As he realized she was revealing someone had mistreated her, a fire flared in the pit of his stomach. “Who was he?”
She pushed to her feet with the stack of papers clutched in her hands. “It no longer matters. He is gone.”
“Did he hit you? That is why you were startled. You thought I was going to hit you.”
The sadness in her eyes answered for her.
His body pulsed with the need to embrace her and offer solace, while another more feral side of him wanted to hunt down the blackguard and rip him apart. “How do you know he won’t come back?”
Her chin firmed, and he was afforded a glimpse of the strong woman he’d come to know. “He is dead. Murdered by a business associate.”
“Good.” A violent end seemed too merciful when Claudine wasn’t completely free from her fear, but at least she would never have to face him again.
She stood three feet away, staring at Russell.
“I would never hurt a woman,” he said.
She couldn’t meet his eyes again. “I know. I said it wasn’t you.”
“Claudine, please look at me.”
She lifted her wary gaze; her tongue dashed across her pink lips.
“I would never hurt you.”
“I know.” Tears welled in her exquisite eyes. “I do. I swear it.”
She took a tentative step toward him, then another. He held still, allowing her to decide how close was comfortable. When she stopped in front of him, he waited for her to decide what came next.
“I’m not afraid of you.” Slowly, she reached for his hand, halting once to search his face, and gingerly placed it against her cheek. His glove created an unwanted barrier, but her warmth breeched the thin material. “But this... The feelings you’ve awakened in me scare me to death.”
A relieved smile spread across his face. Here was the honesty he’d come to value. He fanned his thumb across her cheek. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “Inside and out.”
Her brow furrowed. “You don’t know what is inside of me.”
“That’s untrue. I know who you are.”
She shook her head and started to withdraw, but a light touch to her waist kept her close.
“Claudine, I know you. I’ve never met anyone as sincere and honest as you. Do you realize how rare that makes you?”
“I haven’t been honest. If I had been, you wouldn’t be saying these sweet words.” She swallowed hard and eased away. This time he allowed her to retreat. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said last night. About your father having a mistress. You were disgusted.”
“I never said I was disgusted.”
“But you are. I saw it in your eyes and heard it in your voice last night.”
He frowned, unsure how she could have misread him or what his father’s situation had to do with her. He wasn’t a young man who still wore blinders to shield him from the truths of life. Claudine would have former lovers. Surely, she didn’t think he would judge her for her past.
“Come, sit with me.” He crossed the stage en route to the bench where their characters would share a kiss. She followed, and once she was seated, he sat beside her. “Explain why I wouldn’t be kind to you if I knew the truth about you.”
“I was a mistress. The eighth Duke of Stanhurst was my benefactor.”
His stomach dropped, and he felt slightly queasy. Suddenly, her skittishness made sense. Stanhurst had been known for his cruelty and callousness. He was the sort of man who would have no qualms about raising a hand to a woman.
“I was honest about the town house being mine,” she said, “but only because he transferred the deed into my name. It was an apology, and I accepted because I believed I deserved the house after enduring his temper.”
Russell bit down hard to keep the vile words he wanted to hurl at Stanhurst at bay.
She sighed. “I knew he wasn’t a kind man. Nan warned me against him, but I didn’t have the gumption to resist him anymore after she died.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “I have regretted my decision many times, but none more so than now. I’ve come to value your opinion of me, and I don’t want to lose your regard.”
He swiped away the tears as they fell on her cheeks. “You’ve lost nothing, Claudine. Men like Stanhurst see vulnerability and use it to their advantage. I’m sorry you had no one to protect you from his kind.”
This time when he reached for her, she didn’t flinch. He nestled his fingers into the hair at her nape, wishing he could feel the soft strands against his skin. Gently, he placed his lips to her cheek, accidentally touching the corner of her luscious mouth. Her breath hitched, and she drew back. Their gazes locked. Her blue eyes darkened, and a tingling heat spread through him.
“Claudine,” he said on a breath and wrapped her in his arms, kissing her like a man desperate to claim her as his own. She fit against him precisely as if she had been formed for him. She was his perfect match in every way. Honest and driven to succeed, she possessed more fortitude than any woman he’d ever known. Claudine’s life had never been easy, but she had survived. And she was stronger and wiser because of it. Russell longed to give her the life she deserved.
The squeak of the front door hinges penetrated his awareness, and he reluctantly broke their kiss, leaning his forehead against hers. “Benny has come to take you home.”
“Well, well,” an unexpected voice interrupted. “It looks like we arrived just in time.”
He ground his teeth and turned to spot Marcus escorting a lady down the aisle. “Mother!” Russell bolted from the bench. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to stay with my cousin Fiona for a few days.” His mother’s normally pale cheeks boasted a rosy hue. “Mr. Fletcher informed me that you are the leading man in a play. I was anxious to see you, so he was kind enough to escort me to the theatre. I hope you aren’t cross with us for interrupting rehearsal.”
Russell’s smile was tight. “Of course not. How could I be anything but pleased to see my mother?” He had a few salty words for his friend, however, especially if he was responsible for bringing her to Town. He extended his hand to Claudine. “Please come meet my mother, Miss Bellerose.”
Her hand trembled slightly as she accepted his assistance. Her show of nerves tugged at his heart, and he murmured reassurance to her in French.
He linked arms, drawing her close to his side, and escorted her from the stage to meet his mother. Marcus met his gaze, but his expression was inscrutable. His mother, on the other hand, was shrewdly taking Claudine’s measure. They stopped in front of her, and he refused to release Claudine.
“Mother, allow me to present Miss Claudine Bellerose. She is the brilliant playwright and lead actress of our production.”
A becoming pink blush dusted Claudine’s cheeks. “It is a pleasure, Mrs. Hawke. Welcome to the Drayton Theatre.” She embodied graciousness and good manners, and nothing with which his mother could find fault. Yet, the hard glint in her gray eyes said otherwise.
Despite the disapproval he’d read on her face, his mother’s smile seemed guileless. “Thank you, Miss Bellerose. I hope you will forgive me for arriving without an invitation.”
“You are the owner’s mother. An invitation is unnecessary.”
Benny entered the theatre and stood by the door with his hands crossed in front of him, waiting to see Claudine home safely. Russell’s gratitude for the man was immeasurable.
“Your timing is impeccable as well,” Claudine said. “Rehearsal is ending early today.”
“Oh?” His mother’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Has Russell improved? Mr. Fletcher said he was struggling for a bit.”
Russell shot a glower at his friend, but the gentle pressure of Claudine’s hand on his arm drew his attention back to her and Mother.
“Mr. Hawke is becoming a fine actor. We are fortunate he was available and willing to step in to the role. Our lead actor had an accident.”
“I hope it wasn’t serious.”
“Lars is expected to make a full recovery in time.”
“Splendid.” His mother beamed at him. “Russell’s sisters and I are eager to have him home again where he belongs.”
“I’m sure he is eager to return.” Claudine’s fingers tightened on his forearm. “If you will excuse me, Mrs. Hawke, my ride has arrived. Mr. Hawke, I will see you tomorrow morning at rehearsal.”
He’d be damned if he waited until tomorrow to sort through that kiss. There was something between them stronger than friendship, and once he saw his mother settled, he would call on Claudine to determine what it meant. “Good day, Miss Bellerose.”
“I must be going, too,” Marcus said. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Hawke. I trust Russell will see you back to your cousin’s home.”
“Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Fletcher.”
Russell’s friend was on Claudine’s heels. He was tempted to run after them, but his mother clamped on to his arm. “I thought we could take tea at the Clarendon, and you could tell me what has kept you busy in London. Aside from the play, of course.”
“I would enjoy spending the afternoon with you, but I have work that needs to be done here.” He wanted to approve the craftsman Jonas brought to repair the trapdoor and inspect the building. “I will see you back to Cousin Fiona’s, and we can talk on the way.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Whatever needs tending to can wait until tomorrow.” The stubborn set to her jaw told him arguing would be futile. He would fare better if he saw to her need for his attention first.
RESISTING ROMEO
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Miss Bellerose, may I have a word?”
Claudine kept walking toward the hackney cab with Benny by her side. She had nothing to say to Marcus Fletcher.
“Please, it is important,” Mr. Fletcher said. “For Russell’s sake.”
Faith! The man knew how to sway her, but she suspected him of trickery.
When Claudine reached the carriage, the coachman moved out of the way when Benny insisted on assisting her on the stairs. As she settled on the bench, Mr. Fletcher called out to her again. “I wish to help you.”
Benny stood in the doorway. “Do you want me to handle him, Miss Claudine?”
She sighed and shook her head. No matter what she thought of the scoundrel, he was Russell’s friend. Russell wouldn’t take kindly to Benny being rough with the man.
Benny stepped aside and allowed Mr. Fletcher access to the carriage. He leaned his upper body inside. “May I share a hack with you? I wish for a private discussion.”
He wasn’t going to leave her be, and now he’d roused her curiosity. “Very well, but you are sitting beside Benny.”
“Merci.” Mr. Fletcher climbed inside and sat across from her. Once Benny was seated and the door closed, the carriage pulled onto the street.
“Say your piece. It is a short drive, and I will not be inviting you inside of my home to continue the discussion.”
“I am sorry for my part in any trouble I might have caused you and Russell today. When Mrs. Hawke summoned me, I had no idea she knew about Russell’s involvement with the theatre. She asked me to escort her to the Drayton, and I couldn’t refuse without insulting her and Lady Banner.”
He was referring to Lady Fiona Banner, whom she assumed was Mrs. Hawke’s cousin.
“How did she know to come to the Drayton if you are not responsible? I can’t imagine from the look of surprise on Russell’s face that he wrote to inform her.”
The carriage jostled over a rough spot in the street.
“Apparently, Russell’s solicitor took it upon himself to write to Mrs. Hawke. He was her father’s solicitor before he worked for Russell’s father. I believe Mr. Gordon feels an obligation to her.”
She narrowed her gaze, debating if she should believe him. “You said you wish to help me. What makes you think I need your assistance?”
“I believe Russell is developing a tendre for you, but his mother will oppose a marriage match between you.”
“Because I am an actress.”
“Possibly. I must admit it gave me pause at first. Russell has always been one to walk the straight and narrow, and I didn’t think he had it in him to stand up to gossip. He has proven me wrong with his involvement in the play.”
“I am sure he lost sleep worrying about earning your approval.”
Mr. Fletcher laughed. “I can see the reason he likes you. You know, your vocation hasn’t been a hindrance for other gentlemen. I recall my grandmother saying the third Duke of Bolton ran away with his actress mistress and later married her after his first wife died. And the Countess of Peterborough was well received by society, despite her time on stage and humble origins. I’m sure you would charm the ton in an even shorter time.” Mr. Fletcher’s mouth thinned. “His mother’s approval, however, will not be granted as easily. On the trip to the theatre, she was harping on Russell’s need to marry an heiress. I suspect she enlisted Mr. Gordon to recommend Russell marry into money and sell the theatre.”
“Why does she care about the theatre?”
Mr. Fletcher shrugged. “I could ask around if you wish, but I’m not sure it matters. Russell has decided against selling, and he is not easily swayed once he makes a decision.”
Claudine allowed herself an unguarded moment to smile. “I admire that quality, although it vexed me when he insisted on being in the play.”
Mr. Fletcher smiled, too. “You are the only person who has ever convinced him to change his mind. He came to London to finalize the sale. Without a doubt, you are the only one I know with enough mettle to tell him that he isn’t perfect.”
But Russell was perfect in her eyes.
“He has also set his mind on marrying for love,” Mr. Fletcher said. “His mother doesn’t realize she hasn’t a chance of changing his decision, but she won’t surrender easily. I expect she could make everything unpleasant.”
“Well, I hate to hear that for Mr. Hawke’s sake, but I don’t know how this pertains to me.”
“Oh, I think you understand, my dear. I saw that kiss, and neither of you were acting.”
Benny’s eyebrows shot up, and she turned her head to look out the window as heat swept over her face. “I still fail to see how you might be of assistance.”
Mr. Fletcher drummed his fingers on his thigh as if debating the wisdom in speaking. “Miss Bellerose, I owe you an apology. I hope you will forgive me for overstepping my bounds, but I’ve been prying into your past. Our mutual past.”
She swung her head toward him. “I have no idea what you mean. We have no mutual past. I only met you several days ago.”
“Yes, but we have a connection it seems. I remembered coming across the Bellerose name in our family Bible. I knew of family ties in France, and I had hoped to meet some of my extended relatives when I visited last year. There was one I was particularly interested in finding, Comte de Tullareen.”
Her breath caught.
“Thierry Bellerose, Comte de Tullareen, was my father’s cousin. He escaped the Terror in France with his infant daughter and sought refuge with family.” Mr. Fletcher leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. “My blackguard father turned him away. I thought perhaps the comte had returned to have his title restored like many others of the French nobility, but I’ve since learned he died before it was safe to return. I believe you are the compte’s daughter. Your name was never recorded in the Bible, but I have written to mutual relatives in France for confirmation.”
“Why?” Her eyes burned as tears gathered behind them. She had never spoken of her father’s past with anyone. It hadn’t seemed relevant when his title hadn’t provided them with shelter or food. The carriage slowed to a stop in front of her town house.
“I believe we are family.” Mr. Fletcher’s brow puckered. “I am deeply ashamed my father turned you and your father away. One never turns his back on family.”
She’d had no family except the one she’d made for herself since her father die
d. The word filled her with a longing she hadn’t known existed, and the blasted tears were coming despite her determination not to cry in front of this man.
“I am sorry for my father’s treatment. He has always been a selfish blackguard.”
“Mr. Fletcher, I don’t blame you.” She barreled from the carriage as soon as the coachman opened the door to seek refuge in her own home.
* * * *
Russell’s mother poured a cup of tea and handed it to him. “I can’t say I am surprised you agreed to be in Miss Bellerose’s play.”
Reluctantly, he had agreed to return to the hotel. His inspection of the theatre would have to wait, and he would have to trust Jonas to see to the repair of the trapdoor.
“I believe acting must be in your blood,” she said and prepared a cup for herself. “When your father was a young man, he shocked your grandfather by joining a company. William never had the chance to perform, though. Your grandfather learned of his plans and came to the theatre to drag him home.”
“I never knew that about Father.”
“Yes, he was up to quite a bit of mischief that summer. I’m told it is common for a young man to kick up a lark before settling into marriage. Once William returned, our betrothal resumed, and we were married a few weeks later.”
Russell sipped his tea rather than attempting to respond. He’d never known his mother and father’s betrothal had been broken at one time.
“Your father never liked to talk about his time with the company, and I didn’t care to hear about it either. I believe he realized what a huge mistake he’d almost made.”
Russell thought it best to change the subject. “I wasn’t expecting you to come to Town.”
“I saw no other choice when I received Mr. Gordon’s letter. He thought I could reason with you, and I hope he isn’t mistaken.”
Russell grimaced. He’d misjudged Marcus when he had assumed he was responsible for his mother’s arrival in London.
His mother’s thin eyebrows inched up on her smooth forehead. For a woman of six and forty, she had maintained a mostly youthful appearance. Any gray hairs she had blended with her blond hair, and the faint lines around her eyes looked natural. “I do hope that frown isn’t for me.”
Once Upon A Regency Page 11
