“Harris!Thank God.” His short prayer was sincere. “I need to get to the upper level.”
His friend eyed him up and down, appearing simultaneously skeptical and alarmed.
“Harris,”—he seized the man’s arm—“mydearfriend—”
Harris’s brows went up.
“—I must find a place I can meet privately with a lady. Preferably on the same level as the boxes.”
“Neville!?” Harris jerked back. “I’m astonished. You, of all people! YouknowI cannot accommodate an assignation. The Duke of Bedford would have my head.”
Harris’s protest felt more like an excuse. Bedford, the theater’s owner, was known to have fathered more than one illegitimate child. Who was to say Bedford hadn’t used one of these many chambers for an illicit meeting or two?
“Nothing untoward, I promise,” Neville continued. “Honestly, do you know me at all?”
Harris’s lips pinched. “You don’t appear to be exactly yourself this evening.”
Oh, Neville was aware! “A lady acquaintance of mine—both a ward of my friend and my cousin Harbury’s sister-in-law—may be in distress. More than distress. Danger.Gravedanger. I—oh, hell, I don’t know! All I know is that Imustspeak with her.Urgently. Else…else…” He looked frantically around. “Else I will have no choice but toforcemy way into the Eltenham box.”
“You?” Harris’s expression turned amused. “Make ascene?”
“I swear I will!” Neville insisted, his expression mulish.
If the only way to save Millicent was a scene, then Neville wouldmake a scene, even if that meant he must ask for her hand after, to keep her from further harm. She might hate him foreverfor leaving her no choice, but she would be better off with him than if left in Willard’s clutches.
Neville?Her bewildered response to his heated gaze in the library this afternoon echoed in his ears. Briefly, he closed his eyes.
Perhaps Harbury had been right. Perhaps Millie didn’t hate him. Perhaps he might one day convince her to wed him of her own accord. But such a dream would only be possibleifhe was able to free her from Willard’s ill intent.
“I do believe you are serious.” Harris studied his face. “You’d do anything for this lady, wouldn’t you?”
“As God is my witness,” Neville vowed again. “Help me,please.”
“Eltenham’s box, you say?”
“Willard has use of it tonight,” Neville explained. “Miss Millicent Wainwright is with him.”
“And she’s Harbury’s sister-in-law?”
Neville nodded. The involvement of a duke’s relation could only help him prove his case.
Harris touched his forefinger against his bottom lip as he considered. “Willard sent the lads in his party to the lounge. He, however, is still in his father’s box, as are, I believe, the ladies. Are you sure Miss Wainwright is in trouble? And you can solve her trouble, if I find a place for the two of you to meet?”
“Yes!”
“Well…” Harris turned calculating. “The royal box stands empty. And, as I have just had word that the Regent has made an appearance at Drury Lane tonight, our whole royal suite is unlikely to be used. If I can manage to draw the lady from the box, youcouldspeak to her in the royal retiring room, which is just behind the box. There’s an entrance to the same corridor Willard’s box empties into. I will alert the guard.”
“Brilliant! Thank you.”
“But be brief!” Harris’s right brow ticked up. “And getting herbackto Willard could prove a problem, though.”
“My preference would be that she doesn’t return.” Neville brightened with a sudden idea. “I could escort her out the Hart Street entrance the Royals use without attracting much notice.”
“Are you mad?” Harris shook his head. “Willard would raise a hue and cry if she completely disappears.”
“That’s a possible outcome,” Neville said. “But her mortal soul, Harris. Hermortal soul.”
Harris grunted. “You prepare to meet her in the retiring room. I’ll think of some way to get her there and, if needs be, to get her out after. But remember—you’ll owe me dearly for this!”