by Eva Shepherd
It was so obvious she was doing what she loved and her determination to be just one of the cast was obviously working. No one was deferring to her. No one was treating her like a duchess or an heiress.
This was definitely her home, where she wanted to be, where she belonged.
It might not fit in with what he wanted, but he would do nothing to stop her achieving her dream, even if it meant stepping back from her life.
As he watched, hour after hour, he could see the play coming together, the performances becoming more polished. Even though the actors had gone over their lines again and again, the more they repeated them the more spontaneous they appeared. It was a pleasure to watch.
And his greatest pleasure came from watching Arabella. He was biased, of course he was, but he could tell that Arabella’s performance was particularly stunning. His eyes were constantly drawn to her when she was on stage, whether she was speaking or not.
She definitely had something special and he was sure he wasn’t just thinking that because she was his wife, or even because they had spent four incredible days and nights in bed together exploring each other’s bodies.
The longer he watched, the less he noticed the other actors and actresses, until he barely registered when they were speaking. He could only see Arabella. Watch her performance grow, her confidence increase.
She was a superb actress and acting was what she was born to do.
Her father might have dominated her off the stage, structured her whole life, even forced her into an unwanted marriage, but on stage she was a different woman. She commanded the stage and became the part she was playing. The director would give her instructions and like a chameleon she would instantly assume the form he required. It was brilliant and impressive to watch.
* * *
When the rehearsal drew to a close, he quietly slipped out of the theatre before anyone noticed. It was already early evening. The entire day had passed without his noticing. He summoned a cab to take him home so he could make ready for the evening’s entertainment. He had no idea how he would spend it, but he knew exactly where he would be the next day, and the days after that. Seated right at the back of the Limelight Theatre, watching his beautiful, talented wife.
* * *
Arabella was being foolish. She knew she was. But at every rehearsal it was as if she was performing only for Oliver. She wanted him to be proud of her, to think highly of her acting abilities, so she gave it her all and imagined him saying how impressed he was.
Yes, it was ridiculous, but thinking that Oliver was watching her as she worked was certainly doing wonders for her performance. She was receiving so much praise from the director and the other cast members that it was almost going to her head. But it was one man’s praise she really wanted and that was something she would not be getting. She had cut him from her life, had let him know she wanted her independence more than she wanted him. And he had given her exactly what she wanted. What she’d thought she wanted.
And when she was in rehearsals, she could almost convince herself that she did indeed have exactly what she wanted. But as soon as rehearsals were over that empty void was waiting, threatening to swallow her up, and she had to work hard to keep it at bay. She had to force herself to keep smiling, to pretend that everything in her life was exactly as she wanted it to be.
Now, after a week of intense rehearsals, opening night was looming large.
The final dress rehearsal had gone well and tomorrow night they would be performing before the live audience. The entire cast was tired from working hard all day, but they were still bubbling with enthusiasm as they returned to the boarding house, confident they would have a stunning opening night.
Arabella had tried hard to join in with their enthusiasm. And she was enthusiastic, but part of her still felt as though something was missing. As much as she tried to ignore it, she knew that she was missing Oliver. She was missing him so much that some days she could hardly bear it. But bear it she must.
She had exactly what she wanted, didn’t she? She might be married, but to a man who had given her complete freedom. Her father was back in America and leaving her alone to live her life the way she wanted to. She had a major part in a play. She was surrounded by the cast and crew of a tight-knit theatre group. Everything she had ever dreamed of had come true. She had no right to feel miserable. And she wouldn’t be feeling miserable. If she had never met Oliver Huntsbury, she would be unaware of any other life, would not know what true happiness felt like.
As usual the actresses were getting ready for a night out. They went out most evenings, either to parties or to dine with their various admirers, and tonight, with opening night just one night away, everyone was in a party mood. No one would be staying home at the boarding house. No one, that is, except Arabella.
Nellie, too, had gone out for the evening with her latest conquest. She had offered to stay home and keep her company, but Arabella had insisted that she was perfectly happy on her own and that she would prefer it if Nellie went out.
But she wasn’t happy. Far from it.
Oliver had said she was a free woman. She was free to do anything she wanted. If she wanted to go to parties, she could. If a man showed interest in her, there was nothing to stop her from taking him as her lover. But that was the last thing she felt like doing. There was only one man she wanted as her lover and he was out of bounds. Instead, while the other actresses were out enjoying themselves, she had stayed at the boarding house, until she was starting to go mad with boredom.
And once again she was facing a night alone. As the other actresses preened in front of the mirror and chatted about the night to come, Arabella could feel that empty void starting to surround her and drag her under.
This had to change. She had to take action.
‘Going anywhere special tonight?’ she asked Flora with as much nonchalance as she could summon.
‘To a party in Mayfair. Nicholas de Valle has been showing rather a lot of interest of late and has invited all of us. You can come, too, if you like. It should be fun. He’s a duke, you know, and is rather partial to actresses,’ Flora laughed. ‘Aren’t they all, these posh gents? You should come. It’ll get you out of yourself.’
Arabella kept smiling as she cringed inside. Yes, weren’t they all like that. And one duke in particular. No, she did not feel like going to a party where posh gents would be chasing after actresses. But nor did she want to be alone. Alone with her thoughts. Alone with the dark void.
She very much doubted that Oliver would be alone tonight. She couldn’t picture him moping around in his town house. So, what was sauce for the goose should be sauce for the gander, or in this case the other way around.
‘All right. I will.’
She reached into her wardrobe and removed her most stylish gown, then put it back and selected something a bit less fashionable. She did not want to stand out from the other actresses.
With Nellie off pursuing her own dreams, Arabella did her best to fix her own hair, until Flora took pity on her and helped.
They ordered a carriage, which Flora assured her the party’s host would be paying for, and six of the actresses set off, laughing and talking loudly, all looking forward to the night’s fun.
Arabella forced herself to join in, to laugh and jest along with them. She would enjoy herself tonight. She would push aside all her sadness and have fun. She would replace the dark void with lightness, happiness and laughter.
The carriage pulled up in front of a brightly lit town house and the sound of laughter, loud talking and music spilled out on to the pavement.
The actresses pushed their way through the crowds milling at the entranceway and joined the noisy, jostling throng. Arabella could see that the guests came from all walks of life. Well, the women did. There were wealthy women, dressed in the latest fashions, women like her actress friends who did not have money for expe
nsive gowns and jewellery, and other women dressed in a manner that suggested they worked in somewhat more disreputable professions.
But there was one thing that all these women had in common: they were all young and good looking. The men, however, were of all ages and all bore the signs of privilege and wealth. Another thing the men had in common was the way they were looking at the women. As Arabella and her friends made their way through the crowd, they were being stared at as if they were fresh delicacies being served up for the men’s appreciation.
Arabella paused at the entrance to the drawing room, which was packed wall-to-wall with a boisterous crowd. Did she really want to be part of this world?
But what was her option? Return alone to the boarding house? Alone with those unhappy thoughts that kept churning through her head.
She forced herself to enter the room and took the glass of champagne that was thrust into her hand. It was obvious from the loudness of the crowd, the array of florid complexions and the raucous laughter that a lot of champagne had already been consumed.
Arabella looked around for a familiar face. Flora had already disappeared, presumably with the host, and the other actresses had instantly been swallowed up by the party. Unlike Arabella, they had no problem entering into the spirit of the occasion, flirting and laughing with circles of adoring men.
Arabella tried hard to smile, but it just wouldn’t happen. Her lips just wouldn’t move.
This was a mistake.
She did not want to be here. She might not want to be back at the boarding house, alone with her thoughts. But she was no less alone in this crowd. If anything, this boisterous party was making her feel even more lonely.
She placed her untouched glass of champagne on a table and looked around for a footman who could summon her a cab.
Then she saw him.
Oliver entered the room, laughing, surrounded by a group of attractive women. They were all smiling up at him as if he was the most amusing man they had ever met. And they were all sending him undeniably provocative looks.
He looked as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Let alone a wife.
Now she most definitely wanted to leave. She turned quickly. A servant stepped into her path. She bumped into him, sending his tray of champagne flutes crashing to the floor.
A wild cheer of enthusiasm went up from the partygoers, as if she had done something amusing and entertaining, rather than a clumsy act brought on by her panic.
She looked around the room, her face contorted into a rictus of a smile. Everyone was laughing and applauding.
Everyone except Oliver.
He was staring straight at her, his cold eyes boring into her, his lips a thin line of disapproval.
Her strained smile froze as their gazes locked across the room. The cheering crowd merged into a swirling mass. The raucous sound of their laughter disappeared. All she could focus on was the scowling man across the room, glaring at her.
Chapter Twenty
He had no right to look at her like that. He had absolutely no right to condemn her for attending this party. She had as much right to be here as he did. Weren’t they both free to do as they pleased? And Oliver certainly was doing something that pleased him very much, if the coterie of admiring young women surrounding him was anything to go by.
As if she were emerging from a trance, the noise of the crowd exploded into Arabella’s consciousness, even louder than before.
No, she would not be cowed by his disapproval. Using all her skills as an actress, she sent the room her most radiant smile, made a theatrical curtsy, took a glass of champagne from another servant’s tray and raised it in a toast to the cheering crowd. Much to the partygoers’ enthusiastic response.
Only one man was not cheering. The man she was married to.
Arabella forced her smile not to quiver as she saw him excuse himself from his group of adoring women, push his way through the jostling partygoers and cross the room towards her.
She would not show any sign of nerves. Would not let him know how much seeing him had unsettled her.
‘Hello, Your Grace, fancy meeting you here.’ With false joviality she made another deep curtsy.
‘And I’m equally surprised to see you here, Arabella,’ he responded, no hint of a smile on his face. ‘This is not the sort of party I would expect you to attend.’
She shrugged. ‘But it is obviously the sort of party you attend, judging by how well known you are here.’
She nodded in the direction of the group of attractive young women, who were still watching them from across the room with undisguised interest. ‘I assume they are a few more of your good friends. So how many good friends of yours are actually here tonight?’
She looked around the room, as if taking an inventory, her false smile still frozen on her face.
Her sweeping gaze returned to him. He glared down at her. That mischievous smile was nowhere in sight. There was no laughter in his cold, dark eyes.
She cringed. Had she let a hint of jealousy enter her voice? She did not want to sound jealous. After all, she had no right to be. And she most certainly did not want him to think she was.
Yes, they had made love, but that had been under her instigation. He owed her nothing. Yet here she was, feeling jealous because he was doing exactly what she told him he could do.
‘This is no place for you. You need to leave. Immediately.’
She gave an incredulous laugh. That was exactly what she had intended to do until he had seen her. Now she was determined to stand her ground. ‘Surely you’re not telling me what to do? Wasn’t freedom to do as we pleased part of our agreement?’
He inhaled deeply through clenched teeth. ‘Listen to me. You do not want to stay here. If you think this party is loud and raucous now, it is nothing compared to how it will soon become. It’s time you left.’
Still smiling, Arabella looked around the room and noticed several couples involved in decidedly amorous encounters, encounters that should only be conducted in private. She was unable to suppress a gasp when a man ran his hand up the inside of a woman’s leg, under her gown. Surely the woman would object. Surely someone would stop them. But no one noticed. The drinking and carousing continued around them.
He was right.
This was most definitely not the sort of party she wanted to attend. But the same could not be said for Oliver. This was his world. A world where she did not belong. A world in which she did not want to belong. A world full of women who wanted to have fun with no commitments. His sort of women.
Her scan of the room moved to a woman staring at her from across the room. Lady Bufford. With eyes narrowed, like an assassin assessing her target, she sauntered over to join them.
‘Ollie, darling, I see you’ve brought your wife to tonight’s entertainment,’ she said, her voice dripping with derision. ‘Delightful. If you’re not otherwise occupied, perhaps the two of you would like to join me upstairs. Your wife can show me what techniques she used to get a man like you to the altar. She must be able to do something for you that I can’t do and lord knows I’ve tried every trick in the book.’
Arabella gasped and her face exploded in a fiery blush while Lady Bufford laughed at her obvious discomfort.
‘Hold your tongue, Violet. You go too far,’ Oliver said, taking hold of Arabella’s arm. ‘We were just leaving.’
‘Oh, I am sorry. Do I take it from her blushes that it wasn’t her experience that attracted you? Oh, you men, you’re all the same. You can’t resist a virgin.’
He turned his back on Lady Bufford, ignoring her, his grip tightening on Arabella’s arm. ‘I don’t care what we agreed. You are leaving this place and you are leaving it now.’
Shaken by Lady Bufford’s words Arabella lost the will to protest. Deflated and embarrassed, she allowed Oliver to bustle her out through the crowd. He flagged down a
passing cab and all but lifted her inside, then gave the driver the address of his town house before climbing in beside her.
After the noise of the party, the silence inside the cab almost had a physical presence, with the clip-clopping of the horse’s hooves the only sound as they drove through Mayfair’s quiet streets.
‘I’m so sorry, Arabella. Violet Bufford has a cruel tongue,’ Oliver said quietly, breaking the heavy silence. ‘You should not have been subjected to that.’
‘It’s of no matter.’ She blinked away the tears that had embarrassingly sprung to her eyes and shivered. The summer’s evening must have been chillier than Arabella had expected as she suddenly felt very cold. ‘And you didn’t have to leave on my account. You can return me to the boarding house and go back to your party.’
Oliver took off his jacket and draped it round her shoulders. ‘You’ve had a shock, Arabella. You should not be alone. I’ll take you back to our town house until you recover and then return you to your lodgings.’
Arabella wanted to protest, but she did not want to be alone. He was right. She’d had a shock. The party, all the women flirting with Oliver, and then Lady Bufford’s acid comments had left her shaken. And Oliver’s coat around her shoulders, still containing the warmth of his body, went some way towards assuaging that shock. She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply and inhaled the masculine scent of him.
That scent was both comforting and arousing. It reminded her of how it had felt to be held in his arms, to be made love to by this strong, attractive man. But those thoughts battled with images of the women at the party. They, including Lady Bufford, also knew what it was like to be made love to by Oliver. And if she hadn’t unexpectedly arrived at the party, he would have been making love to one or more of them tonight.