“Mr. Kean!” Samantha backed toward the door. “I cannot listen to such a terrible thing. This - this is very embarrassing for me.” She paused with one hand on the knob. She really did not want to leave him, yet such talk made her extremely nervous.
Kean chuckled slightly. “Very well, Samantha. Very well. Come back and sit down. I will discuss only subjects that you approve.” His features shifted into a pleading smile. “Please? I need a friend this afternoon.”
Samantha hesitated. “Well, if you promise to stay away from the subject of Lord Roxbury. I find it extremely annoying.”
“You have my promise, Samantha,” said Kean. “Now close that door and come sit down.”
“All right.” Samantha shut the door and settled herself again in the chair.
“Talk to me,” said Kean.
“I do not know what to talk about.”
“Tell me about your childhood,” said Kean, a strange intent look on his face.
Samantha was bewildered. “There is nothing to tell. I had my nurse and my toys. My mama kept me often with her.”
“Were you never hungry?” asked Kean.
“Hungry!” Samantha’s startled tone reflected her disbelief. “Of course not.”
“Nor cold, nor wet?”
Such despair hung in Kean’s voice that Samantha’s reply was tempered. “No, Ned.”
He sighed heavily. “And you lived all your life in one place, with a mother who loved you.”
Samantha nodded. “Was it not like that for you?”
He looked at her with eyes full of pain. “My mother deserted me when I was a babe and did not reappear until I could do readings and imitations to bring coins to her pocket. Then she dragged me around the countryside from fair to fair, show to show.”
“She - left you?” Samantha could hardly say the terrible words. “She left her baby?”
Kean nodded. “Babies that cannot perform are useless to women like my mother.” His eyes softened. “But I survived. Thanks mainly to Aunt Tidwell.” He smiled suddenly. “But enough of this feeling sorry for myself. I’ve achieved my dream.” He looked around him. “And sometimes I cannot believe it.”
Samantha nodded. “I can understand that - a little at least. When I think of all the years I spent imagining London and the theatre, it’s hard for me to realize that I am really here.”
“Do you find the theatre as wonderful as you expected?” asked Kean.
Samantha considered. “It seems very exciting to me, Ned. But I am not an actress, so I do not know about that part of it.”
Kean’s eyes gleamed, and his fine mouth curved in a slight smile. “The stage is a demanding mistress,” he said, evidently unaware of the embarrassment his choice of metaphor caused her. “She’s fickle and frivolous and moody. Always demanding more and more.” A strange look crept into his eyes. “But she gets in your blood like a madness, and the more you have of her, the more you want. Until you wake one morning to discover that you’re no longer your own man. You belong to her - body and soul.” He sighed and turned to face her. “And yet you can’t really be sorry. Deep down you know you’d do it all over again, exactly the same way.”
Samantha sat silent, pondering on this. It was clear that the theatre was Kean’s very life. “I think I understand just a little,” she said finally.
Kean laughed. “Don’t let me bother you, Samantha. As you can see, I relish my madness and would not part with it for all the world.” He raised a hand to his head. “It’s only now and then that I seek to escape in the Lethean depths of blue ruin - knowing that such escape is only of the moment, and tomorrow I shall be as firmly enchained as ever - a willing slave.”
Samantha nodded. She did not quite know how to respond.
“Do not look at me with such compassionate bewilderment,” said Kean with a slight chuckle. “If you could only reproduce that look on call, what an Ophelia you would make.”
“Me!” Samantha almost jumped from her chair. “Oh, no! I should be absolutely terrified to face all those people.” She shivered slightly.
“I used to be afraid of the audience,” he said. “But it can be tamed. And when the crowd is with you - really with you -” He rose suddenly and stretched his arms toward the ceiling. “There’s nothing in the world like it. You can feel the power coming into you. You seem to grow and grow as more and more power reaches you.”
Samantha stared up at him. She knew it was her imagination, but he really seemed to have grown larger. And his face, which had been pale and drawn, was suffused with color and energy.
Suddenly Kean laughed and sank back down on the couch. “You are very good for me, Miss Samantha Everett. Better than any tonic.”
Samantha ventured a timid smile. “Th-thank you, Ned. I’m glad to be able to help you. But I’ve been here a long time. I should not want Mr. Arnold to think that I’m shirking my duty.”
“Don’t worry about old Arnold,” said Kean. “I can keep you in here the whole of the day if I please. Arnold needs me to keep this theatre going. But run along now and pursue your duties. I feel much, much better and shall study a new script.”
Samantha rose to her feet and made her way to the door. “I look forward to seeing your Iago,” she said, pausing there.
Kean grinned. “I hope we shall still be friends afterward. Good-bye.” He picked up a script and began to study it.
Closing the door softly behind her, Samantha moved off down the corridor. What a strange, moody man Kean was, but then, men of such genius could not be expected to behave like ordinary, normal folk.
She opened the door into the work room that she shared with Maria and found it empty. The older woman must have gone to deliver some mended costumes, Samantha thought, gathering up several that she had been working on. She might as well deliver these and get them out of the way. Her arms full, she set off for the dressing room that was shared by the walking gentlewomen.
Their room was empty, and she hung the gowns and was preparing to leave when she heard several voices from the hall outside the door. “I still say you’re jealous,” said a voice which Samantha could not recognize.
“Nonsense!” Lily Porter’s voice was instantly recognizable. “I know Roxbury. He’s just amusing himself and trying to make me jealous. But she can’t mean anything to him. Why, she’s such a plain, old thing. And from the country, yet. He probably finds her ignorance amusing.”
Samantha felt her cheeks redden. Obviously Lily and her unknown friend were discussing Samantha herself. She half-turned to go out the door and make her presence known, but then she stopped. She didn’t want to give Lily the satisfaction of seeing her high color. While she paused, unsure of what to do, the conversation continued.
“She must be very amusing then,” said the other girl. “Because he spent the whole of Hamlet sitting right there beside her, whispering in her ear. You can ask anyone; they’ll tell you.”
“Oh, I believe you,” said Lily haughtily. “But we’d just had a tiff, and he was trying to punish me. That’s all it was.”
“Well, I guess you can think what you please. But if I was counting on his lordship to pay my bills, I’d think it time to begin worrying.”
“Well, you’re wrong. That’s -” The voices faded as their owners moved down the corridor. So Lily was still angry with her, thought Samantha. It was hardly a surprise, but it made things a trifle unpleasant. She did not enjoy being disliked, especially by someone who could be as nasty as little Lily.
Samantha forced herself to smile. She might be plain and from the country, but she was not stupid enough to believe that she could trap an earl into matrimony. That little plan of Lily’s was doomed to failure, in spite of her pretty blond hair and appealing blue eyes. Roxbury was not a man to marry lightly, Samantha was sure. And certainly he would not stoop to contract an alliance with an empty-headed little actress.
Samantha found suddenly that she was clenching her fists and hastily relaxed them. She didn’t care in the least
what Lily Porter thought - or said - about her, she told herself severely. And she was not old! The latter thought, of course, disproved the first, and Samantha was forced to smile at her own behavior. She was acting like a silly young chit. She had no partiality for Roxbury. She did value him as a conversationalist and a knowledgeable theatregoer, but surely that was permissible. She had repeatedly repulsed any advances on his part. Surely in good conscience nothing more was required of her. Besides, how was she expected to escape the man’s attentions? She had her required station, and she must be there during the performance.
She hurried down the corridor, conscious again of how much time she had spent in Kean’s dressing room, time she should have spent doing other chores. Hurriedly she pushed open the door to the work room and stopped in surprise. The Earl of Roxbury stood there in earnest conversation with Maria. They both looked up.
His lordship spoke first. “Good afternoon, Miss Everett. How are you today?”
“I - I am fine,” Samantha replied automatically. She took in his lordship’s coat of brown superfine, pantaloons of ribbed buff kerseymere worn with Hessian boots, waistcoat of blue-striped twill, and cravat sporting the Mail Coach tie. His curly-brimmed beaver was tucked under one arm, and he held his York tan riding gloves lightly in one hand.
His lordship smiled, and Samantha realized that she had been staring at him for some time. “I take it I meet with your approval,” he said with a wicked grin.
“I - You look quite well,” said Samantha finally.
“Thank you. You are looking quite well yourself,” and his eyes slid over her in a way that brought more color to cheeks already rosy. But with Maria there it seemed foolish to protest. And anyway, protesting such actions was only likely to provoke his lordship into more of the same.
“I was telling his lordship that I was about to send you to Bond Street on an errand.” Maria smiled up at the earl fondly, and Samantha saw that she too had fallen victim to his charms. “And he has offered to take you in his carriage.”
Samantha’s heart leaped into her throat. “Oh, milord! I cannot.”
“Nonsense.” The earl’s dark brows drew together in a frown. “It’s a raw, cold day out. It’s ridiculous that you should have to scurry about in the wind and rain when you can ride in comfort. Isn’t it, Maria?”
The old woman nodded complacently.
“But -” Samantha began.
“I need these things right soon,” Maria continued. “I got to make some alterations afore tonight’s performance, and I can make ‘em that much quicker if you take the carriage.”
Samantha fell silent. There was little sense in further protest.
“Have you a cloak and bonnet?” asked his lordship. “My carriage is just without.”
Samantha moved toward the hook that held her cloak. She wanted to slip into it before his lordship could help her, but he was too fast for her, crossing the room in great strides to take it from her trembling hands. “Here, let me assist you.” Then he was putting it carefully around her shoulders and tying the strings under her chin. “You may put up the hood, if necessary, when we reach the street.”
“Yes, milord.” In a sort of a daze Samantha took the arm that was offered her and accompanied his lordship down the corridor to the stage door. The wind was blowing quite briskly, and a light rain was falling. The earl pulled the hood up over her hair. “I don’t want you to get that lovely hair wet,” he said softly. Then he clapped his beaver on his dark locks, pulled on his gloves, and led her into the street. The closed carriage, drawn by a pair of restive bays, stood quite near, and it was a matter of moments for his lordship to help her ascend the steps and settle her on the velvet squabs. “You will find it quite comfortable here,” he said cheerfully as he pulled the cloak around her and laid a sable rug over her knees.
Samantha nodded. “I’m sure I shall, milord.” By great effort she managed to keep her voice steady. Hadn’t Maria herself told her that his lordship was a great rake? And now to insist that she go off with him in the carriage - and alone.
“You seem perturbed,” said his lordship, drawing another rug over his knees. “Have I done something to offend you?”
“Oh, no, milord. It’s just that -” Samantha stopped, unsure what to say.
“Come, come,” said his lordship briskly. “If we were discussing the theatre, you would not be long in giving me your opinion.”
“That is true, milord,” agreed Samantha. “But - but this is different. I am a young - unmarried woman. I should not be traveling about in a coach with a man of your -” She searched for the correct word. “Your position.”
His lordship’s eyes twinkled, but he did not smile. “I see. And now you fear that your good name - and perhaps something else as well - is in jeopardy.”
Samantha nodded. “Precisely, milord.”
“Well, it is rather unusual for a young woman in your situation to be so concerned with the appearance of morality. But I did ponder your words to me the night before last. And I have decided to reform. If it is politeness and attentiveness you require, then that is what you shall have. Never let it be said that Roxbury lost a woman because he could not excel in these areas.”
Samantha felt her face flush.
“No need to be embarrassed,” said the earl with a solemn smile. “I am simply endeavoring to please you.”
“But - but it is useless,” Samantha faltered.
His lordship eyed her strangely. “How so? You cannot be pleased?”
“No, no, it isn’t that. It’s just that - even if I’m pleased, I cannot do - That is, I cannot give you -” Her eyes fell away from his. “I cannot give you what you ask.”
The earl pondered this for some moments in silence. “You have an irate father?” he said finally. “Or an influential protector?”
Samantha shook her head. “No, milord. I have neither.”
“Ahhhh!” The earl smiled wickedly. “Then it is either principle or aversion that I must overcome. And therefore I shall continue on my present course, since both are susceptible to change.” He did not wait for a reply to this but continued immediately on. “I suppose you saw Policy the other night.”
“Yes, milord.” If Samantha wondered at this sudden change of topic, she was too grateful to say so.
“And what was your opinion of it?” he asked, quite as seriously as if the fate of worlds hung on her reply. At another time Samantha might have remarked on this, but right now she was very pleased to have an impersonal subject to pursue. “I thought it rather indifferent,” she said. “But as I told N - Mr. Kean, I am not the best judge of such matters. “
Roxbury nodded. “You discussed the play with Kean?” He eyed her shrewdly.
“Yes, milord.” Samantha smiled. “Incidentally, he spoke highly of you.”
His lordship raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Indeed. And what did he say?”
Samantha hesitated only momentarily. She would not have repeated anything unkind, but surely what Kean had said had been complimentary. “He said that you were his kind of lord because you mind your own business and let him mind his.”
The earl chuckled. “That sounds like Kean. How did you begin to discuss the theatre with him?”
“He’s an actor,” said Samantha in bewilderment.
His lordship frowned. “No, no, you mistake my meaning. How did you get to know Kean well enough to discuss such things with him?”
It was Samantha’s turn to frown. “Mr. Kean and I are friends,” she said simply. “How we became so is not of concern to you.”
“AU contraire,” returned his lordship cheerfully. “Everything about you is of concern to me. But since I see that you don’t wish to give me any more information, I shall desist.”
Samantha made no reply to this. She was finding the earl rather difficult to deal with.
“Well, now,” said his lordship. “We appear to be entering Bond Street, and Madame Denise’s shop is hereabouts.”
“Oh!” Sa
mantha raised a startled hand to her mouth. “I do not know what we came after.”
The earl chuckled. “Never fear. Maria entrusted it all to me. We shall dispatch your errand and return in good time.”
Samantha waited expectantly for his lordship to tell her what she was to get, but he remained silent for so long that finally she asked, “Milord, what am I sent after?”
The earl patted the robe that covered her knees. “Do not be so conscientious,” he said cheerfully. “I shall leave you snug and warm in the carriage and pursue the errand myself.”
“No, no, milord! You must not.”
“And why not?” he asked.
“Because, because that will put me even further in your debt.” Samantha blundered on, her face a fiery red. “And - and I cannot repay you.”
“Have I asked for payment?” he said somewhat severely.
“No, milord,” Samantha conceded. But truthfulness made her add, “Not yet.”
Suddenly Roxbury’s severe expression softened. He reached out a hand to touch her tenderly on the cheek. “Don’t be afraid of me, little one. When you come to me, it will be quite willingly. I promise you that.” And then, before she could protest further, he jumped from the carriage and slammed the door swiftly behind him.
A shaken Samantha remained huddled under the sable robe. However was she to deal with his lordship in his present mood? How could he talk so airily of overcoming principle, as though it were a hurdle in a steeplechase? Well, she told herself, stiffening her backbone, her principles were made of sterner stuff.
In a matter of moments his lordship was re-entering the carriage. His coat was a trifle damp, and he shook drops of water from his curly-brimmed beaver, but his expression was quite cheerful as he laid a small parcel in her lap. “There you go,” he said as he settled himself once more beside her. “Everything Maria asked for.”
“Thank you, milord.”
“And now,” said he, grinning wickedly, “I suppose I must in good conscience return you to Drury Lane.” He sighed languidly. “When I should much rather spirit you off someplace. For a nice little conversation,” he added.
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