Authors: Tamara Lejeune

When You're Desired (24 page)

BOOK: When You're Desired

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“We could try,” Belinda said doubtfully.

Celia at once glued on a false mustache, but all that did was make Belinda giggle.

“Poor child! She's just not very good,” Dorian murmured to Joe Grimaldi, who was watching the scene with him. “Why does no one tell her?”

“No need, Your Grace,” Grimaldi replied. “She knows she's not very good. That's the better part of her trouble.”

“She was much better in her scene with you.”

“Naturally,” Grimaldi said. “She doesn't have to make love to
me
.”

“She knows her lines,” said Dorian. “She just can't seem to deliver them properly. She simply can't make love to Miss St. Lys.”

“It is rather a daunting prospect,” said Grimaldi. “
I
couldn't do it myself.”

“Is there no one else who can play the part of Olivia?”

“And learn it by Thursday?” Grimaldi shook his head. “It's Belinda or nothing, I'm afraid.”

“Who was to play the part originally?”

“Peggy Copeland, of course.”

“Whatever happened to her?” Dorian inquired. “She was rather good.”

“Lord Torcaster has forbidden her the stage. His lordship swears he will take her child from her and cut her off without a penny if she defies him. She was very sorry to leave us in the lurch, but what could she do? If Belinda cannot perform,” he added, “I'm afraid we shall have no choice but to cancel the play.”

“We shall
not
cancel the play,” Celia declared, jumping down from the stage, looking quite dashing in her glistening, snow-white breeches. “This is mutiny, Mr. Grimaldi! I won't have that kind of talk in my house.”

“But, my dear,” Dorian protested mildly, keeping his voice low, “she really
is
no good. She drags everything down. She has no vivacityâno spark!”

Celia drew her sword, a slender fencing blade with a button on the end of it for safety, and lifted the duke's chin with the end of it. “I
said
I won't have that kind of talk in my house and I meant it,” she said with mock severity. “We have nearly a week to get her ready. That's plenty of time.”

“God help us,” Grimaldi murmured.

Dorian moved the blade away with one finger. “I daresay you are right, Sally,” he said dryly. “All Miss Archer needs is a little more rehearsal, I am sure.”

Celia put up her sword, looking at him thoughtfully. “Perhaps what she needs is a different kind of rehearsal,” she said slowly. “She was better yesterday with Tom.”

“Tom?”

“Mr. West,” said Celia. “I've been using him for my role model, you see. He was helping us yesterday, but he could not be here today. Belinda seemed to find it easier to play the scene opposite a real man. How would you like to step in, Your Grace?”

“Who, me? Certainly not,” Dorian protested, growing red in the face.

“Oh please,” she begged. “If you could stand in for me in this scene, it might make all the difference for Belinda.”

“You want me to stand in for youâfor Violaâin this scene?”

“Viola, disguised as the young man, Cesario,” Celia swiftly explained.

“I suppose,” said Dorian, “if you think it will help, I can read the lines with Miss Archer. But . . . won't she eventually have to play with
you
, Sally, in, you know, the actual play?”

“Yes, of course she will have to make love to
me
in the actual play,” said Celia. “There's no getting around that, I'm afraid. This is just rehearsal; she can make love to you instead. Then, when the time comes for the actual play, she can imagine that I am you or Tom or whoever.”

“That's a bit mad, don't you think?”

“I don't care if it's mad,” Celia replied. “If it works, it works. She can pretend she's making love to Dick Whittington's cat, as long as the right words come out her mouth.”

“All right,” he said, unbuttoning his coat. “I'll do it. I should warn you, though, it has been years since I played. Script?”

Celia promptly handed him a copy of the play. “Off you go.”

“I'll just need a few moments,” said the duke gravely, “to warm up my vocal cords.”

Whereupon he burst into song.

Belinda, when she was informed that the Duke of Berkshire would be playing the next scene with her, promptly fainted.

“We are doomed,” Mr. Grimaldi murmured to Rourke.

After rehearsal, Celia felt uncommonly depressed. “I'm sorry I wasn't much help,” Dorian apologized as he drove her back to Curzon Street.

Someone on the street called out excitedly, “St. Lys! There is Celia St. Lys!” But instead of smiling and waving, Celia just sank lower in her seat, hiding her face behind her hand. “I'm not sure anyone can help us,” she said gloomily.

“Are you quite sure you don't want me to buy out tonight's performance?”

“Quite sure. I'll get through it somehow.”

“And you have tomorrow to look forward to,” he reminded her.

“Oh yes,” she murmured wearily. “Riding in the park with the fashionable world.”

“And a picnic, don't forget.”

“Suddenly I don't think I could stick it,” she said. “Suddenly I'm sick to death of London! I'd rather go to Ashlands with you, and dig up my own grave!” She laughed. “What do you say, Your Grace? Shall we picnic in the churchyard of Ashland Heath?”

He frowned. “You don't mean that, surely.”

“Well, no,” she said. “I've never been too keen on picnics. I like my food served by waiters and without too many ants in it! But I
would
like to go to Ashlands with you, if I may. I want nothing more than to be away from Londonâ far away from everything. You can bring me back on Monday without any trouble, can't you?”

“Of course,” he said immediately. “I should be delighted to take you to Ashlands! It is your home, you know,” he added, squeezing her hand, “and always shall be, as long as I am Duke of Berkshire.”

Celia blinked back sudden tears. “Thank you, Dorian.”

“My dear, you are crying!”

“It's nothing,” she said quickly. “I'm just happy, that's all. Happy to be going back to Ashlands after all this time. You can have no idea what it means to me.”

“I have some idea,” he replied, taking out his handkerchief and giving it to her. “I love the place, too, you know. The bluebells will be just beginning, I shouldn't wonder.”

“Oh! The bluebells!” she said, with a heart-wrenching sigh. “If your brother's valet hasn't picked them all for Miss Archer.”

He chuckled. “We'll leave first thing in the morning.”

Celia was wiping her eyes. She shook her head violently. “I don't want to wait. Let's leave tonightâdirectly after the play! I want to see the sunrise at Ashlands. Please, Dorian! I know it's silly, but won't you indulge an old friend?”

He smiled at her. “All right then, my dear. We'll leave tonight, directly after the play. I'll collect you from your dressing room.”

“We'll have to be cleverer than that, I'm afraid,” she said, beginning to smile, “if we are to avoid detection. Just imagine the gossip if you whisk me away from the theatre into the night! People will think we've eloped! I shouldn't mind that too much, but they might come after usâand
that
I would mind.”

“So would I,” Dorian said fervently. “But what do you suggest?”

“Let's go to my house and cudgel our brains. Dr. Aziz is coming over with his amazing, magical fingers to give me an all-over body shampoo. It's an ancient Eastern technique. It's really the thing for revitalizing the tissues. Have you ever had an all-over body shampoo?”

The Duke of Berkshire admitted that he had not.

“Then you shall have one now!” she cried.

Upon returning to his barrack room at Horse Guards that evening, Simon was none too pleased to find his mother waiting for him.

“Simon! At last! Where have you been all day?” cried the duchess, springing to her feet. “Did you not receive my urgent message?”

Simon had just come from parade. Calmly he removed his helmet and handed it to Hawkins, his valet. “Hawkins, did we receive an urgent message from Her Grace?”

“No, my lord,” Hawkins replied.

“But you must have received it,” the duchess insisted. “I sent it to your rooms at the Albany.”

“Ah,” said Simon, enlightened. “Perhaps you are not aware that we have removed from the Albany. His Royal Highness has honored me with rooms at Carlton House.”

The duchess grimaced in disgust. “That can't be convenient!”

“It is very convenient for His Royal Highness,” Simon replied. As he spoke, he unbuckled his gold-embellished steel cuirass. Having disposed of his master's helmet, Hawkins returned for the cuirass, which the valet deftly removed and took away. “What was so urgent?”

“I am worried about Dorian,” she replied. “Have you seen him today?”

“Should I have done?”

“You might have had the decency to look in on him this morning,” she said. “After last nightâ”

“Dorian drank too much last night,” Simon told her. “I doubt he'll ever do that again. He must have had a devil of a head this morning,” he added, laughing.

The duchess stared at him. “I see nothing funny about it!”

“Noâbut
I
do!” Simon retorted.

“This is your brother's life we are talking about! You don't seem very concerned, I must say.”

“Quite the opposite,” he agreed, taking off his blue coat.

“But I haven't told you yet what he's done.”

“I am waiting,” he said dryly, as Hawkins helped him into another coat. This one was not to be worn under a cuirass and was highly ornamented with gold oak leaves.

“Your brother,” she cried, “has
stripped
me of my jewels!”

“He did what?” Simon said sharply. For the first time, he looked interested in his mother's babble.

“He has taken the Ascot emeralds!”

“When?”

“This morning. He was like a madman. He
broke
my jewel box and frightened my abigail out of her wits.”

“Well, technically your emeralds do belong to him,” Simon said.

“He even took my engagement ring. Look!” Stripping the glove from her left hand, she showed him her bare fingers. “He practically
tore
it from my finger. That ring had not left my hand since your father placed it there. Why should Dorian do that unless he is contemplating marriage?”

“Don't you want him to contemplate marriage? He needs an heir, after all. You can't have your cake and eat it, too.”

“Of course I want him to marry,” she snapped. “But whom? Not Miss Tinsley, certainly. The only female in whom he has displayed the slightest bit of interest isâ”

“Do not say it!” Simon said harshly.

“St. Lys!”

“Dorian would not be so foolish.”

“I used to think so,” said his mother, “but you did not see him this morning. He was like a man possessed. The woman is very beautiful. Your brother may be more susceptible than I ever realized. Who knows what the woman may have persuaded him to do with her arts and allurements? An actress!”

“She would not
dare
!”

“Depend on itâif
he
is foolish enough to offer her marriage,
she
will not be so foolish as to
refuse
him. What are we to
do
, Simon? We cannot stand by while your brother makes the biggest mistake of his life! They were seen driving together in Piccadilly today. They might be on their way to Scotland as we speak!”

“Calm yourself. He wouldn't take her to Scotland. He'd marry her by special license, and that cannot be accomplished overnight. We have time.”

“But what are we to do?”

“It would be better for you not to know,” he replied. “My methods might be described as somewhat ruthless.”

“Good!” she said. “Make sure you punish her for her impudence.”

“Believe me, madam, I shall.”

BOOK: When You're Desired

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