The kindly doctor stepped inside.
As soon as she heard the doctor jovially greet Bette, Laura crossed her arms and fixed Malcolm with a glare. “Go away.”
He raised his hands. “Is that any way to talk to a friend concerned for Bette?”
She gave an inelegant snort. “Friend? I don’t think so. Get out of here before I’m forced to do something to wipe that smile off your face. You don’t scare me, Malcolm. Now, go.”
She moved to shut the door, but he stuck his foot in the way. His wolverine smile vanished and his eyes flashed cold with determination. “You need to listen to me before things get nasty.”
Anger simmered hot and heavy in her belly. She fisted her hands on her hips and kicked his foot away. “I don’t need to listen to anybody. Now, why don’t you say what you came here to say and disappear? My best friend in the whole world is in there struggling for her next breath. I don’t have time for your carrying on.”
“I hear you’ve been sniffing around the theater for work.”
Damn it. Who the hell had been talking to Malcolm about her? She tilted her chin. “And?”
“If you were looking for more up-market clientele, you should have told me first.”
She scowled. “I don’t have to tell you anything. I don’t work for you and never will.”
“Then maybe it’s time you moved on. Here and abouts is my patch. Where my ladies work. I can’t have you giving the impression it’s one rule for you and not the rest. You’re messing with my authority, and my patience has run out. You need to make a decision, or I can’t be held responsible for what happens next.”
“Are you threatening me?” Laura tightened her jaw. “You think I don’t know it was you who got the other girls messing with your authority thrown out of their homes? Had their belongings stolen or tossed onto the street?”
“Well, if you know that, pretty Laura, why do you think the same hasn’t happened to you and Bette so far?”
Her heart thundered as she glared at the dog turd standing in front of her. “You really think we’ll eventually come around and give you a cut of whatever we earn?” She shook her head. “Over my dead body.”
He laughed. “Don’t you mean Bette’s?”
Anger roared through her and she raised her hand to slap the damn know-it-all smirk from his ugly face. He caught her wrist in a vice-like grip and held it—hard. Her pulse beat under his palm.
“You listen to me.” His eyes were cold with malice and his cheeks red. “I’m giving you one month to either get out of here or come work for me. One month and then Bette dying will be the least of your worries. In the meantime, I’ll be watching you, and once I see you’re off your high horse and spreading your legs again, I’ll be back for a cut. If you don’t pay me, you’ll soon wish you were lying on a slab next to your precious friend.”
He tossed her arm away and Laura stumbled backward against the doorframe. With a parting sneer, he straightened the cuffs on his jacket and stalked away like he was king of the world.
Shaking with rage and a hefty dose of fear, Laura crossed her arms and glared after him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her anxiety should he turn around. When he’d gone, she released her held breath and reentered the house. Shutting the door, she leaned against it and waited for the galloping in her heart to subside.
Tears gathered in her throat. What was she going to do with Malcolm watching her every move? Would she be putting Tess at risk of Malcolm’s attention if she continued working at the theater? She closed her eyes. She wouldn’t put it past him to follow her there night after night. Damn him. Damn this life she and Bette were in, despite her efforts to release them from it.
The soft murmuring of Dr. Penders shook Laura from her contemplation and, forcing the frustration from her face, she hurried into the living room. The doctor had somehow managed to get Bette sitting up against the pillows and drinking tea. It was more than Laura had managed all day.
She moved to the bedside. “Doctor, you should’ve waited for me to make the tea.”
He waved his hand. “The kettle was boiled. Don’t worry yourself. You had more than enough to cope with getting rid of that Baxter character.”
“Well, he’s gone now. How’s Bette faring, Doctor? Are there any signs of improvement?” She clasped Bette’s free hand in hers.
His eyes softened and his brows drew together. “I’m afraid not. The pneumonia has spread to her lungs and taken up residence. I can give you a prescription for some decongestant. It might ease the discomfort.”
Laura nodded. “I’ll go into town as soon as you leave. I’ll get whatever she needs.”
“We don’t have the money for no fancy medicine.” Bette’s words rasped against her throat.
She tightened her grip on Bette’s hand. “We have the money for whatever you need to make you better.”
Bette shook her head and closed her eyes. “Tell her, Doc. Tell her the truth.”
Dread fell heavy into Laura’s stomach. “What truth?”
Dr. Penders cleared his throat. “The truth that nothing is guaranteed. I hope and pray the drugs make a difference, but you, as well as Bette, need to know there is little I can do once the trouble settles in the lungs.”
“I see.” Laura straightened her spine. “That doesn’t mean it’s not worth a try, so don’t worry, she’ll be back to bossing me around in no time.”
Bette shifted on the bed. “Laura—”
“Is there anything else I need to know?” Laura stared at the doctor, ignoring her friend. The notion of Bette giving up struck terror into her heart with overbearing ferocity. Bette never gave up on anything.
The doctor frowned. “Let Laura look after you. You need to fight this. Do you hear me?”
“I’m being realistic.” Bette plucked at the covers across her lap. “We need to know so we can be prepared and make plans. That bastard, excuse my French, Malcolm Baxter will be back here tomorrow and the next day, until Laura succumbs to his demands. I’m as much use to her as a wet blanket. If I’m going to die, I don’t want her wasting what little money we’ve got on nonsense.”
Dr. Penders squeezed her hand. “Medicine is not nonsense and well you know it. Moreover, getting plenty of rest is paramount. As much sleep as possible with minimal disturbance or upset.”
Bette lifted her hand from his and cursed.
With frustration set at a low hum in her blood, Laura cupped the doctor’s elbow. “Let me see you out.” She glanced at Bette. “Somebody has clearly got fever of the brain, too, if she thinks for one minute I won’t be going to the pharmacy the minute you’ve gone.”
Ignoring Bette’s colorful protestation behind them, Laura led Dr. Penders to the door and opened it. “Thank you for coming by again. It means so much to me you’re willing to come to this part of town to help us. There are many doctors who wouldn’t.”
He smiled. “Circumstances don’t make the person. You and Bette are better people than most of the moneyed I know. You send a message for me if she worsens. I fear this has gotten a real hold on her.” He drew in a long breath. “Be strong . . . but be prepared. You know where to find me.”
Words stuck in her throat as he strolled down the alley, his aging frame stooped as though he carried the worries of the world upon his shoulders. Laura’s view blurred. He’d told her in the kindest way possible there was every chance Bette would lose her battle.
Swallowing hard, Laura pulled back her shoulders.
She wouldn’t let her best friend lay down and die. Not now. Not when they’d made the decision their whoring would end and a different future begin. She wouldn’t take these new steps without Bette beside her. How would she gain pleasure from any new turn or opportunity without the person who never betrayed, lied, or disappointed her by her side? There was every chance she’d never again meet another person to love and trust like she did Bette.
She closed the door and snatched her coat from a hook in the hallway before
walking into the living room.
Bette coughed. “Don’t waste your money. Stay here with me and we’ll have another cup of tea. I’ll fight this thing. I promise.”
“I know you will, but I’m going to the pharmacy all the same and you’ll take whatever the doctor ordered.”
The ensuing silence spoke volumes. Bette was scared. Really scared.
Shrugging into her coat, Laura fought her tears. “Shall I make you another cuppa before I go?”
Bette stared toward the window. “No.”
“Fine. Then I’ll leave you to rest.”
“Just go.”
Laura’s head ached from the icy-cold tension emanating from the woman capable of making her laugh until she thought her sides would split clean open. She kissed Bette’s perspiring temple. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Bette grunted.
With her heart breaking, Laura left the house and hurried along the alleyway. If the worries of the world had stooped Dr. Penders’s shoulders, she was bent double by the time she reached town.
Adam glanced up from his drawing-room desk to the wall clock above the mantel. It neared midday and he had barely filled a page and a half toward finishing his new play. Unheard of. The reason? Laura. He could not shake her from his mind or sensibility. Initially, she was a vision for his debut production, but now she was so much more. He wanted to get to know her personally. A passionate need burned in him through the night until he leaped from his bed and threw cold water over his face and neck in a bid to douse the fire.
He had never met such a woman in his life. He laughed aloud and stood. What eyes! What passion! What nerve!
The woman was built of a substance he could not name—but, by God, he liked it. Wanted it. Craved it.
With a woman like that beside him, it was possible he could touch the damn moon. What a formidable team they would be onstage. Her strength came through in her kiss and every touch. She no doubt possessed a rich story to have such a sense of self-worth.
He looked to the window. The sun shone bright in the sky, and birds flew and soared. No wonder his feet itched to do something. He would take a wander into town, stretch his legs through Parade Park, and maybe meander through the market. Nothing better than mixing with others to get the creative juices flowing. He had spent far too many hours cooped up inside writing or rehearsing his lines.
Before anything could change his mind, he marched into the hallway, donned his overcoat and hat, and stepped outside. The light seemed brighter than it had yesterday and the air clearer. Worry still lingered in the back of his mind because he had no further work lined up, but somehow the prospect did not feel as heavy a burden on this new day.
Things would come right for him, one way or another. He had severed his ties to Annabel and planned to pay back every penny she’d spent on him over the last twelve months. Two years had passed since his father cast him out of their family with a wad of cash and little else.
His father’s words reverberated in his ears. “If you fail and come back, you will live by our rules, do as we say, and have no more theater.”
Unable to stand his parents’ resistance to his dreams, Adam rebelled and they had renounced him. He would never regret his decision. Even now, with his money dwindling to desperate levels. His pride and fear had led him to renting a house out of his means. His rationale had been that renting something more affordable might lower his chance of being taken seriously by a potential producer.
He marched along the street, his mind mulling over his decision to set out with the image he wanted to convey firmly established prior to auditioning. Rationalizing nice clothes and a good home would lead the theater’s top people to take him seriously, he now realized he had been a fool. Never in his wildest imagination could he have anticipated the tens of people who would attend the auditions or that the competition would be so fierce.
His worst fears he would not be good enough were realized. Adam drew in a long breath as humiliation after humiliation haunted him once again. When his money ran out, Lady Annabel’s continuous pursuit of him as her lover had been too hard to resist and he succumbed. Shame ached at his temples. The doors of opportunity had swung open freely on hinges greased with her money.
Was it any wonder he still doubted his ability? Who was to say the roles would not once again dry up without Annabel’s assistance? Adam shook his head and pulled back his shoulders. No, he would not think that way. He had accepted long ago, the day either parent clapped him on the shoulder for a job well done was the day he married the “right woman” and bore them a grandchild. There was little chance of either happening this side of the millennium.
Marriage, family, and babies were as far down his list of priorities as taking tea with Annabel in the Pump Room. He had dreams, ambitions, and wishes—none of which involved a family. If a man had a family, he should be there for them. Have a continuous supply of money, a steady job so his beloved never feared for food being absent from the table or their child getting cold on a winter’s night.
Acting would not provide as much, and yet he could not give up what he loved.
Shaking himself from his melancholy, Adam looked around as he entered the park. Bath was never quiet at any time of the day or night, but, on a day like this, it heaved with shoppers and people looking to enjoy the sunshine before autumn grew colder and stripped the trees, sending them scurrying for warmth and home comforts.
He tipped his hat to passersby who raised their eyebrows or whispered behind their hands as they recognized him. His ego inflated at the attention and diminished his fear of failure a little more.
Adam smiled when his gaze fell on some young boys tossing stones into the water or pushing wooden sailboats across the surface of the river that ran through the center of the park. He glanced at their mothers. Their backs were turned as they chattered in earnest conversation. No doubt gossiping about who was doing what with whom. What was it with women and their innate ability to zone out anything or anyone when a whiff of scandal was in the air?
A yell and ensuing splash behind him shot his heart into his throat and he spun around just as the women burst into hysterics.
One of the young boys who had been playing at the water’s edge now struggled in vain against the weight of the current. His arms flailed and his open mouth took in the murky brown liquid time and again.
“Goddamn it.” Adam yanked off his jacket and shoes.
He climbed onto the wall alongside the water and jumped. He sucked in a breath. The temperature was icy cold. Within two steps, its depth reached his torso. The boy sank beneath the murkiness once more. Gritting his teeth, Adam waded through the current and plunged his hands deep. He grabbed the boy’s collar and hauled him into his arms.
Coughing and spluttering, the boy gripped Adam’s biceps. The lad glanced over his shoulder and his coughing escalated to manic proportions rather than calming as it should’ve done. Adam looked ahead and grinned. A crowd had gathered at the water’s edge. Clearly, the boy enjoyed an audience as much as Adam. He waded back to where he’d left his shoes and then stepped up onto the wall before releasing the boy into his mother’s waiting arms.
“Oh, Laurence. Laurence, my baby.” She gathered her son close, kissing his sodden hair over and over.
Adam smiled and shook the water from his hair. “He won’t do that again in a hurry, ma’am.”
She met his eyes over her son’s head. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“You are welcome.” He winked at the boy. “Be safe, little man.” The boy nodded and turned his face into the crook of his mother’s neck. Pretending not to hear his name whispered over and over as it filtered through the watching crowd, Adam sat upon the wall to pull on his shoes, his wet clothes dripping onto the concrete. Goose bumps erupted onto his cold skin, but the discomfort was worth it to know the boy was safe.
“That was quite the performance, Mr. Lacey.”
Adam smiled and lifted his head. “Well, thank . .
.”
Laura grinned at him and his heart stuttered. “Laura.”
Her violet eyes flashed with amusement and her cheeks were flushed. “Is it really necessary to demand an audience’s attention twenty-four hours a day?”
She held a basket over her arm, her smile wide. Adam stared, mesmerized as her glossy hair flew in tendrils from beneath her hat to lick at her cheeks. He blinked and shrugged into his jacket, his heart thumping uncomfortably. Was it fate that she kept coming unexpectedly into his path? Fate that the sight of her sent his thoughts shooting from his brain to his heart . . . to settle uncomfortably in his groin?
He stood. “I take attention wherever I can get it in most instances. Yet, leaping into icy-cold water on an October afternoon to save some rascal of a child from drowning is not my idea of fun.”
She cast her appraisal languidly over his chest before meeting his eyes. “You do look a picture.”
He laughed as he tried and failed to drag his gaze from hers. “I’m sure I do.”
The tension escalated as the conversation lapsed.
Say something. Anything. Ask her to tea. Coffee. Dancing . . .
“Would you mind accompanying me back to my house so I can change?” He inwardly grimaced. Good job, my friend. Why would she ever do such a thing? “I mean—”
“All right, then.”
He stared. “You would?”
Her eyes grew wide, as though the concurrence shocked her as much as him. She cleared her throat and her cheeks darkened further. “Yes.”
Adam bit back a smile and straightened his jacket over his sodden shirt. The woman’s pride was unparalleled. He offered her his arm. She looked from his arm to his eyes, her gaze lit with undeniable pleasure. She curled her hand around his forearm and stared ahead.
They strolled away from the people still carefully watching them. Adam could not dismiss the pride sweeping through him to have such a wondrous woman on his arm as he led her through the crowd toward the steps leading onto the street. Clasping her hand at his arm, he held her firmly, not wanting her to slip on the worn stones.
The Temptation of Laura Page 6