Page 24 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

They sat in the darkness as the performance began. A light shone down on the man stood on the stage alone, and she sat forward, not wishing to miss a single thing.

To her surprise, Jemie sat forward too and gave her a conspiratorial grin as the man on the stage spoke and they lost themselves in the production.

When it was over, and the lights came on causing them to blink, they applauded madly.

“Did it live up to your expectations?” Jemie said, leaning closer.

“Oh yes! Everything and more.” It was true. It had been glorious.

“You should come to the theatre more often.”

“I think you are right,” Frances smiled at him. He was close to her and looking at her with those sparkling eyes. Starlight eyes. The thought made her smile.

“What?” Jemie lowered his voice. “What made you smile so?”

“I was just thinking.”

He seemed like he might press for more but didn’t. He reached out and touched her hand briefly before retracting it.

People were taking their leave, so she stood and Jemie offered his elbow. She curved her fingers around the muscle of this arm, then they followed Lizzie and Mr Rossetti. As they made their way down the steps, Frances stopped.

“My reticule,” she gasped looking about her. “I think I left it in the box.”

“I’ll get it,” Jemie offered, and she watched gratefully as he hurried back up the stairs and along the corridor.

“I should go with him,” she turned at Lizzie.

“Perhaps you and Mr Rossetti go and find the carriage and we will join you?” She didn’t give her sister time to reply, she turned and hurried up the stairs after Jemie.

She found him coming out of the box with her reticule in one hand. He appeared startled when he saw her.

“Here it is,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I just needed a moment to speak to you before we go back. I need… I need…” she swallowed.

He pulled her gently to one side. They were completely alone.

She gazed at him, wishing she could touch him as she longed to.

“I need to say thank you for doing this. Thank you for listening to me and knowing how much I desired this. Just… thank you. I needed to say it properly not in a polite social kind of way.” She shrugged and tried to laugh, but it sounded flat and sad.

She didn’t dare look at him as she felt the blush rise to her cheeks.

“Come, Lizzie and Mr Rossetti are searching for the carriage.”

She moved, but Jemie slid his hand into hers. They wore gloves, but she could feel the warmth. She clutched it for a moment, held her breath and looked at him. He looked serious. More serious than she’d ever seen him.

“Oh, Frances,” he murmured softly. “You don’t need to thank me.”

She swallowed as he moved towards her, tilting his head in such a way that she knew what was coming, knew she should turn away, but she didn’t.

He kissed her. Soft, chaste, and oh so terribly tenderly.

Her breath stuttered in her chest. She pulled back to look at him.

He was breathing heavily, as was she. She hesitated, then pressed her lips to his again and he moaned softly, wrapping his arms around her and this time the kiss wasn’t quite so chaste, it sent spangles of sensation coursing through every inch of her body.

He pulled away and they stared at each other.

“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” he swallowed, only inches apart from her lips.

“Probably not.” She leaned closer and he kissed the corner of her mouth leaving her yearning for more.

“We should go,” he announced, clearing his throat.

Frances touched his cheek, her hand trembling. “I was right,” she murmured. “You do have eyes like starlight.”

His lids fluttered closed, and he lay his forehead against hers.

***

The journey back to Leyland’s house took forever. Jemie listened to Lizzie and Rossetti’s laughter and chatter as they travelled. Frances joined in, although he wondered if her sister could see she was a little shaken. He eventually relaxed enough to steal a glance at Frances.

What in God’s name had he done.

She was laughing now at something Lizzie said about the performance.

It had been good. Very good. Funny, witty, and rather sad in places.

Frances had simply gobbled the whole thing up.

For a man who was so exact, so focused on detail whether it be in business or in a work of art, her husband was strangely oblivious to the charming woman he’d married.

More than once during the performance, Frances had grasped his hand, then quickly let it go thinking better of herself. He saw now how her eyes were bright and sparkling, a smile lighting up her beautiful face, amused by something Rossetti had said with her sister, and smiled.

The play itself had given him a jolt. An artist creating the woman of his dreams. Bringing her to life, but then losing her again. It felt… prophetic. Was Frances Leyland to be Galatea to his Pygmalion? Was he about to create the perfect woman in his painting of her, only to lose her?

They tumbled out of the carriage as they arrived at the house at Queen’s Gate.

“Oh, do come in for a drink?” Lizzie begged. Rossetti agreed with alacrity, and Jemie had little choice but to follow suit.

The butler bowed as they settled in the drawing room and brought out the brandy for the gentlemen.

“Tea for me, I think,” Frances unpinned her hat. “Lizzie?”

“I would die for some tea. Cake would be marvellous too.”

The butler set off to bring refreshment, leaving Rossetti to pour generous amounts of Leyland’s exceptionally good brandy into fine crystal.

He was listening to Frances arguing with her sister about a particular point in the play in eloquent terms when Leyland entered the room. He didn’t appear overly pleased to see them.

“I see you’re back.”

“Hope you don’t mind, old chap, but we raided your stocks.” Rossetti raised his glass.

Leyland shook his head. “Help yourself. Did you have an enjoyable evening?” He poured himself a drink.

Jemie watched as Frances quietly closed up.

The glittering excitement, the witty, intelligent observations all fell away, leaving her smiling with serene politeness.

He’d wager most wouldn’t really notice it.

She did it so seamlessly. The warm, passionate woman he’d held in his arms was nowhere to be seen.

“It was lovely and very kind of the gentlemen to chaperone us,” she said.

The tea tray arrived, and she poured for herself and her sister and as she did so, Leyland shifted the conversation to the art he had planned for the new house.

Jemie glanced at Frances. Leyland was turned away from them, listening to Rossetti, so when she looked at him, he winked.

Her eyes sparkled for a moment and his heart did something peculiar in his chest.

***

After a miserably sleepless night, Jemie paid the Leylands a call early the following morning.

He was relieved to find that Frances was alone in the house.

The butler showed him to the drawing room, and she received him graciously.

Once the door was safely closed, she stood up, her pale features and drawn demeanour leading him to suspect she’d had no more sleep than he had.

“Thank you for calling.”

He had no idea what to say. The distance that gaped between them had never been there before.

“I… Frances… I…”

She moved a step closer. “We can’t do this.”

He held out a hand then dropped it. “We can’t.” They were the hardest words he’d ever spoken. He wanted… it didn’t matter what he wanted.

“Can we still be friends?” she asked him with sad resolute that made his heart ache.

“Oh, Frances, of course. Of course. I will always be your friend.” His voice was hoarse, and she looked like she might crumble at any minute.

“The children. Your career… we couldn’t jeopardise those.”

His career hadn’t even crossed his mind. He shook his head, knowing she could never leave her children. She was a wonderful, remarkable mother. It made him realise there was much she needed to discover about him.

“I should never have kissed you.” He stared at the carpet, unsure where to place himself. He was usually reasonably skilled with women. Knew what to say, knew what to do. But with Frances, he was clueless and left floundering.

“Oh, you should. You most certainly should.”

He blinked and then regarded her with hopeful curiosity. “I should?”

“Or I would never have known.”

“Known what?” He was lost. He wanted to take her in his arms. Hold her tight, kiss her and never stop. He wanted to make the world right for her.

“What a kiss should be,” she nodded. “But…” her voiced wavered. “We cannot do it again. We cannot.” She was firm on this.

It was a moment before he could speak. “I know. I know.”

He wanted to say something reassuring, something charming, funny… anything. There were things he needed to tell her. Things about him she should know. All he could do was bow his head and even that threatened to undo his composure.