“Three armed escorts? Escorts who hardly spoke to me and tried to force me into a carriage?”
“That’s outrageous!” Revnik’s eyes widened to show, rather ostentatiously, that he was shocked. The man was a poor actor. Antonia would have been much more convincing. “That can’t be true. Can it?”
“Are you impugning my word?” Robert narrowed his eyes and let his anger build.
Revnik eyed him nervously. “But I know you wouldn’t lie to me, Lord Wentworth. You’re much too honorable a man. And noble. Yes, you’re quite honorable and noble.”
The man might not be able to act very well, but he had groveling down to an art form. A part of Robert took perverse pleasure in witnessing it. He almost felt guilty about it. Almost. “No,” Robert said in tones that would freeze songbirds out of trees. “I would not.”
Revnik paled. “Did— did you happen to see a small young woman with brown hair? According to some reports, she may have been wearing a silver dress.”
Antonia? It had to be. But he’d seen Revnik’s man at her boardinghouse less than an hour ago, so why was Revnik still looking for her? Either the man hadn’t reported back that he’d found her, or he’d been mistaken, just as Antonia had claimed.
Robert skewered Revnik with a scathing look. “This is the urgent question you wanted to put to me last night? Did I see a woman in a silver dress?”
“Yes. I’ve been trying to track her movements, but she’s been elusive. It seems unlikely that she could have stolen the— the item and have still made it to the theater in time for the performance.”
“Wait.” Robert frowned. “I thought you were asking if I’d seen her at the ball. But you want to know if I saw her at the theater last night?”
“No, no. I already know she performed. I simply need to know if you might have seen her at the embassy. After all, you were not with the other guests due to your— your indisposition. My footman mentioned he’d seen you exiting one of the unused hallways last night. Do you recall seeing her in some unlikely spot?”
“Unlikely spot?” Robert repeated, shooting Revnik a look of extreme irritation. “I can assure you that I did not encounter a woman while I was on my way to or from the privy. Is that what you wanted to ask me?”
Frederick shifted in his chair. “What’s so important about this woman? Why accost my brother on the street? Wouldn’t it make more sense to ask her since you already know she performed? She’s an actress, am I correct?”
Revnik froze at the suggestion. “I couldn’t possibly— she’s much too important—” He blanched. “My English fails me. I mean un-important, of course.”
Robert noticed the corner of Frederick’s mouth twitch. So, Revnik believed Antonia was important, did he? But why? Was it because of her grandfather? He pinned Revnik with a stern look. “And you believed that kidnapping and questioning a member of the peerage was a wiser course of action than questioning an unimportant woman?”
The ambassador pressed his lips together. “I apologize for the behavior of my men. I assure you, they will be dealt with.” He stood. “I regret you were inconvenienced. Please be assured that nothing like this will ever happen again.”
Robert glared at him for a moment, and then relented. He stood and smiled at the ambassador, doing his best to appear genial. Revnik held out his hand.
Robert barely paused before shaking it. “Your sincere apology was all I needed. Good day to you.”
Robert collected his numerous footmen and they exited the building together. A cold gust of wind smacked him in the face as he walked out the front door, and he pulled up his collar against the chill.
He and Frederick didn’t exchange words until they were back inside the waiting carriage.
“So, your little thief is too important to kidnap? Stranger and stranger,” Frederick muttered.
“What do you make of it?”
“I have no idea,” Frederick said, “but I plan to get to the bottom of this. If the Russians think she’s important, then so do I. We need to find her before they do, and now we know where to begin.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.
- William Shakespeare
The temperature dropped precipitously that afternoon, and by evening the frigid London streets were covered in a faint dusting of snow. Footprints and dark puddles broke the pristine white surface.
Antonia left early so she could save cab fare and walk to the theater, but the sidewalks were slick. If she stepped too close to one of the frozen puddles, she slipped as ice crunched under her shoe, so she did her best to skirt around them.
At first, she welcomed the fact that she needed to concentrate on where she should place her feet to keep from falling, because it temporarily distracted her from the thoughts that had been plaguing her all afternoon.
It didn’t last. Her mind continued to work away at the knot in her life named Robert.
Was she foolish to have shared so much information with him? Had she been swayed by her growing attraction to him? She pushed the questions from her mind. It was done. In the past. It was impossible to undo what was done. She needed to move forward.
Why was she more nervous tonight than last night when she prepared sneak into the embassy? The book was hers now. She should feel relieved, but when she remembered the way Robert had looked at her— the way he’d understood her when everyone else turned their backs on her— that might be what troubled her the most. It was as though he could see into her heart— or her very soul.
As she entered the stage door, Antonia shook her head, banishing all thoughts that didn’t concern tonight’s performance. At this moment, the cause of her tension didn’t really matter. She needed to insulate herself from her worries so they didn’t interfere with the show.
“You’re nearly late.”
Antonia spun around to face Claude. She shot a quick glance at the clock on the wall above his head. “I still have five minutes to spare. The roads were slick and delayed me.” She removed her fur-lined hat and patted her hair to ensure her hairpins were still in place.
“After last night’s near-disaster, you should have been here an hour early,” he said, his French accent thick with annoyance. “I meant it when I said I’d replace you. You might be good, but you aren’t great.”
“I understand.” Antonia pressed her lips together as she hurried down the staircase to the women’s dressing room.
The other actresses in the play were in various stages of preparation for tonight’s performance. They greeted Antonia cheerfully as she entered the dressing room and hung her coat on a peg. She made her way toward her dressing table and smiled as her good friend Zelda broke away from the others to join her.
“I could hear Claude scold you from all the way down here,” Zelda said.
Antonia shot her a look of mock-suspicion. “You have unusually good hearing. The dressing room door usually blocks out every sound.”
“You found me out,” she said, grinning sheepishly. “I was standing at the bottom of the stairs, eavesdropping. Don’t worry about Claude. He’ll get over his anger with you soon.”
“Only if I don’t cause him any more trouble.”
“Well, yes,” Zelda agreed. “But you’ve never been late before. I’m sure you won’t let it happen again.” She glanced back, and Antonia followed her gaze. The other two actresses were examining the hem of one of the Lady Toppington costumes. Zelda turned her gaze back to Antonia. “I’m worried about you.” Her honey-blond eyebrows drew closer together as she frowned. “You were late for last night’s show and then you disappeared immediately after the soirée. Is anything wrong? Are you in some sort of trouble? You know you can always come to me.”
Those compassionate words pierced Antonia’s heart. Zelda had been kind to her ever since the first day of rehearsals. While most of the c
ast members had been welcoming, Zelda had gone out of her way to befriend Antonia. Even though this had been Antonia’s first leading role on a London stage, Zelda hadn’t begrudged her the part. Instead, she’d praised Antonia for her excellent audition and helped her learn her lines by running through them with her over and over.
She wanted to tell Zelda everything. About stealing the book, about meeting Robert, about the men who might be searching for her. But instead, she shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be happy to help if I can.” She grinned. “After all, that’s what the best-friend character in a play is for, right?”
Antonia laughed. “Right. Does that mean I can convince you to help me into my costume?”
“But of course,” Zelda said, pulling Antonia to her feet as she gave her a grin. “I’m at your service, my lady.” She bobbed a curtsy.
It didn’t take long to put on the 1770’s-style high-waisted riding costume, especially with Zelda’s help. Later in the play, Antonia would change into the wire-frame panniers and stomacher that had been fashionable back then. Panniers were similar to the hoop skirts women wore today, but they only supported and extended the skirts at the sides while leaving the front and back of the dress flat. It was rather like wearing a large wire basket on each hip. A basket that could be collapsed up and tucked under the arms, but when lowered would support her skirts in the desired shape. Since her character was an orphaned, penniless relative, her skirts were only about three feet wide once she donned them over the panniers, but Lady Toppington’s more elaborate gowns spanned a width of five feet.
As Antonia stood in the wings, waiting for her entrance, she concentrated on her upcoming scene. As she stepped on stage, her heartbeat thudded as her anxiety crescendoed. She channeled it so that its only outlet was to bring the character of Anne Blake to life. She spoke the lines she’d memorized. Those words of heartfelt loss. Her own despair and fear poured into her performance, bringing it to life.
The audience devoured it. Antonia sensed their growing excitement. At each appropriate moment, they either laughed or gasped or applauded with delight. Their enthusiasm filled her, and she in turn sent it back out to them.
At the scene change, Antonia took a deep breath as she stepped off stage and into the wings. Her body vibrated with intensity as she waited for her next cue. Claude moved to stand next to her in the near darkness, and she could just make out his crooked-toothed grin.
“They love you tonight,” he murmured. “You took my scolding to heart, eh? Now you’re trying to make yourself indispensable. Tu es magnifique.”
Antonia widened her eyes at his comment. Claude thought she was magnificent? She shook her head in bemusement.
She turned slightly as she prepared to enter the door on stage so her wide panniers could fit through it. The pain of her parents’ deaths was still so fresh that when she drew upon it for this moment on stage, she was nearly overwhelmed. That was another thing she and her character had in common. Their status as orphans.
The next hour passed in a blur. When the curtain closed on the final scene, the audience paused only a moment before they rose to their feet with thunderous applause. The people on the ground floor of the theater shouted and stomped as they waited for another curtain call. When the red velvet drapes opened again, Antonia glanced higher up at the boxes surrounding the stage and saw that even the jaded members of the peerage were on their feet and applauding enthusiastically.
Antonia swirled back onto the stage and grinned as she made her curtsy hand in hand with Danny, the actor playing her love interest, Edward Thorold. As she stepped forward for her curtsy, the applause surged and the patrons shouted out their love and praise for her in waves of sound. It crashed over her, wrapping her in their approbation.
Antonia kissed her fingertips and then stretched her hands out to the audience, causing the crowd to cheer even louder.
Finally, the curtains closed for the last time, and the troupe made its way offstage. Danny raised both arms into the air in victory. He cut a fine figure in the old-fashioned eighteenth-century stockings and breeches. He was always a favorite of the ladies in the audience. When his gaze latched onto hers, he grinned and darted toward her, wrapping her in a bear hug.
Antonia laughed as she hugged him back. What a stupendous evening.
She spun away from him, laughing. She glanced up at the large man in the wings. The man who stared directly at her.
Antonia’s heart thudded in her chest as she came to an abrupt halt.
The Russians. They’d tracked her down.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.
- Lord Byron
The man stepped forward into the light, and Antonia’s relief left her knees weak.
Robert.
Her thrill at seeing him quickly surpassed her previous burst of fear.
“You’re here! But how? Claude never lets guests backstage during a performance.” Antonia glanced around for the stage manager, but couldn’t see him. “If he did, he must like you. He’s very strict.”
“That’s possible,” Robert said. He smiled at her, his eyes mischievous. “It might also be because of the small bribe I gave him.”
She laughed. “That sounds much more likely.”
“You were wonderful tonight. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
She hadn’t thought the night could get any better, but his words made her heart soar to new heights. “Did you see the entire performance?”
He nodded. “I came backstage to watch the last act from the wings.”
She slid her arm through his, and a thrill washed through her at the feel of him. “I need to change out of my costume. Come downstairs. You can wait for me outside the dressing room.”
As they reached the top of the staircase, she noticed how tight her muscles had become. She rubbed her hand along the back of her neck, kneading at the stiffness. Channeling her anxiety may have carried her through the performance, but now the exhaustion from last night’s activities was beginning to catch up with her. Using so much emotion drained her of every last drop of energy, leaving her feeling like a wrung-out washrag.
It suddenly dawned on her that her earlier anxiety had vanished. She felt safe. She glanced at Robert. It must be because he was here.
As she descended the stairs, he trailed after her like a guardian angel. With so many people descending the narrow staircase simultaneously, their footsteps echoed like rolling thunder. Once they reached the floor below, she swept past various large set pieces leaning against the walls and crowding the space. Ornate false doors leading nowhere sat next to windows made of nothing more than painted wood.
The hallway had been turned into “temporary” overflow storage for the pieces that wouldn’t fit into the labyrinth of rooms beneath the stage. Those were crammed beyond capacity with sets, props, and costumes from previous theatrical productions. Of course, ever since Antonia had begun working at the theater, she’d never seen one of the large pieces move from its temporary spot.
As Antonia brushed past a curlicued length of fence leaning against the wall, the wide skirts of her costume caught on something. She pulled up short, and Robert nearly stumbled into her.
“My dress. It’s snagged on something,” she said.
He stepped back and glanced down at her skirt. “It’s caught on a sharp bit of metal. If you’ll allow me, I can set you free.”
They moved to one side and allowed the other cast members to squeeze past. She heard Robert’s cane clatter to the floor as he knelt to examine whatever had ensnared her. Her head seemed to buzz and vibrate as everyone congratulated one another. She was exhausted. Unfortunately, this brief pause gave her exhaustion an opportunity to sink its claws deeper into her, digging into every joint and sinew. She positively ached with it.
Two men, apparently theatergoers, stepped forward from where they’d been waiting near
the dressing rooms. They grinned, clutching their hats to their chests. They’d made their way backstage quickly. Antonia usually made it all the way to the dressing room before any outsiders appeared downstairs. This pair must be particularly eager.
“I almost have it,” Robert muttered. “This bit of lace is badly tangled.”
“Take your time.” She glanced over her shoulder as she tried to see what he was doing, but the wide panniers blocked her view. “I’d hate for it to tear.”
As Antonia faced forward, she smiled warmly at the two men. The last thing she needed was to develop a reputation for being rude or dismissive of patrons. They were her livelihood. Those wonderful fees she and the members of her troupe received for performing at soirées were too valuable to risk losing due to some careless word, so she always went out of her way to be gracious.
Nearly all the other cast members had already disappeared. Only Zelda lingered at the doorway for a moment. She shot Antonia a glance of sympathy at being cornered by the pair. Antonia waved her on. There was no reason for her to linger as well. Zelda fluttered her fingers as she stepped into the dressing room, closing the door behind her.
Then the two men moved forward in the hallway, effectively blocking the only path to the dressing rooms.
Something about one of the men caught Antonia’s attention. He seemed familiar to her.
“Robert,” she said.
“I almost have it,” he said.
She stared at the familiar-looking man. Where did she know him from? Suddenly she knew. He was the footman she’d spoken with last night at the embassy ball. The one who’d been guarding the stairs.
Antonia froze.
“Done,” Robert said. “You’re free.”
Robert had been right all along. The Russians really had tracked her down.
“Robert,” she murmured so that only he could hear her, “Revnik’s men are here.”
Once Upon a Spy: A Secrets and Seduction Book Page 17
