Free The Jealous Love of a Scoundrel (The Marlow Intrigues) by Jane Lark

Peter.
    He sat down in his usual seat, and leant forward onto the edge of the box, as the music of Mendelssohn's Wedding March began and the lights were lit at the far end of the theatre. There she was.
    “Lillian.” He breathed her name aloud as if she might hear.
    “She has seen you.” Drew sat next to him.
    “How can you know? She is wearing that thick veil.”
    “I spent a year watching Mary without speaking to her. I became an expert in spotting subtle looks, there was a movement in her shoulders, and the posy she is holding trembled for an instant afterwards. She knows you are here.”
    Peter smiled for her, as if she was watching him.
    Excitement, need, desire, hope and fear tied knots inside him. He was not certain she would have him.
    He watched her avidly as she progressed with The Magic Monsieur Milligan. The men in the pit parted, and then she climbed the steps. Peter breathed in deeply.
    When they reached the point in the show that she turned and held out her hand for Milligan to slide on the ring, then Peter knew she had seen him. He was in her eye line, if she had not known before she knew now, and she was probably wishing him in hell.
    The ring slid on, then off, and on, then off, then on again and off one last time. Milligan shrugged. Peter straightened as she turned and knelt. He smiled at Drew. “You will see her in a moment.”
    Drew’s hand touched Peter’s back and slid away again as he gave Peter an odd twisted smile. Peter looked back at the stage as Milligan took the sword from the statue on the fake tomb. The red handkerchief was cut in half as Peter had cut Lillian’s heart in half, and then Milligan swung it with a dramatic flourish. The heavy wax head fell with a thud. Peter stood as Lillian’s head lifted her hair a bare, black, glossy mass of curls.
    “You have forgotten something in this service!” Peter shouted.
    The room became quiet, and then broke into a round of whispers.
    “What if there is an objection to the marriage?”
    “Peter,” Lillian said in a note that said please be quiet.
    “I object!” With a smile, he gripped the edge of his box and then leapt over it. He was left dangling from its edge. The men beneath him moved and then he dropped down, to angry shouts.
    “Get on with show.”
    “Get away.”
    He did not care what her audience thought. He ran up the steps onto the stage. Curses were thrown at him from the pit.
    “I object,” he said again, speaking only to Lillian, looking into the teal eyes that he had missed so much. “This man cannot have you as a wife…”
    “Get off, Lord Brooke,” Milligan whispered.
    “…Because I want you for mine.” 
    “You have another woman who will be your wife. Leave me alone, Peter. I am working.”
    “No. I am being serious.”
    “Lord Brooke,” Milligan complained, and on the far side of the stage Peter saw Victor coming as Peter took the ring from his inside pocket.
    He dropped to one knee.
    “Get up, Peter,” Lillian urged.
    The audience broke into laughter. Perhaps those who did not know the act were beginning to believe this was a part of it. “Will you marry me, Lillian? Truly. I have ended my engagement. I wish for you.”
    She squatted down, both her hands embracing his, her silly paper posy pointing outwards. “I cannot. You know I cannot.”
    “If you say yes you can, we will work all else out with time. I know it will not be easy for you, and yet… Lillian, I love you. That is all that matters.”
    Tears traced down her cheeks as she stood up. The room sighed. “Please, stop,” she said quietly. “Speak to me after the show.”
    “Just take my ring. It will not come loose. I swear it.”
    She smiled with a nervous expression and shook her head, but then held out her hand. He slid the single sapphire set in gold onto her finger, and knew for certain it was right, it had been like putting the key into a door lock. It fitted. This was right. Warmth and joy gripped hard in his stomach and