Nicole Jordan (4 page)

Except that this time there were no scripted lines to learn. This was no play at all.

The crowd, however, was behaving as though the scene was merely a continuation of the earlier performance, maintaining an expectant hush. Julienne held her own silence, unable to guess what machinations Dare had planned.

Looking totally at ease in his precarious position, he leaned a shoulder against the column supporting one side of the box.

“I have made a wager regarding your choice, mademoiselle,” he announced, enunciating clearly. “I’ve wagered that you will choose me.”

The rowdy throng in the pit reacted with a chorus of titters and guffaws, while the rest waited with bated breath for her response.

“Have you indeed?” Julienne managed, stalling for time. “You have a very high opinion of yourself, it seems.”

“An opinion that is warranted.” His gaze slewed over the crowd. “Does anyone here doubt I can win the heart of this lovely Jewel?”

There were whoops and shouts from the riffraff in the pit and a spurt of clapping from the upper tiers. Dare sketched a debonair bow, acknowledging their approbation.

It was a dangerous maneuver, Julienne thought with alarm. If he were to fall from that height, he could severely injure himself. But he had always been the most reckless man of her acquaintance. Reckless, daring, outrageous. He appeared totally unconcerned that he was making a spectacle of them both in front a multitude of gawking spectators.

And the audience obviously relished his bold tactics, responding with titillation and delight.

Gritting her teeth, Julienne moved along the stage, closer to his box, while trying to recruit her wits. Dare had cleverly trapped her with his public declaration. She had no intention of taking a lover, most certainly not the notorious rake who so forcefully reminded her of the tormenting past, one who still had the power to bring her pain. But she didn’t dare refuse him outright, not without jeopardizing all she had worked for. Her livelihood depended on pleasing her audience.

Fortunately, she had performed for years, and she had a great deal of practice dealing with rogues and obstinate pursuers.

Making a belated recovery, Julienne placed her hands on her hips and eyed Dare up and down, looking him over critically as she might a horse at Tattersalls.

“Perhaps your inflated opinion is warranted after all,” she agreed thoughtfully. “Your reputation certainly precedes you. The notorious Lord Wolverton—a thoroughly wicked rake, famed for his charm and address and his fondness for debauchery. The Prince of Pleasure—is that not the name I heard? Also known as the scourge of feminine hearts.”

“Yet you have fast become the scourge of male hearts,
ma belle
.”

“That was not my intention,” she said, offering an alluring smile that contradicted her words. “But since you remark on it…I might venture to make a wager of my own.” She faced her audience, playing to the crowd. “I stand accused of willfully breaking gentlemen’s hearts. Well, in this instance, I shall endeavor to live up to the accusation. I wager that I can bring the Prince of Pleasure to his knees.”

The roar of approval was almost deafening, punctuated by the thunder of stomping feet and howls of glee. It was several minutes before the theater quieted enough to allow the spectacle to continue.

Dare’s own smile was devilish. “So you think you can break my heart?”

“I am certain of it.”

“You are welcome to try.” He gave another bow, holding her gaze riveted. “I look forward to the first engagement, my beautiful Jewel.”

Anticipating a delicious battle, the crowd burst into a wild round of applause. By the time Julienne swept a low curtsy and made her escape, bets had already started flying over who would win.

The manager, Samuel Arnold, lay in wait for her. She could barely make out his words over the pounding of her pulse and the still-deafening clamor behind her, but she realized he was expressing his approval. Forcing a smile, she fled backstage.

There were two green rooms at the theater, one designated for the general members of the company, another more elegantly appointed one for the principal performers. Here the actors met their adoring public and held court for their admirers.

Weakly Julienne sank onto a chaise longue to wait for the expected throng and buried her face in her hands, oblivious to her stage makeup. The rise of emotion churning inside her threatened to suffocate her.

She had thought herself prepared to face Dare, but never under such unsettling circumstances—matching wits with him in so open a forum, on such a shocking subject as what lover she intended to choose as her protector. She couldn’t even begin to guess his motivation for issuing his public challenge, unless it was retribution for her past sins.

She could understand his desire for retribution. Seven years ago she had ended their betrothal in such a way that Dare would no longer want her for his bride. She’d purposely driven him away, for his own sake. Yet that hadn’t made relinquishing him any less devastating—nor, in the end, had it saved her from ruin.

It had been the most terrifying, heartbreaking experience of her life. Not only had she lost Dare, but subsequently she’d found herself utterly defenseless, at the mercy of a grasping libertine and the machinations of a venomous old nobleman. Between the two of them, the Earl of Ivers and the Marquess of Wolverton had destroyed her good name, nearly destroyed
her
.

They had left her broken, her dreams shattered in fragments, herself shunned, her shop utterly devoid of customers and income, her beloved
Maman
sharing in her shame.

She regretted that the most, for the scandal had only weakened the comptess’s rapidly deteriorating health. To spare her mother further anguish, Julienne had resolved to abandon her familiar life and numbly had begun the search for another home and occupation.

It was sheer coincidence that a traveling troupe of actors from York had returned to the district during her darkest moments. She could claim a slight acquaintance with them, for she had helped with costumes in past years. When they learned of her desperation, they offered her a means to escape the scandal, as well as shelter and solace and friendship.

With little chance of finding any sort of respectable employment, Julienne had joined their troupe and wound up settling in York. She spent years honing the skills of her new profession, her sole focus on survival—for both herself and her mother.

Most of her small earnings she sent home. And the millinery, which continued under the supervision of her sales clerk, initially earned enough to pay the doctors’ bills. But the situation grew dire when her mother’s wasting disease worsened, forcing Julienne to make some harsh choices so that her mother’s final days might be less excruciating.

Even so, she had not stopped loving Dare. Not at first. For years he had haunted her, figuring in her fondest dreams and her darkest nightmares. The memories of his lovemaking had remained intense, desperate, wild. She had ached for his caresses, for the piercing pleasure he had given her.

Yet eventually she had taken control of her life and carved out a new future for herself. Since
Maman
’s death nearly four years ago, Julienne had worked to achieve a kind of peace—and even found contentment of sorts.

When recently she was offered a plum engagement at the Drury Lane Theater in London for a substantial salary, she had accepted, refusing to let Dare’s presence here destroy her hard-won opportunity for financial independence. Fame didn’t interest her; fortune did. If she was successful enough, if she could command the income of a preeminent actress, then she would be free to make her own choices, to determine her own future. Never again would she be vulnerable and defenseless or dependent on any man’s whims.

With trepidation, she had reentered Dare’s world, wanting urgently to prove to herself that she was entirely over him. Wanting to close that door to their past irrevocably so that she could move on with her life.

Seeing Dare again, however, had reopened a dormant wound, roused an ache inside her that made it hard even to breathe.

Determinedly Julienne inhaled several slow, deep breaths, practicing the calming techniques she had learned at the beginning of her acting career.

The worst was over. Despite whatever game Dare was playing, she could manage to shield her emotions.

I can keep him distant,
she vowed, although the weak trembling in her limbs belied her resolve.

She was grateful when the other lead actors in the company joined her. They were followed shortly by a throng of admirers, and in moments the green room was filled to overflowing, abuzz with talk of a certain scandalous nobleman.

Pretending that the spectacle had not affected her in the least, Julienne summoned a dazzling smile for the gentlemen clustered around her.

They had one intention, she well knew: to bribe their way into her bed. Any female in her profession was expected to be available for the right price. But though she was determined to keep her bed solitary, she had an image to maintain. And tonight she had an additional task—assuring her cavaliers that despite Wolverton’s bold declaration, he would prove no rival for her affections.

One of the most vocal of her courtiers was Hugh Bramley, Viscount Riddingham. Tall and slightly gangly, he possessed unremarkable brown hair and nondescript features, but he was affable and amusing and extremely well-mannered, and Julienne found herself fonder of him than any of the others.

Riddingham was clearly unhappy with the turn of events, however, and showed an unmistakable jealousy.

“The nerve of the rogue, making such an exhibition of himself. Miss Laurent, I trust you don’t intend to permit that insufferable fellow to make you the target of his depraved amusements. His perversions are legend.”

“He will be no danger to me if you are at hand to protect me,” she returned lightly, trying to soothe Riddingham’s ruffled feathers while keeping a nervous eye on the door, expecting Dare to make an appearance at any moment.

It was all she could do to hide her tension and feign interest in their witticisms. When she was offered a dozen invitations for a late-night supper, she declined prettily, claiming fatigue.

Three-quarters of an hour later, her less persistent swains had retired from the lists and the crowd had thinned somewhat. Having regained a small measure of her composure, Julienne began to hope that she needn’t deal with the notorious marquess any further this evening and she could retire to her dressing room and then to her lodgings alone.

She was laughing over one of Riddingham’s sallies when she suddenly saw the viscount stiffen. A noted hush fell over the company, and when the sea of gentleman parted, Dare North stood before her.

Julienne’s heart somersaulted violently in her chest.

At first glance he seemed to possess the same refined elegance she remembered, the same lithe grace, the same lean hardness. Yet his shoulders were broader beneath his exquisitely tailored blue coat, she noted; his thighs more powerfully muscled, sheathed in formal satin breeches.

His elaborate cravat set off the fine, aristocratic features she found just as striking as they had been seven years ago. His face, with its high cheekbones and noble brow, had always had the devil’s own beauty.

It was all Julienne could do to keep from staring.

Dare had no such reservations, apparently. His slow appraisal seemed to penetrate her garments, brushing over her bosom significantly revealed by the low, square neckline of her elaborate costume, moving to her narrow waist, then resting on her hips encased in flaring panniers. It was the measuring scrutiny of a man who knew women intimately.

She took a steadying breath, trying to calm the rapid beat of her heart.

“At last I understand why all London is raving,” he said. “From a distance, your stage presence is stunning. But in close proximity…your beauty renders me inarticulate.”

Julienne eyed him coolly. “I take leave to doubt that, my lord. I would imagine you are rarely at a loss for words.”

“Rarely.” His mouth quirked with his heart-melting smile, rife with the sensual charm she remembered so well.

She tried frantically to think of something sophisticated and witty to say. Before anything occurred, however, Dare reached out and brought her fingers to his lips to kiss their tips slowly.

Her stomach tightened with a jolt of pure, feminine desire.

His faint smile was knowing and experienced.

Only with great effort did Julienne refrain from snatching her hand away, extricating her fingers slowly instead. Yet she deplored her response to that simple contact, deplored how the memory lingered too long.

“I wonder that you deign to grace us with your presence, my lord. The play has been over for some time.”

“I wanted to allow your other courtiers their fair share of your company, since I intend to take you to supper.”

There were several immediate objections from the gentlemen surrounding her, Riddingham’s being the most adamant. “Miss Laurent will not be accompanying you anywhere, Wolverton.”

Dare raised an eyebrow at the viscount. “I regret, old friend, to be poaching on your territory, but I have a wager to win, after all. Surely you understand.”

Julienne intervened with a chilly smile, addressing Dare. “Thank you for your consideration, but Lord Riddingham is correct. I must decline. I fear that after tonight’s performance, I have a headache.”

“All that murder and mayhem, no doubt,” he murmured. “But I trust you will allow me to register a protest. You accepted my challenge, mademoiselle. In all fairness, you must give me the chance to woo you. How can I win your surrender otherwise?”

“I fancy that is your problem, not mine.”

“What of your vow to bring me to my knees?”

“Some other time, perhaps. Now, if you will forgive me, I must change my costume.”

Rising from the chaise regally, she flashed an apologetic smile that encompassed everyone but Wolverton. “I hope very much to see all you gentlemen tomorrow.”

Leaving the green room behind, Julienne negotiated the narrow corridor to her dressing room. She was about to close the door when, to her utter dismay, Dare entered behind her.