“You were sort of his wife. Didn’t his philandering upset you?”
“There’s a reason I never married him, Libby. The moment I was introduced to him, I recognized all his sordid proclivities. Before involving myself, I weighed his various traits, and I decided I could tolerate the horrid ones. Don’t rewrite my history with him; it wasn’t exactly a love match.” She went to the door. “I want to watch the final act of the play. Will you watch with me?”
“I’d rather wash and relax in private. Fetch me when the curtain falls. We’ll walk home together.”
“Simon might have arranged a party for you to attend.”
“He’ll have to go without me. I’m fatigued tonight.”
“I’ll see you in a bit then,” Fish said.
“If my gushing admirers inquire about me, tell them I’ve already departed.”
“I shall be a veritable castle wall that succeeds in keeping them away.”
Fish marched out, and Libby chuckled, listening as her strides faded, then it was very quiet. She could hear the hum of actors’ voices in the front of the building, but she was very much alone, which she never liked.
From the day Harry had claimed her, her life had been filled with people and activity. She carried on in a very public way, on stages scattered throughout the kingdom. She hadn’t had much practice at being by herself.
She stared into the mirror, wondering what path she’d wind up traveling next. She always felt as if she was on a raft and rushing down a raging river, powerless to control the route or the speed. With Harry deceased, the sense of floating free had increased in intensity.
“I’m going to Roland!” she murmured to her reflection. “Fancy that!”
During her performances, she wore her hair in a simple style, tied back with a ribbon. She yanked it away so the curly locks swirled around her shoulders, then she headed into the closet to get dressed. Fish had removed her costume, so she was attired in just chemise and drawers, a silky robe over top.
As she reached for her gown, the door in the outer room opened and shut.
“Fish,” she said, “is that you? Will you help me with my corset?”
There was no answer, and she peeked out, curious as to who had arrived, and she hoped it wasn’t a man from the audience. Usually, they were courteous enough to wait until the show was over, and by then—if she wasn’t in the mood for socializing—she’d have sneaked off.
To her astonishment and delight, Luke was standing there, and she suffered a trill of pleasure. How had he found her? What could he want?
Since they’d parted the prior evening, she’d been mooning over him every minute. It was a disgusting admission, but apparently, she’d been totally bowled over for once.
A peculiar spark had flared between them, and she’d been eager to linger in order to see how hot it might burn. She was never stupid about men though, so she’d forced herself to depart, but she couldn’t deny that she’d been yearning to meet him again.
He was more handsome than she recalled, wearing another black formal suit, an exquisite cravat knotted at his throat. He was displaying quite a bit of jewelry, and it glittered in the lamplight. She suspected the stones—as opposed to her fake ones—were real diamonds.
His torrid gaze landed on her, and he grinned a devil’s grin that—if she’d been a fragile type of female—might have left her weak in the knees.
“My goodness!” he said like a complaint. “If it isn’t Little Libby Carstairs, Mystery Girl of the Caribbean!”
“Hello, Lucas/Luke.”
“When we chatted last night, you might have warned me that you are a celebrity who’s taken London by storm. I would have been much more impressed. I was incredibly overwhelmed when I simply deemed you to be exquisite. I didn’t realize you would turn out to be so vastly extraordinary.”
“I’m not a celebrity,” she felt compelled to state, “and I have never stormed anywhere.”
“I beg to disagree. People in the seats around me couldn’t stop raving about you.”
“Were you in the theater just now?”
“Yes.”
“So you saw my performance.”
“Yes,” he said again.
She hadn’t noticed him and was glad she hadn’t. She wouldn’t have been able to focus on her lyrics and lines.
“What did you think?” she asked.
“It was a tad maudlin for my tastes.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t watch me in the future. I have hundreds of vignettes just like it. They scarcely vary from night to night.”
“Such a tragic story!” There was a teasing glint in his eye. “Such a tale of woe! I was extremely moved by it.”
“Liar.”
“Do you make a good living from telling strangers about your disastrous past?”
“I make a fair living.”
She didn’t add that it fluctuated widely, by season and town and area of the country. It depended on the kind of group they’d joined, the reputation of the troupe, the split of the money paid to the actors. It hadn’t always been posh theaters and high-born audiences.
She was often weary, but she was never bored, and she’d never been hungry.
He was staring at her as if he’d like to gobble her up, and the air was charged with the perception that any wild behavior might be allowed.
She nervously clutched the lapels of her robe, the instinctive gesture reminding her that she wasn’t dressed. She’d grown up on the stage, so she wasn’t squeamish about being viewed in her current condition, but she’d never previously permitted herself to be caught in such a scandalous situation.
She only greeted admirers when she was fully styled and coifed for maximum effect. It was all part of her act to keep men besotted and wondering what chance they might ultimately have with her. The answer had always been,
