by Renée Dahlia
“Good. I agree. I just wanted to get it out in the open before you met her.”
Priya nodded. “See, now you are acting more like my brother. Worrying about everything.”
“Eliza makes me smile, Priya.”
Priya grinned. “And for that alone, I already like her.” Her brother carried a lot of heavy weights, and the same deep seated guilt over the source of their wealth that she had. It was why they put most of their gains into charitable projects. Even if this was a short-lived affair, Priya would always have a soft spot for someone who helped him carry that load. It was the only reason she’d agreed to the silly Rowley Mile name for her project, because the banter between Ashwin and his friends Rafe and James showed the rare lighter moments in Ashwin’s life.
The singer finished her song with a deep bow and Priya put her champagne flute down to applaud her. A row of dancers walked onto stage, all of similar height with long stockinged legs sticking out from under flowing knee length skirts, and their slimline outfits were topped with matching hats adorned with tall feathers. The dancers were a range of ethnicities, which was the reason Priya had encouraged Carlingford Enterprises to invest in this specific theatre, Williams Variety Hall. She believed in encouraging people who did the right thing for everyone, rather than pandered to the status quo. She insisted the theatre paid people equitably too, so it was no surprise to her that positions here were highly sought after. Talented people were always attracted to good pay and fair working conditions. Priya picked up her champagne and sank down into a chair as the music started up. She closed her eyes to let the music soak in, float over her skin, and just absorb the moment. She’d always loved the theatre; the drama of it, the music, the costumes. Oh gosh, the costumes. When she’d told Ashwin she needed to dress for the evening, she hadn’t been kidding. She adored the way properly tailored clothes fitted her body and made her feel feminine, strong, and indestructible. Tonight she wore a sumptuous dress by Callot Soeurs made from Chinese silk and topped with antique lace. She loved the way the women designers at Callot Soeurs made her feel elegant, and she tried to support them as much as she could because women designers with their own fashion houses were still unusual. The war had been over for nearly a year now, and she’d managed combine a couple of business trips to Paris with a few purchases of the latest in fashions.
“That’s Eliza, at the end.” Ashwin whispered.
Priya opened her eyes and leaned forward. “Which end?”
“The comedic one on the far left. Wait. She’s so talented.” The awe in his voice belied the awkward movements of the dancer at the end of the line. If she hadn’t been to similar shows like this, she would’ve assumed Ashwin had lost his ability to judge quality. The dancer, Eliza, was out of time with the others, slightly behind them, with terrible rhythm, but every movement timed perfectly to be a joke. Priya remembered the first time she saw an act of this style, and she’d seen one dancer moving out of time at the end of the line. She remembered feeling bad for her, that she’d been given a role in the show while obviously unable to perform; a deliberately mean act by the producers to give the audience someone to laugh at. But she’d been as wowed as everyone else when the music changed to an upbeat tempo. The dancers had run through their routine again, faster, and this time the dancer had led them with perfect steps. An incredible performance. To be able to do it so wrong and then so right was an outstanding skill and it’d taken Priya’s breath away as she’d realised the entire first half was intentional; that the trick being played was on her as the watcher.
The dancer, Eliza, almost fell. The crowd gasped, and as she staggered into the next dancer and waved her arms in apology, the audience laughed. But it was when she smiled back at the audience that Priya knew why Ashwin liked her. That smile wasn’t a performance—in fact it rather changed the script by ruining the shock value for later—but it lit up her face and took her from rather pretty to stunningly beautiful. Priya felt no lust, only an aesthetic pleasure in watching her dance, and a warm happiness deep inside for her brother.
“She’s very good. I like her smile.”
Ashwin didn’t take his gaze away from Eliza, but Priya could tell from the subtle shift in his shoulders that he welcomed her compliment. “Yes.”
The second half of the dance proved Eliza had a real talent, not just for timing as she joined the dancers and performed the routine perfectly but also for humour with sly tilts of her head and that gorgeous big grin. By the time the dance ended and the theatre filled with enthusiastic claps and whistles of approval, Priya knew Eliza was exactly what Ashwin needed. She just hoped, with fingers crossed, they’d been truthful with each other. The dancers bowed and the singer came back to end the show with another couple of ditties.
“Shall we go backstage and meet her?” Priya asked.
“No. I have sent a note and she will come up here when she is ready.”
“Is that safe?”
“Of course. She will be escorted here with the doorman. We have an arrangement.”
Priya nodded. She’d never had an attachment with anyone let alone a dancer, although she could certainly see the appeal, and wasn’t quite certain about how to proceed. Ever since that evening with Rosalie at the Bloomsbury Group, she’d become incredibly cautious in her choices. She already knew that evening with Rosalie was special, much more consuming than with anyone before, but that didn’t stop her chasing the same thrill occasionally. No one had lived up to the same electric standard and if the gossip around Rosalie hadn’t reinforced that she couldn’t trust her motives, she might have swallowed her pride long before now. There were places, quietly spoken about clubs and meeting rooms, where any type of pleasure could be found between willing friends. Oh, there were other places where one could pay for those things too, but she’d always struggled with the idea because she had all the money and thus power, and the person working had less options. No amount of reassuring that some people liked the work took away her worry; perhaps that might be true and yet, she was too aware of her family money to believe things were truly equitable.
Aside from the initial burst of lusty attraction, the foremost reason she’d said yes to Rosalie that night was because Rosalie stood on equal ground with her, and it’d been so terribly disappointing to hear that Rosalie had sought her out for their business connections. She didn’t think the chemistry between them was faked, but afterwards she’d second guessed everything. The doubt lingered. Why had Rosalie insisted they be alone as soon as they’d met? She’d pulled Priya into the library before she had a chance to meet anyone else. When she did meet the others, she’d heard gossip that confirmed her suspicions.
“Is that usual?” Priya asked. She needed to get out of her own damned head and stop going around in circles thinking about Rosalie. Should she apologise for listening to gossip? Or was her assumption correct all along? Ashwin ran his hand through his black hair, his brown eyes cast down for a moment. Her brother’s eyes were darker than hers; she’d inherited Mother’s golden flecks, while Ashwin had flecks of black instead, adding to his serious appearance.
“Not for a first meeting. We met at a party six weeks ago for theatre investors, and then later we made this arrangement that I would send a note down whenever I was here.”
Priya ran back over her calendar. She had been the one to suggest they invest in the theatre when they’d heard it was struggling financially. Music was her joy, but she’d missed that party because her friends Luciana and Therese were hosting a small dinner to welcome everyone to their new home. Nell, a childhood friend who she hadn’t seen for years would be there, and that meant everything else was cleared from her calendar. Ashwin had dropped by the dinner before rushing off to represent Carlingford at the theatre event because one of them had to be there to open the new boxes that their investment had enabled. Naturally he would have met all the staff, including the dancers, that night. By itself, that didn’t matter, but if he were interested in Eliza for more than just a fling, the
n it would become highly relevant how much she knew about Ashwin and what her motives for being with him were. The dancer had to know Ashwin was the theatre’s investor. Priya blew out a short breath. Was she more interested in protecting him from a gold digger or Eliza from a man’s advances? Even though the man in question was her brother. Both were relevant positions to take, but were they at odds with each other? And was it any of her business?
“I think I’ll duck out for the facilities before I meet her.” Priya opened the door, nodded to the footman, and walked down the hallway towards the entrance foyer where the toilet facilities were located. She needed to wash her hands and get rid of the irritating clamminess on her palms. It wasn’t like her to be so indecisive.
Chapter 4
Rosalie walked along the hallway from her private box to the facilities in the foyer. Tonight was her sister Gloria’s first performance back after the birth of her third child. She used to sing once a fortnight but had taken some time off to recuperate from the pregnancy and whatnot. In her mid-thirties, Gloria was a lot younger than Rosalie, happily married to an Italian artist and with more musical talent in her left nostril than Rosalie had in her whole body. Rosalie enjoyed seeing Gloria’s success. They’d always stuck together as children, caring for each other while their parents partied, and so Rosalie always came to watch Gloria when she performed. Nothing would have stopped her tonight and Gloria’s opening songs had been incredible.
Today had been interesting. Interesting? More like, fascinating, enthralling, a day full of revelations. Rosalie had been glad she had her own box at the theatre where she could think back over the afternoon with Priya in peace, that was to say, with no one looking at her. As soon as Gloria launched into song, Priya was cast to the back of her mind, and Rosalie realised how much she’d missed watching her sister’s regular performances. Soon she’d be up from backstage to analyse the evening, the song choices, the audience reaction, all the little things that mattered to a performer. Gloria had plenty of money from her shares at Sanderson and Sons. She only sang in public purely because she enjoyed doing it, but like any performer, she still liked to discuss her performance for places where she might improve.
“Miss Sanderson.” Priya’s alto tones filled the hallway and Rosalie spun around, slightly off-balance by the unexpected interruption. As usual, Priya wore an incredible gown. The silk shimmered over her frame, highlighting her curves in a subtle way that was up to the mark of the latest fashions. The neckline of her dress was framed with a creamy lace, and she wore a necklace of rubies that matched the red embroidery of her dress perfectly. But it wasn’t the clothes that drew Rosalie’s attention. Priya was so damned beautiful, it made Rosalie’s heart clutch to see her.
“Miss Howick. Do you like the theatre?” Silly question. Why else might Priya be here?
“Yes. I enjoyed the singer.”
Rosalie beamed as Miss Howick approved of her sister, and a flush of warmth washed over her skin. “Gloria is my sister. I come to watch her every time she sings.”
“She’s very talented.”
Rosalie couldn’t think of anything to say. The earlier ramifications of their discussion at Rowley Mile stormed her brain and stole her ability for social niceties. Instead, she just shifted from one foot to another.
“Does she—”
“Do you come here often?” Rosalie broke the awkward silence at the same time as Priya. “I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just that I hadn’t seen her sing here before.”
“It’s just a hobby for her.” Rosalie wanted to disappear into the shadows as she dismissed Gloria’s talent. Gloria could have made a career of singing if she’d needed to, but she was lucky enough to have the luxury of doing it for pure enjoyment.
“Regardless, she is excellent and made a good contribution to the evening.” Priya stiffened a little. “Look, I’m here with my brother, but you are welcome to join us both if you wish. We are in box number four.”
Rosalie tried not to react outwardly to Priya having the best private box at this theatre. “Thank you very much for the invitation. I will ask Gloria and if she is interested, we will join you.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to use Gloria as an excuse to avoid more stilted discussions with Priya, or if she should punish herself by spending more time with Priya and use her sister as a guard to stop her blurting out something unplanned. Like her pesky feelings. She certainly wasn’t going to think about Priya having a similar enjoyment of music and theatre as her. Nor was she going to imagine them sitting together in a quiet box overlooking the performers, their heads leaning together, and their hands intertwined where no one could see. She waved awkwardly to Priya and made her way back to her own box.
Less than half an hour later, Rosalie found herself tugged along the short hallway by Gloria to Priya’s box. It was closer to the middle of the row of private boxes than the smaller one she’d hired for herself for the evening and would have a prime view of the stage.
“You didn’t mention you had friends here. I must meet them.”
“What is the urgency?” Rosalie wasn’t convinced she wanted this.
Gloria laughed and several men stopped to stare at her. “It’s a special occasion. You want me to meet people simply because you like them.” Gloria had the same magnetism as their mother, but without the smug manipulation that came with using that magnetism for personal gain.
“If you are implying, like you usually do, that I work too hard and don’t have friends, then you are obviously wrong. I have friends. Plenty of them.”
“None that I’ve met.”
Rosalie scoffed. They shared many of the same friends and Gloria’s joke was ridiculous.
“I swear you think your friends are unsuitable for a married woman like me.” Gloria’s wide grin and twinkling eyes reminded Rosalie of when they were children. Gloria always tried to make Rosalie smile, teasing her for being so serious.
“Don’t be absurd. If you must discuss unsuitability, you are the one married to an artist with bohemian friends.” Rosalie kept up the jest. Gloria’s husband had spent the war hiding with some of the Bloomsbury set on a farm with other conscientious objectors. “Besides the Howicks are eminently suitable.”
Gloria’s grin disappeared and she grabbed Rosalie by the shoulders. “Not the Howicks who own this theatre?”
“I’m not sure. It’s a common enough name.” Rosalie didn’t think she’d seen this theatre’s name on the Carlingford investments, but she didn’t know the full extent of their business since they sensibly spread their investments across several of the major establishments. She only saw the portions of their business that her bank dealt with. Case in point, she hadn’t known the extent of their philanthropic work until this week. If Gloria was correct, then it explained why Priya was here. So much for her little fantasy—this wasn’t fun for Priya—just work. Well, she could understand that; after all Gloria had just scolded her for working too much!
“Don’t scare me like that. I get nervous enough when I meet with Mr Williams.”
“I take it Mr Williams is the theatre owner?” She cringed. Hadn’t Gloria just said Priya’s family owned the theatre?
Gloria shook her head. “Director. He selects all the performers and does the programming.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. Either they are the same Howicks who have invested here, or they are some other family entirely. Regardless of those details, they are nice people. My friends.” Rosalie winked at Gloria who grinned.
“Friends. Fine. Introduce me to your friends.”
Rosalie marched over to the footman standing outside the box Priya had noted. “Hello. I’m a friend of Miss Howick. She invited me in.”
“Your name?”
“Miss Sanderson.”
“I will check.” The footman ducked inside the door, and Rosalie glanced at Gloria who was rubbing her hand up and down her arm.
“Are you cold?”
“No
. Nervous. What if it is them?”
“Just be yourself. Everyone likes you.” Rosalie’s sister took after their parents; at least more than she did. Gloria was sociable and found talking to people easy, where Rosalie was too serious and found social discussions too hefty a reminder of the pointless existence of their parents. What Rosalie didn’t do was roll her eyes and tell Gloria to find another theatre who would be happy to have her sing for free. Williams Variety Hall was the best of this type of theatre establishment and Gloria gained a lot of confidence from being up to their high standards. This mattered to Gloria too much for her to simply provide a flippant solution to something that may not even be a problem. Gloria should be proud of her abilities, and she should sing at any theatre she wanted to.
“And you are too serious, my darling sister.”
The footman held the door open for them, and a buzz of quiet conversation filtered through. “You may enter.”
“Thank you.” Rosalie took a half-step, then paused. “You go first.”
“No, you. You are the oldest, and besides there is no reason for you to be nervous. They are your friends.” Gloria left Rosalie no choice but to enter the room, because she certainly wasn’t going to explain her reticence to her sister right now. She stepped inside and the flurry of voices stopped.
“Hello.” She waved her hand. “Mr Howick, Miss Howick, may I present my sister, Gloria Berlusconi. She sang tonight.”
“Welcome. This is Eliza Hayley.” Mr Howick gestured to the beautiful black woman standing beside him.
“Oh, you are the comedic dancer. I loved your performance so much.” Gloria stuck out her hand and shook the dancer’s hand. The three of them nattered away about tonight’s show. Rosalie paid them barely any attention, unable to look away to Priya. The happy glow on her cheeks and the clever glint in her eyes held Rosalie’s attention.
