Love Plays a Part (11 page)

Samantha found herself shivering. “Why do you suppose he does such things?”

The earl shrugged. “Power is a heady thing. Especially if one is not used to it, it may well lead to excess and corruption.”

“Well,” said Samantha softly, “I guess that is one thing I shall not have to worry about - being corrupted by power - since I have so little.”

A strange look stole over the earl’s dark face, and then his features took on the lazy grin of the rake. “You are quite wrong there, little one. Your power is perhaps of a different nature but, be assured, as a woman you have a great deal of power.”

Samantha felt herself color up again. “I am a poor seamstress, milord. And I think it extremely unkind of you to mock me.”

The earl frowned, giving his dark face quite a thunderous expression. “I do not mock you, Miss Everett. Not at all. And you know it.”

Samantha was about to expostulate with him on this when she heard the swish of a velvet skirt and there stood Lily Porter. The hand that held her skirt up contrived, inadvertently one was supposed to think, to expose a slim ankle. “There you are, milord.”

Lily’s voice was so sweet that Samantha was startled. Then she realized that she had never heard the girl speak nicely before.

“Good evening, Lily.” The earl seemed quite at ease and, turning back to look at him, Samantha was sure she detected a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

“I have been waiting for you in the greenroom,” said the girl, unsuccessfully trying to mask her anger with a smile.

“Really?” His lordship seemed startled. “I was not aware that we had made arrangements.”

“You said you were coming to see me perform.” Lily made the statement into a petulant accusation.

“So I did and so I have,” returned his lordship calmly.

“But - but I expected you to meet me there.” Rage and humiliation struggled with each other, both leaving their marks on Lily’s youthful features.

“My dear child,” his lordship drawled, “it is certainly unfortunate that such a misunderstanding occurred. But it is doing it up too brown to lay the blame at my door because
you
misunderstood.”

Lily was plainly close to tears now, and even the glance of rage that she threw at Samantha did not keep her from pitying the girl.

“I - I must go check my makeup,” Lily faltered at last and marched away, head high.

His lordship turned back to Samantha, who did not return his smile. “Why do you glare at me like that?” he asked.

“You were very unkind to her,” Samantha replied without even thinking. “You were cruel.”

The earl’s eyes grew hard, but his voice did not change as he observed evenly, “Besides a good understanding, you have a tender heart. I should have thought that by now someone of your perception would have discovered the vain, shallow Lily for what she is.”

“I am certainly not one of Lily’s favorite people,” returned Samantha. “And undoubtedly she is vain and shallow. But she is also human, and she has feelings which may be wounded - like any other human being. Also, she has to go on tonight. You have unnerved her. That may interfere with her performance.”

“You can be quite cruel yourself,” said his lordship with a whimsical smile. “But you condemn me unjustly. Lily has no rights over me.” He paused significantly. “She’s a pretty little thing. And she has amused me. But it will never do to let her think that she has me in her pocket.”

Samantha found herself growing angry. “I still believe that you were cruel - and unnecessarily so.”

The earl’s eyes grew very hard, and the line of his mouth tightened, but still his voice kept its even texture. “You are certainly entitled to your opinion,” he replied. “I would only remind you that, having once experienced such feelings, Lily
may
be better equipped to portray them.”

Samantha stared at the man. How he could twist words to suit his own ends! “I do not think it proper to discuss the subject further.” Samantha swallowed over the lump in her throat. “I am also aware, though somewhat belatedly, that I have no business giving your lordship advice in such matters. They are of no concern to me.”

The earl looked as though he might protest this, but then he merely smiled lazily and replied in that affected way of his, “Your apology is accepted.”

Samantha, though she had not intended her statement as an apology, thought it better not to pursue the matter, and fortunately for this resolve the curtain, at that moment, rose.

When Elliston had made his first entrance as Leon, Roxbury whispered to her, “See how well he does this. He pretends to be stupid, yet we know he is not.”

Samantha nodded. The subject matter of this play was making her rather uncomfortable. No wonder it had not been part of what Papa advised reading. The wantonness of Lady Margarita, who desired a husband only, as her friend put it, as “an umbrella/To keep the scorching world’s opinion/From your credit,” caused Samantha to color up, and many of the lines she considered quite unsuitable for female ears.

“It’s a rare comedy, is it not?” said his lordship, leaning so close that she felt his warm breath on her cheek. “And in spite of his age, Elliston does the part well.”

“I - I find the play somewhat indelicate,” Samantha said embarrassedly.

The earl chuckled. “Really, little one? I should have thought that you would be used to such things.”

Samantha was about to make a cutting remark about the education of young women of quality but, remembering in time, she merely said, “I led a rather sheltered existence. My papa did not allow me to read such works.”

“Indeed!” His lordship’s eyes narrowed speculatively, as if he were about to ask her a question.

“Look,” she said suddenly. “Now Leon is showing his true colors. Elliston does that very well.”

The earl nodded. “Yes, I see. I particularly like the way the man approaches a woman. I must confess to have styled myself upon him on more than one occasion.” His eyes twinkled at her wickedly, and Samantha felt his presence far too deeply.

“And were you successful?” she asked somewhat tartly.

His lordship raised a quizzical eyebrow. “But of course.” He smiled smugly. “With the fair ones I  am  always successful.”

Now Samantha had her back up for sure. “Such colossal conceit!” she cried, almost forgetting that a play was in progress.

His lordship shrugged. “You may call it that, if you please. However, if I am conceited, it is justified. Among the ladies I am considered a prime article, a real out and outer.”

“Indeed.”   Samantha   regarded   him critically. “My, what strange tastes London’s ladies have.”

The earl’s face tightened momentarily. “There is no woman in London,” he said with that lazy drawl she so hated, “whom I cannot have if I choose.”

“In that, milord, you are quite mistaken.” She said the words triumphantly. “You cannot have
me.”

His expression of languid interest did not change. “Ah, my pet,” he replied cheerfully, “you forget, the game is not yet played out. I shall get what I want. I am quite confident of the fact.”

“Really!” Samantha put all the rage she could into her whispered reply. “Then I’m afraid you shall be quite disappointed, for you will never be anything to me but an annoyance.”

The earl’s face darkened and his mouth tightened. “Have a care, Miss Everett. I make a better friend than enemy.”

Samantha shrugged. “That is immaterial to me. And now I must leave. I find this play not to my taste.”

The earl moved swiftly to his feet, so swiftly that, though she could refuse to take his outstretched hand, she could not evade the one that grasped her elbow. She reached her feet and stood there, trembling, while he looked down at her. “I should be pleased to escort you home,” he said pleasantly.

Samantha shook her head. “No, I shall wait for my cousin’s friend.”

His lordship bowed. “Very well, Miss Everett. I shall see you soon in any case. I understand that Kean is to play Hamlet next week. I should not like to miss that.” His dark eyes seemed to probe her own, and for a long moment Samantha was unable to break away. Then, just as she took a step, his lordship smiled. “One more thing I am famous - or infamous - for,” he said with great cheerfulness, “is my perseverance. Whatever I want, I persevere until I get it.”

Samantha felt her cheeks grow still warmer and her heart leapt up to pound in her throat as, unable even to manage a retort, she turned and fled to the sanctuary of the work room.

Chapter 6

As the days passed, the London cold grew more severe. About a week later Samantha got out her old fur-lined cloak. It had been her mother’s, and she had brought it to London because of its sentimental value, but now she was glad to have it. The October days were not so bad, but late at night after the play, when Jake came to escort her home, the air was quite cold.

She called to Hester. “Do you think this cloak looks shabby enough?”

Hester’s face wore its usual scowl as she entered the little bedchamber. “It ain’t natural. None of this is natural. A girl
wanting
to be shabby and bad-dressed. Don’t make no sense. You should be going to Bond Street and ordering new gowns. Something to fetch a husband.”

Samantha sighed. “Hester, don’t you ever give up? I don’t
want
a husband. They just take over one’s property and run one’s life. It’s extremely unfair, and I know I should not like it.”

A strange expression crossed Hester’s face. “There’s more use to husbands than that,” she said crisply. “A young girl like you needs a man.”

“Hester!” Samantha stared at her servant in surprise. “I can’t believe you said such a thing.”

Hester looked sheepish, but she forged grimly on. “Don’t know why not. Just ‘cause I’m old don’t mean I ain’t got no feelings.”

“But I thought - That is, you never said -”

Hester looked distinctly uncomfortable, but she seemed determined to continue. “Some things ain’t exactly fitten to discuss. But the way you been going on, I figure I got to do something.” She swallowed painfully. “Had me a sweetheart once. A likely lad. Big and brawny. I was young then myself.”

Such a wistful look came over Hester’s face that Samantha felt tears rushing to her eyes.

“We was going to be man and wife. And he got kilt. So that ended it.” Hester straightened her shoulders. “But I still remember what it was like - loving him. And you ought to have that. I want it for you.”

“Oh, Hester.” Samantha swallowed over the lump in her throat.

“Ain’t no need to get weepy,” said Hester, whose own eyes were suspiciously bright. “That were all a long time ago. The thing is - a woman needs a man.”

“But, Hester, I don’t understand about love. Perhaps a husband would be nice if he were a good companion and liked the theatre as I do.” Quite suddenly her mind presented her with a picture of the darkly handsome face of the Earl of Roxbury. “But I have grown quite used to managing things for myself. And everyone knows a husband wants to manage things.”

Hester greeted this with a snort, and a smile that could only be called impish curved her thin lips. “There’s many a thing decided in a wife’s favor if all’s well in the bed.”

“Hester!”

“Can’t help it,” said that indomitable servant. “This here’s a time for plain-speaking, and I’m the only one around what can tell you anything, so it’s got to be me.”

“I appreciate your concern, Hester, really I do. But you wouldn’t want me to marry unless I had a partiality, would you? And I assure you, I will be open to that.” For some strange reason the earl’s face again presented itself to her mind.

“Well, I suppose that’s better than nothing,” conceded Hester. “But mark my words, a husband’s what you needs. Right enough.” She turned back to the door and paused just before she left to say, “Jake’ll tell you the same thing.”

For some moments Samantha stood staring, the cloak forgotten in her hands. She could not imagine what had gotten into Hester. The old maidservant had always seemed to Samantha to have no use at all for men. And now - A sudden smile crossed her face. It had just occurred to her that Hester had said “Jake.” No longer was she referring to him as “that Jake.”

Samantha turned back to the wardrobe. Could it be possible that Hester was interested in Jake as a man?

* * * *

When Samantha peeked through the curtain at the audience that evening, she was happy to see a full house. Maria had already told her how Kean’s almost miraculous appearance the year before had saved the theatre from a very bad season. This year he seemed to be doing just as well. The pit was quite full, the boxes glittered with the gems of people of quality, and the one- and two-shilling galleries showed row upon row of heads. She looked toward the front of the pit where Jake, thanks to his friend Tippen, the ticket taker, had what amounted to a personally reserved seat. Sure enough, right there in the front row sat the jovial Jake. Samantha’s eye was caught by the dark, curly locks of the man to the right of him, a man whose well-turned clothes proclaimed him a gentleman. As he turned, Samantha saw a face that seemed stamped with suffering. It was quite a handsome face, though perhaps more boyish than Roxbury’s. Then, as Samantha watched in astonishment, this aristocrat turned from the friend beside him and said something to Jake. So Jake was hobnobbing with the upper class now!

She drew back from the curtain, a frown furrowing her forehead. Hadn’t Jake mentioned that some nobleman preferred the first row of the pit where he could better see the expressions on Kean’s face? She was sure he had.

She turned away and discovered the Earl of Roxbury standing in the shadows. He was leaning nonchalantly against a wall, watching her coolly. She felt color flooding her face. The scrutiny of his dark eyes was difficult to bear. She seemed suddenly conscious of a great many imperfections about herself and was reminded of his early judgment of her as “a trifle plain.” Determined to ignore his ogling, she turned to the pile of canvas that had become her nightly seat.

Some moments later his lordship left his position by the wall and advanced toward her. “Good evening, Miss Everett.”