Drury Lane Darling
Page 18
On this sad speech, she turned toward the door.
“You forgot your sling!” Pamela called.
“You ruined my exit!”
After the door had slammed, Pamela sighed. “Isn’t she wonderful?”
“Flawless.”
“She would be wasting her time to marry Maxwell.”
“She won’t marry him. She may accept an engagement to lend her respectability, and to have the pleasure of jilting him. Since she’s going to let Spiedel go on the stage, I believe this lust for respectability will fade. It was for him she wanted it really.”
“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to be respectable when she could be an actress instead. How did you figure out that Fleur was just playing off a stunt?”
“The escapade smelled suspicious from the start. There was no evidence of violence in her departure. No body in the grave, yet no one seemed to have come along to prevent burial. The Maxwells saw the carriage but didn’t go into the spinny. Why not use the grave then, since it was dug? The grave began to look like a stage prop, no more.”
“And that called to mind Fleur.”
“After a process of elimination, it began to look that way. Maxwell obviously knew nothing, Sir Aubrey appeared innocent—of murder, I mean,” he added with a laughing eye. “Halton, who spirited her away, was a friend, with no reason to kidnap or murder her. There was no demand for ransom—fancy Fleur forgetting that! But then the Frenchies weren’t after money, only Fleur to carry home for a trophy.”
“She has a wonderful bent for fiction.”
“It comes from practice. Her whole life since leaving France is laced with fiction. Anyway, it began to look like a voluntary disappearance. Her maid was too ill to accompany her to Belmont, but had recovered amazingly the next day. Her butler was missing. When I had a description from Newman’s two hours ago of the man driving the rig, I felt confident I was on the right track. And she was furious with Max at the assembly. I knew she’d wreak some revenge on him. When I realized she wanted to pressure certain parties to do certain things…”
“Spiedel not to go on the stage, and Maxwell to marry her…”
“Also the alleged fathers to feel remorse for having neglected their son. She didn’t mention that, but it was bound to tweak their consciences when they read of her disappearance. And let us not forget Breslau. She wanted me to give her a raise, and a crack at tragedy.”
“The funny thing is, her plan worked, but—I mean she’s going to let Spiedel go on the stage after all. And you don’t think she’ll marry Maxwell. All she really got is ten guineas more for a performance. Speidel’s the one who profited more.”
Breslau reached down and lifted a piece of straw that had attached to his jacket. “Ten guineas per performance ain’t hay. It adds up. I hope the publicity draws enough people to cover the extra expense. Helping Speidel wouldn’t weigh lightly with Fleur. He is the one person outside of herself she truly cares for. But the stunt did more good than that. It has made Fleur take a good hard look at her life, and decide what role she really wants to play.”
“The one I feel sorry for is Rose Flanders. She thinks she’s going to have the lead in The Amazing Invalid.”
“Cut to the quick that you could think so badly of me, Pamela. Rose is to have the lead in a light farce we’re working on. Settling that was one of my errands this morning when I left you at home to read the newspaper. Rose confirmed that Fleur has friends in Tuck’s players. Halton’s mentioning Kent to Meg Crispin made me look in that direction. Rose’s new role is to be announced tonight as well.”
“Surely that didn’t take all day. What were you and Maxwell doing the rest of the time?”
“Max mentioned writing to his mama about marrying Fleur. Such a composition will take him an age. I made a quick dart to Chatham.”
“To confirm that Fleur was with Tuck’s players?”
Breslau gave her a surprised look. “That, too. It’s been a busy day.”
“It’s not quite over yet.”
“I am aware of that.” A glow entered his eyes. “The best is yet to come.”
Pamela felt the warmth of his glow and said in confusion, “Should we not go back to the greenroom?”
“Let us give Fleur her solo moment of glory. We don’t want an audience for what we have to discuss, Pamela.” He sat beside her, frowning at her masculine getup.
“The excitement is all over then,” she said sadly, peering hopefully from the corner of her eyes. “Tomorrow I shall go to Fosters’.”
“It tugs at the heartstrings to see you relegated to such respectability.”
“You don’t have a heart!”
“I do, but there are strings attached.” He drew the tie from her hair and flung it aside. “It’s hard enough trying to propose to a lady wearing breeches. At least let us see your hair.”
“Propose! Breslau!”
“I am not so lacking in propriety as you imagine. I mentioned going to Chatham… Your papa was uncommonly relieved to receive a firm offer for you. Oh, and your mama sent along the rose gown. I see that cheers you up.”
He looked hopefully to hear her proclaim the true cause of that bewitching smile that possessed her. “Papa cannot know you are involved in the theater if he gave his permission.”
“I wore the face reserved for relatives. Actually he has no idea you harbor a thespian streak, either. I know you would prefer being an actress to dull respectability, but I assure you it is not dull respectability I am offering.” His fingers rested on the warm nape of her neck, and began massaging it with suspicious expertise. When the tension left her neck, his fingers moved to her hair, stroking, curling it round his fingers. While his hands performed these intimate familiarities, his voice cajoled her. “The theater is part of my life. It will be part of yours as well, if you’ll have me.”
She swallowed convulsively. Her eyes blinked in belated astonishment. “I never gave a minute’s thought to marrying you. How could I possibly?” Her voice was breathless and uncertain.
His head inclined toward hers, and his voice lowered to a whisper. “If it is your indeterminate sort of half engagement to Nigel…”
“I wouldn’t let that stop me!”
“Nor I.” His lips hovered above hers, just brushing them. “He mentioned you have chosen the church.”
“Ye—” He silenced her with a kiss that began as a tentative touch and increased to passion as his arms crushed her to him.
His assault stirred visions of a delightfully disreputable future. It was obvious a man who kissed like Lord Breslau had no notion of respectability. Pamela forgot all her mother’s injunctions of the proper behavior of a young lady as she returned every scandalous embrace.
It was several moments later that Pamela sat with her head resting on Breslau’s shoulder. “Someone will have to tell Nigel,” she murmured.
“I’ve already told him.”
She smiled softly. “What did he say?”
“Kiss me.”
“An odd thing to say to you! He never said it to me!”
“Now!”
“Never once, now that I consider it.”
“Pamela!”
“Don’t be such a gudgeon, Wes. This is no time for lovemaking. Let us go to the greenroom.”
Copyright © 1988 by Joan Smith
Originally published by Fawcett Crest [ISBN 0449215008]
Electronically published in 2013 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.<
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