Carola Dunn (6 page)

“She was hungry, and she hoped to be able to take some scraps home to the children.”

Daphne pounced. “Ha, children! I knew it.”

“Precisely what I thought, my dear, but they are much too old to be her offspring. The boys are her brothers.”

“Boys? Oh Rob, not those two common boys you let Colin consort with?”

“The very same boys, and uncommonly well brought up they are. I have no doubt of Miss Findlay’s ability to--”

“Peter and Michael?” Colin erupted from behind a window curtain, his thin cheeks pink with excitement. “Uncle Robert, will Peter and Michael come to live here?”

“Gracious heaven,” Daphne exclaimed, “how you startled me.”

“Colin, a gentleman does not hide and listen to other people’s conversation,” Ashe said sternly. His mind raced, trying to remember just what he and Daphne had said. Surely they had used euphemistic language incomprehensible to a ten-year-old?

“Indeed, darling, it was very wrong in you!”

“But you knew I was on the window-seat, Mama,” said Colin, injured. “You sent for me to come down and make my bow to your callers.”

Daphne bit her lip. “I had forgot,” she said guiltily.

“Please, Mama, may Peter and Michael come to live here? I don’t care about Miss Findlay being an actress. I know I shall like her if she is their sister. They are very gentlemanly boys, are they not, Uncle?”

“Very.” Ashe took pity on his flustered sister. “But this is a matter for your mother and me to discuss, old chap. Off you go, and not a word of this to anyone or Peter and Michael will certainly never join you in the schoolroom.”

“I haven’t got anyone to tell. Gentlemen do not confide in nursemaids and footmen,” Colin explained with a sad kind of dignity. He trailed to the door, turning as he reached it for a final passionate entreaty: “Let them come, Mama, please!”

As the door shut behind him, Daphne said pettishly, “It is most unfair of you to recruit my own son against me.”

“Come now! I had no notion he was here.”

“But you introduced him to those boys.”

“With no ulterior motive. It was seeing his pleasure in their company which gave me the idea of employing Miss Findlay as his governess.”

“An actress! She cannot possibly have the proper qualifications.”

“I understand she would have sought a position as a governess had she not been under the necessity of providing a home for her brothers. Besides, what qualifications do you require, besides sympathetic discipline?”

Daphne looked blank.

Ashe laughed. “You did not expect your admirable Miss Prescott to teach Greek and Latin and mathematics! Come to think of it, I daresay I ought to look about for a tutor for Colin.”

“He is not strong enough to spend all day conning his books!”

“No, two or three hours a day will suffice, and I agree with you that he needs a woman to provide more constant care than you have inclination for.”

“I love him,” she protested weakly.

“I know, my dear, but a fashionable female has many demands upon her time.”

“Oh heavens, the time!” Daphne started up. “Lord Quentin will think I have deserted him, and depend upon it, someone else will have bought that divine hat. I wish I had purchased it when I saw this morning.”

Ashe attempted to recall her to the subject at hand. “I believe what Colin needs most of all is companions his own age, and I am quite prepared to give the Findlay boys a home.”

“Really, Rob, I cannot spare the time to discuss it now. Besides, I am heartily tired of arguing.”

“Say you will at least grant Miss Findlay an interview, then I shall leave you in peace.”

“Oh, very well! Pray ring the bell and have the landau brought round. I must go and put on a bonnet.”

She swept out. Torn between annoyance, amusement, and triumph, Ashe obediently rang the bell.

* * * *

In her drab cloak and bonnet, Lissa crossed the Green Room without a single gentleman sparing her a second glance. She wondered again what Lord Ashe had seen in her to merit soliciting her favours.

She was glad he had not renewed his proposition, she told herself. Rejecting him had not been as easy as it ought to be for a virtuous young lady. She had no energy for another struggle.

Tired and dispirited, she trudged down the steps. As she reached the street, a closed carriage drew forward and stopped directly in front of her. The door opened.

Lissa moved back.

“Miss Findlay,” said an urgent voice. Recognizing it, she felt her heart flip-flop. “Allow me to drive you home.”

Lissa retreated a little further. “Lord Ashe!”

He stepped down. By the light of the single dim lantern over the stage door, his face was invisible beneath the brim of his tall beaver. “Don’t you trust me? You can, you know. Surely I have proved that! I must talk to you, here if you insist but we shall be more comfortable in the carriage.”

Her feet ached, a light but chilly rain had begun to fall, and the dark, dirty streets roamed by footpads and drunkards lay before her. With a murmur of defeat, she climbed in, avoiding his proffered hand.

As she sank back on the soft, velvet-covered squabs, an overpowering desire for sleep struck her. She fought it, forcing herself to sit bolt upright. Lord Ashe’s bulk darkened the doorway momentarily. He took the opposite seat, then leaned forward to spread a fur rug across her knees.

The simple action made tears spring to her eyes.

Crossly she blinked them back. She was too tired to deal with whatever assault on her virtue his lordship had in mind this time. Not that she feared physical assault. He had indeed proved himself too much the gentleman to use force to overcome her scruples. What she feared was the battering of arguments against her frail defences, warnings of the inevitability of her fall, perhaps reproaches for the effects of her obduracy on her brothers.

The carriage turned out of the alley and rolled past the ornate, brightly lit front portico of the theatre. Lord Ashe leaned forward, an earnest regard fixed on Lissa.

“You’re burned to the socket,” he said roughly, and she realized she had slumped back against the cushions again. “Perhaps my business had best wait till morning.”

Enveloped in darkness once more, she gave a weary sigh. Apprehension had driven away the urgent need for sleep. If she arranged to meet him tomorrow, she would spend a wakeful night in dread of the morning. Besides, she was reluctant to encourage him by actually making an appointment to see him.

“I had rather hear now whatever you have to say.”

“As you wish.” His voice was eager. “I have succeeded in persuading my sister, Lady Orton, to consider you for the position of governess to her son.”

A flame of hope leapt in Lissa’s heart. Then she recovered from her startlement and her mind began to work again. “Her ladyship would never hire an actress as governess. I cannot conceal my present employment.”

“I told her. She’s willing to give you an interview.”

“Truly? But she does not know about my brothers. How could I expect her to give two unknown boys a home?”

“Peter and Michael may be your strongest card, since Colin is prodigious eager to have them as playmates. As for giving them a home, no difficulty there. The home is mine. Daphne is a widow and resides with me.”

So that was his stratagem! Under his roof, Lissa would be at his mercy, unable to evade his pursuit. No doubt he was aware that she was attracted to him and hoped proximity would turn the trick. Or he might even stoop to threaten her with dismissal if she continued to reject him. Once she had left the Coburg troupe, she would never be able to return. There were too many would-be actresses ready to leap at the most menial position in the theatre.

Out on the street with the boys, penniless, she would have no apparent choice but a sordid, hand-to-mouth life of sin. Lord Ashe was counting on her preferring the comfort of his protection.

She did have another choice, which in such straits she might be forced to turn to. She had no intention of voluntarily putting herself in such a desperate case as to make it appear the lesser of two evils. In any case, Lord Ashe was unaware of that possibility. As far as he knew, she thought with a flash of anger, once in his power her alternatives would be submission or destitution.

“Bring the boys with you to the interview,” suggested the baron. “When she sees their excellent manners for herself, she cannot fail to approve them as companions for her son.”

Lissa’s fury flickered out as had her hope. By his own lights, Lord Ashe was doing his best for her and her little family.

“There will be no interview,” she said sadly. “I cannot accept Lady Orton’s kind offer. Please convey my regrets to her.”

To her relief, the carriage stopped at that moment. She jumped out and had her key in the lock of the lodging-house door before his voice followed her.

“Lissa, wait! Tell me why not.”

If he had called her Miss Findlay, she might have hesitated. The implied intimacy of her nickname confirmed her suspicions.

A moment later she was safe inside, the door locked behind her. Turning a deaf ear to his knock, she leaned against the door, gathering her strength for the long flights of stairs ahead.

Beyond that, at present, she could not see.

Chapter 5

The fair, dandified gentleman was watching her again. Having dropped his card without reading it, Lissa did not know his name. She did not want to. The desire in his prominent blue eyes revolted her.

Somehow the equally evident desire in Lord Ashe’s brown eyes had never made her feel the same repulsion--which just showed how wise she was to avoid him.

The past few days, avoiding him had taken no effort. She had seen nothing of him since refusing to fall in with his plans for her future. Nicole and Minette condoled with her on failing to hook such an eminently attractive fish. Without actually saying so, Lissa let them believe he had simply found her charms inadequate.

The new programme was as long as the old, but the evening’s performance ended at last. In the long, low-ceilinged dressing room, Lissa changed into her puritan-plain dress and cloak. She was too tired to join in the chatter of the other girls, but she waited to join the flock hurrying through the dim corridor and bursting into the brightly lit Green Room. Among so many Birds of Paradise, surely one little brown wren might evade the blond gentleman’s eye.

He was lying in wait.

“So there you are, my sweet,” he said jovially. “I missed you t’other day, looked to see you tricked out in finery like the rest. You and Ashe didn’t suit, eh?”

“No, sir,” Lissa said tersely.

“Should have come straight to me.”

“I fear I mislaid your card, sir.”

The unwisdom of this response dawned on her too late, as he waved an airy hand, accepting her apology.

“No matter. Teague’s the name, Lord Quentin Teague. Daresay we can come to an agreement, you and I. Let’s go and get a bite of supper.”

The very word made Lissa’s mouth water, remembrance of veal and fish, asparagus and green peas, making her lightheaded with hunger. She was dreadfully tempted.

But after the fricasseed chicken had come the
puits d’amour
. Lord Quentin was not likely to be easily deterred from plumbing the depths of the well, and she knew now the futility of pitting her small strength against a determined seducer. For that lesson she must be ever grateful to Lord Ashe.

Her hesitation brought a knowing smile to Lord Quentin’s homely face. “Ah, you want a little something as earnest of my intentions.” He felt in his breast pocket and brought forth a bracelet of red stones set in gold, far too flashy to be anything but tawdry paste and gilt. This he dangled from one finger before her nose.

Lissa drew back, dismayed. “No, indeed, my lord, you mistake me. Pray forgive me, I am very tired and want nothing but to seek my...rest.”

“That time of the month, is it?” he said philosophically. “Ah well, anticipation sharpens the appetite. Sweet dreams, my pretty.”

He was gone before Lissa could summon up the energy to disillusion him.

The next evening Lord Quentin did not appear at the theatre. Lissa dared hope he had found someone else, but the following night he joined the audience just before the grand finale.

This time she must make it quite plain to him that she would never accept his protection. Outside the Green Room door she paused, nerving herself to withstand his wrath.

“Miss Findlay!” The call came from behind her.

She turned to face the stage-manager.

“Miss Findlay, I’ve been wanting a word with you. You are going to have to put a bit more dash into your dancing, or I’m sorry to say I’ll be looking out for a replacement.”

“I-I shall do my best,” she stammered, wondering where she was to find the extra energy.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, shrugging his shoulders, “but the company cannot afford to carry anyone who isn’t pulling his weight. Try to get more rest instead of gadding about.” With a friendly nod, he went on his way.

Gadding about! Scarcely aware of what she was doing, Lissa went through into the Green Room, visions of the boys’ increasingly wan faces floating before her eyes.

Nicole and Minette pounced on her, their painted faces anxious. “Trouble, duck?” asked Minette.

“He...he is not quite satisfied with my dancing.”

“We was afraid you’d got turned off,” said Nicole, relieved. “Still and all, you oughta be putting something away ‘gainst a rainy day. You don’t want to keep Lord Quentin on tenterhooks too long, hoping for summat better.”

“I am not.... No, you are right, I must tell him.... Oh, if only Lord Ashe...!”

“Too late, duck, you had your chance with him.”

“But it’s not too late. At least, I pray it is not. He asked me to be his nephew’s governess, you see, in his own house. I know it is only a ruse to have me at his mercy, but oh, I had far rather him than Lord Quentin.”

The girls were gaping at her.

“Governess?” Nicole choked out.

Lissa nodded.

Minette shook her head. “You got it all wrong, duck. A gentleman don’t set up his convenient in his own house, with his fambly and all, not a real gentleman like Lord Ashe.”