Olivia Twist(47)

Their gazes locked, his eyes sparking with mystery. “Then let’s be off. The night awaits.” He pushed off the wall, cupped the back of her neck, and pulled her in for a single searing kiss that curled her toes in her slippers.

When he lifted his head, she saw her own exhilaration reflected in his blue gaze. She could not conceive of his motivations, but for now, being with him was enough. He touched the back of her arm and guided her down the passage.

A bit dizzy, Olivia leaned into his strength. It wasn’t as if they’d never been alone before, but this was somehow different. Perhaps because they weren’t Ollie and Dodger on a mission or Miss Brownlow and Mr. MacCarron putting on airs at a party. They were simply Olivia and Jack, and being together felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Once they reached the atrium, ushers stood sentinel at every door. All the wall sconces and chandeliers had been lit and raised. Jack walked faster. The intermission was about to begin. As they rushed across the enormous space, the swish of Olivia’s skirts whispered in time with her pulse and the diamond-patterned carpet stretched before them, giving the illusion that it moved beneath their feet.

When the intermission began, Max and Mr. and Mrs. Grimwig would search for her, panicked at her sudden disappearance. And when she couldn’t be found, they would inform her uncle and possibly the constables to search the city. Uncle Brownlow would be frantic with worry. Olivia’s steps slowed.

Jack continued past her, but his hand still held her elbow so that when she stopped, his arm stretched out behind him. He turned and met her gaze. Pressure building behind her eyes, she shook her head. The doors opened all around them, and the buzz of hundreds of voices, like a beehive exploding, assaulted her ears. She glanced behind Jack at the exit, so close. Her heart galloped in her chest, compelling her to flee.

“We can still make it, if we go now,” Jack urged, his crystal-blue eyes imploring.

With a fortitude she didn’t know she possessed, Olivia stepped back from his touch. “I cannot.”



“Miss Brownlow!”

String-bean Grimwig rushed toward them, and Jack had to force his hands to unclench. Blast it all! Where was bloomin’ Grimwig when Olivia fled the theater in distress? He was sitting on his pompous behind, too afraid to go against convention and follow her, that’s where.

“Miss Brownlow, is something amiss? Why did you leave the performance?” Twin flags of red stained Grimwig’s cheeks as he stopped in front of them, his gaze darting to Jack, and then back to Olivia. “What is he doing here?”

“I’m fine. I merely needed a spot of fresh air.” Olivia’s mouth twisted in an effort to smile, but she quickly abandoned the attempt and began to fiddle with her reticule. She looked lost, like a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest, and Jack longed to put his arms around her.

Grimwig’s eyes narrowed in accusation. “I asked you what MacCarron is doing here.”

“He was . . . I mean, I . . .” Olivia floundered, blinking rapidly.

“Olivia appeared distraught, and I was simply inquiring as to the lass’s wellbeing.” Jack worked to keep his tone light, when he longed to smash his fist into Grimwig’s abnormally large nose.

“Olivia?” Maxwell’s face turned a disturbing shade of mauve, his raised tone drawing several curious stares.

Jack suppressed a groan at his slip in address. What could he say? I’ve actually known her since she was a child dressed like a boy and stealing on the streets to survive. So I believe I’ve earned the right to speak her bloody name.

“It’s quite all right, Max.” Olivia attempted to placate Grimwig with a touch to his sleeve.

“Did you give MacCarron leave to use your given name?”

Jack clenched his teeth and took a step forward. Robbing this git was going to be one of the great pleasures of his life. But for Olivia’s sake he would bury his anger and find a way to diffuse the situation. Before he could intervene, however, Olivia took Grimwig by the arm and began leading him away. “Max, you know how I despise formality . . .”

At that inopportune moment, Lois and Miss Lancaster approached. “What is going on, here?” Lois demanded. “Jack?”

Jack watched the graceful line of Olivia’s back as she walked away. He couldn’t blame her for changing her mind, but that didn’t dissipate the disappointment scalding through him like a fever.

Turning to face his own disastrous situation, he pasted on a wide smile. “Ah, Auntie Lois and Miss Lancaster, so very good to see ye both! Please forgive my earlier absence,” he cooed in his most seductive brogue as he took Miss Lancaster’s hand and placed a lingering kiss on her gloved fingers. Her glare melted into a pout.

Lois arched a brow, but thankfully kept her mouth shut. By the way her hawklike gaze focused past his shoulder, he could guess she knew he’d been with Olivia Brownlow, and she wasn’t pleased.

Turning his attention to his neglected companion, Jack apologized again and made his excuses for leaving the play. Soon, his irreverent critiques of the performance had her laughing, and they joined the line at the refreshment table. As they drank tiny cups of swill being passed off as lemonade, bells tinkled overhead, warning everyone to find their way back to their seats.

Joining the crush, Jack remained attentive to Francesca while covertly scanning the crowd for Olivia. Just ahead and to the right, he caught a glimpse of her dark-gold curls. He placed his hand on Francesca’s back and maneuvered her through the maze of people. The airless passage wreaked of body odor, hair pomade, and cloying perfumes. Jack excused his way through a cluster of older ladies shuffling along at a snail’s pace. He needed to reach Olivia before the hallway divided.