Chapter Twenty-Three
“How could you, Mama?” Lia asked in a reproachful voice. “You must have known it would cause trouble.”
Her mother sat at the cluttered chest that served as her dressing table, fidgeting with stage makeup and casting furtive glances toward the door, as if seeking escape. Rehearsals had ended and most of the other actors and crew had gone for dinner. That was why Lia had chosen this quiet time to buttonhole her.
After last night’s torrid encounter with Jack, she stood in desperate need of guidance, especially because he was insisting on an immediate marriage. Mama would understand the problem in a way no one other than Granny ever could. Although she would no doubt think marriage to Jack was a grand idea, at least her mother wouldn’t pretend it would be a fairy tale.
Despite forging a career of make-believe, Mama lived in the real world. If anyone could give Lia the unvarnished truth, it would be her.
“I’m not going to leave until you say something,” she said when her mother didn’t answer. “So there’s no point in ignoring me and hoping I’ll just go away.”
Her mother let out a dramatic sigh and finally met her gaze. “You were always stubborn, even as a little girl. Whenever I would send you to bed, you would plant your little feet and refuse to move. And you always set up a fuss when your nanny tried to take you up to the nursery.”
Lia rolled her eyes. According to Granny, she’d been a biddable child with a sunny disposition. Perhaps that was her real problem—she’d always been too accommodating, trying to please everyone else instead of herself.
“That’s not how I remember it. And stop avoiding the question, Mama. Yes, it’s ancient history, but I want to know why you embarked on an affair with Lord John. It seems an entirely demented decision.”
Her mother bristled. “Ancient is hardly the term I would apply to myself, my girl. Goodness, you make me sound like an old crone.”
How predictable that her mother would focus on her vanity rather than the pain her actions had caused other people. “Mama . . .” she said in a warning tone.
“Very well. I was lonely, Lia. You and Rebecca had departed for the north with Lord Lendale and I’d recently broken off with my lover. I was out of sorts and . . . and a bit frightened, if you must know the truth. I felt very alone.”
“I didn’t realize that,” Lia said, disconcerted. “I thought you were relieved to see us go.”
Her mother’s hands fluttered to her lap, her fingers twisting into an anxious knot. “Relieved is not precisely the right word. Yes, it was sometimes inconvenient to have a child in the house, but it was more than that. Before I was able to finally make my living as an actress, I needed a paramour to protect and support me. I wished you to be raised in a more . . . a more normal atmosphere. Your grandmother agreed with me.”
“So you actually missed me?” Lia asked softly.
“Of course I did. I loved you.” She flashed her a misty smile. “I still love you.”
Lia’s throat tightened. “I missed you, too.”
“Thank you, darling, but we mustn’t get too sentimental about bygone days. It all worked out for the best, did it not?”
“That remains to be seen. You still haven’t told me why you took up with Lord John. Aside from everything else, his pockets were rather moth-ridden, from what I understand. He certainly wasn’t a practical choice.”
“No, but he was a charming one, and so very handsome. He obviously sensed I was lonely and began courting me. He was very good at that, as I’m sure you’ve heard.” She gave Lia a roguish wink. “And he was an excellent lover. I can only hope Jack is as accomplished in that regard as his father.”
That was not a comparison Lia wished to think about—ever. “So you’re saying Lord John took advantage of your loneliness? That seems caddish of him, given that Granny was already involved with his brother. He had to know how upsetting it would be for everyone, especially his wife.”
Mama rolled her lips together and went back to fidgeting with her makeup.
Lia felt disappointment in the pit of her stomach. “You wanted it, too, didn’t you?”
“And why not?” her mother asked in a defiant burst. “Wasn’t I good enough for him? Aren’t any of us good enough for those blasted Lendale men? I gave up my own daughter into Lord Lendale’s protection.” Her beautiful eyes were hard with resentment. “Lendale was devoted to your grandmother, or so he claimed. Yet she wasn’t good enough for him to marry, was she? Rebecca gave up everything for him, Lia. So what was wrong with my taking a little of what the Kincaids were due from that bloody, stuck-up family?”
Now that made sense. Her mother had always been a canny businesswoman and would never have taken up with a penniless aristocrat simply because he was handsome or an accomplished lover.
“It was revenge you were after,” Lia said.
Her mother threw her a scowl. “We were good enough to bed but not good enough to marry. Good enough to dally with but not good enough to bear their children.” She fisted a hand and pounded it on the table, causing the little containers of rouge and powder to shake. “No, it was only the pure English roses who were worthy of marriage to the Lendale men, not common whores like the Kincaids.”
Her mother’s outburst was raw and sour, like bitter garlic, and Lia’s heart ached for her. Resentment had festered for too long for both the Kincaid and the Easton women. Their men had betrayed them time and again, leaving deep wounds. While Jack had treated them all with true affection and respect, even he couldn’t seem to drain the infection.
Lia sighed. “Good Lord, this is worse than Romeo and Juliet.”
“Ha. I’d like to poison the lot of them. Except Jack, of course,” her mother said hastily.
“I understand, Mama, but we weren’t the only ones who were hurt. There was Jack and Lady Anne, too, and especially Lady John. She didn’t deserve to be humiliated by you and Lord John.”
Her mother waved a dismissive hand. “I know you would like to think so for Jack’s sake. But she treated your grandmother and me like dirt. Rebecca was never anything but respectful and utterly discreet, and yet Lady John treated her like she was a common whore. That bloody woman deserved a little of her own back and I was glad to give it to her.”
Lia pressed thumbs to her throbbing temples. So much anger had been handed down from one generation to the next. How could she and Jack possibly bridge that divide? The idea of her mother and Lady John even standing in the same room together seemed utterly impossible.
“Do you have a headache?” her mother asked in a puzzled voice.
Lia dropped her hands into her lap. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
Both a headache and a heartache that she was beginning to suspect would never go away. Her mother hadn’t simply slipped into a foolish, brief affair with Jack’s father—it had been a deliberate act intended to cause maximum pain. Lady John would never forgive that, nor would Lia expect her to.
Her mother reached out and touched a fluttering hand to Lia’s cheek. “Now, darling, there’s no need to be mopey about what happened in the dreary old past, and don’t worry about Lady John. You’re as good as any girl in the Ton. Better, in fact, because your father is the Duke of York himself. And Jack actually wishes to marry you, which is simply splendid. If you want my advice—”
Lia let out a faint, hollow laugh. She’d wanted plain speaking from her mother and she’d certainly gotten it. “I don’t think I do anymore.”
“You should give up this silly notion of becoming a courtesan,” her mother blithely carried on. “It’s not the life for you, Lia. The best thing you can do is marry Jack and return to Stonefell. God knows you’ve earned the right to be mistress of that blasted place.”
Earned it? How did one earn something like that? Love and all that came with it was a gift that must be freely given or it wasn’t worth having at all.
“I must say,” her mother added with a sly smile, “I wish I could see Lady John’s expression when Jack tells her that he’s going to marry you. That would be quite delicious.”
“None of that, Mama,” Lia said in a sharp voice. “There’s been enough pain in our families and I will not have you gloating. Besides, it’s far from settled that Jack and I will be marrying at all.”
“Oh pish. You’d be a fool not to marry him, and I know very well that your grandmother would never raise a fool.” She glanced at the small watch pinned to her waist. “Goodness, look at the time. Your stepfather will be waiting for me.” For her, the discussion was clearly over.
Mama stood and made for the door but then paused to look back. “I would advise you not to keep him waiting long. Men are not the most patient creatures on the planet, and you certainly don’t want to give his mother any more time to influence his decision. I strongly suggest you take at least that bit of advice from me.”
“Mama, wait,” she said, getting up and following her out into the hall.
“Yes, dear?”
“If I’m not able to take care of Granny, you will, won’t you?”
She smiled and again patted Lia on the cheek. “Of course I will. She’s my mother and she gave up everything for me, too.”
And with that, her mother turned and bustled off in the direction of the stage. After the sound of her short train swishing over the floorboards faded, the old building seemed to settle into a decrepit silence. With a sigh, Lia made her way toward the dressing rooms of the principal dancers and singers. She had the answers she’d come for, most of them dreadful. She might as well try to salvage a bit of good by stopping in to see how Amy was faring.
As she traversed the dingy corridors of the theater, they made her feel slightly claustrophobic for the first time. The city, with its cramped spaces and high walls, was beginning to wear on her. She missed the country more than she cared to admit and longed for a good, clean breath of brisk Yorkshire air.
“May I come in?” she asked, pausing at one of the dressing room doors.
Amy was sitting on a stool, fiddling with her dancing slippers. She glanced up with an eager smile. “Miss, it’s so good to see you.” She dropped her slippers and rose to give Lia a fierce hug. “You’re looking a bit peaked for someone who’s keeping company with such a handsome gent as Lord Lendale. Everything all right?”
Everyone asked Lia that same blasted question. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. How are you? It’s your first day back, is it not?”
Amy nodded. “’Tis, and I’m happy to be here. Your ma and Mr. Lester were grand to take care of me, but I was like to crawl out of my skin being laid up in bed for so long.”
Mama and Stephen had been horrified by how Prudhoe had abused Amy and had insisted on bringing her to their town house to recover. Stephen had been so infuriated that he’d been ready to challenge the baronet to a duel, or at least to mill him down, as he’d put it. Only Jack’s insistence that he was taking care of the matter—and Mama’s frantic demands that her husband not tangle with quality—had stopped him.
“You’ll be dancing in no time,” Lia said, pleased to see the bruising had mostly faded from Amy’s lovely face. “You’ve not had any more trouble, have you? With Sir Nathan, I mean.”
“Not a peep from that bloody degenerate,” Amy said with a sneer. “Lord Lendale said he would see to it that he never bothered me again and so far he hasn’t. Mr. Lester even sent a note telling him that he wasn’t welcome anymore at the Pan.”
“Huzzah. Good for my stepfather.”
Amy gave her a rueful smile. “I’m not sure Sir Nathan would give two hoots about that, or even listen to Mr. Lester. But I think your beau put a real scare into him. Sir Nathan would never have the guts to go up against a marquess.”
“I’m happy Lord Lendale has been so supportive, but he’s not really my beau,” Lia said.
“That’s not what the gossips are saying. According to them, Lendale’s been sniffing around your skirts like—”
“Yes, well, never mind the gossips,” Lia interrupted. “They’ll say anything.”
Amy looked disappointed. “That’s too bad. I was hoping you would marry him. He’s such a fine-looking fellow, and if anyone deserves a happy ending, it’s you, miss.”
“Thank you, but I’ll have to find my happy ending some other way,” Lia said, trying not to sound depressed by the notion.
Amy cocked her head and studied her, like an inquisitive sparrow. “You love him, don’t you, Miss Lia?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“It is to anyone with eyes in her head. You light up when you’re around him, even when you’re sniping at each other. And it’s clear he’s mad about you, too.”
“Mad at me, more like it,” Lia said with a false little laugh. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re not suited.”
Amy frowned. “Why not?”
“He’s an aristocrat and I’m the illegitimate daughter of an actress. Lord Lendale needs a proper lady, a person of his own social standing, not someone whose very existence is a scandal. And other reasons,” she added vaguely after a moment.
Amy took her hand. “Lord, miss, you’re the daughter of a prince. You don’t get more highborn than that.”
Lia gave her a rueful smile. “That’s not how people see it.”
“I’ll tell you what I see. I see a bang-up girl who’ll do anything for the people she cares about. That’s why your man loves you, not because you’re some nose-stuck-in-the-air lady of quality. Besides, what truly matters is whether he treats you like a lady, whether you were born one or not.”
Lia’s throat went tight, so she simply gave Amy’s hand a grateful squeeze.
The dancer sighed and shook her head. “You’ll do what you think best, but it would be a shame to let such a handsome bloke slip away. Anyway, what will you do with your ma dead set against you acting?”
“My half brother and his wife have invited me to stay with them in Vienna. Perhaps I’ll do that.”
Lia had toyed with the idea before, although only as a last resort. But now that Mama had promised to look after Granny, it was an option to seriously consider, at least until she had some idea what to do with her life—a life without Jack, which was an idea so dreary it made her chest feel hollow and cold.
“That sounds lovely,” Amy said enviously. “I’ve always wanted to travel.”
“Then I’m sure you will someday,” Lia managed. “Forgive me, Amy, but I must be off. My cousin is coming for tea and I promised to be home by the time she arrived.”
“I’ll walk out with you, miss. I’m finished for the day.”
Lia waited while Amy fetched her cloak and bonnet, and then they took the stairs down to the back door and to the alley behind the building. Sammy, the boy who watched the stage door on the days the theater was dark, scrambled down from his stool to let them out. He was an engaging scamp, not much more than ten, and had a large mop of curly hair and a grimy but friendly face.
Sammy was also a good deal more reliable than the regular doorman because he was apparently immune to taking bribes from overly bold gentlemen wishing to get backstage. He took his duties very seriously and always responded to requests from company members with alacrity.
“Evenin’, Miss Lia, Miss Amy,” he said, holding open the door for them. “It’s lookin’ stormy out there, so you best trot on home as quick as you can.”
Amy gave his cheek an affectionate pat. “Thank you, my lad. We’ll be sure to do that.”
“Your face is ever so much better,” he said in an earnest tone. “I’d like to kill the bastard that done hurt you, I would.”
“I wish you could,” Amy said. “Lord knows he deserves it.”
Lia shot her a quelling glance before addressing the boy. “That’s a noble sentiment, Sammy, but I think we’d best leave that sort of thing up to the authorities.”
Sammy snorted his disdain. “Then we’ll be waitin’ forever. The swells never get their due when it comes to hurtin’ regular folks like us.”
That one so young had such a cynical—and accurate—view of the world made her want to weep. “I’m afraid that’s too often true. But in this case, I’m confident the villain received his just due.”
Jack had been vague on the details of Prudhoe’s punishment after discussing the situation with Dominic and Leverton, but he’d assured Lia that he had everything well in hand and that she was not to worry about it. She’d been annoyed at his well-intentioned but condescending attitude, but she understood that men didn’t like to discuss these matters with ladies, thinking them too tenderhearted or softheaded to deal with such unpleasantness. It was a ridiculous assertion for anyone to make, especially if they knew her cousin Gillian.
“I hope they got him good for hurtin’ you, Miss Amy,” he said. “But you come tell me if he ever bothers you again. I’ll give him a bit of home-brewed.”
“I will be sure to do that.” Amy’s tone was solemn, but her eyes twinkled with laughter. It was wonderful to see her sunny disposition coming back to life.
“Don’t forget to lock the door behind us, Sammy,” Lia said as she followed Amy down the steps to the cobblestones.
“No fear, miss. I’ll keep everything right and tight.”
They set off down the long alley between the theater and the warehouse next door, heading toward the street. Dark clouds roiled overhead, casting a premature dusk. A gust of wind forced their heads down as they clutched their bonnets.
“Goodness, we’ll be lucky to get home before it rains,” Lia said.
Amy glanced up, but then her gaze darted ahead to the end of the alley, some yards ahead. “Why is that coach parked like that in the alleyway? We’ll never get around it.”
A large black carriage blocked their way. Two big men—hulking might be a better description—lounged against the wheels, both smoking pipes. They affected a casual stance, but their caps were pushed low over their faces and they radiated a strange air of menace. One of them looked up to meet Lia’s gaze with a hard stare before knocking his pipe against the wheel of the carriage and shoving it in his pocket. The other man straightened as well, his attention focused on them.
Lia pulled Amy to a halt. “We’d best go back to the theater.”
The dancer gave a tense nod and they reversed their steps, only to immediately hear the pounding of heavy footsteps behind them. Not looking back, they picked up their skirts and ran.
They almost made it. Amy had reached the set of stairs at the back of the theater and Lia was just behind her when she felt the rush of movement and a long, burly arm wrapped around her waist. She let out a shriek and started to kick like mad, flailing her arms in a futile attempt to break free. The man ripped off her bonnet and dug his fingers into her topknot, then yanked her head back so hard it felt as if her neck was going to snap.
Amy launched herself back down the steps. “Leave her alone, you brute!”
She started pummeling Lia’s captor but was snatched up by the second thug. He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her right off her feet. Amy clawed at his hands, her eyes wide with panic. He plowed a fist into her chin and her eyes rolled back as she collapsed onto the stairs.
“No,” Lia gasped out. Fear and rage lent her strength and she slammed her bootheel into her captor’s shin. He let out a vile curse and she felt his grasp start to slip. But when she tried to wriggle free, he tightened his grip and pulled her around to face him.
She stared into his flat, pockmarked features. His breath, hot and smelling of sour beer, made her gorge rise in her throat.
“Help,” she cried out. She thrashed and managed another strangled shriek, trying to make as much noise as she could.
“Shut up, you silly bitch,” the man said in a cold, calm voice. He gave her a vicious slap, so hard that stars burst across her vision. A rank-smelling hood came down over her head, enveloping her in blackness. Lia was barely able to suck in a breath before he lifted her and threw her over his shoulder, knocking the wind from her lungs.
Struggling to breathe, her hold on consciousness slid away.