The Bridegroom by Joan Johnston Page A

said, “Very well, my lord. I shall.”
    She and Carlisle made as unobtrusive an exit as they could through the rear of the box into the hallway beyond, which was indeed more quiet. Carlisle surprised her by stopping while they were still within sight, and easy calling distance, of her sister.
    She turned and smiled at him. “Thank you.”
    “For rescuing you from your thoughts? I doubt I have done much but delay your distress. Will you not share the problem with me?”
    Reggie took a deep breath and braced herself, as though she were preparing to dive into the icy pond at Blackthorne Abbey. “If you must know the truth, I was wondering how I might manage to attend a gaming hell.”
    He laughed. “Surely you jest.”
    “No, my lord—”
    “Clay.”
    “No, Clay, I am not jesting,” she said. “It is a matter of … of curiosity, you see.”
    “Curiosity killed the cat,” Carlisle replied.
    Well, Reggie thought wryly, the earl certainly had not pounced on the opportunity to draw her into flaunting convention. To be caught out in such a place could mean the ruin of her, but how else was she to discover what she needed to know. She had not heard any gossip aboutthe earl’s gaming habits, and she did not know anyone who knew him well enough to ask about them.
    Reggie was not about to give up. Perhaps a little coaxing would do the job. She smiled prettily up at him, though she forbore batting her lashes. That was a coquette’s trick. She only wanted to convince him, not seduce him. “Surely it could be arranged if I were in disguise,” she suggested.
    Before the earl could answer, a drunken fop laid a hand on her shoulder.
    One minute the hand was there, the next it was gone, along with the castaway young man. He had been lifted bodily by his neck cloth and removed some distance down the hall by the earl, who said in a voice sharp enough to pierce even a drunken sensibility, “Kindly watch your step.”
    At the same time, Carlisle managed to bow and smile at Lady Hornby, the
ton
’s most notorious gossip, as she passed by.
    Lady Hornby paused and lifted the lorgnette that hung from a ribbon around her neck to stare pointedly at the pair of them. “What are you doing out here with that chit, Carlisle? The play is inside.”
    “I might ask the same of you,” Carlisle said, arching a black brow. “Are you in need of any assistance, Lady Hornby?”
    Reggie watched in awe, as Carlisle not only deflected Lady Hornby’s question, but left her flustered at the attention he paid her. It was difficult to tell, beneath all the powder and rouge, but Reggie would have sworn the old bat blushed!
    “Enjoy your evening, Carlisle,” Lady Hornby said. The ostrich feathers sprouting from her turban bobbed with each step she took, so she looked like that massive bird as she strolled regally down the hall toward the theater.
    Reggie suddenly found the earl’s eyes turned back to her, and she knew exactly how Lady Hornby had felt. There was nothing she could do to stop the rush of blood to her cheeks. If he was a rogue, he was certainly a charming and protective one.
    “The answer is yes,” he said.
    Reggie barely managed to avoid blurting, “What is the question?” She merely smiled. Brilliantly. “When shall we go? How shall we manage it?”
    “Leave everything to me. How does tomorrow sound?”
    Reggie gulped. “So soon?”
    “Do you have some other engagement tomorrow evening?”
    “My sister and her husband are promised for dinner with the Covingtons, but I made my excuses.” The last time she had dined with the Covingtons, their nineteen-year-old son Harvey had cornered her in a dark hallway, sworn his undying love for her, and tried to prove it by forcing himself on her.
    “I will pick you up at nine tomorrow night,” Carlisle said.
    “What costume shall I wear?” Reggie asked, both elated and terrified at the prospect of stealing away with the earl.
    “The Smuggler’s Den supplies masks at the door