Playing The Duke's Mistress. Eliza Redgold
cousin jumped nearly a foot high in the air, sending his top hat wobbling. ‘Darius!’
‘I don’t suppose I need to ask what you’re doing here.’
Herbert’s eyes darted away. ‘I, um...’
‘It’s all right,’ Darius said drily. ‘I spotted you inside the theatre. I know you’ve been watching the play. I saw it myself.’
Miss Fairmont had performed even better tonight, if that were possible.
‘So you’re going ahead with your plan to court Miss Fairmont?’ Herbert asked. ‘That’s fast work. Oh, I say, there’s Mabel. Must dash.’
He scuttled away towards the stage door.
Darius frowned as he backed into the shadows in the alleyway. For some reason Herbert’s comment rankled.
Miss Coop appeared from the door encased in yellow fur. The sound of her voice as she greeted his cousin grated on Darius’s ears.
His frown became a scowl. In his worst moments, the sound of a similar whining tone still haunted him. He had taken up the title. It was now up to him alone to ensure the family name suffered no further blackening. The Carlyle curse must be broken. And no matter what else she turned out to be, he must not forget that Miss Calista Fairmont was an actress.
As he watched a group of men in top hats jostle by the stage door his lip curled. Merrick wasn’t among them, although he’d spotted him earlier, in the playhouse. What was the fuss about actresses? The crowd of admirers in the alleyway looked pathetic, waiting like dogs to be thrown scraps by their mistresses.
How he despised that kind of behaviour. Now for his cousin’s sake he was being forced to play along.
A few of the gentlemen were buying flowers from a street vendor. With a flick of his glove he summoned the vendor to his side and passed over a few silver coins. The blooms were scraggy, well past their best, but he bought a bunch of bronze chrysanthemums. No doubt they would appeal to Miss Fairmont’s sensibilities. Surely all women, and especially actresses, liked bouquets.
It was some time before she came out of the theatre.
He stepped out of the fog and lightly touched her shoulder. ‘Miss Fairmont.’
She spun on her heel, her lips pressed together as if she had barely suppressed a shriek.
Darius frowned. There it was again, that look of fear. He could see in the dim gaslight that she was fatigued, too, from her performance. Two faint shadows lay beneath her eyes. Once again she’d put her heart and soul into the part. No matter his reservations about women of her profession, he had to admire her talent. It was extraordinary.
Her shoulders dropped. ‘Oh! It’s you again.’
‘Indeed,’ he drawled. ‘Were you expecting someone else?’
‘I saw you from the stage. I was most surprised.’
‘Were you?’ He made the question suggestive.
She didn’t respond to his tone. ‘I didn’t expect you to watch it again.’
‘It’s you I enjoyed watching, Miss Fairmont.’
She drew back. ‘Oh.’
Darius cursed beneath his breath. He never seduced women in such a manner. Hiding his discomfort, he bowed. ‘I was hoping to have the privilege of offering you a lift home in my carriage tonight.’
She shook her head. ‘Thank you for the offer, but I thought I had made it clear last night. I prefer to walk.’
‘I hope I can convince you to change your mind.’
Her expression was frank. ‘Why?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Would you believe I’ve taken a fancy to nightly exercise?’
She laughed, an attractive low chuckle. ‘I’m not sure I believe you.’
‘Perhaps I’ve taken a fancy to your company.’ He was startled to find that wasn’t quite a lie. Now that she stood in front of him again he realised just how charming a woman she was. Watching the play night after night hadn’t been the trial he’d expected. In fact, it was becoming quite the reverse. ‘I’d enjoy more of your company, if you will do me the honour.’
Her next words surprised him even more.
She stepped closer, and spoke quietly, but with a firmness that was unmistakable. ‘Your Grace. I appreciated your apology last night. But as a rule, I don’t consort with gentlemen from the audience. It gives rise to...’ She stopped and bit her lip. ‘Unfortunate impressions. Thank you, but, no.’
This time it was he who took a step back. ‘No?’
‘No,’ she said firmly. Then she curtsied. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed the play. I hope you’ll continue to enjoy the theatre.’
Pulling the hood of her cloak over her head, she made for the street.
‘Miss Fairmont. Wait.’
She swirled back, sending the fabric of her cloak flying.
‘Will you at least take these?’ He pushed the clump of chrysanthemums towards her. Suddenly their yellow seemed brassy and brash.
She inclined her head and took them in one hand. ‘Thank you. Goodnight.’
Leaving Darius standing in the alley, she disappeared into the fog.
* * *
Calista chuckled as she dipped her pen in the ink, poised over her folio.
The night before, when she’d refused the company of the Duke of Albury, she’d wanted to laugh, his expression had been so comical. She still couldn’t understand why he’d been there a second time.
When he’d touched her shoulder he’d given her a fright. It had been a relief to see it was him and not—
The pen slipped from her fingers. She put her hand to her tight chest. Her senses were still on high alert. Once again, she’d almost been tempted to accept the duke’s offer to walk her home. Her instincts made her yearn to trust the duke, but she knew she had to suppress the feeling. She couldn’t afford to trust anyone.
Calista picked up her pen and tried to breathe.
* * *
Darius studied the tumble of gems that lay in open boxes in front of him.
He couldn’t believe Miss Fairmont had refused to let him accompany her home a second time. At the stage door the night before he’d watched, stunned, as she stepped briskly away. It had been so unexpected that he hadn’t had the wits to make a rejoinder and convince her otherwise. It had been a most unusual, indeed, disconcerting experience.
After her rebuff, he’d gone home to study his list. It was time for the next item.
Glistening on black velvet, the jewels formed a rainbow of colours. White diamond. Green emerald. Red ruby. Blue sapphire.
There it was. The sapphire engagement ring surrounded by seed pearls that his father had possessed the decency not to use again. He clamped it in his fist. He could still recall how the ring had become looser on that thin finger, until one day it had slipped off. He wouldn’t have been able to have borne seeing it on another plump, grasping hand. It would have been the ultimate insult.
He unclenched his palm to study the ring. The sapphire blue was so deep. It reminded him of Miss Fairmont’s eyes. He put the ring away in its box and snapped down the lid.
He slid it into his pocket. It didn’t belong in the vault.
He paused, surveying the remaining jewels. Now, what would tempt an actress? He’d seen enough to know. The brighter, brassier and more vulgar the better surely.
He passed over the strings of pearls, imagining