The Temptation of Laura (6 page)

“All of it? Lord, I bet Tess was impressed.”

“She was.” Laura smiled and took some coins from her purse pocket. “Better still, I got enough from my cut to pay for the doctor tomorrow. I loved the atmosphere and listening to the play while I worked. It’s perfect for me. I don’t need to lay with a man anymore. Who knows where my hard work and charm can lead us, huh?”

Bette’s smile was weak, but her eyes shone. “Who knows, indeed?”

Feeling better about the night and managing to ignore her dangerous liaison with Adam Lacey for the moment, Laura made for the door. “I’ll go and boil some milk. It’ll help us sleep better.” She left the room and as the hem of her dress swished against the floorboards, she was reminded of the dress and cape Monica Danes wore when she stood beside Adam on the theater steps.

If Adam saw the dresses Laura wore and where she lived he wouldn’t have the same glint in his eyes or passion in his kiss he’d had earlier.

Laura’s hand shook as she filled a pan with milk and carried it to the stove. Since when had she cared what a dandy or toff thought of where or how she lived? Why had this man tilted her life off-kilter so potently and so suddenly?

Shaking her head, she hurried from the room and up the stairs to her bedroom. She got out of her clothes and into her nightdress, fighting thoughts of Adam Lacey, the theater, the music, and every other damn thing that hummed through her blood like a cruel and insistent reminder of the life she craved.

Ever since she was a young girl, abandoned by her mother and never knowing her father, she’d been drawn to the Theater Royal like a child to a toyshop window.

Adam’s and Bette’s words reverberated in her ears. The one thing life had taught her was that change happened in a heartbeat, without warning or preparation. Who was to say she wasn’t supposed to be in the theater? Who was to say her life—her whoring—hadn’t prepared her for such an event?

She took a long breath as she closed her bedroom door and descended the stairs. Wasn’t her life a play of the highest drama? First living hand to mouth, she’d eked her way through. Last year brought the gentry into her life under the most unforeseeable circumstances and she’d dealt with it. Done what felt right.

Destiny rolled into a tight ball behind her ribs. Who was she to argue with her lifelong pull toward the theater? Tomorrow it was closed, but for better or worse, she’d go back the day after and embrace whatever it threw at her. Sooner or later, the true motivation of Adam Lacey’s interest would be revealed. Moreover, she’d learn why God had steered her inside the Theater Royal a few days ago rather than years before.

Laura stared anxiously at Bette as she slept. Her friend’s labored breathing was steady but painful to hear as it eked to and from her tiring lungs. The doctor was due any moment. Laura returned to the window to look out for him. Last night, she’d stupidly thought Bette was taking a turn for the better with all her chatter and challenge about Laura working at the theater. This morning, her friend fared worse than ever.

When she pressed her hand to Bette’s forehead, cheeks, and chest, her skin was hot enough to burn. Her pallor was pasty, and her lips dry and cracked. Refusing to eat and barely taking more than a sip of water at a time, Bette had little to no energy left to fight the bacteria inside her.

The sight of Dr. Penders coming toward the house sent Laura’s heart flying into her throat and she blinked back tears.
Please, God, let him have come with a miracle.

His sharp rap at the door snapped her gaze to Bette. She stirred but didn’t wake. Loath to disturb her but knowing the doctor had a job to do, Laura stroked her hand over Bette’s forehead.

“Bette? The doctor’s here.”

“Mmm?”

“The doctor. I’m just going to let him in. He’ll want to talk to you.”

Bette’s eyes slowly opened and her gaze dazed. “Then let him in.”

She squeezed Bette’s hand, then made for the door and yanked it open.

“Dr. Penders, am I glad . . .” Laura’s smile dissolved when she saw who stood behind the doctor, his snidey mouth stretched in a wide grin. “What are you doing here?”

Malcolm Baxter leaned around the doctor, his center-parted, oil-slicked hair making Laura grimace. He smiled, revealing the gap in his upper front teeth. “I saw the doc and thought I’d come and pay Bette a visit.”

Not wanting to cause a ruckus in front of the doctor, Laura fought the urge to smack him in the face. “Well, wasn’t that nice of you.” She turned to the doctor. “Why don’t you go on through? She’s in the living room.”

Dr. Penders removed his black top hat and cast a glance over his shoulder, his mouth twisted with distaste beneath tidy gray whiskers. “I told Mr. Baxter Bette wasn’t up for visitors, but he doesn’t seem to understand basic English.”

Laura smiled. “Then I’ll keep him here until he does.”

The kindly doctor stepped inside.

As soon as she heard the doctor jovially greet Bette, Laura crossed her arms and fixed Malcolm with a glare. “Go away.”

He raised his hands. “Is that any way to talk to a friend concerned for Bette?”

She gave an inelegant snort. “Friend? I don’t think so. Get out of here before I’m forced to do something to wipe that smile off your face. You don’t scare me, Malcolm. Now, go.”

She moved to shut the door, but he stuck his foot in the way. His wolverine smile vanished and his eyes flashed cold with determination. “You need to listen to me before things get nasty.”

Anger simmered hot and heavy in her belly. She fisted her hands on her hips and kicked his foot away. “I don’t
need
to listen to anybody. Now, why don’t you say what you came here to say and disappear? My best friend in the whole world is in there struggling for her next breath. I don’t have time for your carrying on.”

“I hear you’ve been sniffing around the theater for work.”

Damn it. Who the hell had been talking to Malcolm about her? She tilted her chin. “And?”

“If you were looking for more up-market clientele, you should have told me first.”

She scowled. “I don’t have to tell you anything. I don’t work for you and never will.”

“Then maybe it’s time you moved on. Here and abouts is my patch. Where
my
ladies work. I can’t have you giving the impression it’s one rule for you and not the rest. You’re messing with my authority, and my patience has run out. You need to make a decision, or I can’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

“Are you threatening me?” Laura tightened her jaw. “You think I don’t know it was you who got the other girls
messing with your authority
thrown out of their homes? Had their belongings stolen or tossed onto the street?”

“Well, if you know that, pretty Laura, why do you think the same hasn’t happened to you and Bette so far?”

Her heart thundered as she glared at the dog turd standing in front of her. “You really think we’ll eventually come around and give you a cut of whatever we earn?” She shook her head. “Over my dead body.”

He laughed. “Don’t you mean Bette’s?”

Anger roared through her and she raised her hand to slap the damn know-it-all smirk from his ugly face. He caught her wrist in a vice-like grip and held it—hard. Her pulse beat under his palm.

“You listen to me.” His eyes were cold with malice and his cheeks red. “I’m giving you one month to either get out of here or come work for me. One month and then Bette dying will be the least of your worries. In the meantime, I’ll be watching you, and once I see you’re off your high horse and spreading your legs again, I’ll be back for a cut. If you don’t pay me, you’ll soon wish you were lying on a slab next to your precious friend.”

He tossed her arm away and Laura stumbled backward against the doorframe. With a parting sneer, he straightened the cuffs on his jacket and stalked away like he was king of the world.

Shaking with rage and a hefty dose of fear, Laura crossed her arms and glared after him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her anxiety should he turn around. When he’d gone, she released her held breath and reentered the house. Shutting the door, she leaned against it and waited for the galloping in her heart to subside.

Tears gathered in her throat. What was she going to do with Malcolm watching her every move? Would she be putting Tess at risk of Malcolm’s attention if she continued working at the theater? She closed her eyes. She wouldn’t put it past him to follow her there night after night. Damn him. Damn this life she and Bette were in, despite her efforts to release them from it.

The soft murmuring of Dr. Penders shook Laura from her contemplation and, forcing the frustration from her face, she hurried into the living room. The doctor had somehow managed to get Bette sitting up against the pillows and drinking tea. It was more than Laura had managed all day.

She moved to the bedside. “Doctor, you should’ve waited for me to make the tea.”

He waved his hand. “The kettle was boiled. Don’t worry yourself. You had more than enough to cope with getting rid of that Baxter character.”

“Well, he’s gone now. How’s Bette faring, Doctor? Are there any signs of improvement?” She clasped Bette’s free hand in hers.

His eyes softened and his brows drew together. “I’m afraid not. The pneumonia has spread to her lungs and taken up residence. I can give you a prescription for some decongestant. It might ease the discomfort.”

Laura nodded. “I’ll go into town as soon as you leave. I’ll get whatever she needs.”

“We don’t have the money for no fancy medicine.” Bette’s words rasped against her throat.

She tightened her grip on Bette’s hand. “We have the money for whatever you need to make you better.”

Bette shook her head and closed her eyes. “Tell her, Doc. Tell her the truth.”

Dread fell heavy into Laura’s stomach. “What truth?”

Dr. Penders cleared his throat. “The truth that nothing is guaranteed. I hope and pray the drugs make a difference, but you, as well as Bette, need to know there is little I can do once the trouble settles in the lungs.”

“I see.” Laura straightened her spine. “That doesn’t mean it’s not worth a try, so don’t worry, she’ll be back to bossing me around in no time.”

Bette shifted on the bed. “Laura—”

“Is there anything else I need to know?” Laura stared at the doctor, ignoring her friend. The notion of Bette giving up struck terror into her heart with overbearing ferocity. Bette never gave up on anything.

The doctor frowned. “Let Laura look after you. You need to fight this. Do you hear me?”

“I’m being realistic.” Bette plucked at the covers across her lap. “We need to know so we can be prepared and make plans. That bastard, excuse my French, Malcolm Baxter will be back here tomorrow and the next day, until Laura succumbs to his demands. I’m as much use to her as a wet blanket. If I’m going to die, I don’t want her wasting what little money we’ve got on nonsense.”

Dr. Penders squeezed her hand. “Medicine is not nonsense and well you know it. Moreover, getting plenty of rest is paramount. As much sleep as possible with minimal disturbance or upset.”

Bette lifted her hand from his and cursed.

With frustration set at a low hum in her blood, Laura cupped the doctor’s elbow. “Let me see you out.” She glanced at Bette. “Somebody has clearly got fever of the brain, too, if she thinks for one minute I won’t be going to the pharmacy the minute you’ve gone.”

Ignoring Bette’s colorful protestation behind them, Laura led Dr. Penders to the door and opened it. “Thank you for coming by again. It means so much to me you’re willing to come to this part of town to help us. There are many doctors who wouldn’t.”

He smiled. “Circumstances don’t make the person. You and Bette are better people than most of the moneyed I know. You send a message for me if she worsens. I fear this has gotten a real hold on her.” He drew in a long breath. “Be strong . . . but be prepared. You know where to find me.”

Words stuck in her throat as he strolled down the alley, his aging frame stooped as though he carried the worries of the world upon his shoulders. Laura’s view blurred. He’d told her in the kindest way possible there was every chance Bette would lose her battle.

Swallowing hard, Laura pulled back her shoulders.

She wouldn’t let her best friend lay down and die. Not now. Not when they’d made the decision their whoring would end and a different future begin. She wouldn’t take these new steps without Bette beside her. How would she gain pleasure from any new turn or opportunity without the person who never betrayed, lied, or disappointed her by her side? There was every chance she’d never again meet another person to love and trust like she did Bette.

She closed the door and snatched her coat from a hook in the hallway before walking into the living room.

Bette coughed. “Don’t waste your money. Stay here with me and we’ll have another cup of tea. I’ll fight this thing. I promise.”

“I know you will, but I’m going to the pharmacy all the same and you’ll take whatever the doctor ordered.”

The ensuing silence spoke volumes. Bette was scared. Really scared.

Shrugging into her coat, Laura fought her tears. “Shall I make you another cuppa before I go?”

Bette stared toward the window. “No.”

“Fine. Then I’ll leave you to rest.”

“Just go.”

Laura’s head ached from the icy-cold tension emanating from the woman capable of making her laugh until she thought her sides would split clean open. She kissed Bette’s perspiring temple. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Bette grunted.

With her heart breaking, Laura left the house and hurried along the alleyway. If the worries of the world had stooped Dr. Penders’s shoulders, she was bent double by the time she reached town.

 

Adam glanced up from his drawing-room desk to the wall clock above the mantel. It neared midday and he had barely filled a page and a half toward finishing his new play. Unheard of. The reason? Laura. He could not shake her from his mind or sensibility. Initially, she was a vision for his debut production, but now she was so much more. He wanted to get to know her personally. A passionate need burned in him through the night until he leaped from his bed and threw cold water over his face and neck in a bid to douse the fire.

He had never met such a woman in his life. He laughed aloud and stood. What eyes! What passion! What nerve!

The woman was built of a substance he could not name—but, by God, he liked it. Wanted it. Craved it.

With a woman like that beside him, it was possible he could touch the damn moon. What a formidable team they would be onstage. Her strength came through in her kiss and every touch. She no doubt possessed a rich story to have such a sense of self-worth.

He looked to the window. The sun shone bright in the sky, and birds flew and soared. No wonder his feet itched to do something. He would take a wander into town, stretch his legs through Parade Park, and maybe meander through the market. Nothing better than mixing with others to get the creative juices flowing. He had spent far too many hours cooped up inside writing or rehearsing his lines.

Before anything could change his mind, he marched into the hallway, donned his overcoat and hat, and stepped outside. The light seemed brighter than it had yesterday and the air clearer. Worry still lingered in the back of his mind because he had no further work lined up, but somehow the prospect did not feel as heavy a burden on this new day.

Things would come right for him, one way or another. He had severed his ties to Annabel and planned to pay back every penny she’d spent on him over the last twelve months. Two years had passed since his father cast him out of their family with a wad of cash and little else.

His father’s words reverberated in his ears. “If you fail and come back, you will live by our rules, do as we say, and have no more theater.”

Unable to stand his parents’ resistance to his dreams, Adam rebelled and they had renounced him. He would never regret his decision. Even now, with his money dwindling to desperate levels. His pride and fear had led him to renting a house out of his means. His rationale had been that renting something more affordable might lower his chance of being taken seriously by a potential producer.

He marched along the street, his mind mulling over his decision to set out with the image he wanted to convey firmly established
prior to
auditioning. Rationalizing nice clothes and a good home would lead the theater’s top people to take him seriously, he now realized he had been a fool. Never in his wildest imagination could he have anticipated the tens of people who would attend the auditions or that the competition would be so fierce.