Chapter Eleven

 

In the breakfast room of his London town house, Blair tucked into his plate of kippers as the butler brought in a copy of The Illustrated London News. He sipped his tea and ran his eye idly over the first few pages. On the third page, a small article caught his eye. The Folly Theater in William IV Street had burned down. He knew the owner, so he read on. A Mr. David Waterman, the theater manager, died in the fire. A photograph accompanied the article, and Blair almost turned the page before he studied the bedraggled, assembled cast standing forlornly on the pavement outside the smoking black hulk of fallen timber. He would swear one of the girls was Gina.

Blair moved the paper into the light from the window and studied it carefully. Gina was so unusual; it was her standing there in the street, her lovely legs bare as a babe’s for all to see. His lips thinned, and he read the article through again. It happened after the matinee the day before yesterday. The fire started at the rear of the theater, just as the curtain closed after the final act. It was fortunate that most of the patrons had left the building. The fire had not been an accident. Foul play, the police said. Someone saw a man running away just after the fire started.

He threw the paper down. What was Gina doing on that stage? Angry and disappointed he stalked the room. Gina was a music hall girl–a Cyprian. Her outraged innocence was a lie. He wasn’t sure what made him angrier that she’d rejected him or deliberately misled him.

***

Blair had just finished dressing for the trip back to Ireland when his butler entered his bedchamber. “Someone wishes a word with you, sir.”

Blair tucked his hairbrushes into their case. “Who is it, Jarvis?”

Javis’ face grew even longer with disapproval. “A young woman, sir, said her name was Miss Russo. Said you knew her, sir.”

Blair quickly covered his shock with a wave of his hand. “Very well. Ask her to wait, please, Jarvis.”

He didn’t immediately leave his room. He walked over to the window and stared at the clouds, gray and wooly, threatening rain. Gina would be here for only one thing. Circumstances having forced her to ask his help. He couldn’t blame her for that. What he wanted to do about it was the question. If he took her on, could he handle such a woman? Would she be loyal? Would she steal from him and leave first chance she got for a better offer? He should send her away, but as he descended the stairs, he knew that he wouldn’t. He would take what she offered and keep his heart intact.

The discreet butler left Gina in Blair’s study. As if, somehow, the masculine room filled with deep oak furniture, wine colored draperies, and tea colored walls would not keep their meeting on a business footing.

The woebegone figure, perched on the edge of the chocolate leather sofa, dressed in a ghastly, black gown, almost made him forget his purpose. For a moment, he wanted to run to her and take her in his arms. He gathered his wits together as he walked into the room. She quickly stood and pulled the shawl around her shoulders and lifted her chin. She wasn’t entirely cowed. Blair was glad. He couldn’t bear that.

“Good day to you, Mr. Dunleavy,” Gina said. Her beautiful face still caused his breath to catch in his throat, even though her eyes looked red and the gown no match for her superb, statuesque figure. Her hat looked to be a hurried, handmade concoction of black net. He was no authority on women’s attire, but it seemed a disaster.

“You are too young to wear black,” he said, not wanting to risk his heart.

How cast down she looked. He instantly wished to retract it. “Although you’d look beautiful in a potato sack, Gina,” he added with perfect honestly.

“These are my mourning clothes,” she said simply. “Milo died.”

“Milo, dead?” he led her to a chair and sat down beside her. “I wasn’t aware of it. I’m sorry, Gina. What happened?”

“He was stabbed outside the Red Lion. A robbery,” she said a deep throb in her voice. “We were about to move to Holland Park. We’d be there now. He was doing well with his paintings.”

“Are there any other relatives?”

She shook her head.

“So that’s why you took the job at the theater?”

She looked up at him, surprised that he knew. “Yes.”

“Why are you here, Gina? You shouldn’t be.”

She looked down at her gloved hands. When she looked up again a rosy flush spread across her cheeks. “I wondered if… if you might still want me,” she said a flicker of apprehension in her large topaz eyes.

Good lord. She was magnificent. Blair suspected that as his mistress, his life would never be orderly or peaceful. But he realized in that moment that he’d never wanted life to be too predictable, that he’d fought against the very notion. “Yes. Of course, I do.”

She placed her hands in her lap. “Then you shall have me.”

Blair glanced toward the closed paneled door, wondering if the servants were listening. This would spread to below stairs in no time. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said. “There’s a park around the corner.”

Blair opened the door and caught sight of a black sleeve disappearing around the corner of the hall. “Jarvis?”

After a moment, the somber man came to his call. “My hat, coat, and cane, please. I’m going out.”

“Will you be here for luncheon, sir?”

Blair suffered a prickle of annoyance at the man’s inquisitiveness, although it was entirely unfair. “I’ve no idea. I’ll have something cold if I do.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t have come here,” Gina said as they walked down the steps. “The servants will be talking.”

“That doesn’t bother me. I regret it for your sake, however.”

“There’s not much left of my reputation to destroy,” Gina said pragmatically. She looked over the road. “Oh, how nice.”

In Green Park, women in pretty dresses held frilly parasols and strolled about on their gentlemen’s arms.

He found a vacant bench, and they sat down.

Blair turned to face her. “I have heard of a suitable apartment. I can procure it by the end of the week. Does that give you enough time?”

She nodded. “I have little to pack. I don’t have any presentable clothes, though, Mr. Dunleavy.”

“Call me Blair, please Gina.”

“Blair,” she repeated.

He liked the sound of his name on her lips, and wished she would smile, that a light of promise would come into her eyes. Didn’t she know how to play the game? “Then you shall have a whole new wardrobe. I’ll take you shopping on Monday.”

A sudden flash of delight, quickly repressed crossed her lovely face. He was sure it wasn’t for him.

“I don’t need much, Mr.… Blair. A nice hat, blue I think.”

He wanted to give her the world. “You shall have much more than that. You can shop at the stores where I carry credit. Evening gowns and day dresses, coats, cloaks, nightgowns, whatever you need. And hats,” he added. “Blue if you wish.”

“Thank you,” she said with a small smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, Gina.” Blair wanted to hear her laugh; sure the sound of her laughter would light up the world.

She turned away from him and looked across the park to where a small boy leaned over the water, attempting to feed bread to the swans.

Suddenly, the boy fell into the water with a splash. Gina jumped up. She raced across the grass holding her skirts high, showing red flannel petticoats and striped stockings beneath the black dress. Surprised, Blair ran after her. He reached the water as Gina waded in and pulled the little boy out before his nanny noticed he was in trouble. Gina swung him up on her hip and strode over to place him in his nanny’s care.

He waited, smiling as she gave the nanny a talking to.

As the nanny walked off, scolding her charge, he strolled over to where Gina sat on a bench emptying water out of her boots. “That was a fine thing you did.”

“It was nothing.”

“But you’re wet.”

She finished lacing up her boot and stood. “It doesn’t matter; I’ll go straight home.”

He took her arm. “We’ve hardly talked about our arrangement.”

“There’s nothing more to be said. I have agreed to it.” She looked away. “I’ll catch an omnibus on the corner.”

“Allow me to take you home.”

“No, no. The bus will be here in a minute. I’ll meet you on Friday.”

“At two o’clock,” he called after her, as she ran across the road.

Blair raked his fingers through his hair. Gina was hardly the passionate paramour. There were plenty of women eager to climb into his bed, plenty who hung on his every word. Why choose Gina? He had no answer for his behavior, and indeed, shied away from examining himself too closely.