Chapter 8
Laura stared around the packed theater auditorium. All evening, she and Tess had flown about the place as if they had wings on their feet. The colder weather seemed to have increased people’s appetites for treats and drinks, which was just fine by her. Her cut in the night’s takings would hopefully cover the cost of Bette’s medicine and leave enough left over to grab some supper on the way home.
Somehow she’d managed to work amongst the audience and still avoid looking at the stage and Adam Lacey’s uppity face. She’d been taken in by his handsome looks and dazzling smile like a young, naïve girl, rather than an aging and knowing whore. When she’d told him she couldn’t read, she should’ve slapped the shocked expression off his face.
Well, she didn’t need an education to keep her and Bette fed and sheltered. She needed her wits and her belief something better would turn up. In the meantime, she’d handle Adam Lacey as best she could—with avoidance being at the top of her agenda. She sensed a dire and dangerous desperation in him. Her priority was Bette. Not Adam Lacey—and certainly not the stage.
Other opportunities would most certainly arise once Bette was fit and well again.
“Excuse me, miss?”
Laura plastered on a smile and approached the middle-aged gentleman hailing her from a seat farther along the aisle. “Yes, sir? What will it be? I have fresh oranges, the finest, most delectable chocolate . . .”
His eyes were wide with alcohol, his cheeks rosy red even in the semidarkness. “It’s not your wares I want, my lovely.”
Laura’s smile wavered as her hackles rose. She wasn’t in the mood for some leech after a piece of flesh. “No? Then why call me over?”
He whipped a sealed envelope from his inside pocket. “I wonder if you’d deliver this note to Miss Danes?”
A wave of relief that he didn’t want a fumble rushed through Laura’s blood. She grinned and took the envelope. “Of course, sir . . . for a price.”
The man’s smile widened and his color deepened. “That, my dear, goes without saying. Here.”
He dropped some coins into her hand and she grasped them tightly. “Consider it done.”
She moved to walk away when he gripped her arm. “Will you tell her I think she’s the best actress in the entire world?”
Laura nodded. “Indeed, sir.”
“And that I have money. Lots of money.”
God, has the man no shame? “Of course.”
“And you’ll come straight back if she gives you a message?”
“Absolutely.”
His hand slipped from her arm and he collapsed in his seat, satisfaction emanating from him as he slapped his hands together in a gesture of a job well done. “Lovely. Well, off you go then, my girl. The play will soon be coming to an end.”
Duly dismissed, Laura turned. Arrogant sod. Did he really think the likes of Monica Danes would have even a passing glimpse for him? Stifling her laughter, she caught Tess’s eye and held the envelope aloft, indicating she was disappearing backstage to deliver a message. Tess waved in acknowledgment, and Laura ducked through the corridor toward the actors’ dressing rooms.
Music and chatter from the stage echoed through the halls. The current scene between Monica and her costar would last at least another fifteen minutes, so Laura stepped up her pace, safe in the knowledge she had enough time to leave the envelope on Miss Danes’s dressing table and make a sharp exit.
She knocked softly on the dressing-room door in case Miss Danes’s dresser or someone else was inside. When no one pulled the door open and everything remained ominously silent on the other side, Laura entered the room.
Her breath caught. Every girl’s paradise was held within the four walls. Bottles of perfume and lotions and potions adorned every available surface. Vase after vase of beautiful fresh flowers dotted the space with bright pinks, reds, and purples.
Envy struck deeply as Laura wandered around the room, delighting in the scents and sights of a lady. She swallowed as longing rose up inside her for a life so very different than hers. A life where color and good times reigned rather than the browns, beiges, and grays of a lesser existence—a black and white sketch of struggle.
What she wouldn’t give to be able to throw caution to the wind and pursue Mr. Lacey’s suggestion of starring in his play. To sing and dance and deliver the lines of a playwright . . . Her smile dissolved. If Adam Lacey’s reaction to her illiteracy was anything to go by, the dream would never become a reality. Well, he didn’t know her, or know what she was capable of when she put her mind to it.
A rich sapphire blue dress hanging on the wardrobe door caught her eye. It was beautiful. Laura approached the wardrobe and ran trembling fingers over the sumptuous velvet bodice; the intricate beading and lace-edged neckline cut provocatively low. To wear such a dress would make even a whore feel like royalty. She shot a glance toward the open door and back to the dress. Lord, just to see what she would look like in such a frock . . .
She shook her head. What was she thinking?
Turning back to the dressing table, she focused on the task at hand. Taking the sealed envelope from inside her basket, she propped it up against some bottles in the center of the table. Humming a tune from one of the play’s songs, she stepped toward the door but once more looked to the gorgeous dress Miss Danes wore for the ending scene.
“Darn it, if you only live once.” She hurried toward the dress and pulled it down. Carrying it to the full-length mirror, she held it against her bosom and grinned. The color made her eyes huge, bright and wide, her hair, dark and rich. She closed her eyes and clasped the dress to her body as she sang around the room, improvising the actions she imagined the heroine executing.
Higher and higher she sang, louder and louder. The music in her head moved her feet, the words her heart. She was born to do this. The chance of passion and adventure filled her soul. The audience would clap and sing and cheer and wave as she acted night after night. With a final twirl, the song ended and she bent at the waist with a dramatic flourish. Bravo!
A slow clap snapped her upright. Heat burned her face.
Adam Lacey strolled through the door, his gaze burning with a fire that brushed over the surface of her skin in a heady wave. She swallowed and spun around to rehang the gown at the wardrobe.
“How long have you been standing there?” Her hands shook.
Silence.
She closed her eyes when the soft whisper of his breath warmed the nape of her neck. “Long enough to know somehow, some way, you and I are going to work this out. You are destined to be my heroine. You know it as well as I.”
Her heart slammed against her ribcage and she drew in a long breath. What was it about this man that had her feeling so out of control whenever he came near? She controlled men, not the other way round. That’s the way it had been since her mother first set her to work. This attraction was new and surpassed nerve-wracking. She wanted to run. Escape. Before she lost all sensibility and kissed him again.
She turned.
His chocolate brown eyes bored into hers. The seconds beat between them, heavy with tension.
“We can do this, Laura. We can make my play a reality. You are the one.”
Words battled in her mind and lodged on her tongue. The soft whisper of his voice spoke of more intimate things than two actors performing. They suggested lovers having hot, unbridled sex. Her gaze fell to his lips. “I can’t read.”
“I will work with you. I will stay with you night and day until you know every word by heart.”
Night and day. Darkness and candlelight, moonlight and roses. She firmly planted her hands on his chest and pushed. He didn’t want to romance her; God only knew what he wanted.
“No.” She marched to the opposite side of the room, opening the space between them so she could breathe again. “No.”
He remained with his spine to her, seemingly frozen. His shoulders were stiff, the muscles in his back defined like cut stone beneath the sof
t silk of his shirt. She trembled with the inexplicable need to run her hands from his waist and up over his back. Desire pulled at her core and her nipples tightened. What was happening to her?
“Why not?” His voice was low and reverberated through the silence. He turned. “What are you so afraid of?”
You. She straightened to her full height. “I’m not afraid of anything. What you are asking of me, a complete stranger you know nothing about, makes no sense. I don’t believe this pursuit of me has anything to do with your play.”
He stepped closer and she shot out her hand.
“Stay there.”
He halted. “It makes perfect sense that I want you.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“I saw you.” His jaw tightened. “Goddamn it, I heard you. You can sing and you are beautiful. Please. Just try this with me.” He glanced at her basket by Monica’s dressing table. “Surely you would prefer to one day grace the stage than sell fruits and deliver messages? I can help you have the entire world at your feet.”
Realization dawned and she fisted her hands on her hips. “You want me because you have no other options.”
Two spots of color appeared high on his cheeks. “Of course, I have options. I am a star.”
Satisfaction furled warm in her stomach. “You’re a star right now, but maybe not forever. As you’ve rightly said, I love the theater. I know the theater. Stars come and go, Mr. Lacey. You have written a play and my guess is no one will take it on or act the roles you’ve spent so many hours creating. Am I right?”
He glared. “They will if they see you.”
She huffed out a laugh. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“If you stood before a director and sang like you did a moment ago, you would be onstage before you could draw your next breath.”
Why is he saying these things? How can anyone be so cruel?
She shook her head. “Do you think just because I’m new here you can attempt to charm and pursue me until I end up in your bed?” She glared as a bolt of humiliating pain quivered through her chest. “You have absolutely no idea who you’re dealing with, so I suggest you go and find another plaything.”
Her wavering strength returned and Laura marched forward to snatch up her basket. When she straightened, his hands firmly clasped her waist. “When I look at you, the last thing I see is a plaything.” His eyes were so dark, they shone almost black. “I look at you and I see my success. I will not lie to you. Everything you say is true. I have no investor. I have no one who wants my play to become a real thing. Alive and dominant onstage.” He inched closer. “But I believe in it with my entire heart and soul. I also believe you are the key to it coming to fruition. Stop hiding. Tell me why you will not take this risk.”
Laura’s breath hitched as her legs trembled. Why couldn’t she take her eyes from his? Why did she want to inhale him like oxygen?
“Mr. Lacey—”
He gently shook her. “Tell me.”
Tears smarted her eyes. “I can’t leave Bette. I’ll never leave Bette.”
His gaze immediately softened and his grasp loosened. “Bette?”
“My friend. My ailing friend.” She slid from his hands and moved to the door.
“Laura?”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned. “What?”
“I am coming home with you when I have finished tonight.” Panic hurtled through her blood. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I am coming home with you and we are going to talk about this. I assume this Bette is at your house?”
She swallowed. “Yes, but—”
“Then I will see you after the show.”
He swept past her and into the corridor. Laura stared after him. Now what was she to do?
She couldn’t believe this was happening. Laura glanced at Adam from beneath her lowered lashes as, arm in arm, they left the glitz of the Bath Theater Royal, toward the lowlier part of the city.
True to his word, he’d apprehended her as she’d come out of the theater. Purposely taking her time after the performance drew to a close, she’d offered to cover Tess’s part in cleaning up under the guise of thanking her for getting her the job. As Tess was hankering after sharing a drink with a good-looking stagehand, she’d leaped on Laura’s offer.
Stalling and taking on double work had given Laura the time to come to terms with what would happen if Adam Lacey kept to his ludicrous suggestion. Even if his intention to come to her home was strong, it was unlikely he’d wait around on a cold, wet night like tonight.
Just another thing about the man she’d been completely wrong in assuming. He’d been waiting for her on the theater steps.
She shivered and he clasped her hand tighter where it lay on his forearm. “Is it very much farther?”
The lanterns were fewer as they neared her home, and she hazarded a guess he grew more and more regretful of his decision to accompany her. Pride rose. She and Bette might have little money, but they remained their own women who paid their rent and bought their food. No one, not even the complex Adam Lacey, would make her ashamed of what was entirely theirs.
She glanced at him. “We’re almost there.”
He stared into her eyes and smiled, his teeth showing white in the semidarkness. “Good.”
She cleared her throat. “It’s nothing as grand as your house, but it’s all ours.”
“Then you should be rightly proud of that.” He sighed. “It’s that sense of independence I hanker for desperately.”
“What do you mean?”
“My parents have never believed in my acting. My money is at an all-time low and my options even more so. At first my parents thought my acting was something I had to get out of my system before I found myself a nice wife and settled down.”
“And now?”
“And now, and for a long while, they have realized I won’t surrender to their wishes.”
“You’ve no money?”
He stared ahead, his jaw set. “No.”
Laura didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. For all his pompous attitude, it appeared the man had relied on his parents for a long while and now found himself broke. She slipped her hand from his arm as regret he wasn’t as perfectly strong and capable as she’d imagined lodged like a rock in her throat.
“I have disappointed you.”
She lifted her shoulders as they neared the alley where she and Bette lived. “Maybe. A little. But it’s none of my business how you choose to lead your life. Independence was something forced on me. I didn’t have the luxury of choice.”
He laughed. “As was my dependence.”
The carefree tone of his laughter would’ve been taken as nonchalance by someone not used to the wiles and wills of a lonely man. Lonely men were the backbone of her life, and to hear heartache in Adam’s voice disturbed her. She halted at the entrance to the alley and faced him.
“Our circumstances are entirely different.”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “My father is a very successful man. Retail. He owns several shops both in Bath and Bristol. I have been educated and cared for, but my parents have never seen me. They do not know me and never will. I think any man or woman who bears a child and does not truly see them should never have been given the blessing of parenthood in the first place.”
The conviction in his words penetrated through her skin and bones to her rapidly beating heart. Her mother never saw her either. She only saw the profit to be made in her fifteen-year-old daughter’s body. She saw nothing past the money Laura could make. Never in her life had she considered her mother’s neglect in the way Adam spoke of now. The beatings, yes. The hunger, yes. The humiliation . . . but never the blindness.
“I . . .” She nodded and tilted her chin to look deep into his eyes. “I agree.”
For a long moment, they stood toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye, neither moving nor—on Laura’s part—breathing. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her. His lips were velvety soft, gentle, and loving.
Her stomach knotted and she gripped his biceps.
She’d think afterward. She’d worry later. Right now, the silent connection was too intense, too important to ignore. He saw her. She saw him.
They parted, and he brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “Show me where you live, lovely Laura.”
She smiled and inert shyness flooded her to see such appreciative study in his intelligent brown eyes. “Right this way.”
He stepped back and nerves bounded inside. She forced one foot in front of the other. Bette would, no doubt, be sleeping, and when she awoke to the sight of Adam Lacey in their living room, a heart attack would most likely take her beloved friend rather than the pneumonia she fought.
They reached the front door and Laura took her key from her drawstring bag. With a final glance at Adam, she pushed the key into the lock and entered her home. She listened to his footsteps behind her. The door clicked closed and he exhaled into the darkness.
She wouldn’t consider what such a heavy breath meant. Instead, she pulled back her shoulders and waved toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you go through. I’ll just look in on Bette and then put the kettle on.”
“Laura?”
“Yes?”
Determination whirled in his eyes. “I want to meet your friend. I need to speak with her.”
Laura opened her mouth to refuse, to tell him to leave Bette alone, but no words formed. She slumped in defeat and led him toward the open living-room door.
Chapter 9
Adam entered Laura’s living room and blinked to adjust his eyes to the darkness. The sliver of moonlight that darted across the rug at his feet and the flickering flame of a candle by the side of a bed in the far corner provided the only illumination. The air was thick with the sour stench of illness and the room cold. He glanced toward the fire grate. The embers were low and only a meager amount of kindling was stacked in a wooden box on the hearth; there were no thick logs like those that adorned his fireplace uptown.
Self-realization twisted in his gut. Was he any wealthier than Laura to afford the luxury of heat? Most likely not—he lived under a veneer of pretense while Laura eked out a living as best she could. She stood for hours serving and smiling at the wealthy men and women who came to the theater—more often to socialize, flirt, and turn tricks than enjoy the production—and for what? Little money and even less appreciation.
The Temptation of Laura Page 8
