“What on earth—”
He dropped to one knee. “Oh, Mrs. Johnson. Please, please believe I did not mean to kill your cat.”
She laughed. “What are you—”
“He was in my path. I accidentally trod on his tail. The bugger shot across the pavement and under the wheels of a passing carriage before I could think to stop him.”
She continued to smile and then comprehension lit behind her gaze. She narrowed her eyes, her smile turning to a scowl as she fisted her hands on her hips. She stamped her foot. “That, my boy, isn’t good enough. My cat, my dear baby Robert, was everything to me.” Slowly coming toward him, she bent over him. “I will see you strung up by the neck. You see if I don’t.”
Time stood still. They stared into each other’s eyes. Boy to Mrs. Johnson. Not Adam to Laura. Two actors portraying two characters. The atmosphere was electric. Adam’s heart beat hard and his excitement grew.
Laura blinked and emitted a delighted burst of laughter. A sound that told him she had tasted the sweet flavor of the stage and wanted it with a passion. Told him she held the fever for what could and would be hers.
Chapter 11
As Laura stepped from the gig outside the Theater Royal and slid her palm against Adam’s, the stares of the people milling around brought sharp heat to her cheeks. The fantastical bubble she’d lived in for the previous twelve hours popped. What happened between her and Adam behind closed doors was one thing, but in view of his adoring public, quite another. What would he do now that people could see them? Would he reject her? Ridicule her?
He tucked her arm into his elbow and pleasure knotted her stomach as he led her up the steps as though they were a courting couple. She inhaled a long breath. So far, so good. Although she had no idea how she was supposed to react to the curious stares of the people meandering around the foyer.
She risked a glance at his profile. She’d never met a man like him. Not only had he taken her and Bette into his home, he’d generously paid for a woman to nurse Bette and keep her company whilst Laura and Adam went to work. What kind of man did such a thing on top of everything else he’d already provided?
Laura released her held breath. A man like Adam Lacey, that’s who. Could she really believe his intentions were about both their futures rather than just his?
He steered her through a door that led backstage. As they started along the corridor, she concentrated on keeping her head aloft without revealing the turmoil of disbelief hurtling around her abdomen. Surreptitious glances were directed their way from cast and crew as her fondness and respect for Adam escalated. Both sentiments were inappropriate and futile. She was old and experienced enough to know his true motivations would become clear sooner or later. She must keep strong and not get distracted. His actions could only be for his benefit. Not hers or Bette’s.
“I’d better go and find Tess.” She eased her hand from his arm.
He halted and looked deep into her eyes. “Of course.”
She dragged her gaze from his and studied her hands. “Adam, I know you think I can act in your play, but—”
“Not think, know.” He touched his finger to her chin and lifted her head. “Trust me. This will happen because I will make it so.”
She closed her eyes. She couldn’t think straight when he looked at her. “I’m grateful you’ve risked scandal and whispering by inviting Bette and me into your home, but as soon as she’s well, we’ll find somewhere else to live. I don’t want to bring you trouble.”
“You won’t.”
She opened her eyes, willing him to listen. “When Malcolm Baxter discovers we’ve gone, he’ll come after me, you, or us both. I won’t risk your safety that way. Bette and I will find somewhere else or, if not, we’ll go back to the alley and deal with whatever Baxter throws at us. We’ve faced worse adversities, believe me.”
“Such as?” Anger shone in the dark brown depths of his eyes, and Laura resisted the urge to shiver.
“It doesn’t matter. Anyway, this isn’t just about Baxter, it’s about Bette and me too. We like being independent. Being on our own is the only way we’ve ever known and what I hold dear. We’ve needed our total independence to survive. It’s others’ interference that ruins things.”
His cheeks darkened. “Letting you stay in my home is not about charity or even an act of heroism. I believe we were meant to meet, and I believe you are meant to be Lucinda.”
Disappointment scratched painfully across her heart that he should mention Lucinda once again. She was stupid to think he looked at her as anything more than an actor in his play. She pulled back her shoulders and inhaled a long breath. “I can’t read and I’m a whore. You’re kind to let us stay. Kind to feed us and make us laugh, but I’m scared this fixation I’m Lucinda is little more than a pipe dream. What if I disappoint you? I’ve no idea if I can do this.”
“Then all we need to do is prove you can. We can sit and act together until you know and love my play as I do. Then you will believe.”
He pressed a brief kiss to her cheek and took off, marching along the corridor, leaving her confusion and doubt flailing for anchor. His hospitality and acting as her savior from Malcolm meant so much to her. Tears smarted her eyes. Yet, she still couldn’t allow herself to believe he saw her as anything more than a whore.
“Laura?”
She started and stood ramrod straight, plastering on a smile. “Morning, Tess. How are you?”
Tess frowned and looked along the corridor toward where Adam had disappeared. “How am I, she says.” She turned back and glared, grasping Laura firmly by the arm. “My office. Immediately.”
Laura laughed as Tess propelled her along. “You have an office now? My, my.”
Tess stared resolutely ahead and Laura grimaced as anxiety knotted inside her stomach. Was she about to lose the only job she’d ever had outside of whoring?
“Tess, slow down.” Laura tugged her arm back. “You’re nearly breaking my arm.”
They reached the room where their baskets and evening supplies were piled on wooden tables. Tess released her and jabbed her pointed finger toward a vacant chair. “Sit.”
Laura considered arguing but, judging by the scowl on Tess’s face, a fistfight might well ensue if she did. She sat and crossed her arms. “What?”
“What’s going on between you and Adam Lacey?”
What should she say? Did Adam want anyone to know he’d homed two whores?
Tess squeezed her eyes shut. “Laura . . .”
Warning and impatience were dominant in her tone. Laura unfolded her arms and stood. “Nothing.”
“You were seen getting out of a gig as bold as brass with him. My God, girl, you were seen coming into the theater on his bloody arm.” Tess stared at her in disbelief. “And you say nothing is going on?”
Intuition told Laura to keep the developing relationship—if what they shared could be considered a relationship—between her and Adam a secret. At worst, its revelation could ruin his career; at best, it could be so short-lived, it would be nothing more than a pleasant memory come nightfall. She brushed past a goggle-eyed Tess toward the table.
“I was walking along Milsom Street on the way here and he pulled up alongside me and asked if I’d like to share his gig. It’s pouring. The man was being polite.” She turned and winked. “And since when does a girl refuse the opportunity to be seen with a man like Adam Lacey.”
Praying Tess fell for her display of sassiness, Laura grabbed some oranges and filled her basket. The silence was suffocating.
“He offered you a ride . . .” Tess sniffed. “Fine. If you want to keep things to yourself, that’s up to you; but you should be warned, if I saw you, others did too.”
Foreboding seeped icy cold into her blood and she turned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
A gleam lit Tess’s eyes. “Everyone’s talking about the fact Mr. Lacey has stopped keeping company with certain upper-class ladies of the house. If people see him with you,
they’ll put two and two together and come up with six.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, folks will be asking what you’re doing that those fancy ladies won’t.”
The suggestion was clear and whether rightly so or not, indignation seared Laura’s cheeks. “I’m not his whore.”
Tess raised her hands. “Never said you were. I’m just giving you a bit of friendly advice. It’s one thing to keep occasional company with people above our station. It’s another to spend time with them publicly. Adam Lacey is a cut above, Laura. A man who, up until a couple of weeks ago, was undoubtedly servicing none other than Lady Harvard.” She inhaled a breath through clenched teeth. “You don’t want to be getting on the wrong side of her in a hurry.”
Laura turned to her basket, feigning disinterest. “I’ve no idea who Lady Harvard is, but she’s got nothing to worry about on that score. Adam Lacey is a kind man who offered to get me here and out of the rain. Nothing more.”
“So there’s no truth to the rumors bouncing around here since the day you started?”
Laura whirled around. “What rumors?”
She shrugged. “People talk. They’ve seen the way he looks at you and the way you look at him. Are you really expecting me to believe nothing else came of the night he asked you to accompany him to the Rooms?”
Memories of their kiss heated her body, but Laura tried to keep her gaze steady. “What do you want me to say, Tess? I’m not his whore, and he’s in no way paying or keeping me, do you hear?”
Time halted and Laura cursed her constant need to defend herself at the slightest provocation. Would where she’d come from and what she’d done to earn a crust ever fade? She wanted a good life as much as the next person, but every time she took a step forward, she battled the suspicion she deserved to stay in the desolation and filth she was born into.
Her mother’s words echoed in her head. Once a whore, always a whore.
“Hey.” Tess stepped toward her and held Laura’s upper arms. Her gaze softened. “I didn’t mean anything more than concern by questioning you. Adam Lacey is nothing to be sniffed at. If he likes you, enjoy it while it lasts. I’m just warning you there are people—people with connections and money—who might mess with whatever is going on between you two, all right?”
Laura glared. “There’s nothing going on between Adam Lacey and me.”
Tess stared at her a moment longer before she gave a curt nod and released her. “Good. Then there’s nothing else to say.”
She turned away just as a young stagehand appeared in the doorway. He smiled. “Laura?”
“Yes?”
“Monica Danes has asked if you’d come to her dressing room.”
She froze. “Monica Danes?”
“Uh-huh. As soon as you can, she said.” The boy tipped her a wink and disappeared.
Laura stared at the empty doorway. What did Monica Danes want with her? She faced Tess, and her friend quirked her eyebrow. “Nothing going on, huh?”
Scowling, Laura snatched her full basket from the table and marched toward the door. There was only one way to fight indecision and that was to choose a path and follow it.
Her current path brought her to a stop outside Miss Danes’s dressing room.
Laura took a breath. Her life changed beyond recognition whenever she was at the theater, but every time she looked into Bette’s eyes, her friend’s suffering brought back to reality. While there was still a breath in Bette’s body, Laura would do what she could to make her better.
Maybe right now, this meant keeping her friend warm in Adam’s spare bed. She raised her hand and knocked on the door. In all likelihood, Ms. Danes wanted her to fetch and carry something or maybe pass on a message to a gentleman who would later grace the audience.
“Come in.”
Swallowing hard, Laura opened the door and entered. Miss Danes sat at her dressing table, her personal dresser at her feet, adjusting the actress’s shoes. Miss Danes met Laura’s gaze and her face immediately lit with the same welcoming smile she’d given Laura at the theater steps a few nights before.
“Laura, you came. Thank you.”
She executed a semicurtsy. “Of course, Ms. Danes. I got a message you wanted to see me?”
She waved toward a chair. “Yes, yes, I did. Please, have a seat.” Miss Danes turned to her dresser. “I think they’re fine now, Stephanie. Thank you.”
The young woman, a similar age to her mistress, smiled and moved to the wardrobe where more than one flamboyant, jewel-colored dress hung.
Laura stared at them as the yearning to wear such a frock rose once again.
“Laura?”
She blinked and grimaced as a way of apology. “Sorry, Ms. Danes. Those dresses are just so beautiful, I stare every time I see one.”
She laughed. “And I am lucky to be the one who gets to wear them. . . .” She rose from her seat and approached a side table. Lifting a ceramic pitcher, she poured a glass of water. “Although, if Adam has his way, I understand you might be wearing one not too long from now.”
He told her about me acting in his play? She swallowed, struggling to keep her face impassive. “Adam, miss?”
Miss Danes lifted the glass to her lips, watching Laura over the rim. She took a delicate sip and laughed. “There is no need to act innocent with me. I am Adam’s friend. Always will be. If he thinks you can act, then you can. If he wants you in his play, I will do anything to help make that happen.”
Laura fought the urge to flee the room. “Why would you do such a thing? I’ve told him the idea is ridiculous. He really shouldn’t—”
“Why?”
Laura stared. “Pardon me?”
Miss Danes strolled toward her. “Why is it ridiculous? You are a beautiful woman. You’re also strong and full of tenacity, according to Adam. Plus, you have a clear love of the theater and everything it entails.”
Pride burned behind her ribcage and Laura tightened her jaw. “Has he told you I can’t read?”
“Is that the only reason you are dismissing his wishes out of hand?”
She held Monica Danes’s questioning stare. “Wouldn’t it be reason enough for anyone?”
“If you want the stage badly enough, nothing will stand in your way. The question is, how badly do you want it?”
Laura glanced toward the dresses hanging at the wardrobe as regret wound tight in her stomach. “I have a friend who needs my mind on her right now, not some fantasy.” She stood. “Did you want me for anything else?”
“Adam has told me about your friend. He has also told me about Malcolm Baxter.”
Embarrassment burned Laura’s cheeks. “That’s my personal business. He had no right—”
“He had every right.” Monica sat at her dresser and eyed Laura through the mirror’s reflection. “He also told me what you did for a living before you came here.”
Anger and humiliation rose hot and fast. Laura narrowed her eyes. “I have no shame in making my way any way I see fit. If there’s nothing else, I really should be getting back to doing what I’m paid to do.”
She turned and marched to the door. Just as she reached it, Miss Danes’s voice stopped her. “I wasn’t always an actress, you know.”
The insinuation hung heavy in the air and Laura slowly faced her.
Miss Danes stood and took Stephanie’s hand. The two women stood side by side. “Neither was Stephanie always a dresser. Stephanie is my best friend and was once my lady’s maid before we left my parents’ home so I could pursue my stage career. We’d do anything for each other, as I gather you would for your friend.”
Laura looked from their joined hands to Monica’s face. “What does any of this have to do with my friendship with Bette?”
“Adam can make you a star, Laura. You have to believe this is possible. Can you honestly tell me your friend would rather you continue to sell from your basket than take an opportunity such as this?”
“Of course not. But she is so unwell.” Te
ars burned Laura’s eyes. “I have to do what is guaranteed. Selling these wares is a guaranteed income. An income I don’t have to lay with any man for.”
“I understand that, but Adam has asked me to help teach you your lines in his absence. If for any reason he is called away or finds work, he would like me to step in and help. Between the three of us—”
“Between the three of us?” Laura slipped her hand from the door handle and strode back into the room. “Why do I feel as though I’m being duped? That this is some sort of ruse?”
“Because you do not trust Adam or me. Why should you?” She looked at Stephanie. “Show her.”
Stephanie put her hands on the tiny buttons at the back of Miss Danes’s dress and one by one popped them open. She turned her back to Laura.
“I knew Malcolm Baxter once upon a time too.”
The scars that marred the actress’s otherwise creamy-white skin were old, but deep. The bumpy lacerations shone pink under the muted light of the room, raised and angry at the edges. They could’ve been made by a knife, a belt buckle . . .
“I don’t know what to say.” Laura’s heart beat fast.
Miss Danes turned, her blue eyes ablaze with determination. “This is what Malcolm did to me as his sweetheart. God only knows how he treats the women who make him rich. I hate him, Laura. He duped me into believing him a gentleman, as he did my parents. Now I’m free of both him and a mother and father who refused to hear a bad word about it.”
Laura lifted a hand to her throat. “Your parents believed Malcolm over you? Didn’t you show them what he did?”
Miss Danes gave a wry smile. “Oh, he did this after I left him, not before.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, never say sorry. You say you’ll do anything to show the likes of that man and anyone else who has said you’re worthless, you are worth far, far more than they could ever imagine. That’s why I want to help you and why you should want to help yourself.”
Stephanie silently buttoned Monica’s dress as Laura’s heart beat out of control. “Does Adam know? About Malcolm?”
The Temptation of Laura Page 11