by Julia Tagan
William hoped his mother had looked upon her son fondly, that he hadn’t been a painful reminder of what she’d lost.
True love. How could he not have known Harriet Farley was his true love? He’d been blinded by the accoutrements of society and family, the written and unwritten rules that had stifled every impulse in his body. And now he was acting on those impulses, professionally and personally. Both involved taking substantial risks.
A church clock tolled nine o’clock. He figured he had a good chance of finding Harriet here, as it was too early for the cast to be called for rehearsal, but the first performance was only a few days away. Before entering, he’d checked the playbill outside. Her name was at the top of the page, listed as the manager for the Farley Players, and in smaller type with the rest of the cast as Lady Macbeth.
He quietly pushed open the door between the lobby and the theater proper. A single figure stood onstage. William immediately recognized the determined posture of her back and shoulders. His heart beat fast and he looked around. They were alone.
Harriet arranged several chairs around a table before stepping back and taking in the tableau. After letting out an unladylike grunt that made him smile, she lugged the table further center stage.
The door closed behind him with an unexpected bang and he jumped. Harriet didn’t bother turning around.
“Adam, glad you’re here. Give me a hand, will you?”
William proceeded down the aisle without saying anything. His throat constricted as if he were being strangled, his hands were ice cold even though the air was warm and clammy.
“I’m still not sure of the staging of the banquet scene,” she continued. “I’d love to have Banquo lowered down from the fly space, but I don’t know if Toby would put up with it. It would be terribly dramatic, and maybe you can talk him into it. What do you think?”
She turned around and spotted him. She took a deep breath and reached for the back of a chair. “My lord.”
“Harriet. I’m sorry to interrupt. I can see you’re busy.”
What a stupid thing to say. Where were the right words when he needed them? He understood now why actors quoted Shakespeare all the time. Much easier to rely on the poetry of a genius.
“How can I help you, my lord?” Harriet wiped her hands on her skirt but didn’t move any closer.
He ran to the lip of the stage and pulled himself up. “Please, don’t call me that. I’m William, remember?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I was hoping we could speak. There’s so much I have to tell you.”
“I’m not sure I want to listen, to be honest. From what I understand, you saved me at Covent Garden, and I thank you. But I don’t want to see you. I can’t.”
“I’m sorry about what happened in Hyde Park. I should never have said what I did. I’m a terrible fool.”
“Yes. You are.” Her expression was resolute. “Please leave.”
“One moment, Harriet. I’d like to explain. And apologize.”
“So now you’re a married man you think you may call on me? Be alone with me? I’m not sure what Marianne would think of your behavior.”
It finally dawned on him. “You haven’t heard, have you?”
“I’ve been quite busy the past week, as I have a theater company to run. Some of us must work for a living, you see.”
He laughed at that.
“Don’t mock me.”
“No, I wasn’t laughing at what you said. It’s the bit about working for a living. You don’t know the news.”
“Please, go. Don’t play riddles with me.”
“Marianne and I aren’t married.”
A flicker of surprise crossed her face before she hardened her features again. “Very well. I prefer not to be seen alone with a man who’s betrothed, if that makes any difference to you.”
“I’m not betrothed.” If he had hoped for a warm reaction to the news, he was quite mistaken.
Harriet’s eyes blazed. “You broke the engagement? What kind of swine are you? How could you have done that to her? She’s a good girl and put her trust in you and your family to take care of hers.” She shook her head with contempt. “You’ve done a terrible thing, William.”
“No, you have it wrong.”
“How do I have it wrong? Are you intending to marry Marianne?”
“No. But it wasn’t I who broke off the engagement. It was Marianne.”
Confusion flared. “Why on earth would she do such a thing?” She looked up at him, panicked. “Did you tell her about us? About what happened in Birmingham?”
“No, of course not,” he reassured her. “Marianne broke it off for good reason.”
“And what was that?”
He detected a hint of curiosity in her voice.
He stood taller than he had in years and spoke the words with pride. “I work for a living now. Which doesn’t make me a suitable husband for a girl like Marianne.”
“What?”
“You see, as of this week, I’m the Earl of Abingdon in name only.”
* * * *
Harriet stared at William, dumbstruck.
“I don’t understand. Earl of Abingdon in name only? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
He gave a conspiratorial smile, one she did not return. Who did he think he was, waltzing back into her life as if she would drop everything and run into his arms? Unfortunately, that had been her first impulse, once she’d realized it was he and not Adam who had entered the theater. She hated to admit it.
William was even more alluring than ever, which was maddening. The cut of his breeches and coat flattered his long legs and tall frame, and he moved with an unstudied, natural grace. His amber eyes locked into hers and flustered her. And on top of that, he possessed an odd quality she’d never seen before in him, a lightness, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Claire discovered some letters of my mother’s which indicate my true father was not her husband. My ruddy coloring was something of an anomaly among the more rarified circles of London, and now we know why.”
It was true. His looks and demeanor were more rough-and-tumble. And much more sensual. She had to stop this line of thinking and keep her wits about her, but she wasn’t sure how to respond. Most men, having learned they were illegitimate, would be angry and bitter. But apparently the news had had the opposite effect on William. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. Unfortunately, I can’t disclaim the title, although I would if I could, but Jasper has happily taken on most of the duties, and all of the financial rewards, instead. Which leaves me free to pursue my passion.”
The door to the lobby opened and the head of the box office nodded at the two of them. “Cast and crew will be arriving in five minutes or so. Anything you need, Miss Farley?”
“Thanks, Mr. Bishop. Nothing for now.” She waited until he was gone. “Come with me to my office. We can speak privately.” The last thing she wanted was for the cast to catch sight of William and greet him like a returning hero.
They walked in silence backstage and up to the second floor, where the producer had lent her a small office for the length of the run. Harriet’s mind ran in circles. William hadn’t married Marianne after all. If only Harriet hadn’t been so busy with the show, she would surely have read the news in the papers and been better prepared for this encounter. William, who had been so averse to scandal his whole life, was now embroiled in a ghastly one. Yet he wasn’t bowed down by it. In fact, he seemed quite buoyant.
She unlocked the door to her office and led him inside, signaling for him to take a seat. Once safely behind her escritoire, she shuffled some papers about. Having the solid wooden desk between them was helpful. She was curious to know what had happened, but planned on keeping her demeanor business-like and curt.
“I suppose the news of your birth explains why your father, or rather, your mother’s husband, treated you so badly.”
“Yes.” He leaned forward, eager to share his story. “He found out about the affair and made her break it off. Or perhaps she chose to break it off, to keep the family intact. It’s not clear exactly what happened from the correspondence. What’s interesting, though, is the profession of my real father.” He paused for a moment, an annoying bit of theatricality.
Harriet raised one eyebrow at him but did not prompt him further.
“He was a playwright.”
“What?” Of all the occupations, it was the last one she’d expected to hear. She stared at him, mouth open, defenses gone. “How on earth did your mother end up having an affair with someone in the theater?”
“Seems it happens quite often.” William threw her a knowing glance, which she ignored. “My mother always loved the theater. I assume they were introduced one evening after a performance and fell madly in love. What’s even stranger is it appears Adam and your father knew the man. Remember when I first met Adam, he had an odd reaction?”
“No.”
“Right, well you were probably too busy at the time trying to get rid of me. I remember it quite clearly. He seemed stunned. Said something about how I was ‘the spitting image.’ Same when we first came upon your father.”
She did remember her father sitting in the courtyard behind the pub, looking up at William with a baffled expression. “He thought you were a butler.” Her voice broke. Thinking of him still made her ache.
“I’m sorry, Harriet. I’m sorry he was lost in the fire.”
“He had his vices, but he was a good man, deep down. Thank you.” She quickly changed the subject. “So I take it your father was not a butler?”
“No. His name was Henry Butler.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his front pocket. “Here’s the obituary. He passed away a few months before my mother died. She’d kept his obituary with his letters in a locked trunk.”
“How tragic, the timing of their deaths.”
“Yes, even though they’d broken off the affair years earlier.”
She scanned the newspaper clipping. The name was a familiar one from her youth, but in the past decade Butler’s plays had waned in popularity. How sad William had never met the man.
“The news wasn’t a complete surprise.” William rubbed his eyes. “My brother Oliver, the night of his death, was angry I wouldn’t sanction his desire to marry an actress. He was drunk, and said he had it on good authority I was illegitimate. The actress, who was also inebriated, tried to tell me the details but I ordered them both to get out of my sight, that I never wanted to see them again.”
“I imagine I would have felt the same way.”
“I said some horrible things to my brother. He rode off into the night and was dead, along with the actress, a few hours later.”
Harriet didn’t speak. She knew all too well the torment one could feel about one’s family, the unshakeable guilt. His pain was palpable.
“I want to marry you.” William’s words came out of nowhere.
Harriet shook her head. “What on earth are you talking about?” The impudence of his words fueled her anger. “How dare you? Turn around and leave here for good.”
“Is it because I’ve disavowed my title?”
She sputtered her reply. “Of course not. I’m not like Marianne. I wouldn’t care if you were a chimney sweep. That’s not the point. Why would I ever considering marrying you after what happened between us? After the way you treated me in Birmingham?”
“I’m sorry.” He braced his hands on the edge of the desk and took a deep breath. His eyes burned into hers. “I was a beast to even think you were working with Freddie.”
“You certainly were.”
“And I was too worried about my own culpability in Mrs. Ivey’s death to consider how my words and actions affected you. I was selfish and narrow-minded, and I’m sorry.”
Did he think she would be swayed so easily? “So now Marianne has thrown you over and you’re a pariah in good society, I’m suddenly a suitable prospect for a wife?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “You may enjoy playing at being a commoner now, but I assure you when life gets difficult you’ll wish you’d never shunned your title and your connections.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Why on earth would you do such a thing? Perhaps there was gossip among certain circles, but no one would have dared say anything about your parentage to your face.”
“Maybe not. But you can’t imagine what a relief it is to cast off those bonds. Jasper enjoys running the estate and managing the accounts and the nonsense I simply tolerated because I ought to, and because, for a long time, I felt guilty for Oliver’s death. I finally realized, with Claire’s help, I ought to make of my life what I want. You did it yourself. Miss Farley, the first actress-manager in London. I have great plans. And I’d like to have you by my side.”
She wanted to throw something at him, to break him the same way he’d torn her apart.
“You abandoned me. Why should I trust you?”
“I will prove my steadfastness with time.”
“And, speaking of abandonment, what about Marianne and Her Grace? You were their only hope. Your action was extremely selfish in that regard.”
“I’ve arranged they be taken care of. I’m sure Marianne will find a proper husband soon enough, now she has a generous dowry to her name. And the duchess was granted an annuity.”
Harriet was happy they were safe, no matter how they’d treated her. “That was good of you.”
“I never loved Marianne, we would have made a terrible match. Reading my mother’s letters made me realize marrying her would be a terrible decision for both of us. Because I’m in love with you.” He reached over and covered Harriet’s hand with his. “You haven’t answered my question.”
She pulled away. “The answer is no. I’ve changed my life completely in the past couple of months, and finally feel as if I’m in control. After years of being told what to do and how to do it, I’m free.”
“I’m not surprised. You were a powerful force from the moment I met you. I figured in Chipping Norton I’d be able to bundle you up, toss you in my carriage, and return to London, but you set me straight on that subject fairly quickly. I still can’t believe you got me on stage with you.”
“I hope your new plan isn’t to become an actor. You were truly awful.” She couldn’t help herself.
“No, I assure you. Although I do have fond memories of the scene. It was the first time we kissed.” He reddened. “Like I said, you’re a natural leader. There’s no reason you shouldn’t run this company and have all the success in the world. I’m not asking you to change anything.”
“And what exactly will you be doing with yourself? Are you planning on becoming a prompter or prop master?”
“Certainly not. The theater is your purview. I have plans of my own.”
He stood and moved around to her side of the desk. He held out his hand and, without thinking, she took it and allowed him to raise her up. He seemed so giddy and confident, she hardly recognized him. He had been lost forever, yet here he was, offering himself to her.
“I’ll tell you everything, I promise. Please tell me you love me and will marry me.”
She pulled back. Her body quivered with an unsettling mix of fear and desire. If she wasn’t careful, she’d lose herself completely. “I’m afraid if you’re no longer the Earl of Abingdon, I have no use for you.”
He became serious. “Does it matter to you, the title?”
She laughed. “Of course not.” The room was hot and stuffy. She broke away from him, lifted open the window and let the cool air wash over her.
“What was it made you change your mind, William? Why should I trust you now?”
>
He came behind her and put his arms around her waist. At first she resisted, but they fit together perfectly and she allowed her body to mold to his.
“Look out at the city,” he said. “It’s all ours now. We’re free to choose what we do and how we do it. Is there anything more remarkable than that?” He turned her to face him. “Please. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you in my library, rifling through my Shakespeare folio. I want no one else but you and I’ll be true and ever faithful. Don’t you see? My mother wished she’d followed her heart, and here I have the opportunity to do so. Names, titles, families, mean nothing to me. Jasper and Claire, of course, mean the world to me, but the fact we don’t share the same father is beside the point. I love them because of who they are. You’ve chosen your family: it’s Adam and Mrs. Kembler and the rest of your crazy crew. If our fathers or brothers disappoint, so be it. I choose you. We can start a family of our own together. We’ll make our own rules.”
She was speechless. He’d summed up so much of what she’d been thinking and mulling over since Freddie and her father’s deaths.
They’d ended up at the same conclusion.
“I choose you, Harriet Farley. I love you, and I choose you.”
He swept her up close and kissed her. Her body responded of its own accord, her mouth and lips yielding to his. She gave up the battle and kissed him back, deeply, placing her hands on his head and running her fingers through his hair. His manhood hardened against her thighs while her own body grew wet, readying for him.
When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with desire. “I won’t let you out of here until you agree to marry me. Will you?”
“Why should I?” she teased and he groaned hungrily.
He gently lowered her on top of the desk, pulling the sleeves of her gown down and exposing her breasts. He gathered the fleshy mounds up in his hands and pinched her nipples, all the while gently nibbling the side of her neck. Pleasure radiated from her every nerve. “Stop, it’s too much.”