Lady Revealed (11 page)

“They don’t need no more dancers,” the older man grumbled and slammed the door in Juliette’s face. She stepped back and stared up at the Aldephi Theatre. The rude man didn’t even ask her name or if she had ever danced before. She doubted he even knew if there was a place for her. His appearance was more of a man who worked at the theatre fixing things because not only was he dirty, with smudges on his hands and face, but paint splattered his clothing. Even if she had interrupted an important task, there was no reason for him to practically bark at her. If that was how they were going to be, she didn’t want to dance with this particular company anyway.

Maman had asked that she give up dancing and Juliette had even given it some consideration, but it wasn’t practical. It was the only thing she could do well, besides teach. Who was to say one of her relations would view a ballet and make the connection between her and maman? Her mother was simply being overly concerned, if not paranoid, which Juliette decided was due to her illness. Once maman was better she would realize how silly her request was that Juliette no longer dance.

Juliette huffed and took a step to return home. It was clear she would not be dancing in London, at least not at this time, which left one alternative. Juliette turned around and knocked on the door once again. The same disagreeable man with greying hair opened the door.

“I told you there are no auditions or a need for any more dancers.”

“I know,” Juliette said in the same disagreeable tone that man was using with her. She then took a deep breath to calm her irritation. “I am inquiring about schools of dance. Where might I find them in London?”

“Perhaps you should have learned to dance before coming here.”

He pulled the door and Juliette grabbed it and held on. She was not about to leave until she had her answers.

“I thought I would seek a position
teaching.
”

The man rubbed his chin. “I don’t know about no schools. Never heard of any.”

Juliette took a step back. “Then where do all of your dancers train? There must be somewhere.”

The man shrugged. “Don’t know and don’t care.”

She could only stare at him. Surely there was someone here with more or better knowledge. “Might I speak with the choreographer?”

“He ain’t here.” With that the man slammed the door again and Juliette knew better than to knock a third time. She was not going to learn anything further.

She stepped back out to the street and looked around. It was growing late and she should return home and prepare the evening meal. As she was the only one without a job at the moment, all of the household duties fell to her.

Hélène was entering just as Juliette returned home. Her sister’s shoulders drooped and some of her ill-behaved curls had come loose from the tight styling of this morning. Juliette suspected her sister was exhausted from her first day working for the modiste.

“I think I will crawl in bed as soon as supper is complete.”

Juliette smiled at her. Though Hélène complained, there was still a smile in her eyes. She would like to feel useful again and provide for her family.

Their lives had changed so much in the past year. In Milan they lived in a modest house, and had three servants. Maman had funds from Paris, though Juliette did not like to think how her mother came about her jewels, clothing and income, it had provided them with a comfortable life. Juliette had earned wages for dancing and teaching, Hélène worked as an actress and in other aspects of the theatre and Genviève took care of the household.

A year of traveling had depleted almost everything, and Maman was keeping her jewelry safe, only to be used if absolutely necessary. Though they sold a few pieces, maman was hoping not to part with the rest for some time. Juliette and her sisters soon learned how to cook and clean. Now that her sisters were fully employed, most of the tasks fell to Juliette. She didn’t mind, though she wished she would have paid more attention to the cooks they had employed over the years. But, after a number of ruined meals, she was becoming a better cook.

Genviève arrived home as the food was being placed on the table and took a seat beside her twin. Maman slowly entered a moment later and stood at her place at the head of the table. When Juliette had last checked on her she had been asleep. All three sisters watched her expectantly. Juliette wished she would return to bed and rest. “I can bring you a tray. You should not be up.”

Maman shook her concern away and took a seat at the table. She focused on her sister first.

“Genviève, you need to give up your position with Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Thorn.”

The girls stopped eating and stared at their mother. She could not be serious. They depended on Genviève wages.

“Why, Maman,” Genviève asked.

“You may meet someone I don’t wish you to.”

The sisters looked at each other. Who could Genviève possibly meet as a maid?

“I was under the impression that the Thorns were a modest family. That is not the case.”

“I mentioned they lived in Mayfair,” Genviève reminded her.

Maman frowned. “You did? I don’t recall.” She shook her head as if it wasn’t important. “Mr. Thorn is the younger son of Lord Thorndyke, an earl.”

“Yes,” Genviève answered hesitantly.

“His wife is the daughter of a baron.”

Juliette looked at her sister, wondering as to the importance of this family and why her mother was concerned.

“They also have a son, David, I believe.”

Genviève nodded.

“He is approximately eight and twenty and will inherit the title, after his father, since the eldest son of Lord Thorndyke only has daughters.”

Had she been reading Debritt’s all day and this was how she knew about the family who employed Genviève?

“I’ve only met him a few times,” Genviève insisted.

“He has a reputation as a rake,” Maman pointed out.

Now Juliette understood. It was the same reason she had not been allowed to see Lord Acker. Certainly not all English gentlemen were set on seducing innocent young women.

“He barely notices when I am about,” Genviève insisted.

“The family plans to host a lavish ball two nights from now, is that correct?” her mother questioned.

“Yes,” Genviève answered. “Mrs. Thorn had asked if I could be there to assist.”

Maman studied Genviève. “You will give your notice tomorrow and you will not be at that ball.”

“But why?” Juliette asked. “We need the extra income.”

Her mother slapped her hand down on the table with enough force that the dishes rattled. “I have my reasons, and you will obey them,”

This was so unlike maman. Juliette could only remember her raising her voice a few times when she was a child. Was it her illness making her so unreasonable? The only people maman feared them meeting was Bentley or the Trents. Her sisters had been born after they left England. Even if one of them noticed Genviève amongst the other servants they would have no way of knowing her relationship to maman.

Her mother needed medical care before this illness made her impossibly irrational.

*

Acker had been anxious most of the day. He could keep his mind on nothing he ought and kept thinking about Juliette instead. Though he attended meetings at the Home Office most of the day, Acker recalled nothing about decisions made. He accompanied his mother to a musicale and didn’t remember who he spoke with, who performed or who was even there.

His restlessness eventually led him to White’s, where he hoped the companionship of some of his friends would keep his mind off of Juliette. “Why aren’t more ballets performed in London?” he mused out loud before he took a sip of whiskey.

Lord Brachton lifted an eyebrow. “Wha’ would ye be wantin’ with a ballet?”

Acker chuckled. It didn’t surprise him that the Scot would ask such a question. Most men avoided such entertainment, unless it was to their benefit where a wife or lover was concerned.

The man leaned forward. “Ifin’ ya hear there is goin’ to be a ballet, donna tell me wife.”

Brachton was married to Madeline Trent, the youngest and only living daughter of the former Lord Bentley. With that thought, the same question that had been lingering in the back of his mind came forward. Was Madeline the only living daughter?

“Jordan used to take Maddie whenever there was a performance and she has since informed me that we will be goin’ to one in May.”

“Ah, you are to see
Adolfo E Chiara?
”

The Scot scrunched his face in disgust. “I donna ken the name.” He snorted. “I should insist her brother take her and I will stay home.”

If rumors were correct, Jordan Trent may have a different lady to escort that evening.

“I can’t say I’ve ever attended the ballet,” Viscount Ainsely said as he took a seat at the table in the back corner where Acker and Brachton were sitting. Though Ainsely was Scottish as well, or at least his estate and family seat was in Scotland, he didn’t have the same brogue as Brachton.

“I donna recommend it,” Brachton insisted.

Acker laughed. “I do.”

“Wha’ is so entertainin’ about people flittin’ about the stage?” Brachton demanded.

“The story is told in the dance,” Acker explained to Ainsely.

“Oh, I know what the ballet is,” he laughed. “I’ve never had the opportunity to see one,” He leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps Moira would like to attend.”

Moira was his wife of a year and from what Acker had learned, the courtship lasted all of two weeks before Moira had compromised Ainsely and the two married shortly thereafter. At least that was the rumor. Acker had been in Milan at the time but had not yet asked Ainsely what really happened.

Since when did young ladies compromise gentlemen? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Though, regardless of circumstances, Ainsely appeared to be very much in love with his wife. So, even if she had compromised the poor fellow, Acker doubted Ainsely minded.

“Have Trent take her and my wife and the two of us can avoid the dull affair.”

Ainsely laughed. “I think I will see one for myself before passing judgment.”

Brachton grunted.

The two men drained their glasses and rose from the table. “I need to be home,” Brachton grinned. “Maddie should be returning soon.”

“Aye,” Ainsely agreed. “Moira as well.”

Acker nodded goodbye and leaned back in his seat. Would he one day spend so little time at Whites and rush home anxious to be with his wife?

*

Acker knew he was early, but he had slept little the night before for fear of sleeping too late. He could have asked a servant to wake him, but what if they had slept late. Not that his staff ever slept past dawn and he suspected many of them rose before the sun, Acker feared this might be the one time they would all slumber late into the morning.

It was ridiculous, of course, but he didn’t want to miss this opportunity to see Juliette again and if he failed to show, she might not give him another opportunity. He should purchase her a bouquet, Acker thought with a smile. She didn’t have to be dancing for him to give her a gift and she had been appreciative of them in the past.

He paused to straighten his neck clothe. Or was she simply being polite?

Perhaps he shouldn’t give her a gift of any type, at least not yet. Not until he knew Juliette would see him again. He did need to explain to her his intentions, or what they had been in Milan, and then he could think about their future. He needed to see her and be with her before he was certain she was the one, even though his gut told him she was, it was such a permanent decision that could not be taken lightly. The only thing he was certain of was that he wanted her the way a man wants a woman and had since the first moment he laid eyes on her.

His valet lifted and held the jacket and Acker allowed the man to finish dressing him for the day.

The only way Juliette could ever be his was to marry, but did they truly know one enough to make such a commitment? Was he so certain she wasn’t an infatuation? Could she even fit into his world? Then there was the concern of her being a ballerina.

Bloody hell, he didn’t know any more now than he knew in Milan despite his earlier conviction that if he could just find her he wouldn’t care what Society thought. If only it were that easy.

He just hoped he found the right words so she would not walk away from him for good.

“Will that be all, Lord Acker?”

“Yes, and thank you, Giles,” Acker answered absently.

He checked his appearance one more time and moved toward the door and stopped. “What if London never knew she was a dancer?” He reached for the door and walked down the corridor toward the stairs, turning the idea over in his mind. “She hasn’t danced here and she may not. Nobody need know of her past.”

“Pardon, Lord Acker?”

He looked up to find a maid polishing the railing on the stairs.

“Nothing,” he shook his head and continued out of the house.

The Beau Monde would never accept her if they ever learned she was a ballerina in Paris and Milan. But, at least his mother would, if it came to that.

*

Juliette studied her appearance one more time before leaving their set of rooms to meet Lord Acker. Oh, why should she care what she looked like? It wasn’t as if she would see him again. If he even hinted at the same type of proposal he suggested in Milan she would turn her back on him and never think of Lord Acker again.