needed a bauble that signalled money. That was what she’d be unable to resist, he was certain. After all, he’d seen the strategy work with one particular actress every time like a shiny charm.
Then he spied it, the perfect item. A gold bracelet, chunky with red ruby hearts. He winced as he remembered its history. It wasn’t one of the family jewels. He held it up and dangled it from his fingers. The rubies glowed blood red. He weighed it up and down in his hand. It would be heavy against Calista’s delicate wrist. But it would no doubt appeal to her.
Darius dropped the bracelet into a velvet pouch. It would do the trick.
* * *
‘Please accept this token of my admiration.’ Calista read the note from the Duke of Albury in amazement.
Why was the duke sending her a gift? Had he not understood her refusal?
She shook open the velvet pouch. Glimmering gold and red burst out and snaked on to the dressing table.
‘Did His Grace bring this himself?’ she asked the stagehand coldly, then modulated her voice. It wasn’t this man’s fault. He was only the messenger.
The stagehand shook his head. ‘No, Miss Fairmont. It was a valet and he’s gone. But he said the duke will be in attendance tonight.’
‘I see. Thank you.’
He thought she was playing games with him, Calista realised, feeling sick. He had presumed she’d be unable to resist a glittering bribe.
With distaste she picked up the bracelet. The gold chain was thick and five ruby hearts hung from the clasp. She couldn’t imagine the kind of person who would wear such an ornament.
Calista’s fingers clenched around the metal. A token of his admiration.
She felt a wave of nausea, then anger. For all his dislike of Mabel’s affair with his cousin, it seemed the duke was just like all the other aristocrats who hung around the stage door behaving as if actresses were part of the night’s entertainment, whether on or off stage. It was disappointing. She’d almost begun to think better of him.
Calista fumed. Tonight, after the show, she would make it clear to the Duke of Albury that the last things she wanted were his bracelet, his flowers or his attention.
She pulled the string of the velvet pouch tight.
* * *
Darius took out his watch from his waistcoat pocket and cursed.
He’d missed the performance of As You Like It.
The meeting he’d attended earlier had turned into drinks and then dinner at his club. It was House of Lords’ business, and the governing of the country couldn’t be stopped for a play, but he was stunned to realise how annoyed he was to have missed seeing Calista Fairmont on stage again. He’d seen her perform two times now, but still a part of him had been eager to see her play the lead role again, and not just for a glimpse of those excellent legs.
Hurrying along the London streets, he pocketed the watch. She usually left the theatre later than the other cast members, so he might still be able to catch her.
Who knew? She might even be waiting for him, the ruby bracelet dangling from her wrist and a coy expression on her face.
Surely no actress could resist such a bauble.
He turned into the alleyway. In the dim light he saw two figures in the fog.
He could just make out Miss Fairmont’s slender figure, but it wasn’t as upright as usual. She wasn’t cowering, her spine was too straight for that, but she was certainly backing away from the taller, male, top-hatted figure who had backed her against the alley wall.
Darius shouted, ‘What in hellfire is going on here?’
What business could he have here, and with her?
Nicholas Rowe: The Fair Penitent (1703)
‘What’s going on?’ he shouted again.
The man jerked up his head, sending his top hat spinning to the ground to reveal his too-long, sandy hair. His lips were drawn back, revealing white teeth, and his close-set eyes were narrowed like a weasel.
Lord Merrick. Darius cursed beneath his breath. ‘What are you playing at, Merrick?’
‘Nothing that concerns you, Albury,’ Merrick spat. A drop of spittle clung to the corner of his mouth, he noted with distaste.
‘I’m not sure I agree.’ Darius shifted closer, his hands clenched, and peered through the fog. Miss Fairmont’s face was white and her expression strained. Their eyes met, briefly, before he rounded to face Merrick.
‘I’m just asking this lady,’ Merrick slurred over the last word, ‘to accompany me for a drink.’
‘Do you want to have a drink with Lord Merrick, Miss Fairmont?’ Darius managed to keep his voice civil. There was no point inflaming the situation.
‘Certainly not,’ she replied.
Her voice came out a little more high-pitched than usual, but she retained her composure, he was relieved to note.
Darius picked up the top hat that had rolled to his feet, fighting back the urge to put his boot through it.
He held it out. ‘I don’t think Miss Fairmont appreciates your attentions, Merrick. Your evening at the playhouse is over. I suggest you make your way home.’
Merrick twisted to face Darius. ‘That’s what you suggest, is it?’
Darius moved another step closer.
‘Indeed.’ He made the one word a fist.
As if he’d been winded, Merrick stopped in his tracks. With a sneer he flung himself away from Miss Fairmont. ‘The wares around here are shabby anyway.’
He grabbed his hat and staggered away down the alley.
Darius rushed to Miss Fairmont’s side. ‘Are you all right?’
She nodded as she leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
‘Thank you,’ she said simply. ‘You came just in time.’
‘He didn’t—harm you?’
‘No.’ She shuddered. ‘But he’d been drinking.’
He frowned. The situation could so easily have got out of hand.
She took another judder of a breath. Then another. ‘You know each other.’
‘Merrick and I attended the same school and are now members of the same club. We move in similar circles.’
‘Oh.’
‘He’s no friend of mine, Miss Fairmont,’ he said drily.
He was relieved to see her smile gleam through the fog. ‘I gathered that.’
‘I take it he’s no friend of yours either.’
She inhaled sharply. ‘Certainly not.’
‘Does this kind of thing happen often?’
Miss Fairmont bit her lip. ‘Leaving from the stage door every night can be somewhat akin to running the gauntlet. Unfortunately, some members of the audience consider it part of their entertainment.’
Darius frowned as he checked the empty lane. ‘Where’s the doorman?’
‘Gone home, I expect. Fred’s a good man, but even he can’t resist the kind of money that Lord Merrick throws about.’
‘A bribe?’
She shrugged her shoulders beneath her cloak, but he noted that the movement still contained a shiver. She was frightened,