palace.

“Good heavens, I didn't expect anything quite like this.”

She had read about the fabulous exhibition hall, of course, but as the carriage rolled toward the vast complex on the hill, a structure three stories high made entirely of glass, she still wasn't quite prepared.

Rule just smiled. “After the Great Exhibition of '51, the palace was moved here, piece by piece, and then reassembled. Since it reopened, millions of people have come to visit.”

As the carriage drew near, Violet surveyed the massive glass domes with awe.

“The designers wanted to make it educational as well as entertaining,” Rule said. “The palace houses everything from live giant lizards to a stuffed rhinoceros.”

Violet's excitement grew. Whole trees grew inside the glass conservatory, she discovered as they strolled through the interior, and fountains and lakes sparkled everywhere.

Rule played the gentleman as he had done each day, buying her ice cream and a hand-painted fan she had stopped to admire. Though she enjoyed his company more than she wished to admit, she would rather have shared the experience with Jeffrey. Jeffrey was the perfect suitor, always proper, never pressing her for more than she wished to give. Not like Rule, whose hungry gaze left little doubt of his intentions.

They ended the afternoon early, returning to the house in time for Violet to nap then dress for an evening at the theater. She told herself she wasn't excited, but as the hour of their departure drew near, anticipation raced through her veins.

“I wish I knew which gown to wear,” she said to Mary, who had laid an emerald-green brocaded silk next to a deep rose taffeta with an overskirt of heavy cream lace. Both were lovely, both cut fashionably low. She told herself not to consider which of the dresses Rule might prefer.

At Mary's suggestion, she chose the emerald-green. “It'll look lovely with yer complexion.”

“All right then. Help me, will you, Mary?” She walked to the bed. “Let us see if you are right.”

The buxom, brown-haired maid helped her into her undergarments and corset, which cinched her waist to amazingly small proportions, then helped her into a cage crinoline, a petticoat fashioned of stacked metal hoops that made her skirt even fuller than it usually was. The gown came next.

“Gor, milady. I were right, don't ye see? The green goes perfect with yer eyes.”

While Mary fastened the buttons at the back of the dress, Violet stood before the tall oval mirror to view the effect. She rarely paid so much attention to her appearance, but tonight was a special occasion. She wanted to look her best.

Then again, though Rule had thus far been well behaved, he had made his intentions clear. He wanted her to remain his wife, and in that regard he was determined. She wondered what pitfalls the evening might hold.

She took a deep breath. Rule would be waiting. She couldn't put it off any longer.

“Have a good time, milady.”

“Thank you, Mary. I'm sure I will.” Too good a time, she feared.
You need to keep your distance,
she warned herself, but couldn't help a rush of pleasure as she reached the bottom of the staircase and caught the appreciative gleam in Rule's brilliant blue eyes.

“You look beautiful,” he said, and he meant it, she could tell.

A hint of color crept into her cheeks. “Thank you”

Rule smiled. “You'll be the loveliest woman at the theater.”

She laughed. “Now you are being gallant. The color of my hair is quite unfashionable and I am too short to be elegant, but I am glad you approve.”

“Your hair is like fire and you are petite and perfectly formed. Believe me, I definitely approve.”

His eyes ran over her and Violet could feel the hunger
he had made little effort to hide. Her heartbeat quickened. In his black evening clothes, a diamond stick pin perfectly positioned in his white cravat, he was impossibly handsome.

Which meant nothing, she told herself. Less than nothing. It was the man inside who was important.

Rule took her emerald-lined, black velvet cloak and draped it around her shoulders, then the butler opened the door and stepped back to let them pass, the hint of a smile on his wrinkled face. Perhaps he wasn't as stodgy as he appeared.

“Good night, Hat,” she said just to throw him off balance, which apparently she did, his pale eyes widening as she stepped out onto the porch.

Rule grinned. “You'll give him apoplexy if you smile at him that way too often.”

“Don't be silly. Your Mr. Hatfield is quite the proper butler.”

Rule just smiled.

They reached the Pantheon Theater, their carriage pulling into line behind a row of similar conveyances moving slowly toward the portico at the entrance. The front of the building was ornately gilded and as they walked in on a length of red velvet carpet that matched the red flocked wallpaper and the carpets inside, she saw that the theater was lavish in the extreme.

The play called
The Mariner
was billed as a rousing adventure, a musical farce where pirates attacked and a damsel in distress was saved by the hero. There was much excitement about the opening, since the playwright's last production had been such a huge success.

“My box is on the second floor,” Rule said, guiding her up one of two wide, curving staircases that spiraled up from the right and left sides of the theater. Leading her
down the hall, he guided her into one of the velvet-draped boxes that formed the second-floor balcony.

A wide stage rested against the back wall, she saw as they sat down inside the box, and the pit yawned below, lined with rows of seats.

“There is open seating on the third floor,” Rule said, “but the boxes provide the best view of the stage.”

And a bit of privacy, as well. With the curtain back in place, it was difficult if not impossible to see inside the box, and she wondered if Rule had used that privacy in his seductions. And if he would attempt to do so tonight.

A little thread of heat slipped through her that Violet firmly ignored. He hadn't kissed her again since the night of the ball, though he had vowed that he would. A kiss she could endure, she told herself, but she would allow nothing more.

They chatted pleasantly for a while, until all the seats were filled and the gas lights began to dim.

The action began on the stage and eventually she forgot the tall man beside her and found herself caught up in the excitement of the play. A cardboard ship held captain and crew and, of course, the heroine—the daughter of the wealthy ship owner, a young woman traveling to see her father.

Fake waves moved up and down, making it look like the ship was at sea. A medley of songs were sung and the audience laughed at the players' antics. Near the end of the first act, pirates attacked, firing their cannons at the cardboard ship, sending sparks and smoke into the air.

Violet wasn't sure exactly how the effect was achieved, only that it didn't go exactly the way it was planned.

And that was when the trouble began.

 

Rule's eyes remained on Violet, watching her as he had all evening, wishing the play was over and they were back
in the house, determined that tonight he would kiss her, touch her, continue his seduction.

Damn, he wanted her. Every time she took a breath, her lovely breasts rose enticingly above the bodice of her gown, soft twin mounds ripe for the tasting. Just a glance at the delicate line of her jaw, the sweet curve of her lips, made him hard. He'd been hard off and on since the moment he had watched her gracefully descending the staircase at his house. He was so enchanted, so filled with lust for her he was barely able to watch the play.

And so it took a moment for him to realize that something was wrong, that there was a stirring in the audience, that people were rising from their chairs.

“Rule…?” He heard the note of worry in Violet's voice the instant before he realized that part of the fireworks display used in the pirate attack had gone awry and the stage curtains had caught fire.

He stood up abruptly and gripped her hand. “Hold on to me and whatever happens, don't let go.” Quickly, he moved toward the door leading out of the box, taking Violet with him.

On the stage, the flames were moving fast, racing along the walls, catching on to the red-flocked wallpaper, leaping from curtain to curtain, spreading along the sides of the theater toward the people in the pit, who were screaming now and running toward the entrance.

The hallway outside the box was already filled with frightened people, the women's elegant skirts taking up huge amounts of space. Some of them were crying as they were shoved and jerked forward, the men doing their best to make way for them as the crowd surged down the hall.

“Try to stay calm. I'll get us out of here, Violet, I promise you.”

She only nodded, her pretty green eyes frightened but
steady as she moved into the massive wave of people pushing and shoving along the corridor. The terrified mass surged forward. Smoke filled the hallway and, through one of the boxes, he saw that the fire had nearly reached the staircase on the opposite side of the theater. There were shouts and then panic as the choking smoke filled patrons' lungs and the flames leaped across the aisle, blazing upward, catching the drapes that enclosed the boxes and licking out into the hall.

A woman fainted, falling beneath the shoving, pressing mob. A man went down on top of her and then another. Rule kept Violet close to his side and her hand clasped tightly in his. Fear for her gnawed at him. He had brought her here, put her life in danger. He would get her out safely, he vowed. No matter what it took.

The crowd surged as one toward the curving staircase, which wasn't nearly wide enough to hold so many people. Flames broke out ahead of them, red-orange and hot. And full-blown panic set in.

A man turned and charged back in the opposite direction, smashing into Violet, knocking her small hand out of Rule's grasp.

“Violet!” He tried to reach her as she was carried backward by the man's momentum, then she disappeared beneath the surging mass of humanity fleeing for their lives.

“Violet!” Terror struck him. She was tiny. She could be crushed to death. Like a man possessed, he shoved against the heavy wall of people, knocking them aside, shouldering his way through the crowd, determined to reach her, terrified she would be trampled beneath the frantic mass.

Using his shoulders, he opened a path, caught a glimpse of emerald silk and shoved his way toward her. He gripped her hand, hauling her to her feet and into his arms.

“Violet, thank God!”

Shaking all over, she clung to him, her hair unpinned and falling free, a curtain of flame that matched the fiery inferno around them, her gown torn and hanging off her shoulder.

Rule steeled himself. “We have to get out of here. Come with me.” He couldn't let her see his worry, his fear. He had to get them out of there. In an instant, he made a decision.

“This way!” he shouted above the din of shrieks and screaming people. “Back the way we came!” Choking smoke and flame roared among the boxes on the theater side of the hallway, but if they stayed close to the wall on the opposite side, they might have a chance.

The man who had run back down the hall had disappeared behind a blanket of smoke. Rule knew where he was headed—an exit in the back wall of the building, a narrow, outside staircase that led into the alley. He had noticed it once on his way to the men's room.

The screams and shouts grew louder, more terrified, a sound of horror unlike anything he had ever heard before. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a woman whose skirt had caught fire, heard Violet cry out and start to turn toward her.

“Keep going!” he commanded, forcing Violet's head away from the female human torch, knowing it was already too late, dragging Violet forward, toward the wall of heavy black smoke. He could feel her shaking as he urged her down the hall. “There's a door at the other end of the corridor. If we can reach it, we can get out!”

She coughed, glanced back once, then nodded and tightened her hold on his hand. She was trusting him with her life. Rule didn't intend to fail her.

They ran along the hall, Violet's heavy skirt and crino
lines making it hard for her to keep up. He wished there was time to get rid of them.

Flames licked out in front of them. “Stay close to the wall!” he shouted, dragging her farther into the smoke, feeling her hesitate only a moment, then follow him into the billowing darkness.

God,
he prayed,
please, show me the way.

But smoke and darkness were all he could see ahead of him. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Violet, who pressed it over her nose and mouth. Coughing wildly now, he hauled her forward, his back against the wall so he wouldn't lose his way, afraid her voluminous skirts would catch fire before they could reach the door.

Flames chewed through the ceiling, licked down toward the floor.

“Are we…” She coughed wildly. “Are we going…to die?”

“Not if I can help it.” Rule hauled her forward, keeping low, but time was running out. If he was wrong, they would be dead.