Phoenix Falling (30 page)

Dame Judith was too much a pro to comment on Rainey's fumbling, but she did arch her brows expressively. "Have a shot of whiskey, my dear. I always find that wonderfully good for nerves."

"If I blow my lines again, I might just do that." Wanting to stretch her tense muscles, Rainey moved away from the camera. It was amazing how quickly the last week had flown by.

Today was Saturday, the last day of location shooting before they moved to London for the sound stage scenes.

She was surprised to see Kenzie leaning against the nearest trailer, arms folded across his chest. She'd have preferred that he missed her clumsiness, but it was impossible not to enjoy the sight of him. Wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses, he was almost a caricature of gorgeous Hollywood cool.

She strolled toward him, wondering if everyone could see the heat sizzling between them. Carrying on a torrid, secret affair agreed with them both. The knowledge of how fleeting it would be lent a bittersweet intensity to their time together. She refused to think of how his infidelity had shattered the foundation of their relationship. What mattered was the moment, and how much good they were doing each other.

With his help, she'd learned how to get into Sarah's skin, while he seemed to have overcome his problems with Randall and was doing terrific work. If the dailies were to be believed, the movie that had once existed only in Rainey's mind was meeting and exceeding her expectations. Film was being flown regularly to Marcus in Los Angeles, and he agreed that they had the makings of a real winner.

When she reached Kenzie, she said, "Dame Judith is wonderful, and by this time she probably thinks I'm an idiot."

"I doubt that. She's pretty gracious with beginners." He smiled reminiscently. "She was with me. Years ago I played a tiny part in a play where she was the star, and fell over my own feet in front of her during the dress rehearsal. She looked down and said, 'My dear boy, being a footman doesn't mean you need to lie down to be walked on.'"

Rainey laughed. "Maybe I should try a pratfall to loosen things up. I'm too awestruck to be able to think of her as my mother, particularly since she has to give a lecture on wedding vows and "Till death do we part.' Pretty different from Clementine."

Mentioning her real mother caused a sharp, unexpected pang of loss. If Clementine hadn't died, what kind of relationship would they have now? Friends, probably, with her mother being warm and a little wacky, while Rainey would be the worrier of the pair.

But—they'd be friends. Being a pal was a role that would have suited Clementine better than motherhood had.

Kenzie smiled. "Tell Rainey to go off somewhere, and let Sarah play the scene. Maybe she'll accept Dame Judith as a mother more easily."

"Why is it we have to be told the obvious over and over? Thanks." Rainey made a rueful face, then returned to the garden. She had had trouble maintaining her usual focus in this role, probably because of her dual duties as director and actor, but Kenzie could always get her back on track when she wandered.

The reflectors has been shifted and tweaked, and everyone was in position for another take. Rainey closed her eyes for a moment to summon Sarah. When she was sure her character was in control, she opened her eyes and spoke to her wise, practical mother, who was serenely deadheading roses.

The take was a print, and so was the next. The rest of the outdoor scenes with Dame Judith flowed smooth as cream. Barring a processing disaster,
The Centurion
was ready to move to London.

The last scene of the day included Kenzie. When the final "cut and print" was called, he bowed over the older woman's hand. "It's a pleasure to work with you again, Dame Judith. Especially since I have more than a single sentence to deliver this time."

Dame Judith laughed. "But you fell to the carpet with consummate style. I knew even then you'd go far, Kenzie. Perhaps we can do another play again someday. Oscar Wilde, perhaps."

He looked surprised, then intrigued. "I'd like that, I think. I haven't done a play since I went to Hollywood."

Dame Judith's gaze was calculating. "I'm going to be directing my first production in the United States soon, and hope to do a West End play in a year or so. Shall I have my agent call your agent if the right property turns up?"

"It's worth a try, though scheduling is usually a problem," he replied.

Rainey grinned. "I'd fly halfway around the world to see the two of you do a play together."

Dame Judith's gray eyes narrowed like a cat considering a mouse. "What about you, daughter? Have you done any theater?'

"Yes, Mama." Rainey dropped back into the character of a Victorian daughter. "Though I'm scarcely fit to trod the boards with two classically trained British actors."

"Nonsense, my girl. You can hold your own with anyone." Dame Judith smiled. "The chances of such a project happening are thin, but it's amusing to dream, isn't it? I'll see you both in London." She inclined her head graciously, then swept off the set.

Rainey spent a moment imagining what it would be like to share a stage with Kenzie and Dame Judith in some romantic venue like Stratford on Avon, where she and Kenzie might have another fling. Maybe an on-and-off affair was the most they should have tried for. But she'd wanted more, and at the beginning, so had he. Putting the thought aside, she headed toward her trailer, Kenzie falling into step beside her. Tired but pleased with the day's work, she murmured under her breath, "Your place or mine tonight?"

He gave her a sidelong glance that raised her blood temperature by several degrees. "How about my room? I like the idea of you breaking in and ravishing me."

The promise in his eyes made her want to ravish him on the spot. She was wrestling with temptation when Kenzie's assistant approached. "Kenzie, there's another message from London. Mr. Winfield's condition is deteriorating rapidly. If you don't visit soon, it might be too late."

Kenzie stopped dead. "What? Is Charles ill?"

Josh looked surprised. "Didn't you see the note I left for you yesterday? The head nurse at Ramillies Manor called to say that he's suffered a sharp decline. They... aren't optimistic."

Kenzie looked as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "I didn't bother to look at any of my messages. Rainey, I'm driving up to London. You might have to shoot around me for the first day or two on the sound stage."

Before he could escape, Rainey put her hand on his arm, feeling the tight muscles. "Do you want me to go with you?"

He shook his head. "I can manage on my own."

She'd expected that. He was much better at giving support than receiving it. "I'm sure you can, but I'd be glad to come." She thought of her bleak flight to Baltimore after her grandfather's accident. "This looks like the sort of journey that shouldn't be made alone."

He hesitated. "Very well, if you can spare the time. Fifteen minutes to change. Meet me at the Jaguar." He spun away and headed to his trailer, rattling off orders to Josh over his shoulder.

Rainey headed for her own trailer as fast as her restrictive gown would allow. On the way, she grabbed a wardrobe assistant to help her out of her costume. As the assistant unhooked the gown and the blasted corset, Rainey hastily cleaned off her makeup. There was just time to toss a toothbrush and cell phone into her handbag and slide into a comfortable shirt, jacket, and slacks.

She was breathing hard when she reached Kenzie's Jaguar. Impatient to be off, he was pacing restlessly beside the car, but he still opened the door for her. His mother had trained him well. As he circled to the driver's side, Val raced up and handed a tote bag to Rainey through the open window. "Road rations."

Word got around fast. Rainey glanced down and saw a variety of food and drink. "Bless you, Val. Take care of whatever needs doing. I'll call you when I can."

Val nodded and stepped back from the car. Kenzie took off. After fastening her seat belt, Rainey combed her hair out of its complicated Victorian arrangement, glad to let it fall loose around her shoulders.

Kenzie was quiet, whipping the sports car along narrow lanes at a speed just short of total recklessness. He drove with absolute concentration, his profile as still as marble. He seemed so unaware of her that she began to wonder if she'd made a mistake to invite herself along. She waited until they emerged from the maze of local roads and roared onto the M-5 before asking, "Would you like something to drink? There's a thermos here that probably has coffee."

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "Thanks. I'd like that."

She poured steaming coffee into one of two travel mugs Val had included. There were even small cream containers. After handing Kenzie the mug, she dug farther into the tote bag. "Val is wasted as a lawyer. She'd make a really first-class caterer. When you get hungry, there are sandwiches, fruit, shortbread, and what looks like a couple of still-warm Cornish pasties."

"Good. We won't have to stop to eat." He sipped his coffee, gaze on the motorway. "Do you recognize the name Charles Winfield?"

"The stage actor Charles Winfield?" When Kenzie nodded, she continued, "On my first trip to London, I saw him in
She Stoops to Conquer
. He was the best Mr. Hardcastle I've ever seen. He's a friend of yours?"

"More than a friend. A mentor." Half a mile blazed by. "The man who taught me to act, and convinced me that a theatrical career was possible."

Kenzie's sentences were short, almost brusque. Maybe that was because for the first time, he was actually revealing an important piece of his past. Winfield sounded like a surrogate father. "He must be well along in years now."

"Mid-seventies. He and his friends all smoked like fiends. He's outlived most of them, and his own health has been poor for years, so this isn't a surprise, but... I'll miss him."

"It's lucky you're in England. At least you'll have a chance to see him before it's too late."

"If I'm in time." His mouth tightened. "I should have at least looked at the damned messages Josh left for me yesterday."

"Don't blame yourself too much. It's easy to forget the outside world when filming." She lightened her voice. "I'm sure you'll have your chance to say good-bye. An old trouper like Charles Winfield isn't going to miss a chance for a grand farewell."

Kenzie glanced at her, his expression easing. "You're probably right about that. He's always loved an audience."

She smiled and rested her hand on his thigh for a moment. Conversation lapsed again, but she no longer wondered if it had been a mistake to come.

Chapter 23

They reached London in record time, and without a speeding ticket. Rainey figured that had to be divine intervention. If she didn't have absolute faith in Kenzie's driving skill, she'd have been cowering with her head under the dash.

When they entered Ramillies Manor, they were greeted by a dignified older woman who sat behind a wide desk. "I'm so glad you could come, Mr. Scott. Mr. Winfield looks for you whenever the door opens."

Kenzie relaxed at the news that his friend was still among the living. "I'm sorry I didn't get here more quickly. Mrs. Lincoln, this is Raine Marlowe." After an almost imperceptible pause, he added, "My wife. Rainey, Mrs. Lincoln is the matron here."

Mrs. Lincoln studied Rainey with interest. "He's awake now, so you can go directly to his room."

Kenzie started to go, then paused. "What's his condition?"

"Peaceful and pain-free." She sighed. "We've done all we could."

In other words, there would be no miracles for Charles Win-field. A light hand on Rainey's back, Kenzie guided her down a hallway that ran to the left. Quietly she asked, "Is this a hospice?"

"No, a retirement home, though they provide hospice care when necessary. This has been Charles's home for several years, and he wants to die here, not in a hospital. The staff will see that he does it in comfort."

Kenzie halted by a door at the end of the corridor. She asked, "Would you prefer to be alone with him?"

"I think Charles would like to meet you. What better way for an actor to go than talking shop with his own kind?"

When the time came, she'd probably be glad to go the same way. She followed Kenzie into a handsome comer room, where the last rays of the sun slanted through the windows. The handsome traditional furniture, polished oak floor, and Persian carpets glowed in the golden light. One whole wall was covered with framed photographs and posters and playbills that commemorated Winfield's career, while another was covered with well-filled bookcases.