“The other actresses adored you. Why does her opinion matter?”
“Because I think she is the only one telling the truth.” He tipped his hat to a couple passing them on the walk. “It seems my admirers are only interested in snagging a wealthy benefactor, and they’ve been doing it up brown. They don’t think I’m talented at all.”
Marcus smirked. “Poor naive Russell. Have you been out of the nursery long?”
“Remind me never to seek sympathy from you again.” Russell wasn’t inexperienced with the fairer sex, but it truly hadn’t occurred to him that the actresses had been plying him with false flattery. Arrogance hadn’t blinded him to the truth; experience had. Russell had never failed at anything in his life.
As a boy, he had been his father’s pride and joy—his only son. And because he’d wanted to please his father, he had excelled at every activity his father claimed would make him a man: riding and jumping a horse, shooting grouse, running footraces, driving a team. It had taken six months of being bested in daily chess matches to master his father’s favorite past time. He’d applied himself in his studies and earned honors. He had to believe applying himself now would reap the same rewards.
Unless you have caterpillars for eyebrows.
He silently cursed the negative chap talking in his head. Tomorrow he would begin his lessons with Miss Bellerose, and he would conquer acting just as he had everything else in his life.
“Who is expecting us?” It just occurred to him Marcus’s message that morning had asked to meet, but he hadn’t stated the purpose.
“Sophia Darlington. I’ve arranged an introduction this afternoon.” When Russell tossed a blank look in his direction, Marcus sighed. “Your heiress.”
Russell skidded to a stop on the walkway. “What bloody possessed you to arrange a meeting on my behalf? I told you I’m not interested in wife hunting.”
Russell’s friend backtracked a few steps to stand in front of him. “What you said was there will be plenty of time later to find an heiress, but I’ve found the perfect lady now.”
“I have no time for courting. I am running a theatre and rehearsing for a play.” He cursed under his breath. “We are performing in ten days, and I should be rehearsing with Claudine, not traipsing about Town on pointless errands.”
“Claudine? Are you calling each other by first names already?”
“Everyone in the theatre uses first names. There is nothing special about Claudine Bellerose.”
At least nothing his friend would understand. Russell had never met a lady as genuine. He found her honesty refreshing, even though it stung a bit. But there was also a mystique surrounding her that he couldn’t help wanting to strip away. She never spoke about her life outside of the theatre. He was beginning to wonder if she even had one. She’d turned down every dinner invitation he’d extended. As far as he could tell, she spent all of her time either at the theatre or at home. And always with Benny, whom Russell had come to believe was merely Miss Bellerose’s friend.
Marcus sighed. “I know you said you weren’t ready. I understand. But Sophia Darlington is a diamond of the first water. She is charming and beautiful, and it is a miracle she is available. You have no idea how fortunate you are.”
He wished the prospect of meeting the perfect wife brought him even a sliver of joy, but all he could think about was Claudine.
“Earlier in the Season,” Marcus said, “Miss Darlington seemed to be holding out for a proposal from Lord Ingram, but one was never forthcoming. He proposed to another young lady instead.”
Russell winced in sympathy. “That must have come as a blow.” Of course, he understood all about receiving one of life’s punches. Miss Bellerose had just delivered a facer earlier that day.
“If it was a blow, one would never know it. She seems to be perpetually cheerful. Normally, I might not think you would have a chance at winning her hand, but her suitors have begun to dwindle in number as the Season has progressed. I believe she merely has half a dozen gentlemen vying for her hand now.”
“What happened to the others?”
“I’ve come to understand some of the gents were frightened into making other matches.”
“Frightened how?”
Marcus shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest idea. I’ve heard complaints about her spinster aunt’s bluntness, but I fail to see how that quality might alarm a man.”
“It sounds like she has caught your eye. Why don’t you court her?”
“Because I’m not in the market for a wife, and I’m not falling in love with a woman who can only be a mistress.”
“If you are referring to Miss Bellerose, I don’t want to make her my mistress.”
Marcus’s eyebrow lifted. “If not a mistress, then what exactly? A wife?”
Russell’s fingers curled into fists at his side, and his muscles vibrated with tension. Mistresses were a way of life for Marcus and many gentlemen of Russell’s acquaintance, but he hated that his friend viewed Claudine in that light.
“I suppose I want her to be my friend.” To win her trust. To see her dreams fulfilled. To make the theatre a success together. “Offer my regrets to Miss Darlington, and never take it upon yourself to meddle in my affairs again.” Russell turned on his heel and stalked back toward the hotel.
RESISTING ROMEO
CHAPTER NINE
Claudine was not jealous of her fellow actresses. It had been unfair of Oliver to suggest otherwise when she’d marched into his office earlier that day after Mr. Hawke left the theatre. Her longtime friend had added insult to injury by teasing her about Natalia and Rachel, but his worst crime was agreeing with Russell Hawke’s suggestion for her play.
Just because the new owner had a head for business and a desire to see the Drayton turn a profit did not mean he knew anything about writing plays. Nevertheless, Oliver had glanced over Mr. Hawke’s copious notes that he had scrawled all over her script, handed it back to her, and ordered her to make changes.
When had Oliver become such an iron-fisted tyrant?
She stabbed the roast beef on her plate with her fork and sawed into it with her knife.
“Is your piece too tough, Claudine?” her hostess asked from her place at the head of the polished mahogany table.
Claudine flinched, realizing she was making a mess of the succulent meal she’d been served, and glanced guiltily at Beatrice Allred. “Forgive me, Aunt Beatrice. I am preoccupied this evening and behaving in a most unbecoming manner.”
“We all have our moments, dearest.” The older woman’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I am sure whatever wrong was done to you today, you are justified in punishing your dinner for it.”
Claudine sank against the seatback of her chair and smiled. She had only known Miss Allred and her great-nieces a short time, but she had come to cherish them. As the Earl of Wedmore’s aunt was fond of saying, Claudine and Benny were part of the family now. She insisted they call her Aunt Beatrice and became irate when they forgot.
Sophia Darlington, the youngest of Charles Wedmore’s nieces, was seated to her great-aunt’s left. Her blue gaze locked onto Claudine. “You seem far away this evening. I hope there have been no more attacks in the neighborhood. Your friends were rather worried for their safety.”
“Thankfully, we’ve heard of no more trouble. Everyone is feeling more confident in their ability to protect themselves since your lessons, and Oliver has posted guards at the entrances.”
“It is a relief to hear, dearest,” Aunt Beatrice said. “If you didn’t have Benny for protection, I would be worried about you. Would you like to discuss what is troubling you?”
“It is nothing important. Theatre issues. I am sure everything will sort itself out.”
Benny grunted under his breath. Since the Earl of Wedmore was out of the country on an expedition, and Aunt Beatrice thought it was nice to have a gentleman preside over dinner, Benny had been relegated to the earl’s usual spot at the opposite end of the table, close t
o where Claudine had been placed. He set his fork aside and touched his napkin to the corners of his lips.
His manners had improved a great deal since their first dinner at Wedmore House five weeks earlier. Claudine suspected Xavier, Regina, and Evangeline would barely recognize him when they returned from Regina and Xavier’s honeymoon trip.
When Benny had come to reside with her, he asked how she’d learned to act like a lady if she wasn’t one. Her past had seemed too complicated to explain, and it had no bearing on who she was now. Her father’s title had been abolished during the Revolution, and he had passed away before the French nobility was revived. Instead, she told Benny she had learned from observation and imitation. She was happy to teach him what she knew, although neither of them were likely to see the inside of a London ballroom in this lifetime.
“Miss Claudine is worried about her play,” Benny said. “Mr. Jonas hasn’t been listening to her and instead follows the counsel of the new owner.”
Claudine’s eyes widened. She hadn’t realized Benny was aware of her conversations with Oliver and Mr. Hawke. He accompanied her to the theatre every morning and disappeared to work on the set as soon as they arrived. She had no idea he had been listening and understood the situation.
Aunt Beatrice tsked. “And to think I once believed Mr. Jonas was wise. Why isn’t he listening to you, dear?”
Claudine smiled ruefully and took a sip of wine to stall. She was embarrassed Oliver agreed with Mr. Hawke’s criticism of her writing.
“Mr. Jonas is afraid to go on stage,” Benny piped up. “He is allowing Mr. Hawke to be in Miss Claudine’s play, but he is no good at acting. I think Mr. Jonas is afraid of Mr. Hawke, too, but Mr. Hawke won’t hurt him. I can tell when a man likes to hurt others.” He patted Claudine’s hand resting on the table between them with more gentleness than usual. “Do you want me to tell Mr. Jonas not to be afraid, Miss Claudine?”
“Oh, Benny.” She blinked to keep her tears at bay. Her dear friend understood what it meant to live in fear. When his brother Farrin was alive, he had threatened Benny to keep him hidden from the world, and he’d used his connections to have Benny declared dead, so he could steal Benny’s inheritance. Farrin had neglected the estate and drained the coffers, so Benny had nothing left but an old farmhouse. It could take years to sort through the legalities of returning Benny’s property to him.
Any time she thought of this sweet man sitting next to her being mistreated, it crushed her heart.
Sophia delicately cleared her throat to gain their attention. “Are you referring to Russell Hawke?”
“Oui. Do you know him?”
“Auntie and I received Marcus Fletcher earlier today. We were expecting Mr. Hawke as well, but he had a situation requiring his attention and was unable to come.”
Claudine puckered her forehead in confusion. “Mr. Hawke left rehearsal early today to attend an appointment. Does he have business at Wedmore House?” She couldn’t imagine what that might be, since Lord Wedmore wasn’t in residence.
“Mr. Fletcher arranged an introduction,” Sophia said. “I understood Mr. Hawke was interested in making a marriage match. Mr. Fletcher thought we might suit one another.”
Heat crept into Claudine’s face. She might have guessed Mr. Hawke was in London to find a wife now that he had come into his inheritance. He simply wanted to play a bit at being an actor before settling down to his privileged life with the perfect wife. And Sophia was perfect. Lovely, smart, and considerate. She had been preparing to be a wife since she was a girl. He would be a lucky man to win her hand.
Claudine’s gaze dropped to her plate. Her stomach turned as she caught a whiff of gravy.
Faith! She was jealous.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Has Mr. Fletcher arranged another meeting?” Her inquiry practically oozed with envy. She peeked at Sophia from beneath her lashes.
Her friend smiled. “No, Mr. Fletcher admitted he was mistaken about Mr. Hawke’s desire to make a match.”
“Oh?” She sat up a little straighter.
Aunt Beatrice signaled the footman to bring the platter of meat to the table. “Benny said Mr. Hawke is in your play?” She dished up another serving on her plate. “It is a rather unconventional choice for a gentleman. I believe I like this young man.”
“He doesn’t have just any part,” Claudine said. “He is acting in the lead role.”
Sophia squeaked in surprise. “He is your inspector? What happened to Lars?”
“He had an accident, but it isn’t serious. He will recover. Benny is correct about Mr. Hawke’s lack of experience. I will begin tutoring him tomorrow. If all goes well, he will give a passable performance on opening night.”
“How marvelous!” Sophia said, “Now you needn’t kiss that Lars fellow and upset his wife.”
Claudine laughed. “Tilde is an actress. She understands nothing on stage is real. Besides, Lars is devoted to her.”
“I still think you will enjoy kissing Mr. Hawke more. If he looks anything like Mr. Fletcher, he is very handsome. You will look stunning together on stage.” Sophia lifted her wine goblet and muttered, “And perhaps off.”
Claudine rolled her eyes at her friend’s teasing. “Our association ends the moment we leave the stage. Remember, it is all pretend.”
Sophia shrugged as if to indicate she would humor Claudine by not arguing.
“Miss Claudine is a good teacher,” Benny said. “I learned my manners from her.”
Aunt Beatrice aimed a kind smile in his direction. “Your manners are lovely, sir. We are fortunate to have found such wonderful dining companions. Dear Sophia and I would be lonely without you, I’m afraid.”
Thankfully, the dinner conversation veered away from Mr. Hawke. When everyone’s appetites had been satisfied, Aunt Beatrice suggested Sophia show Benny to the billiards room while she and Claudine retired to the drawing room.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sophia said and gestured for Benny to follow her. Claudine linked arms with Aunt Beatrice and guided her to the drawing room, since her eyesight wasn’t what it should be and the dear woman was constantly bruising her arm or knee on the doorjambs.
They sat together on the settee.
“Now that we are alone,” Aunt Beatrice said, taking Claudine’s hand between her cool ones, “I want you to tell me what is bothering you. What has Mr. Jonas done to upset you besides allowing Mr. Hawke to be in your play?”
She exhaled. “He has sided with Mr. Hawke on another matter, my writing.” Admitting Mr. Hawke thought her play wasn’t good enough brought her a measure of relief and shame. Her father had kept a roof over their heads and food on the table with his writing. She should be better than this. “I worked so hard, Beatrice. I thought the story was good, but now I realize I was deluding myself. And I’m angry. Oliver was going to let me fail.”
Tears made her vision blurry until she swiped them away with the back of her hand.
Aunt Beatrice pursed her lips. “From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like Mr. Jonas was saying your play is bad. He is considering Mr. Hawke’s contributions and agrees your show could be even better.”
“But why am I not good enough on my own?”
“You are, dearest. I never want to hear you say otherwise.” She squeezed Claudine’s hands. “I think you and I both realize from where your doubt stems. If Stanhurst wasn’t already dead, I would like to see him horsewhipped for what he did to you. It was bad enough that he hit you, but making you doubt your worth was wretched.”
The blasted tears returned. Aunt Beatrice retrieved a crisp white handkerchief from her sewing box and passed it to Claudine. “I keep extras. One never knows when a good cry will be in order.”
Claudine accepted the linen square. “Merci, but I don’t want to have a good cry. Why can’t I keep my head about me?” What she wanted was inconsequential, however. The salty tears continued to fall on her cheeks.
“Claudine, you are talented and smart. You
are better than good enough, but that doesn’t mean you can’t accept help from others.”
“Mr. Hawke thinks my play is slow and tedious.”
Aunt Beatrice drew back. “Did the blackguard use those words?”
“He didn’t use those exact words, but that is what he meant. He has written in every margin toward the end.”
“Do you have the script with you?”
“It is in my bag.”
“Would you ring for a footman, dear? I would like you to read what Mr. Hawke has written. Perhaps you need another viewpoint.”
Claudine hesitated but gave into the lady’s request. “Of course. I value your opinion.”
The footman responded to the summons, and Aunt Beatrice requested he retrieve Claudine’s bag. A few moments later, Claudine was digging through her belongings and pulled out the crinkled papers. She hugged the script close to her chest. “I know I can do better. This was my first try.”
Aunt Beatrice patted her knee. “Mr. Jonas wouldn’t allow your play to be performed if it weren’t up to snuff. When Sophia read aloud from the copy you left for us, we were enthralled. Nothing Mr. Hawke has written will change my opinion about you or your work. I adore both.”
The older lady’s extravagant praise caused her to blush, but she felt her confidence righting itself again.
“Go ahead,” Aunt Beatrice urged. “Read his notes.”
She took a cleansing breath and shuffled through the stack until she encountered his slanted handwriting. “Consider revisiting this line of dialogue. I am uncertain a man of Mr. Manfred’s station would speak this properly.” She quickly read the line of dialogue and looked up from the page.
Aunt Beatrice nodded thoughtfully. “Continue, please.”
Claudine moved to the next comment a little further down the page. “Perhaps parts of this conversation could be eliminated to keep the story moving and the audience on the edges of their seats.”
“Go on.”
“This line is poignant. I am captivated.” She rolled her eyes. “He is trying to ease the blow.”
Once Upon A Regency Page 8
