Page 19 of The Duke's List
The sheep had made their way through breaks in his fences all summer long until they’d ended up along the high bluffs near the hunting lodge.
Captain Thorne echoed Bourne’s concern. “Have you had any, er, luck yet?”
“Merely because I appreciate your continuing support, and fine whiskey, I will tell you gentlemen that my duchess project is moving along quite well.”
“Then she’s back under your roof?” Bourne had the good grace to lower his voice when he asked the question.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?” Thorne and Bourne asked the same question nearly in unison.
“Since the two of you are so interested in what goes on at Bocollyn House, you should join us for dress rehearsal this morning for our first play in the family theater. I think the Algernons are looking for a few more actors to fill in as extras in non-speaking parts. As soon as we get these sheep where they belong. Since you’re on my list of laborers now, I’m ordering you two to report to Mrs. Algernon for costumes.”
When the two men groaned, Sidmouth warned them. “Don’t be a couple of yelpers. It’s unbecoming in gentlemen and officers.” The look he slanted them from beneath his wide-brimmed straw hat brooked no disagreement.
Jane struggledto keep her facial expression neutral while poor Mrs. Algernon tried to adjust the longest pair of suitable trousers she could find to clothe Sidmouth for his last-minute role as Benedick. She’d ordered him to stand on a chair while she sewed some extra fabric on the costume at his ankles. He fidgeted as much as Nicholas had when he’d been fitted for his part as Claudio.
“Sidmouth-for heavens sakes, stand still and let the poor woman adjust your costume. After all, you’re the one who insisted on invading our play at the last minute.” Jane huffed a long sigh.
He said nothing but gave her a secret wink accompanied by a lascivious look while Mrs. Algernon was bent over applying rapid stitches to his costume.
“Were you able to find something for Captain Thorne and Major Bourne to wear?” He aimed his question at the busy wardrobe mistress.
She lifted her head and gave him a baleful stare. “Of course. They’re normal-sized men.” A fleeting look of fear crossed her face just before she added, “Your Grace.”
When she bent over again to finish the final stitches, Sidmouth turned toward Jane and mouthed, “I’m not normal-sized.” without making a sound. The wicked grin accompanying that parroting of the poor woman’s words made Jane tighten the laces on her bodice and glance around to make sure none of the other actors were in the wardrobe area to see what a fool her husband was making of himself. She couldn’t wait to see him fall flat on his face when he inevitably forgot his lines at some point.
Sidmouth waitedin the wings of the stage they’d rigged in the old second-floor family ballroom and watched Jane in the opening scene ofMuch Ado About Nothing. He’d squeezed as close to her as he could before she’d entered the stage until she’d swung her head around and hissed at him to behave.
He couldn’t help himself. His wife smelled so damned good. Even better now that he knew the fragrance of just his sweet Jane when she came apart in his arms.
Today, judging by her scent, she’d probably bathed in orange-scented soap. He wished he could have been there to help her soap her breasts and down lower… Zeus! He bent over in agony. Mr. Algernon, who was playing Don Pedro, elbowed him hard in his side because he’d nearly missed their cue to enter the stage. It was supposed to be shortly after Jane said, “No, not till a hot January.”
He stumbled after Algernon and stared out over the gas lights they’d had installed at the foot of the stage. The chairs his butler, Carrington, had arranged barely held all the theatergoers. Some stood against the wall at the rear. Where the hell had all these gawking people come from? Had they emptied all the drinking establishments in Falmouth?
Despite his shock at the size of the audience, he fell into the rhythm of the banter of the play and did not miss a beat from then on. He secretly preened at the look of shock in Jane’s eyes. She’d actually believed he’d fail to remember all of his lines.
But then she didn’t really know the Duke of Sidmouth. Few people did, except for a few shadowy men at the Home Office, and Captain Thorne, whose warship had regularly dropped him off along the rocky coast outside Brest during the seemingly endless conflict with the French.
When Sidmouth had realized how serious the threat of a French invasion had been, he’d offered his services. Of course, no one had believed him at first, until he gave them his first demonstration. All he had to do was read a document once, and it was engraved in his memory for life. He could recall the contents at will. His years at Eton had been carefree once he realized how he could manipulate his gift to avoid tedious studies.
At the intermission at the end of Act II there was a great clapping and stamping of feet among the audience. Sidmouth raised his eyes heavenward. Now he supposed his home would be treated like a regular Covent Garden West, complete with flower-sellers, women of the demi-monde, and pickpockets.
While he was still staring upward, Jane scurried over and pushed him so hard, he nearly fell over. “Ow-what did I do now?”
“You tricked me. You’ve performed this play before.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, then you must be possessed, because you never missed a cue or a line out there.”
He stared at her bodice laces intently before giving out a great sigh and gazing directly into her eyes. “It’s a curse. Once I read something, it sticks in my empty head forever.”
Jane had no rebuttal. However, she did have more to say.
“I don’t know whether you realize it or not, but when Nana rehearsed her scene this morning as Margaret with Joseph Hawley as Borachio, she was not exactly acting. She looked as though she was angling to drag him off to bed in truth.”
Sidmouth scrunched his eyes and mouth into a grimace that made him look as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “Surely not. He would not dare.Shewould not dare.”