The Temptation of Laura (11 page)

He released his held breath and grinned. “Long may it last. I have to do something to keep you on your toes, as you do me. Come. Sit down and make yourselves comfortable.”

Laura glanced at Bette, a tinge of red darkening her cheeks. “Bette insisted on getting out of bed, but I wonder if she could take a tray on her lap at the settee? She’s as stubborn as a mule . . .” She narrowed her eyes. “And mules should not be seated at a breakfast table.”

Bette huffed. “But they should at a settee?” She shook her head and winked at Adam. “The girl needs her head looked at if she thinks I’m going to sit in that bedroom rather than breakfast with you down here. I’ll leave it for you to decide where I sit, Mr. Lacey.”

Adam stepped forward and took Bette’s arm. “It’s Adam from now on, and I think a tray at the settee is perfect. Especially for what I have planned after we’ve eaten.”

Steadfastly avoiding their study, Adam led Bette to the settee. Once she was seated, he hurried from the room and into the kitchen. After grabbing a tray from the dresser closet, he rushed back into the dining room, part of him fearing they’d be gone when he returned.

He exhaled. “Here we go. Now, then, tea or coffee?” He glanced at Laura. Her expression had changed. She now looked at him as though he were an interloper rather than the host. No doubt the two women had exchanged words in his absence. “Won’t you sit?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you want me to serve Bette?”

Adam frowned, his smile faltering. “Why would I want that?”

Her blush was the prettiest thing on her yet. It was the softest pink, as opposed to the angry red he’d caused time and again. Or even the scarlet flush of desire after they kissed . . . the pink revealed her embarrassment, her insecurity. Adam’s heart lurched. “Laura?”

She shook her head and waved a hand. “I’m being silly. I just didn’t expect someone like you to serve, that’s all.”

Amused, he turned to the table and picked up a fork, spearing some bacon. “Someone like me?”

A beat of silence passed before she cleared her throat. “Someone famous. After all, you and Monica Danes are well-known around here. Or are you going to be so modest as to not admit that?”

He placed some scrambled eggs and toast next to the bacon and turned. “The day I can’t serve myself or my guests, and instead rely on someone else to do it for me, is the day I give up acting and start scrubbing pots and pans to bring my feet firmly back to the ground.”

He set the plate on the tray and poured some tea into a cup. “My parents are the snobs in the Lacey family, not me. I’ve seen enough of that superior nonsense to last a lifetime.”

Her ensuing silence left Adam wondering what his words meant to her. He approached Bette, where she’d gotten comfortable on the settee, and placed the tray on her knees.

“There you go. That should put some color back into those gorgeous cheeks of yours.”

Bette laughed, the rasp hoarse against her weak chest. “Lord, now I see why you’ve got Laura all of a dither. You surely are the most cocksure charmer to ever grace God’s earth.”

Laughing, Adam turned. He’d gotten Laura all of a dither. Thank God, because that put it mildly for what she was doing to him.

She’d taken a seat at the table. The bronze tendrils brushing her cheeks had fallen forward, obscuring her face. Adam smiled. Judging by the way her shoulders were hunched barely an inch beneath her earlobes, she’d only too clearly heard what Bette had said.

Was it egotistical to appreciate the knot of satisfaction that curled in his stomach?

He approached the table, purposely sitting beside her rather than opposite her. Not only did he want to be as close to her as possible, they had a better view of Bette should she need anything, tire, or take a turn for the worse. Guilt he might have compounded her illness rather than helped it during the chilly journey across town lingered in his conscience.

“Adam?” Laura’s voice broke through his reverie and she touched his hand lying on the table. “Thank you.”

Her violet eyes were wide with happiness. The sight of her in his home, sitting at his table, took his breath away. All he could think was how right it felt to have her there, to see her looking at him that way, a smile at her mouth and her body at ease.

He smiled and stared at those damn clever lips of hers. “You’re welcome.”

Breakfast passed in amicable conversation. Adam laughed as he hadn’t in months over Bette’s stories and Laura’s protestations. They were a comedic double act one minute and sisters-in-arms the next. The love, respect, and care they held for each other came from them in waves. He’d never seen such commitment for one another from two people in his entire life.

He’d never wanted it or sought it before, but now that he’d witnessed the beauty in Laura’s relationship with Bette, it made him yearn for the same level of intimacy with someone.

He struggled to drag his gaze from Laura’s profile. What would happen to her if Bette died? What would happen to this woman who emanated such goodness, such determination and tenacity? Would she wither inside and lose the integral piece of her that made her shine from the inside out? Would her spirit be crushed, never to return?

A sudden clatter of cutlery broke into his thoughts and he blinked. Bette was struggling to put her tray on the table in front of her. He and Laura simultaneously leaped to their feet and left the table.

“Whoa there, Bette. I’ve got it.” Adam reached her first and just managed to take the tray before it tumbled from her hands.

A raw and violent coughing ensued. Whilst Bette struggled to catch her breath, he and Laura did their best to comfort her. When Bette had calmed, Laura grabbed cushions from the surrounding armchairs and plumped them behind her dear friend.

“Right, lean back.” Laura’s voice cracked. “Adam knows we’re grateful for him opening his home to us, but enough trying to act as though you’re fit and well. You’re not.” She swiped her trembling hand over her face. “Once you’ve got your breath back, I’m helping you upstairs to bed and you’ll stay there.”

Adam stood back. Laura shook from head to toe, her fear for Bette clear in her shaky gestures and quivering voice. Did she already know what Adam had only guessed? He swallowed the fear that Bette had only days to live and clapped his hands.

“Right, well, seeing as Bette is under orders, I’m going to take advantage of having her commandeered to the settee.”

Laura faced him and her pretty brow creased. “What do you mean?”

He forced a smile to his lips and enthusiasm into his voice. “I want to prove to you that you are capable of being an actress. A great actress.”

She looked from him to Bette. “What’s he talking about?”

Bette smiled and collapsed against the cushions. “How should I know? The man has two whores living in his house as though it’s the natural order of things. He’s a mystery to himself, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Grinning, Adam moved to the center of the room and held out his arms. “This, Laura Robinson, is your stage. Today is your first acting lesson.”

“What on earth—”

He dropped to one knee. “Oh, Mrs. Johnson. Please, please believe I did not mean to kill your cat.”

She laughed. “What are you—”

“He was in my path. I accidentally trod on his tail. The bugger shot across the pavement and under the wheels of a passing carriage before I could think to stop him.”

She continued to smile and then comprehension lit behind her gaze. She narrowed her eyes, her smile turning to a scowl as she fisted her hands on her hips. She stamped her foot. “That, my boy, isn’t good enough. My cat, my dear baby Robert, was everything to me.” Slowly coming toward him, she bent over him. “I will see you strung up by the neck. You see if I don’t.”

Time stood still. They stared into each other’s eyes. Boy to Mrs. Johnson. Not Adam to Laura. Two actors portraying two characters. The atmosphere was electric. Adam’s heart beat hard and his excitement grew.

Laura blinked and emitted a delighted burst of laughter. A sound that told him she had tasted the sweet flavor of the stage and wanted it with a passion. Told him she held the fever for what could and would be hers.

As Laura stepped from the gig outside the Theater Royal and slid her palm against Adam’s, the stares of the people milling around brought sharp heat to her cheeks. The fantastical bubble she’d lived in for the previous twelve hours popped. What happened between her and Adam behind closed doors was one thing, but in view of his adoring public, quite another. What would he do now that people could see them? Would he reject her? Ridicule her?

He tucked her arm into his elbow and pleasure knotted her stomach as he led her up the steps as though they were a courting couple. She inhaled a long breath. So far, so good. Although she had no idea how she was supposed to react to the curious stares of the people meandering around the foyer.

She risked a glance at his profile. She’d never met a man like him. Not only had he taken her and Bette into his home, he’d generously paid for a woman to nurse Bette and keep her company whilst Laura and Adam went to work. What kind of man did such a thing on top of everything else he’d already provided?

Laura released her held breath. A man like Adam Lacey, that’s who. Could she really believe his intentions were about both their futures rather than just his?

He steered her through a door that led backstage. As they started along the corridor, she concentrated on keeping her head aloft without revealing the turmoil of disbelief hurtling around her abdomen. Surreptitious glances were directed their way from cast and crew as her fondness and respect for Adam escalated. Both sentiments were inappropriate and futile. She was old and experienced enough to know his true motivations would become clear sooner or later. She must keep strong and not get distracted. His actions could only be for his benefit. Not hers or Bette’s.

“I’d better go and find Tess.” She eased her hand from his arm.

He halted and looked deep into her eyes. “Of course.”

She dragged her gaze from his and studied her hands. “Adam, I know you think I can act in your play, but—”

“Not think,
know.
” He touched his finger to her chin and lifted her head. “Trust me. This will happen because I will make it so.”

She closed her eyes. She couldn’t think straight when he looked at her. “I’m grateful you’ve risked scandal and whispering by inviting Bette and me into your home, but as soon as she’s well, we’ll find somewhere else to live. I don’t want to bring you trouble.”

“You won’t.”

She opened her eyes, willing him to listen. “When Malcolm Baxter discovers we’ve gone, he’ll come after me, you, or us both. I won’t risk your safety that way. Bette and I will find somewhere else or, if not, we’ll go back to the alley and deal with whatever Baxter throws at us. We’ve faced worse adversities, believe me.”

“Such as?” Anger shone in the dark brown depths of his eyes, and Laura resisted the urge to shiver.

“It doesn’t matter. Anyway, this isn’t just about Baxter, it’s about Bette and me too. We like being independent. Being on our own is the only way we’ve ever known and what I hold dear. We’ve needed our total independence to survive. It’s others’ interference that ruins things.”

His cheeks darkened. “Letting you stay in my home is not about charity or even an act of heroism. I believe we were meant to meet, and I believe you are meant to be Lucinda.”

Disappointment scratched painfully across her heart that he should mention Lucinda once again. She was stupid to think he looked at her as anything more than an actor in his play. She pulled back her shoulders and inhaled a long breath. “I can’t read and I’m a whore. You’re kind to let us stay. Kind to feed us and make us laugh, but I’m scared this fixation I’m Lucinda is little more than a pipe dream. What if I disappoint you? I’ve no idea if I can do this.”

“Then all we need to do is prove you can. We can sit and act together until you know and love my play as I do. Then you will believe.”

He pressed a brief kiss to her cheek and took off, marching along the corridor, leaving her confusion and doubt flailing for anchor. His hospitality and acting as her savior from Malcolm meant so much to her. Tears smarted her eyes. Yet, she still couldn’t allow herself to believe he saw her as anything more than a whore.

“Laura?”

She started and stood ramrod straight, plastering on a smile. “Morning, Tess. How are you?”

Tess frowned and looked along the corridor toward where Adam had disappeared. “How am I, she says.” She turned back and glared, grasping Laura firmly by the arm. “My office. Immediately.”

Laura laughed as Tess propelled her along. “You have an office now? My, my.”

Tess stared resolutely ahead and Laura grimaced as anxiety knotted inside her stomach. Was she about to lose the only job she’d ever had outside of whoring?

“Tess, slow down.” Laura tugged her arm back. “You’re nearly breaking my arm.”

They reached the room where their baskets and evening supplies were piled on wooden tables. Tess released her and jabbed her pointed finger toward a vacant chair. “Sit.”

Laura considered arguing but, judging by the scowl on Tess’s face, a fistfight might well ensue if she did. She sat and crossed her arms. “What?”

“What’s going on between you and Adam Lacey?”

What should she say? Did Adam want anyone to know he’d homed two whores?

Tess squeezed her eyes shut. “Laura . . .”

Warning and impatience were dominant in her tone. Laura unfolded her arms and stood. “Nothing.”

“You were seen getting out of a gig as bold as brass with him. My God, girl, you were seen coming into the theater on his bloody arm.” Tess stared at her in disbelief. “And you say
nothing
is going on?”

Intuition told Laura to keep the developing relationship—if what they shared could be considered a relationship—between her and Adam a secret. At worst, its revelation could ruin his career; at best, it could be so short-lived, it would be nothing more than a pleasant memory come nightfall. She brushed past a goggle-eyed Tess toward the table.

“I was walking along Milsom Street on the way here and he pulled up alongside me and asked if I’d like to share his gig. It’s pouring. The man was being polite.” She turned and winked. “And since when does a girl refuse the opportunity to be seen with a man like Adam Lacey.”

Praying Tess fell for her display of sassiness, Laura grabbed some oranges and filled her basket. The silence was suffocating.

“He offered you a ride . . .” Tess sniffed. “Fine. If you want to keep things to yourself, that’s up to you; but you should be warned, if I saw you, others did too.”

Foreboding seeped icy cold into her blood and she turned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A gleam lit Tess’s eyes. “Everyone’s talking about the fact Mr. Lacey has stopped keeping company with certain upper-class ladies of the house. If people see him with you, they’ll put two and two together and come up with six.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, folks will be asking what you’re doing that those fancy ladies won’t.”

The suggestion was clear and whether rightly so or not, indignation seared Laura’s cheeks. “I’m not his whore.”

Tess raised her hands. “Never said you were. I’m just giving you a bit of friendly advice. It’s one thing to keep occasional company with people above our station. It’s another to spend time with them publicly. Adam Lacey is a cut above, Laura. A man who, up until a couple of weeks ago, was undoubtedly servicing none other than Lady Harvard.” She inhaled a breath through clenched teeth. “You don’t want to be getting on the wrong side of her in a hurry.”

Laura turned to her basket, feigning disinterest. “I’ve no idea who Lady Harvard is, but she’s got nothing to worry about on that score. Adam Lacey is a kind man who offered to get me here and out of the rain. Nothing more.”

“So there’s no truth to the rumors bouncing around here since the day you started?”

Laura whirled around. “What rumors?”

She shrugged. “People talk. They’ve seen the way he looks at you and the way you look at him. Are you really expecting me to believe nothing else came of the night he asked you to accompany him to the Rooms?”

Memories of their kiss heated her body, but Laura tried to keep her gaze steady. “What do you want me to say, Tess? I’m not his whore, and he’s in no way paying or keeping me, do you hear?”

Time halted and Laura cursed her constant need to defend herself at the slightest provocation. Would where she’d come from and what she’d done to earn a crust ever fade? She wanted a good life as much as the next person, but every time she took a step forward, she battled the suspicion she deserved to stay in the desolation and filth she was born into.

Her mother’s words echoed in her head.
Once a whore, always a whore.

“Hey.” Tess stepped toward her and held Laura’s upper arms. Her gaze softened. “I didn’t mean anything more than concern by questioning you. Adam Lacey is nothing to be sniffed at. If he likes you, enjoy it while it lasts. I’m just warning you there are people—people with connections and money—who might mess with whatever is going on between you two, all right?”

Laura glared. “There’s nothing going on between Adam Lacey and me.”

Tess stared at her a moment longer before she gave a curt nod and released her. “Good. Then there’s nothing else to say.”

She turned away just as a young stagehand appeared in the doorway. He smiled. “Laura?”

“Yes?”

“Monica Danes has asked if you’d come to her dressing room.”

She froze. “Monica Danes?”

“Uh-huh. As soon as you can, she said.” The boy tipped her a wink and disappeared.

Laura stared at the empty doorway. What did Monica Danes want with her? She faced Tess, and her friend quirked her eyebrow. “Nothing going on, huh?”

Scowling, Laura snatched her full basket from the table and marched toward the door. There was only one way to fight indecision and that was to choose a path and follow it.

Her current path brought her to a stop outside Miss Danes’s dressing room.

Laura took a breath. Her life changed beyond recognition whenever she was at the theater, but every time she looked into Bette’s eyes, her friend’s suffering brought back to reality. While there was still a breath in Bette’s body, Laura would do what she could to make her better.

Maybe right now, this meant keeping her friend warm in Adam’s spare bed. She raised her hand and knocked on the door. In all likelihood, Ms. Danes wanted her to fetch and carry something or maybe pass on a message to a gentleman who would later grace the audience.

“Come in.”

Swallowing hard, Laura opened the door and entered. Miss Danes sat at her dressing table, her personal dresser at her feet, adjusting the actress’s shoes. Miss Danes met Laura’s gaze and her face immediately lit with the same welcoming smile she’d given Laura at the theater steps a few nights before.

“Laura, you came. Thank you.”

She executed a semicurtsy. “Of course, Ms. Danes. I got a message you wanted to see me?”

She waved toward a chair. “Yes, yes, I did. Please, have a seat.” Miss Danes turned to her dresser. “I think they’re fine now, Stephanie. Thank you.”

The young woman, a similar age to her mistress, smiled and moved to the wardrobe where more than one flamboyant, jewel-colored dress hung.

Laura stared at them as the yearning to wear such a frock rose once again.

“Laura?”

She blinked and grimaced as a way of apology. “Sorry, Ms. Danes. Those dresses are just so beautiful, I stare every time I see one.”

She laughed. “And I am lucky to be the one who gets to wear them. . . .” She rose from her seat and approached a side table. Lifting a ceramic pitcher, she poured a glass of water. “Although, if Adam has his way, I understand you might be wearing one not too long from now.”

He told her about me acting in his play?
She swallowed, struggling to keep her face impassive. “Adam, miss?”

Miss Danes lifted the glass to her lips, watching Laura over the rim. She took a delicate sip and laughed. “There is no need to act innocent with me. I am Adam’s friend. Always will be. If he thinks you can act, then you can. If he wants you in his play, I will do anything to help make that happen.”

Laura fought the urge to flee the room. “Why would you do such a thing? I’ve told him the idea is ridiculous. He really shouldn’t—”

“Why?”

Laura stared. “Pardon me?”

Miss Danes strolled toward her. “Why is it ridiculous? You are a beautiful woman. You’re also strong and full of tenacity, according to Adam. Plus, you have a clear love of the theater and everything it entails.”

Pride burned behind her ribcage and Laura tightened her jaw. “Has he told you I can’t read?”

“Is that the only reason you are dismissing his wishes out of hand?”

She held Monica Danes’s questioning stare. “Wouldn’t it be reason enough for anyone?”

“If you want the stage badly enough,
nothing
will stand in your way. The question is, how badly do you want it?”

Laura glanced toward the dresses hanging at the wardrobe as regret wound tight in her stomach. “I have a friend who needs my mind on her right now, not some fantasy.” She stood. “Did you want me for anything else?”

“Adam has told me about your friend. He has also told me about Malcolm Baxter.”

Embarrassment burned Laura’s cheeks. “That’s my personal business. He had no right—”

“He had every right.” Monica sat at her dresser and eyed Laura through the mirror’s reflection. “He also told me what you did for a living before you came here.”

Anger and humiliation rose hot and fast. Laura narrowed her eyes. “I have no shame in making my way any way I see fit. If there’s nothing else, I really should be getting back to doing what I’m paid to do.”

She turned and marched to the door. Just as she reached it, Miss Danes’s voice stopped her. “I wasn’t always an actress, you know.”