“Is something wrong, Mr Wilder?” Elliot asked, waiting for the butler to approach.
“It seems your visitor has returned.” The butler handed over a letter, with so much trepidation in his manner that his hand shook around the paper. “She was most insistent on leaving this for you.”
“Thank you.” Elliot took the letter and waited for the butler to retreat. In the dim candlelight of the room, he turned the letter over, knowing whose handwriting would be there even before he read it.
His name was clearly written in the cursive and rather dramatic letters that dominated the envelope. Underneath the address, a few more personal words had been added.
You cannot stay away.
Elliot disagreed. He strode with purpose from the hallway and headed to his study. At first, he dropped the letter onto the desk beside Harrison’s note, distracting himself by replying to Harrison’s invitation and promising he and Ophelia would come for dinner in two nights’ time. Once that letter was done, Elliot sat back, his eyes resting on Celeste’s note.
He hadn’t opened it, but he had no wish to, either. The way she kept turning up at the house was beyond the pale. A part of him hoped that if he continued to ignore her, she would quit her attempts to renew their relationship. He had given her a goodbye—what more did she need?
Snatching up the letter from the desk, he tossed it into the fireplace. The burning embers set the letter on fire, and the paper disappeared into a tall yellow flame.
Chapter 23
“The theatre? What is the occasion for this?” Ophelia asked as she stepped down from the carriage, taking Elliot’s hand.
“To enjoy ourselves,” Elliot said with a shrug. “And we have the money to enjoy such frivolities now,” he confessed. “A while ago, I thought such simple pleasures were forbidden to me, and it would be something I could never enjoy again.”
He whispered the words in Ophelia’s ear as he took her arm. Ophelia could have shuddered with a kind of delight as he came so close. He constantly had this effect on her these days. No matter what he did, her body responded to him.
“It is because of you that we can enjoy such things.”
“If you are going to thank me again, pray do not!” she warned him as they walked towards the theatre, following the other guests that had arrived. Together, they all came from a busy road, crowded with carriages and footman, to the stairs of the Theatre Royal and the great doors that had been thrust open, revealing the flooding of candlelight inside. “You have thanked me plenty. You must be tired of uttering the words by now,” she teased him, watching as Elliot laughed.
“You think I’ll get tired of thanking you? Well, perhaps I’ll just have to think of morecreativeways of showing my gratitude.” He took her hand off his arm and lifted it to his lips, turning it over so that he could kiss the inside of her wrist. It was a soft touch, like butterfly’s wings brushing her skin. Ophelia’s felt her breath hitch, knowing what he was promising her.
“Well, I do not think I could object to demonstrations of gratitude of that kind.”
“Ha! I should hope not.”
Their playfulness was interrupted as they reached the door of the theatre and Elliot offered their tickets to one of the attendants. A few minutes later, they were sat inside in a box, ready to watch the performance. Ophelia could not shake the smile from her face as she and Elliot leaned toward one another, whispering about the performance that was to happen.
As they talked, he kept running his fingers up and down her arm, teasing her with those touches. It was different to the passion they had shared before. It was less heated, and much more affectionate.
Perhaps I was wrong about Celeste’s visit. Maybe he does not still go to her.
In moments like this with Elliot, it was easy to believe he was done with his mistress, yet Ophelia couldn’t shake the feeling completely. After all, Elliot had not told her himself of Celeste’s visit. Surely, he would have done if he’d had nothing to hide.
“So, what is it we are seeing?” Ophelia asked, gesturing to the stage beyond the balustrade of the box.
“Much Ado About Nothing,”Elliot explained and proffered a programme to her to read, though the candlelight was too dim for her to see the words easily. “What do you make of the play?”
“I think the clue is in the title,” she said with a laugh. “A lot of confusion happens over nothing really at all.”
“Ha! True indeed. Merely because of the cruel intentions of one man, if memory serves correct.”
“Just so, but it is an enjoyable tale.” Ophelia barely managed to say the words before candles began to be extinguished in the room. Gradually, a silence fell over those gathered in the auditorium, ready to watch the play.
Ophelia lost herself in the story on the stage. She followed the joys and woes of the romances, watching Benedict and Beatrice argue repeatedly, with tension in the air. She was enjoying the play so much, with Elliot occasionally bumping her shoulder so they could lean together, that when he stood to his feet it was a shock to her.
“Elliot?” she murmured, angling her head round to see Elliot was in conversation with one of the stage attendants who had appeared in their box.
“It seems a business associate has arrived to see me.” Elliott sighed, appearing deeply perturbed as he whispered the words to Ophelia. “They are insisting they see me at once.”
“Elliot, you paid for these tickets. You should be able to enjoy yourself here. Ask the attendant to pass on a message that you will see this business associate tomorrow, not tonight.” Ophelia thought it was madness to leave the theatre now, but before she had even finished speaking, Elliot was already shaking his head.