“Now, last night’s performance went well, but we must be even better this evening,” he was saying. He said this every evening, and Anna had never understood why. Perhaps he thought that it would be inspiring, but Anna had never found this to be the case.
“With any luck, we shall receive a positive review in the Times, increasing ticket sales for our final week of performances next week,” he continued, seeming not to notice the foul mood of most of the dancers.
“Miss Conolly,” Mr. Bamber said, reaching out a hand, and beaming at her.
“Yes?” Anna said, surprised at being singled out. As the prima ballerina, it was not unusual for Mr. Bamber to address her directly, but he rarely did so in his pre-performance lectures.
“You were a vision on stage last night.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bamber,” Anna said, smiling slightly.
“Now, the rest of you ought to follow Miss Conolly’s example. She is always focused, never a step out of place, never misses a beat.”
Anna appreciated compliments as much as anyone else, but she wished that Mr. Bamber would not give them to her in this way. She could feel the eyes of the other dancers on her, and she knew that they must hate her for this.
“If we follow Miss Conolly’s example, will we get paid on time, like Miss Conolly?” asked Bridget’s roommate, Camilla.
Bridget shifted her position slightly, so that her hand touched Anna’s, giving it an affectionate squeeze. Anna understood this to mean: ignore her, she’s only jealous. Anna knew that Bridget was right about this, but she wondered if she ought to say something anyway.
“Come now, Miss Grafton,” Mr. Bamber said, a harsh edge to his voice now. “You are always paid in the end. What use is there in complaining about the past?”
Anna looked around the room covertly, and saw Camilla shaking her head in disgust. Many of the other dancers shook their heads along with her. Anna could understand why they were frustrated. It seemed that what Bridget had told her about irregularities in their pay was true for many of the company members.
At the end of his speech, Mr. Bamber took Anna’s hand in his own, brought it to his lips and kissed it gently. “Break a leg” he told her, with a wink, before leaving the salon.
“It must be quite nice to be Mr. Bamber’s favorite,” Camilla said, once he had left. She was looking at Anna with an unpleasant sneer upon her face.
“Perhaps I ought to speak to him about the issue with your wages?” Anna offered. She was hoping to make peace with the other dancers, but also genuinely interested in helping them.
They did not appear to appreciate this gesture, and several of them laughed at Anna when she said it.
“And what good do you suppose that will do?” Camilla asked pointedly.
“Well, I am not sure,” Anna admitted, “but Mr. Bamber usually listens to me. You deserve to be paid on time, and perhaps I can convince him of that. After all, you all work just as hard as I do.”
“How kind of you to notice,” one of the male dancers, Victor, said to her in a mocking tone.
Anna took a deep breath to steady herself.
I will not let petty comments stop me from doing what is right.
“Of course I noticed,” she said, her voice firm and clear. “We all work together, and we all work hard, and it is not fair that any of us should be treated differently to anyone else.”
“Hmm…” Camilla sighed, sarcastically, “Oh, that’s all well and good, but don’t go talking to Mr. Bamber about us, Anna.”
“Why not?” she asked, unsure of what she ought to do.
Camilla looked at Anna for a moment, her eyes wide with surprise, as though she simply could not believe that Anna had not yet worked out why this would be a bad idea. “Because,” she said, as though she were explaining something simple to a very small child. “It will only make him angry, and when he gets angry, it is the rest of us who suffer.”
Anna stared at Camilla for a moment, her mouth hanging open in surprise. Truthfully, she was not surprised by Camilla’s assessment of Mr. Bamber’s behavior, but rather by the fact that Camilla had explained it so bluntly. Anna knew, without a doubt, that Camilla was right about Mr. Bamber.
In an effort to save money, Mr. Bamber did many tasks that would typically have been handled by another employee. As a result, many things were mishandled, and Mr. Bamber did not like to be reminded of it.
Before Anna could think of any response to this, Camilla turned and walked away from her. Their conversation over, the rest of the company resumed their chatter, talking to one another, or working on the last-minute details of hair, makeup, and costuming.
Anna decided that now was not the time to worry about a fight with Camilla, or payment issues for the rest of the company. She would be on stage in just a few more minutes, and she needed to focus on her dancing and nothing else. She had stretched thoroughly at the boarding house before coming to the theater, but now she began to stretch again, more so that she would have something to do than anything else.
By the time the dancers were called to the stage, Anna felt prepared to perform. Her hair, makeup, and costume were all in order, her muscles were well-stretched, and her mind was clear of distractions.
When she had first learned ballet, her teacher had told her to clear her mind of any extraneous thoughts. Anna had found this difficult at first, but over the course of many years, she had become an expert in clearing her own mind. The skill had served her well, allowing her to be fully present on stage, entirely focused on each and every movement.
* * *
Nathaniel arrived at the theater a quarter of an hour before the performance was scheduled to begin. He turned his hat and coat in to the attendant in the cloakroom and proceeded to his mother’s box to find his seat.
Several people in the lobby greeted him, showing signs of wanting to talk. Nathaniel said hello to each of them politely, but moved on quickly, anxious for the performance to begin. At a distance, he saw his friend David and his wife entering the stairway to their box on the opposite side of the lobby.
David was the one person that Nathaniel might have liked to speak to this evening, but they did not have time before they needed to be in their seats. Instead they simply nodded to one another from across the lobby, and David’s wife, the Marchioness, gave Nathaniel a brief smile.
Nathaniel was escorted to his box by the same usher from the previous evening. Once again, the usher said that he hoped Nathaniel would enjoy the show, and once again, Nathaniel thanked him. He reflected on his mother’s comment from the night before, but saw nothing to suggest that the usher was particularly excited at having been addressed directly by a Duke.
Nathaniel had a few minutes to sit before the curtain would be raised on the stage. He took this time to consider his feelings for the prima ballerina.
Will I find her as lovely tonight as I did yesterday?
When the lights were dimmed in the audience, and the curtain raised, Nathaniel was prepared to watch the performance critically. He knew that he must assess what was truly happening in his heart and mind when he saw the prima ballerina. In order to do that, he would need to pay attention to all aspects of her performance, and not allow himself to be distracted by her beauty.
Nathaniel had always had an eye for beauty, whether it be a pretty face, a rolling hillside, or a carefully designed building. This had served him well in one of his favorite hobbies—painting, but it could be a problem as well.
In his time at school, Nathaniel had, on more than one occasion, mistaken a pretty face and figure for a good character. Thankfully, his flirtations with pretty chamber maids had gone nowhere, and his liaison with the headmaster’s daughter had resulted in nothing more than one very awkward kiss in a hidden corner of the garden.
In each case, Nathaniel had thought himself madly in love with the girl, only to find out that she was not interested in him, or in the case of the headmaster’s daughter, that she was laughing at him behind his back. He ha
d been a gangling, awkward youth, but he was a much more confident, self-possessed adult now.
In the years since he had finished school, Nathaniel had been introduced to a variety of eligible young ladies, and he had liked some of them well enough. However, he had been cautious of forming attachments to any of them so as not to repeat the mistakes of his youth.
Instead, he had flirted with serving girls in taverns, or the pretty daughters of merchants in town. None of these connections had produced strong feelings in him, such as the infatuations of his youth. The prima ballerina was something else entirely. The feelings she stirred in him were entirely new emotions—the existence of which had been previously unknown to him.
Nathaniel was determined to be rational in his observations this evening. He knew that he must watch the ballet without allowing his emotions to overtake him. He thought that this would be the only way to understand what might be happening to him.
Once the performance began, however, Nathaniel quickly realized that he would not be able to watch the performance in the detached, critical way he had hoped. Once again, he found his eyes drawn to the prima ballerina, no matter what else might be happening on stage at any given moment.
Nathaniel felt as though he were two people—one a foolish boy watching a pretty girl, and the other a critical adult watching the boy make a fool of himself. His pulse quickened when he saw her, and his throat went dry when he imagined placing his hands on her waist and lifting her high into the air as her pas de deux partner did.
While his body reacted, his mind was racing with contradictory thoughts. He knew that this made no sense, that he ought to let go of the absurd notion that he loved this complete stranger. He also knew that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and that he must at least meet her, or he would never stop wondering about her for the rest of his life.
Nathaniel did not even leave his seat at intermission. He had no one to talk to, as he was sitting alone, but he did not mind. He spent the interval thinking about what he ought to do next.
I must meet the prima ballerina, but how?
Given his position, he was sure that he would be allowed backstage if he asked, but he did not wish to approach her uninvited. To do so would be highly inappropriate, and she might scorn him for it. If she had been the daughter of an aristocrat he could have sent a note asking to call upon her at home, or ask his mother or a friend to introduce him. However, ballerinas did not have calling hours—at least he did not think that they did.
When intermission ended, Nathaniel was still in his seat. He had not moved since the end of the first act, nor had he come to any conclusions about what he ought to do next. Any attempts at making future plans were quickly put aside when the beautiful red-haired ballerina floated onto the stage once more.
The second act, in which her legs were so exposed, was both a delight and a torment to Nathaniel. The sight of her lithe body was so appealing to him that it sometimes took his breath away. And yet, the experience of watching this beauty—watching but not able to touch her—was agony. The thought of every other man in the audience watching her as well made Nathaniel uneasy, even though he knew he had no claim over her.
Nathaniel wished that he could sit and watch the ballerina forever, but the performance ended in what felt like only a few moments. This was especially disappointing to Nathaniel, because he knew that ballet only performed three nights each week, and tonight was this week’s last show.
He would not be able to see the ballerina again for several days. His logical mind knew that this was a good thing, as it would give him time to clear his head, and would prevent anyone from asking why he was suddenly so keen on the ballet. However, his heart sank at the idea of being away from her for so long.
It had been no more than a day since he first saw her, but to Nathaniel, it felt as though a lifetime had passed. Already, he could not imagine the thought of never seeing her again. It was incredible how quickly he had come to think of her as a necessary constant in his world. Without her presence, he felt, something essential would be missing.
If I never see her again, I will never experience true beauty.
Nathaniel knew that these thoughts were absurd, but he could not stop himself from thinking them as he walked out into the lobby to fetch his hat and coat from the cloakroom. In his distraction, he nearly missed the Marchioness of Swinton calling to him. He did not know David’s wife well, but he had met her several times, and could hardly fail to recognize her in normal circumstances.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” she said to him politely when she saw him.
“Good evening, My Lady,” he replied, bowing slightly to her.
“I had no idea you were a fan of the ballet.” she said. “My husband and I do so enjoy it.”
“I am newly converted, as it were,” he replied with a smile. “Swinton has often told me in the past that I ought to see the ballet, but it was my mother who finally convinced me.”
“Is the Dowager Duchess here, Your Grace?” the Marchioness asked, looking around.
“No. I came with her last night, and enjoyed it so much that I returned again tonight, but Her Grace could not join me.”
“Oh. You must have enjoyed last night’s performance immensely, then.” The Marchioness sounded a bit surprised at this, and Nathaniel cursed himself inwardly for revealing too much. David had married her for political reasons, and often complained that all she did was bore him with gossip about other aristocrats.
“Well, yes, I did enjoy it. And since I had no plans this evening, I thought that I might as well see if it would be as good the second time around,” he said, cautiously. “And of course, this is a good place to mingle with my colleagues in the House of Lords.”
“Ah,” the Marchioness said, nodding solemnly, “I see. Well, I am glad that you are able to enjoy the show in addition to the political benefits of being here.”
“Yes, it works out quite well,” Nathaniel said, and then wishing to change the subject he asked, “And where has your husband gone off to?”
“Here he is, Your Grace,” the Marchioness said, gesturing toward him as he approached from across the lobby.
“Hello, Yanborough.” David said, greeting his old friend. “I am glad to see that you have finally come to appreciate the ballet.”
“My mother finally convinced me to come with her, and I enjoyed the performance more than I had expected.”
“I must go and speak with my parents,” the Marchioness said, her tone slightly colder than it had been before. “I shall leave the two of you to catch up. It was lovely to see you again, Your Grace.”
“It was a pleasure, My Lady. Good evening,” Nathaniel said, as his friend’s wife walked away.
The Marquess nodded at his wife in acknowledgement, but showed no sign that he was sorry to part company with her. Nathaniel knew that his friend had not been keen to marry Lady Swinton, but he was sorry to see that they did not seem any more fond of each other now than they had on their wedding day.
“So, what did you really think of the show, Yanborough?” the Marquess asked with a conspiratorial wink.
“I really did enjoy it,” Nathaniel said. “So much so that I decided to return tonight, even though I had no one to accompany me.”
The Marquess raised his eyebrow at this. “Is there anything in particular that drew your attention?”
“Well,” Nathaniel said, speaking in a hushed tone so as not to be overheard by anyone else, “the prima ballerina is exceptionally lovely.”
The Marquess smiled at this and nodded in agreement. “That she is, old friend. I could not agree more. Now, I am terribly sorry that I cannot stay longer, but I must conduct some business with Mr. Bamber.”
“With whom?” Nathaniel asked, feeling curious.
“Mr. Bamber,” David repeated. “He is the owner of the ballet company, and we are patrons of the theater. Who knows how long we will be talking. I will probably stay at the club tonight. My wife’s parent
s will escort her home.”
“I see,” Nathaniel said, an idea beginning to take shape in his mind. Speaking in hardly more than a whisper he asked, “Since you have business with Mr. Bamber, do you think that it might be possible…?”
“Do I think what might be possible?” David asked, leaning in and speaking in an exaggerated whisper. Nathaniel knew that he was being teased, but he did not mind. He and David had always teased one another, just as he imagined brothers would. Besides, thoughts of the prima ballerina drove all else from his mind, so he could not spare a moment to worry about being mocked.
The Art 0f Pleasuring A Duke (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 4
