Amy peered at her. “You’re not coming down with the beastly cold that tackled Mrs. Andrews, are you? You look flushed as anything.”
“No, I’m perfectly fine, thank goodness, although I can’t say the same for poor Mrs. Andrews. It was bad enough that her assistant seamstress decided to run off and get married. Then to come down with that awful cold, and with less than a week before the opening, too.”
“That was bad luck,” Amy said as she struggled to get out of her costume. “But you’re almost as good with the needle as she is.” She wrinkled her nose. “Still, it don’t seem quite right that you had to take on the job of wardrobe mistress, you being Mrs. Lester’s daughter and all.”
Lia moved behind Amy to help her. “Most of the work was already done, and I did promise Mama I would assist in any way I could.”
“Yes, and they’ve got you copying out the cue lines and speeches for the actors when Mr. Lester makes changes to the script. If you ask me, they’re taking advantage of you, love.”
Lia couldn’t hold back a sigh. “You’re very kind to say so, but I truly don’t mind. Although I had been hoping for more than just a walk-on part in one little scene.”
“I think it’s because your mother’s jealous of you. Anybody can see you’re a younger version of her, and it can’t be easy to have that thrown in your face every day. She won’t want you stealing her thunder on that stage, I guarantee it.”
Lia stilled for a moment. “Mama just wants to make sure I don’t rush into anything or get in over my head.”
Amy snorted. “I don’t think so, love, but you tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Lia’s hands were a bit clumsy and she snagged a pin in the strap of Amy’s stays. When she tugged it out, it pulled the strap down, exposing the girl’s shoulder and upper back.
“Goodness,” she said with a frown. “How did you get that awful bruise?”
Amy hastily stepped away. She yanked off the bodice and handed it to Lia, then pulled her strap back over her shoulder. “I don’t even know. I suppose I was clumsy and bumped into something.”
That didn’t make sense because Amy was the most graceful person Lia had ever met. She practically floated, both on and off the stage.
“You should put some cool cloths on it, or perhaps some arnica. I’d be happy to go to the apothecary and get some for you.”
“Don’t fuss, Miss Lia,” Amy said sharply. “It’s fine.”
“All right, if you’re certain.” It was the first time Lia had known Amy to snap at anyone.
The dancer grimaced. “Just listen to me, biting your nose off like that. Sorry, love. I always get a little peevish before opening night. It’s nerves, that’s all.”
“You have nothing to be nervous about. Everyone will adore you. Now, give me your skirt and I’ll finish this all up by tomorrow.”
Amy obediently untied her skirt and stepped out of it, leaving her clad only in her shift, stockings, and stays.
“Where’s your wrapper?” Lia asked. “You’ll catch a chill if you wander around dressed like that.”
“Bloody hell, I left it in my dressing room. I’d better fetch it before Mr. Lester sees me going about half-naked. He’s a bit of a prude, which is odd considering his missus. Not that Mrs. Lester hasn’t gone right respectable since she married him,” Amy added hastily, flapping an apologetic hand.
The comment was another reminder that her mother’s past was not yet forgotten. Though Lia had kept mostly to the Lester town house and the theater, gossip had already started to circulate about the arrival of a new Notorious Kincaid. Needless to say, Mama was not pleased. When Mr. Lester had tried to console his wife by pointing out that Lia’s addition to the company would likely boost ticket sales, that argumentation had gone over as well as could be expected—which was to say, not well at all.
As Amy hurried out the door, she collided, bosom first, with a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a deadly scowl on his handsome face.
Hell and damnation.
Jack’s hands shot out and grasped Amy by her bare shoulders. The dancer wobbled dramatically and clutched at his waistcoat, as if she would fall flat on her backside without his support. Because Lia knew Amy could balance on the toes of one foot with no trouble at all, she had to swallow a snort.
“Oh, la, thank you, kind sir,” Amy trilled. “I would have taken quite the tumble if you hadn’t caught me.”
Jack blinked down at her, looking befuddled. Then the scowl returned, and it grew even more severe as he took in Amy’s generously displayed charms.
“I’m happy I prevented so unfortunate an occurrence.” His tone suggested the opposite as he tried to extract himself from Amy’s deathlike grip.
“And who might you be, sir?” the dancer asked with a flirtatious smile. “A new patron for our little company or a member of our illustrious board? I do hope so.” She gave his waistcoat a little stroke, as if checking out the goods. “You would make a fine addition, I’m sure.”
Because Jack was now directing his scowl in Lia’s direction, she was tempted to leave him to his fate. Still, he was Jack, and he’d come to her rescue numerous times over the years. “He’s a friend of mine, Amy. A good friend,” she added pointedly.
The girl cast a shrewd glance at her, then relinquished her grip. “So that’s how it is, eh? Forgive me, love. I didn’t know you had a special beau.”
Jack’s expression had now become an interesting combination of outrage and alarm. Lia started mentally bracing herself for the forthcoming scold. It was sure to be a ripper.
“He’s not a special beau,” she said, trying to minimize the damage.
Amy’s eyebrows went up in an incredulous lift.
“Never mind,” Lia said with a sigh. Trying to explain her relationship with Jack wasn’t worth the bother; Amy wouldn’t believe it anyway. “This is the Marquess of Lendale. Lord Lendale, allow me to introduce Miss Amy Baxter, a member of my stepfather’s company.”
“A pleasure,” Jack replied in a tone so clipped Lia was tempted to smack him.
“Don’t look very pleasurable to me,” Amy said with her usual fatal candor. “But I’m sure our Lia can find a way to sweeten your mood.” She finished up that bon mot by giving Jack an exaggerated wink.
“Oy, Amy, my love,” came a welcome interruption from out in the hall. “Are you in the green room?”
“In here, Bertie,” Amy yelled back.
A moment later one of the musicians stuck his head through the doorway. “A few of us are popping out to the pub for a bite before rehearsal. Fancy joining us?”
“Yes, please,” Amy replied.
Bertie was not the least bit nonplussed by Amy’s half-naked appearance. Most of the members of the company were used to seeing each other in various states of undress and never blinked an eye. It had taken Lia a few days to get used to it, but she now realized that the men in the company were fiercely protective of all the women, even if morals on occasion did tend to get a bit wobbly.
One glance at Jack’s face, however, signaled that she had work to do when it came to explaining how tame her new life was, despite appearances to the contrary.
Amy disappeared with Bertie, leaving Lia with the ignoble urge to slink out after her friend. Unfortunately, Jack was blocking the doorway with his tall, muscular frame.
Might as well bull through it, old girl.
“You’re looking well, Jack,” she said brightly. “It’s lovely to see you.”
“Really? You’ve been assiduously avoiding me for a week now.”
Drat. She had been avoiding him, and not simply because she didn’t want to reprise their argument. Their disastrous kiss in the library at Stonefell had been the most mortifying moment of her life. How could they ever get back on the old footing with something like that hanging between them?
“I’ve been very busy,” she explained. “The theater will open with a new program in only two days. It’s been
a madhouse.”
“So I see,” he said, casting a dark look around the room.
Some of the plasterwork was a little worse for wear and the paint was a bit faded, but it was in better shape than some of the shuttered rooms at Stonefell. Her stepfather had plans to renovate the entire backstage area, but that would have to wait until they were making a profit. So far, all his efforts had gone into refreshing the galleries, boxes, and public areas of the theater. The Pan was now almost as elegant as the big theaters in Drury Lane.
“Now that I’ve finally got a moment of your time,” Jack said with gentle sarcasm as his gaze returned to her, “may I comment that your behavior has been nothing short of reckless? First you lied to me by feigning illness, then you ran off to London on the mail coach, of all things. What in God’s name prompted such foolishness, especially after I told you that I would take care of you?”
Lia carefully folded the costume and placed it in her workbasket. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. “You can’t think of one thing that would make me bolt?”
He flushed a bit. “You were the one who kissed me, not the other way around. It wasn’t as if I had designs on your virtue, pet—quite the opposite, in fact.”
“Yes, you made that abundantly clear,” she said coolly.
He slapped a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it as if it pained him. In the process, he knocked off his hat.
“Dammit,” he muttered as he stooped to retrieve it. “All right, let’s leave aside the issue that you apparently resent the fact that I refuse to take advantage of you. And let’s also defer for now any discussion of your precipitous, nay, insane departure from Stonefell.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said with sugary sweetness. “I’m ever so grateful.”
Jack looked as if he might have to pry his jaw open to continue. “I understand that you might wish to visit your mother, but working in a theater? Did I not already point out the risks of such a venture to a girl in your position? You might as well send out invitations to every rakehell in Town.” He swept another disdainful glance around the room. “This place is barely one step up from a brothel.”
She scoffed at the exaggeration. “The Pan is nothing of the sort. My stepfather is a well-regarded theater manager and this is a legitimate, respectable establishment.”
“So respectable that the females in the company apparently scamper about in an advanced state of undress.”
“Not at all. I was simply fitting Amy’s costume. It is a common occurrence in a theatrical troupe and no one thinks twice about it. Goodness, Jack, when did you turn into such an old miss?”
He shook his head. “I’m the furthest thing from an old miss one can imagine. But I know very well how men think about actresses.”
“You have no cause to worry. For one thing, I’m the theater manager’s stepdaughter and the leading lady’s daughter. And I’ve found the men in the company to be very protective of the women. A theatrical troupe is much like a family, especially when they have an excellent manager like Stephen Lester. I couldn’t be safer than if I was in my own bedroom in Bluebell Cottage.”
As Jack set his hat down on the large worktable beside the bits and pieces of costumes and a stack of programs for opening night, Lia let her gaze slide quickly over his body. He had always been a handsome man, but now he was something more—he was a marquess, and he carried himself with an understated but formidable masculine power. Although never a dandy, his clothes were beautifully tailored and had an air of elegance that befitted his new status. As Marquess of Lendale, Jack might have his financial challenges, but no one could doubt for a second that he belonged in the rarified atmosphere of the beau monde.
Suddenly, she was painfully aware of her plain round gown, now several years out of fashion. It was good enough to work in but certainly not good enough to attract the notice of a man like him. What a fool she’d been to think she could.
“I do worry because you are far from safe,” he said. “This building is a maze of poorly lit corridors and grimy little rooms, as far as I can tell. Anything could happen to a young woman wandering around so ramshackle an establishment. Especially at night.”
“Did you tour the building on the way to see me?” she asked sarcastically.
“Because the front door was locked, I was forced to come around to the back through that exceedingly dank alley. Which, by the way, I forbid you ever to go into by yourself.”
Despite her irritation, Jack’s concern warmed Lia enough to smile. “Surely you must have seen that we have a man at all times at the stage door. He doesn’t let just anyone in, you know. My stepfather is very strict about that.”
“He let me in,” he replied.
“No doubt because you obviously told him that we know each other.”
“Yes, and he thought I was your lover,” he said with disapproval. “When I disabused him of that notion, he then made the assumption that I was ‘sniffing around Miss Lia’s skirts.’ He made a feeble attempt to prevent my passage, but I was able to bribe my way in.”
Lia felt her shoulders go up around her ears. “I’ll have to speak to my stepfather about that.” She’d had her doubts about the fellow who manned the stage door during the day. He was a rather disreputable-looking character who tended to leer at the dancers and actresses.
“And while you’re at it, why don’t you also tell your stepfather that you’re going to give up this mad scheme and return to Stonefell, where you belong?”
Lia pulled out one of the chairs from the worktable and wearily subsided into it, ignoring the alarming creak of the old spindles. “And what has changed that would make such a thing possible? Have you discovered some previously overlooked annuity or a forgotten inheritance? Perhaps one fell out of a secret drawer in your desk or a priest’s hole in the wall?”
“Even though we’re in a theater, we’re not living in the pages of a melodrama, Lia,” he said quietly.
He grabbed the back of another chair, swinging it around to face her. “I wish I had unearthed a cache of gold coins,” he said ruefully as he sat. When he pulled off a glove and took her hand, Lia had to resist the impulse to clutch at the familiar warmth and strength of his long fingers and callused palm. “But even though such is not the case, I promised to take care of you and Rebecca, and I shall.”
She made herself gently withdraw her hand. “I don’t doubt that is your wish, but life often gets in the way of giving us what we wish for, does it not?”
He shook his head. “My sweet girl, don’t you realize that I would—”
“Hush.” She briefly pressed her fingers over one of his hands, now clenched on his knee. “No more promises, Jack. You are my dearest friend and I love you more than I can say for wanting to help us.”
He flinched and sat back, as if she’d pushed him.
She’d all but confessed her true feelings for him and that was his reaction? Lia swallowed the pain and continued. “But we are not your responsibility and you’ve done more than enough.”
“I haven’t done a damn thing,” he said through clenched teeth.
Ah, it seemed guilt was at the root of this. If so, that would poison what little friendship they had left.
“I do have a family,” she said, forcing a cool tone. “It is their responsibility to help me. And might I add that given the differences in our social standing, if you were to help me it would only cause more salacious gossip.”
Instead of being offended, he flashed her a wry smile. “Now you sound like my mother. And I cannot believe I just said that.”
She briefly smiled. “I suspect you’ll never have cause to say so again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to work. There’s a great deal to be done before opening night.”
His improved mood vanished in an instant. Jack had been an incredibly good-natured boy and was now a man with an easygoing, laughing manner. These days, however, he more closely resembled a bear with a sore paw.
She came
to her feet, prompting him to stand as well. “Will you come see the play? Mama is simply splendid in her role.”
“If you mean A Surprise for the Publican’s Wife, dare I ask what the surprise is?” he asked in a dour voice.
Drat. He must have glimpsed the program on the worktable. “No, that’s the comic burletta. Mama is starring in The Queen of Mount Olympus. I truly think it’s one of my stepfather’s finest works.”
“I see. And are you appearing in either performance?”
Lia had to resist the impulse to look down at her feet. “As a matter of fact, I’m in the burletta. It’s just a bit part, though,” she added hastily, taking in his expression. “Not even a speaking role.”
That qualification didn’t assuage him. “Lia Kincaid, if you think I’m going to allow you to make a spec—”
“Lia, darling, are you in there?” trilled a voice, cutting off Jack’s incipient tirade.
Breathing a prayer of thanks, Lia slipped around her fuming companion. “Yes, Mama.”
Her mother glided through the door. Her costume vaguely resembled a toga—although one hardly imagined togas with gold spangles and gauze—and she carried a helmet. “There you are. I was hoping—” She broke off, seeing the stranger in the green room. After running a quick, assessing gaze over Jack’s form, she flicked an enquiring glance at Lia.
“It’s Jack, Mama,” Lia said with a mental sigh. “Lord Lendale, that is.”
Her mother flashed him a dazzling smile and dropped into a graceful and extravagant curtsy, helmet notwithstanding. “Goodness, how could I not have recognized you? You’re looking well, your lordship. Extremely well.”
Jack executed a polite bow. “There would be no reason for you to recall me, Mrs. Lester. It’s been years since we last met. Allow me to say that you’re also looking very well.”
Despite her irritation, Lia couldn’t help but be touched by his courtesy. Jack had never acted the snob with her family, which was a sign of his kind nature.
“You flatter me, my lord,” Mama trilled in a pretty voice. “Lia, why didn’t you tell me that Lord Lendale had grown up to be such a distinguished man?”
Three Weeks with a Princess Page 10
