Celine terrified of them. Privately Violet believed her mother in possession of a vivid imagination she didn’t bother to control. Disaster, large or small, came into everyone’s life at some time. It was inevitable. The world was a dangerous place, no matter how one tried to cushion oneself against it.
On the other hand, it didn’t hurt to be careful. Violet assured Celine she would check that the boardinghouse and the theatre were as safe as possible. She and Mary finally got Celine to sleep, with the help of a little laudanum. Celine was much calmer when she woke, and they made their way to the theatre, which seemed solid enough.
The house was full tonight. Celine came into her own when she performed, and the night wound on without incident.
And Violet floated. Daniel had awakened something inside her she wanted to examine. It was new, wonderful, and somewhat bewildering.
He’d promised to take her to the inn again. Daniel might remember, or he might not. It didn’t matter. Violet would have memories to savor, regardless.
Halfway through the show, she saw Daniel slide into the back row, gallantly assisting his stepmother to a seat. Violet stilled, her attention instantly pulled to him.
Perhaps
Daniel waited until Ainsley had seated herself, he flashing his grin at the men and women in seats next to them. No doubt charming them all to pieces. Daniel’s father hadn’t come, she noted. Possibly staying behind to look after his young daughter. An unusual sort of man if so.
Once Daniel sat down, he sent a smile and a nod at the stage. Straight at Violet.
Sweet moments. Forever seared into her heart.
“Violet,” her mother hissed behind her. “Ask the young man about his mother.”
No, Celine meant the man who stood in the fourth row, worry on his face, waiting for Violet to allow him to speak to Celine. Violet couldn’t remember a thing the man had just said.
“Forgive me.” Violet turned back to him, pitching her voice low, soothing. “You want to know about your mother?”
The performance went on. At its end, when Celine drooped, Violet emerged in front of the curtain. “I thank you all. The countess must rest now.”
She didn’t do the dramatics of pretending someone called to her from backstage—some of the audience had returned from the previous performance, and Violet didn’t like to repeat. No one must believe this a staged show. It had to be natural, spontaneous, every time.
Violet glanced across the house to see Daniel on his feet, applauding heartily. His stepmother stood next to him, also applauding and looking delighted. Ainsley was a foot or so shorter than Daniel, which emphasized Daniel’s height. Daniel shot an approving smile straight at her.
Much as she wanted to stay out front gazing at Daniel, Violet knew she couldn’t. She swept the audience a graceful gesture—a princess would never bow to commoners—and retreated backstage.
Even in her daze, Violet remembered to secure the take. She got her mother and Mary away out the stage door with the money, and returned to the dressing room alone to change to her plain shirtwaist and skirt.
The last time she’d left this theatre, Daniel had been waiting for her. Violet’s heart beat faster as she made her way out. He might not be there tonight, since he’d come with his stepmother, but Violet couldn’t stop her anticipation.
She stepped out the back door, preparing to close and lock it.
A strong hand landed on her shoulder. Daniel’s gaze was all for Violet as he pushed her gently back inside. Once they were in the hallway, his arms went around her, and his mouth came down on hers.
He kissed her for a long time, slowly, no frenzy tonight. But the kiss held heat and stole every bit of Violet’s breath.
Daniel eased away and touched her lower lip. “Ready?”
Violet swallowed. “Ready for what?” To take her to the country inn? This late? Or back to his wonderfully cluttered flat where he’d begun to awaken her? “Where is your stepmother?”
“Returning virtuously to the hotel to her husband and child. You and I, on the other hand, are off to enjoy ourselves. Thoroughly.”
Violet tried a smile. “Another balloon ride?”
Daniel’s answering smile was hot. “Maybe. Then again, who knows what I’ll do?”
Violet’s mouth went dry. “I have to lock up. Everyone’s gone.”
Daniel was looking her up and down. “You are lovely, as usual, but we’ll be needing something a little more formal if I’m taking you out.”
“Are you taking me out?”
“I am. What about that beautiful gown you were wearing onstage? Still have it with you?”
“It’s in my valise. But I don’t want anyone seeing me in it as Violet.”
“Of course. You’re right. But this is a theatre. Do you keep other costumes here? Ones you haven’t worn yet?”
“I don’t but . . .” Violet swallowed, his excitement catching. “There is a costume room.”
“Let’s have a look then.” Daniel gestured for her to lead the way.
The next hour was filled with laughter. Daniel lit all the lamps in the costume room, and they went through the wardrobes. Most of the costumes were for fanciful dramas, comedies, or operettas, plus some very skimpy things Violet assumed were for the fairies in
Daniel pulled out a confection of a gown called a robe a l’anglaise, from the eighteenth century, all puffs and lace, a narrow bodice, the wide skirt to be held out with panniers. “Very Marie Antoinette,” Daniel said, holding it up. “You’d look beautiful in it.”
“I’d look ridiculous on the avenues of Marseille in it,” Violet said. “Oh, look at this one.”
She lifted out a gown that had been made for a more modern play. The skirt was a dark blue satin, and the velvet bodice, cut low across the bosom, was beaded with shimmering onyx and stones that glittered like diamonds. Violet knew they weren’t real diamonds, theatres being notoriously short of cash, but the illusion was perfect.
The bodice had small puffed sleeves made to be worn off the shoulder. The gown left the arms very bare, intended to be worn with gloves. Plenty of those in the cupboards.
“Put that on,” Daniel said. “And we’ll go to the fanciest restaurant in town.”
Violet gathered the satin and beaded velvet to her bosom. “
Daniel came to her, took the gown, and held it up against her. “I want to take you out. You can’t go in a prim shirtwaist. I want you to rival the fanciest women in Marseille, respectable or otherwise. Wear the dress, or we don’t go.”
Violet strove to keep a teasing note in her voice, though the heat of Daniel through the dress made her thoughts incoherent. “Will we go elsewhere if I keep to my prim shirtwaist?”
“No. Dress. Now. Don’t worry. We’ll bring it back.”
His eyes held his usual glint of mischief, but also something deeper that she couldn’t decipher.
Violet knew she should go sedately back to her boardinghouse, count the take, settle her mother, and look through the requests for private consultations. She should not steal a gown from the theatre’s costume room and go out on the town on Daniel’s arm like a common courtesan.
But Daniel had made clear he didn’t want to spend his evening with a young woman in sensible clothing. If Violet refused him and went home, like the good, respectable daughter she worked hard to be, she’d spend her evening as she usually did, alone, tired, looking after everyone but herself.
Being the good girl could be so very lonely.
Violet turned away with the dress and went resolutely behind the changing screen. She threw off her skirt and shirtwaist, putting on the costume over her corset and underthings.
“I need a lady’s maid to do up the back,” she said, holding the bodice around herself as she emerged.
