Which was true. Just not the whole truth. But she had no intention of sharing her other reasons for leaving the theatre. Especially not to Leslie. Her friend would be terribly hurt if she knew the full reasons why she was giving up acting.
"Just don't do anything drastic yet," Leslie said. "Carlos believes you'll only be gone a month. Maybe a little longer. So, go. See how things work out for you. Then if you want to come back you can."
She didn't need a month. Marietta already knew what she had to do. But she would keep that to herself for the time being. Later, once she was settled, she would write Leslie a long letter and tell her the whole truth of why she was leaving acting.
* * *
Thirty minutes later Marietta walked up the two steps to the small Brownstone she and Leslie shared. It was one of the smaller townhomes on their street but had been more than enough space for the two of them.
When they had moved in, they had flipped a coin to see who got the larger first floor bedroom and who got the smaller room on the second floor that was supposed to be the nursery. Marietta won the toss. Now that she was moving out and deeding ownership of the place over to her friend, Leslie would get to enjoy the larger room. But not yet.
Taking off her gloves and coat she hung them in the entryway and headed toward the back of the house and then down into the kitchen. Mrs. Bastion, their cook, always left food and a kettle warming on the stove for them when they got home.
After stroking the fire, Marietta went to the larder and grabbed the cold food the cook had prepared for them. She left Leslie's food and returned to the kitchen table. Within minutes the kettle was boiling and she sat down to enjoy her dinner. She supposed that she would have to begin keeping decent hours now and learn to eat when normal mortals did.
"Aunt Mary," a small hesitant voice called from the servant's stairwell door.
"Abigail, what are you doing up? It is three o'clock in the morning," Mary said.
Rushing from the darkened stairwell, the blonde seven-year-old raced to her aunt’s side and quickly crawled up onto Mary's lap. "I was waiting up for you."
Mary felt her heart lurch as the little girl settled awkwardly against her chest. Her niece was the spitting image of Mary's little sister, Jocelyn. And of Mary herself when she wasn't wearing her black wig and pounds of makeup.
"But why, poppet?" Mary asked.
"I wanted you and Aunt Lizzie to tell me another bedtime story," Abigail said as she reached for part of Mary's cold dinner.
Her niece was just like Mary at her age. Precocious beyond her years. And fascinated with the old Shakespearean and Greek plays.
"Auntie Lizzie isn't home yet sweetheart. She and her beau went out after the show tonight."
The little girl's lip puckered out and she sighed dramatically as she slumped against Mary's chest.
"Stop that you little faker," Mary teased as she tweaked her niece's nose. "I'll tell you your story as soon as I get through eating. Which one would you like to hear?"
Abigail straightened up and grabbed more of Mary's dinner. The smile on the little girl's face melting away all of Mary's worries and sadness.
"I want to hear about the adventures of Rosalind as she fled from her mean old uncle."
She returned the child's innocent smile and stroked her golden hair. "It is one of my favorites too," she said as she gazed off into the past.
As a child Mary had loved all of the classics. But 'As You Like It' was special to Mary. It was the first real play she had ever been in. And Rosalind had been an inspiration to her over the years. Rosalind had fled a life being forced on her to forge her own life. Something Mary had done eight years ago so she could become Marietta Sigona. And now she was going to vanish again. Only this time so she could once again be Mary Irma Cumpston.
Chapter 3
8:01 PM, eight bells
"There she is," Samuel crowed. "I told you she would be here."
"No," Rodney corrected, "you told me she was performing tonight. And she is not."
"No matter," Sam conceded. "She is here now. And she is all alone."
Rodney glanced up from the black-haired actress to the hulking brute standing by the stage door entrance. "And the mountain she is talking to is what? A figment of my imagination."
"Oh, don't mind him, that's just Benjamin," Sam said. "He knows me quite well, I assure you."
Which Rodney had no trouble believing at all. From what he had been able to discern from his friends, the future Earl of Perth was a frequent visitor to the backdoors of all the theatres in London. His new position in society and rumored wealth ensured his entrance into a lot of places. Boudoir and backstage doors among them. But it had apparently not gained him entrance to the Italian actress' boudoir. Which made Rodney extremely suspicious of his friends' exuberance for him to meet the elusive actress.
"Come on," Kirby blurted out, "before she gets away."
With that the viscount threw open the door to Samuel's coach and nearly fell out of the vehicle. He was quickly followed by the surprisingly sober James.
"We might as well follow, old boy. They'll just muck it all up if you allow them to get to her first," Sam said and jumped down from the huge coach.
Stepping down, Rodney glanced around apprehensively. Samuel's coachman had had to park on Catherine Street to avoid the crowd of theatre goers so they would have a clear view of the stage door as the actors and other workers came and went.
That had been more than an hour ago. And his friends had not felt like wasting the time so they had downed two bottles of good Irish whiskey. All the while Rodney had nursed a single glass that was still mostly full. Despite agreeing to the insane night of being wild, he had no intentions of meeting the Italian actress sotted. He wanted a clear head when he met her.
Last night he had been sure he had known the woman in a different life. Not literally but when he had been a young foolish boy infatuated with an impertinent hoyden. But he had been nearly as drunk as his friends last night.
By morning's light Rodney had realized a number of things. The first was he was never drinking that much liquor ever again. The anvil in his head and the typhoon in his stomach was something he never wanted to experience again in his life. The second was that the black-haired Italian actress couldn't possibly be little Mary Contrary from Hamstoneshire. And the last was that he had no intention whatsoever of going along with his friends and their madcapped idea of him letting his hair down for twenty-four hours and having a little fun for once in his life.
Rodney knew he wasn't the life of the party. He had spent most of his life trying to do what was expected of him and his family. For the most part it had never occurred to him to do anything else. At least not so as he would have acted on the impulse.
Glancing around, he chided himself. This wasn't his first impetuous thing recently. Last year he had allowed himself to be talked into helping an old school mate scour the pirate infested city of Tripoli in search of a kidnapped earl. And that was after said friend had had Rodney and his men locked in the hold of a pirate ship. The entire episode had been so out of character with Rodney’s normal life that he had begun to question how he had lived his life up to that point.
Taking a deep breath, he turned and watched his friends stagger down the alleyway toward the actress and the stage door guard. His very presence in London was another rash decision on his part. Rodney had spent the last year repairing the damage his father had done to the earldom and their country estate. A week ago, he had received an invitation to join his friends in London for a week, or more. Sick of the loneliness and the stress of bleeding blood out of the turnips his father had left for finances, Rodney had impulsively dropped everything and joined his friends.
So, there was no way in hell he was going to compound those indiscretions by going through with a seduction of an actress. No matter how beautiful she was. Or that doing so might gain a bit of revenge against the man who had swindled his father out of thousands of pounds.
Reflexively he pulled his pocket watch and tilted the face towards the light. Eight o'clock, eight bells. The end of first dog watch if he would have been still on board the HMS Garland. Reluctantly he pocketed his watch and began following his friends down the alleyway. He could hear Samuel greeting the actress and then the doorman. It was blatantly obvious that he and his other two friends knew both the doorman and the actress. And that they were on good terms with both of them.
He hung in the background and listened to the exotic tones of the Italian actress as she laughed and bantered with all three of his friends. Apparently, she had come by the theatre to say goodbye to some of her friends as she was going to Italy for a month to visit her mother.
Closing his eyes, he listened to them for several minutes and realized just how ridiculous he had been to think that this woman had any connection with the young woman he had fallen in love with eight years before.
"Lord Hamstone, might I present to you, Signorina Marietta Sigona," Samuel said, pulling him from his musings.
From the side Rodney had not been able to see the actress' face. But he hadn't missed the twitch to her shoulders when Sam had said his name. More curious than ever, he moved forward and gazed at the woman before him.
Wide, saucer size, emerald green eyes stared back at him unblinking. Eyes he knew as well as his own reflection. Her pert little nose flared as she drew in a quick breath. That too he knew as well as his own. And her luscious full lips quivered ever so slightly as she stared back at him for several long heartbeats.
"Ciao," she whispered in a husky contralto voice. If a bit hesitant.
He smiled widely back at her. "Ciao," he replied.
Mary nearly died the moment Lord Campton introduced his bashful friend. The man had been hiding in the shadows and she hadn't paid him much attention at first. It wasn't unusual for some of the less confident young admirers to hover in the background when they first met her. She had assumed the silhouetted man was just another one of them.
She might not have been so surprised if she had been paying closer attention last night when she spotted Rodney Hamling leaning over the banister. Or at least noticed who the man was with. But she hadn't.
Mary still might have hidden her surprise if she hadn't at first assumed that the Lord Hamstone she was being introduced to was Rodney's father or older brother. They had never paid her much attention as a child and were unlikely to recognize her. Especially in her Marietta Sigona persona. But she’d had no idea that Rodney was now the earl.
There was nothing for it now but to bluff it through and hope that the man she had foolishly once lost her heart to didn't recognize her after all these years. "It is a pleasure to meet you, milord," she said and dropped into a deep curtsy.
His lips twitched and she knew he had seen through her disguise the moment he had seen her. "The pleasure is all mine, Signorina Sigona," he replied.
A warm flush washed over her with a familiar shudder. "I fear we have met at an inconvenient time, Signore,” she said. “I am just leaving and do not have time to talk. Sì? So, if you will excuse me. . ."
"I'll gladly escort you to your carriage Signorina," he quickly interrupted.
Mary eyed his proffered arm dubiously for several long seconds. If she refused, he might very well expose her and ruin all of her careful made plans.
"Sì, naturalmente, my Lord," she said and placed her hand on his arm.
They quickly made their farewells to the others and he began escorting her toward her coach parked on Drury Lane. Once they were several feet away from his friends, he turned and glanced over his shoulder at them and the doorman, Benjamin.
"Hallo Mary," he said when he turned back around. "It is wonderful to see you again." She glanced up but refused to answer him. He was not deterred. "I always knew you would make your dreams come true. At least I always prayed you would find a way to make them come true."
Did she continue the ruse or admit defeat?
"You were always able to fool everyone with your disguises and extraordinary ability to imitate any accent you heard," he said and then turned to her. "But not me. I knew you too well to be fooled."
She trembled and he clasped her hand where it lay on his arm. He gently squeezed her fingers. "And in case you have forgotten, Mary Contrary, you once introduced me to your Zia Isabella Sigona."
Pulling up short, Mary turned sharply to him and stared unbelievingly at him. "You were ten years old. How in the world do you remember?" Her body turned cold and her heart plummeted to her stomach.
He smiled gently down at her and squeezed her hand again. "I remember everything and every moment I spent with you Mary." His eyes took on a distant sadness. "I even remember the night you crawled through my bedroom window and cried yourself to sleep as you told me about the distant cousin you had never met that had just died as an infant. Her name, as I recall, was Marietta Sigona."
Startled, Mary jerked away and stared up at him. She also remembered that awful moment in her life. She had been eight-years-old and her Aunt Isabella had written about the heartbreaking death of one of her nieces. Mary had taken the news badly. Her father had callously said it was God's will that the child should die so young. But she had forgotten that she had secretly gone to her best friend for solace. And that he had readily given it to her. It was when her feelings for him had begun to change.
He must had misinterpreted her reaction as he smiled sheepishly at her. "Until I saw you, I hadn't put those two things together. But once I saw your eyes, I knew it was you. And I suddenly remembered us talking about your niece and her death for hours that night and most of the next day."
"I was convinced I was going to die too," she whispered hesitantly.
He grimaced and smiled back at. "And I spent all day convincing you that you were not going to die." His eyes lit up and his smile grew. "As I recall, I kept telling you that you couldn't die because you were going to be a great actress one day."
She laughed and quickly covered her mouth as she stared up at him. A soft, reassuring glow permeated her as images of that day floated back.
"You were the only one who ever thought I could be an actress," she said on a breath.
His smile grew and he shook his head. "No, Mary, your mother and mine also knew that one day you would be a great actress."
More memories rushed back in. Both warm and sad ones. "I was sorry to hear about your mother, Kenny."
His smile waned a little as he glanced off into the darkness. "Thank you," he said and then turned back to her. "And I was sorry to hear about your mother's death as well. In their own way, they were our co-conspirators against our fathers."
She laughed and sniffled as she fought the tear threatening to break free. "Yes, they were," she agreed.
His hand rose and his fingers gently caressed her cheek as he stared intently into her eyes. "No one has called me Kenny since you ran off and eloped with Jamison's oldest son."
Mary shook her head without dislodging his fingers. Even through his gloves she could feel the warmth of them burning into her soul. "We never married. He wanted freedom from his abusive father, and I wanted freedom from my oppressive one. So, we struck a bargain. He got me safely out of Hamstoneshire and to London. I gave him enough money to do so, and then to join the Navy as he had wanted to do."
He startled and pulled away from her as he continued to contemplate her closely. Mary breathed and closed her eyes. "I wanted to be an actress and Johnny wanted to see the world." She looked back up at him. "It was a fair bargain for the both of us."
He hesitated for a second as if he wanted to say something then his face lost some of its exuberance. "You should have asked me," he said.
"And want do you think your father would have done if I had?"
He took another step away from her as he gazed off into the distance. When he looked back her, there was sadness in his eyes. And anger as well. "He would have destroyed yo
ur father and your family. And he would have shipped me off to the farthest reaches of the world to keep us apart. But I would have found a way to help you. No matter the consequences."
Mary felt her heart lurch as the cold truth settled over her. He would have and she knew it. And by doing so would have ruined his life and probably destroyed her family's as well.
"Kenny, I did what I had to do to survive. Just as you did," she said.
He flinched and she rushed to explain. "You wanted to be a farmer, not a sailor. Yet I know you joined the Navy the week after I left the village."
He opened his mouth to say something then closed it. She wondered what he had been about to say but didn't want to press him. Suddenly he began looking around and then dropped his eyes to hers.
"Can I escort you home, Mary? I would love a chance to talk and catch up with all that has happened over the last eight years."
The warmth in her chest grew and spread throughout her as she considered his proposal. It was her last week in London. And she would love a chance to catch up with her oldest and dearest friend.
She smiled up at him and laid her hand on his arm. "Yes, I would love that very much, Kenny."
He stared at her for several seconds and then grimaced slightly. "Then I suppose I should tell you something before we go any farther."
Mary felt her eyebrows snap together as an inkling of dread crept over her.
He took a breath and blew it out. "Those men I was with, my friends."
She nodded. "Lord Langtree, Lord James, and Lord Campton. I know them."
"Well, they’re old friends of mine and. . ." he said and trailed off.
"And, what Kenny?" she demanded.
“Well . . . they kind of set this all up so I could. . ."
Insight dawned as his face became charmingly red. "They wanted you to try and seduce me. Is that it?"
"Uh, yes. Kind of," he stuttered.
Mary laughed and patted his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's not the first time Lord Campton as tried to do something like this. Ever since I spurred his propositions, he has been flinging one young gentleman at me after another. I think he is trying to find out what kind of man I do like so he can emulate them and get back into my good graces."
The Earl's Night of Being Wild (The Fallen Angels NOVELLA series Book 3) Page 2