The Wayward Debutante. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

      James smiled. “Yes, I can see you’re not at all interested. You enjoy the theater very much, don’t you?”

      “What has that to do with anything?”

      “It’s obvious you’ll go to great lengths to attend.”

      “That’s not true,” she lied stubbornly. “I like it no more than most.”

      He sighed. “Then explain your ridiculous disguise and your multiple deceptions. You know you’d lose your situation if your employer ever learned of your outings, but you’re willing to take the risk anyway.”

      “Yes, well, I have decided I won’t be doing so any longer. Too risky, as you’ve just pointed out.”

      He moved a step closer. “You could go, if you wanted to. You could go if you were with me.”

      She countered by taking a step back, unable to think clearly when he stood so close. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

      “But it is. I hold a very large share of that theater, you see. I’m one of its owners, and if you were with me I could provide you with better protection than you have now, sitting alone in the audience. As your last experience showed, you need protection.”

      Eleanor just stared at him for a good five seconds as she attempted to make sense of his words. She felt rather sick. How could this be possible? She’d wondered how she’d been unlucky enough to encounter him there twice, and he owned the theater. She was a fool.

      “I don’t think that would be wise,” she said, her voice weak.

      “Look, Miss Smith, you needn’t act so maidenly about this. It’s a simple business proposition. We both have something to gain.”

      “I fail to see what either of us would gain.”

      “We both require the other’s company.”

      “I do not require your company, sir, and you can go alone.”

      “Of course I can go alone. I don’t have to go at all—I helped finance the theater, but I have little to do with its day-to-day running. But I’ve been thinking of late that I ought to take a more active role, and I would do so more readily if I had someone pleasant to sit next to on a regular basis. Make it feel less like work, don’t you think?”

      It was outrageous. Jeopardize her reputation so he wouldn’t be bored? “Get someone else to sit next to you—you didn’t seem to have any difficulty finding companionship before.”

      He smiled. “Perhaps. But it is a problem finding someone intelligent enough…I must admit to being a bit of a philistine, Miss Smith, and I need someone to help me understand the plays properly. Someone who’ll have something improving to say at the end. Someone like a…governess.”

      Her heart was pounding so loudly that he must have heard it, but somehow she managed to sound calm. “You’re a bit old for a governess, sir, but I wish you luck in your search. I must go.”

      She turned away, but he caught her hand. He was beginning to look impatient. “What I’m really trying to do is help you. Will you accept my help?”

      “How on earth would this help me? Please don’t tell me you’re concerned about my welfare.”

      “Well, I am. You need a chaperone.”

      “And you think you’re qualified?”

      He frowned at her sarcastic tone. He was making everything up as he went along, but it all sounded like good sense to his ears. He’d almost convinced himself that his motives were benign, so why wouldn’t she believe him? “Maybe not in the conventional sense, but it’s not safe for you to go alone. People make certain assumptions about women who do such things. You are aware of that, aren’t you? If you step foot in a theater alone, everyone there will assume you are a woman of easy virtue.”

      She turned pink. She’d known respectable women never attended the theater alone, but she hadn’t actually taken the time to consider why that was so. She’d thought it was just another of society’s conventions.

      “I already told you, I won’t be going again.”

      “But you’ll want to.” He still held her hand, and the light, warm pressure was beginning to make her feel dizzy. He stepped closer again, and his voice dropped an octave. “Give me an answer, Eleanor. I know I haven’t behaved like a perfect gentleman to you, and this is my only way of making up for it. Let me help you. A new play starts next week. Come with me. I promise you’ll enjoy it. I even promise I’ll behave. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

      She knew she should refuse; that was the only sane thing to do. But his voice was gentle and cajoling, and his leafy eyes had grown dark. She wanted nothing more than to acquiesce. She was thinking about kissing again, thinking about how close his face was to hers. He was right: she would want to go again, and he was offering her the chance.

      She knew she should refuse. That’s what any sensible, gently raised young lady would do. But the tedium of being a sensible young lady had been doing her in for many weeks now. There really was much more to life.

      “I can’t come. It’s too difficult to get out of the house without being detected.”

      He sensed her resolve was fading. “You must have a night off.”

      She shook her head.

      He rolled his eyes. “This habit you have of lying…everyone has a night off. Tell me when yours is.”

      This couldn’t be happening to her. He was asking her to sneak away and meet him secretly. She wasn’t supposed to do that sort of thing, but here she was, actually contemplating it. She knew she shouldn’t…but why shouldn’t she? There were so many rules she had to follow, and she hadn’t invented a single one herself. Besides, what if he should reveal her secret? Thanks to that invitation, he knew where she lived and he knew who her relatives were. Her voice was small and uncertain. “Wednesday?”

      He seemed surprised that she’d actually provided him with an answer. “Wednesday? Shall we meet then, next week?”

      She was already shaking her head vigorously, wanting to take everything back. She hadn’t agreed to anything. “I…I don’t know my answer yet. I will think about it, but I can’t make any promises.”

      “I’ll send my carriage. There will be no risk at all.”

      “I will not be alone in a carriage with you!”

      “Oh, for…I won’t be in it. I’ll meet you at the theater, so you’ll be perfectly alone. I’m just trying to be helpful.”

      “It will never work. You cannot send your carriage to my house. I could never explain such a thing to my mistress.”

      He frowned. Of course his carriage couldn’t simply arrive at the doorstep to whisk the governess away for an evening of dubious entertainments. But he also knew that if he left transportation up to her she’d never come. “I don’t think you’ll have to explain yourself, but if anyone asks, say you’re visiting an elderly relative. My maid goes somewhere every Tuesday night and I haven’t the faintest idea where, nor do I care. She can do what she likes during her own time. No one will miss you.”

      Except she wasn’t a servant, and she would be missed. “I don’t know…”

      “Six o’clock,” he said, his voice quiet and brooking no argument. Eleanor looked into his eyes and knew he’d won. How had it happened? Everything had moved too quickly, and she just couldn’t keep up. And now he was standing so close to her, his head bent toward hers and his changeable eyes meeting her gaze. He still held her hand, and the gentle, almost imperceptible caress of his thumb made her shiver.

      He really was going to kiss her this time; she was sure of it. But he didn’t, not on the lips or cheek, anyway. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back