Copyright
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Actor and the Earl
Copyright © 2012 by Rebecca Cohen
Cover Art by Anne Cain
[email protected]
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.
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ISBN: 978-1-62380-150-2
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
November 2012
eBook edition available
eBook ISBN: 978-1-62380-151-9
Dedication
For Tom, Sue, and Shira.
Thank you for your love, support, and encouragement.
Chapter 1
SEBASTIAN bowed low, drinking in the applause. The audience clapped and whistled, their approval amplified by the round of the theater. He gathered up the folds of his dress and curtseyed to Philip, who’d played Benedick to his Beatrice. Philip took his hand and kissed it, and the Swan’s crowd showed their appreciation of their on-stage chemistry with even louder cheers. With a smile so wide it made his cheeks ache, he bowed once more and departed stage right, into the wings.
Sebastian weaved through the rat runs of the theater as the other actors and the men who worked behind the scenes congratulated him on his performance, the final one for this run, until he finally made it to the cramped dressing room. The last of the other actors who shared the room were already on their way out. Their makeup gone and dressed in street clothes, they were heading off to celebrate, and Sebastian assured them he’d join them just as soon as he’d shed his costume.
The cloying scent of rose oil hung heavily in the air, but it couldn’t mask the aroma of London life that permeated through the bowels of the theater. The smell of the street pervaded everywhere, and even the romance of the stage couldn’t obscure the stench of England’s busiest city. He pulled off his wig and dropped the mass of black ringlets to the right of the mirror on the dressing table. The dress was next to go, followed by the hateful bone-squeezing corset, both cast carelessly aside over the back of an empty chair.
Candles, scattered over every available surface, provided enough light to remove the thick layer of white that covered his face and neck, which he wiped away with clean rags and cold water as he sat in front of the mirror. Sebastian ran his fingers through his greasy black hair and grimaced at his reflection. Unfortunately, his own pale face wasn’t the only one looking back.
“Cousin Claire,” he said to the young woman standing behind him. She was smiling, but the sentiment hadn’t reached her eyes. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“My father sent me to talk to you.”
Sebastian groaned at the mention of Sir Francis Haven, knowing that a message from his usually distant uncle was not going to be for his benefit. “What does he want? I distinctly remember him telling me not to darken his door again if I insisted on engaging in my honor-tarnishing heathen ways.”
Claire did not appear to be concerned by his words. “How would you like to be welcomed back into the family fold and also clear your father’s debts?”
“Honestly? I couldn’t care less.”
Claire stroked the skirt of her dress, pretending to smooth out an imaginary crease. “Really, Sebastian, I’ve known you since you were a babe in arms—you don’t mean that.”
He sighed, threw the rag onto the surface in front of him, and turned to face Claire. “Let us say, for argument’s sake, that I want to appease your miserable sire. What does he want me to do?”
“Bronwyn has gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean by ‘gone’?” asked Sebastian.
Claire bit her bottom lip, taking a moment to carefully choose her words. “Your errant twin sister has reneged on an agreement she made with my father and has run off to Kent with Jeremiah, the blacksmith’s son.”
Sebastian laughed, both at his sister’s actions and Claire’s obvious discomfort. “Oh, I see,” he said, smirking. “I’m merely the gray lamb of the family now. Bronwyn has taken up the mantle of black sheep.”
“Yes, very funny, Sebastian. But it does not help the situation.”
“It is hardly the end of the world, Cousin. Can you not leave her alone to be happy?”
“Happy? By what notion has she earned happiness? Bronwyn covered her tracks well enough that we had trouble finding her, but if it becomes general knowledge, her disappearance would cause the tongues of London’s gossipmongers to wag so wildly that the family will be a laughingstock.”
“I doubt anyone would care about the actions of the daughter of a long-dead naval captain.” Sebastian tried his best to stop smiling but couldn’t completely manage it. “I am sure it is a very worrying time for you all, but you know where she is, and I assume she is safe, so I cannot see what the problem is.”
“The problem is she was supposed to be meeting her intended for the first time tomorrow, during supper at the family’s London townhouse.”
“You’ll just have to inform the gentleman of the lucky escape he has unwittingly had. Although I understand now why you are concerned that she has disappeared, and it has nothing to do with courtly gossip.”
“The church is booked for three days’ time,” she continued, ignoring Sebastian’s snide comment. “This was meant to be the way for the Hewels to repay their debt to my father, Sebastian. The earl has conferred a very generous gift to secure their union, and my father does not wish to give it back.”
“Gift? Who in their right mind would give us money to marry Bronwyn? I was convinced we’d be stuck with her, since there’s no money left from my father’s estate for her dowry.”
“Earl Crofton has been most generous.”
“That is because he has not met Bronwyn, or he would’ve sewn shut his purse.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed. “You should not be so flippant.”
“Claire, as moved as I am by your father’s misfortune to lose the money, I still fail to see to my part in the drama.”
Leaning over, Claire picked up the wig from in front of the mirror. “Bronwyn isn’t a particularly feminine girl. In fact, if I was being cruel, I could say that she looked little better than a man in a dress.”
“Claire, you’d better not be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”
“And it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve masqueraded as your sister, would it? I recall you winning several wagers that you could dress as your sister and not be discovered. One of which resulted in a black eye for a delivery boy.”
Sebastian snatched back his wig. “That was years ago.”
Claire laughed. “Don’t think for one minute that because you have got older you look less like your sister. You’ve still got the same high cheekbones and pretty green eyes.”
“That is beside the point.”
“I think it is exactly the point, Sebastian. Just think of it as anothe
r acting job.”
Sebastian scowled at her, but she didn’t appear to be even slightly perturbed. “No! Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come now. I saw your performance tonight. You make a more convincing woman than Bronwyn actually does. And if the rumors doing the rounds at court are true about Earl Crofton, I doubt he’d object even if our ruse was discovered.”
“What do you mean if he finds out? I’m sure on my so-called wedding night he’d soon discover my decidedly unfeminine attributes.”
“Do you have that little faith in us? We have everything planned down to the smallest detail.” Sebastian rolled his eyes, and Claire smacked him. “A little faith goes a long way, Cousin.”
“I’m sorry, Claire, but this is sounding more farcical than some of the plays I’ve been in, and let me remind you that I portrayed Helena in Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“What rot! You will make a marvelous blushing bride, who unfortunately will be taken ill on her wedding night.”
Sebastian dropped his head into his hands. “Please tell me you’ve not roped some charlatan physician into your ridiculous scheming.”
“I know you are less than fond of the medical profession, but can you at least agree to be amicable?”
“You are forgetting, Cousin,” said Sebastian, bristling, “that I have not agreed to anything.”
Claire cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. “But you will do it, won’t you, Sebastian? As much as you claim to like this bizarre life of yours, you are at any moment one slip from the gutter, in a job that even the prostitutes look down on. And here I am, your way back to respectability. A way to wipe out your father’s debts and restore his good name.”
“And what use have I for respectability—especially as the way you think I could earn it would be by the most unrespectable of means?”
Claire played with a ringlet of her dark hair. “It is odd, don’t you think, that you still find yourself cast as a woman? I mean, by now you should be the hero or the dashing romantic male lead.”
Sebastian did not like the way Claire’s words echoed his own thoughts, but he was damned if would admit it. “It was a challenging role—a great role. Not something I would have refused—”
“But surely you’d have preferred to have played Benedick or Claudio over the aging maiden?” she interrupted.
“Beatrice is not one of Will’s whimsical heroines. She is strong, brave—”
“But still a woman.” Claire’s eyes sparkled, and Sebastian knew she had seen through his protests.
“I am but a few months away from twenty,” he said, his eyes downturned, looking at the wig as it lay useless in his hands. “If I were to refuse a role just out of fancy, then there are many young, bright things ready to take my place. And I’m up against older actors with greater experience and gravitas for the male characters. Believe me, it is better to play a female role while I still can than to be relegated to the chorus.”
Claire laid a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, and he raised his eyes to meet hers in the mirror, knowing exactly where the conversation was going. “So you are lucky then, because here I am, offering you a way to escape such a terrible fate as being just a blurred face in a crowd scene. What do you say, Cousin, will you play your sister?”
There really was only one answer he could give. An actor’s life was not glamorous. There were times when he didn’t know when his next meal would arrive or if he would be sleeping in a pigsty rather than a bed. “What time should I be at the townhouse tomorrow?”
Chapter 2
SEBASTIAN headed down the narrow road that the townhouse was situated on, dodging puddles of foul-smelling water as he struggled with the heavy bag that contained all the elements he’d need to transform into Bronwyn.
A familiar voice called out to him, and he looked up to see Claire leaning out of a second-floor window. “Go to the servants’ entrance. I’ll meet you there.”
Before Sebastian could answer, she had already disappeared back inside, slamming the window behind her and making the overhang of the building quiver in her wake. He muttered under his breath at the gall of the woman, expecting him to behave like one of the servants, but turned into the dark alley that ran between the two neighboring houses and climbed the few steps to the tradesman’s entrance. The door swung open, and he was grabbed by the front of his doublet and pulled inside by his grinning cousin.
“Take care, you witch,” he said, straightening his doublet once she had released him.
“No time for your prissy ways. We haven’t long before Earl Crofton arrives. Use the second bedroom on the left to get changed.”
“How gracious of you to let me use the room that was once mine.” He pushed past her, not turning back at her yelp of pain as his bag swung haphazardly and knocked her out of the way.
The small room was much as he’d remembered it. Little had changed in the four years since he’d defied his guardian, Claire’s father, and auditioned as a boy actor for a production of The Comedy of Errors. In his opinion, the money his family had paid for tutors to teach him to read had been well spent, as his literacy and quick wits had gained him the part he had wanted. The wood-framed bed still took most of the floor space, the rich furnishings the same as he’d remembered. In fact, the only addition was a plain wooden table upon which a mirror was balanced.
The mirrors in all of the theaters he had worked had been gifts from wealthy patrons. Where their frames had been plain, this mirror’s was ornate, and as Sebastian examined the carvings of flowers and flora, he couldn’t help but wonder how his family had come into possession of such an expensive item.
“It was a gift from Earl Crofton.” Once again Claire had managed to sneak up on him unannounced.
He turned to face her. “Really?”
“Yes. It arrived the day after the offer for Bronwyn’s hand had been accepted.”
Sebastian hummed softly to himself, amazed that anyone would want to marry his sister quite so much. “It is an extravagant gift, considering he had already secured the marriage.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Claire. “I tell you this, Sebastian, Earl Crofton seems far too keen to remarry for my liking.”
“You did mention he already had an heir… so that begs the question of what happened to the previous Lady Crofton?”
“Nothing even remotely mysterious. She died during the birth of their son—three summers ago.”
Sebastian tutted. “I thought you were to say it has been mere months. Then it is obvious why the earl wishes to remarry: he is lonely.”
Claire’s snort in reply was most unladylike. “That is not what the rumors at court alluded to. He is man known not to have trouble finding company.”
“For someone who complained that Bronwyn’s disappearance might cause a scandal, I would’ve thought that you would not be one to sanction listening to idle gossip, Claire. Now leave me. I need time to dress if I am to have any hope of a successful outcome.”
Sebastian ignored Claire’s laugh as she left the room, focusing instead on unpacking his bag. He’d considered using the costume he’d worn as Beatrice, but it was nowhere near grand enough for supper with an earl, and he hoped what he had been able to borrow from a friend of a friend would be acceptable, even if it was already a few seasons out of date.
He upended his bag onto the bed and, putting a smaller bag to one side, began to sort through the pile of clothing. The gown was a rich indigo, and he held it up to inspect for damage. The velvet was a little rumpled, but he didn’t think Earl Crofton would notice that in the badly lit dining room. He laid it out across the bed, setting a corset and a white linen shift next to it. Noticing the laces of the light blue sleeves had become tangled, Sebastian unraveled them and then loosely tied them to the bodice. The voluminous skirt was next, which would need the farthingale and sewn-in whalebones to give it shape. He shook it, dislodging the roll, which he managed to catch before it sent the ruff flying off the bed. As he looked over his cos
tume, he winced involuntarily, knowing that he had an evening of discomfort ahead of him, with the corset cinching his waist and the roll tied in place across his arse to give him a set of feminine hips.
After stripping out of his own rather plain clothes but leaving on his hose, he washed in the basin of lukewarm water that had been left for him and began to dress. He picked up the high-collared white shift and shook out the worst of the creases before slipping it over his head. The roll was little more cumbersome, its long sausage shape making it awkward to handle, but he tied it around his hips. Despite his nightly practice with the corset, it was a difficult maneuver to get the hated contraption in place, and he twisted and turned to get it seated in a way that could be described as remotely comfortable. He’d never had the occasion to be thankful that his sister was rather flat-chested before, but he was now, as the effect of the corset narrowing his waist and the material of the shift gave enough of an illusion of a bust for his purposes. On went the farthingale, its whalebone ribs giving the perfect shape for the skirt to lie over, but Sebastian cursed under his breath, as the corset made it difficult to reach behind his back to make sure the skirt was seated properly over the roll.
The deep indigo of the gown contrasted against the light blue of the skirt and sleeves once he’d finally got it on and had secured the cuffs. He felt like he had run for miles, exhausted from the trial of just getting ready. Next time he would have to get Claire to help him. The theater costumes were nowhere near as much trouble. They only had to give the illusion of a noblewoman at a distance, and there was no way he could get away with that at close quarters to Earl Crofton, a man who spent enough time at court to know what a noblewoman should be wearing.
Sebastian grabbed the small bag he’d put to one side earlier and headed to the mirror, pulling a black wig out of the bag and carding his fingers through the fake hair to get the ringlets into position. Setting it down for a moment, he fished out his supply of stage makeup and, with a practiced hand, smeared a thin layer of white paint across his face and neck and added rouge to his lips and cheeks. Happy with the effect, he pulled on the wig, taking care to place the ringlets so they didn’t smudge his makeup before it had chance to dry, and tucked away a few loose strands of his own hair. Finally, he tied the lace ruff in place, hiding his Adam’s apple.
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