What a Gentleman Desires Page 6

  “I didn’t like Mr. Fenton’s behavior.”

  “Sometimes ladies of the theater marry well,” Mabel said, a hopeful expression in her eyes. “Even marry society gentlemen, some of them.”

  “Really?” Gina couldn’t see that happening to anyone from here.

  “May Gates wed some foreign baron. She was a chorus girl in The Beauty of Bath.”

  “But she was a member of the Gaiety girls.”

  “So what’s different?”

  Gina shook her head; the Gaiety girls were well brought up young ladies. Either Mabel didn’t understand or refused to acknowledge the truth of things.

  In the afternoon, the manager, Dave singled her out. “I’ve had a complaint from Mr. Fenton,” he said. “He accuses you of skipping out on him leaving him to pay for a very expensive meal.”

  “I’m happy to pay him back.” Gina wondered how she would manage it.

  “Not in the way he wants.” Dave shook his head. “You’re a fish out of water, here Gina. I should get rid of you.”

  “Oh, no, Dave, please don’t. I’ve nowhere else to go.”

  He eyed her. “If you weren’t so damned pretty you’d be gone, girl.”

  Gina returned to the dressing room where Mabel held a cloth to her head. When she related what Dave had said, Mabel’s mouth turned down, and she shook her head. She brightened. “I know! I’ll put it about that you have a Royal patron,” she said. “That’ll stop them.”

  The rumor that Gina had a royal patron worked a treat and spread like fire. Although no one was sure it was true, no man would risk upsetting royalty.

  No man except another highborn member of society.

  Chapter Ten

  After the final show of the evening, Gina went in search of the hansom cab she’d hired.

  The carriage usually waited right outside the theater, but tonight, there was no sign of it. She walked up and down in the cold air, clutching her coat tightly around her. Most of the girls had gone off for the evening with their husbands or the stage door Johnny they chose.

  A man stepped out of the shadows. The glow from a gas lamp fell on his face, highlighting his bony forehead and cheeks, his eyes sunken, dark hollows.

  “Miss Russo, I believe.”

  Gina searched the street for anyone from the theatre, but the area had quickly emptied, and she found herself alone.

  “Where is your Royal lover now when you need him, I wonder?” Lord Ogilvie, asked, his smile more of a sneer. “Or is he a fabrication?”

  “He isn’t here this evening. But if he gets to hear about it, you’ll be in trouble. Please leave me alone.”

  “And who is he? I’m familiar with them all.”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Gina’s heart started to thump, and her breath quickened. She walked to the edge of the road peering into the darkness. Where was that cabbie?

  Ogilvie followed and grabbed her arm, his fingers bruising her flesh. “I have come often to watch you on that stage. Artemis remained a virgin all her life. Surely you don’t want that for yourself. Or am I too late?”

  She pulled her arm from his grasp. “Go away.”

  “Everyone has a price, Miss Russo. What is yours?”

  Hands on hips, she turned to face him. “Are you simple-minded? I’ve said I don’t want anything to do with you. If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll call the Watch.”

  “I don’t see any bobbies about, do you? Nor your cabbie. He was happy to receive double fare and go home for his tea. Let me escort you, we’ll discuss your future.”

  “How dare you! We have nothing to discuss.”

  “If my proposition sounded a little heavy-handed, I’m willing to change it. Since your father died, you are rather short of options, are you not?”

  Gina rounded on him, “Who told you my father died?”

  He shrugged. “Word gets around.”

  “As you can clearly see, I’m neither destitute nor in need of your services.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “You may well be in the future.”

  “Then I’d rather die.”

  He nodded. “That’s an option certainly.”

  Why did she attempt to reason with a mad man? Her pulse pounded in her ears as she fought to remain calm. She backed away toward the side door of the theater, hoping it hadn’t been locked. But the Earl anticipated her intention and grabbed her, pulling her into the shadows.

  He shoved her up against a brick wall. The cold bricks dug into her back. She tried to scream, but his mouth came down hard on hers as he wrenched at her skirt, his hands tangled in the cloth in his haste.

  She smelt alcohol and her stomach heaved. She bit his lip, and he shook her until her teeth rattled. “Vixen!”

  “Bill, Bill!” She struggled to free herself from his iron grip.

  “What’s goin’ on out there?” Bill came lumbering out onto the street. He was a big man, but getting on in years.

  Ogilvie turned and ran, yelling an order at his coachman. With the crack of the whip, the black coach took off, tilting over onto two wheels as it turned the corner. Gina sank into a crouch against the wall as Bill hurried up to her.

  “Who was that blighter? Did he hurt you?”

  “Never mind, Bill.” Gina stood and took several deep breaths. “I’m all right now.”

  “What’re yer still doing out here, this time o’night then?

  “I want to get home, but my hackney didn’t wait for me.”

  “Really? First time for that, you can set your grandfathers by one o’ those. Now you come into my room and wait. I’ll go around the corner and hail another for you in a trice.”

  When she finally arrived home, Gina rushed inside and bolted the door, shaking with exhaustion. The rooms were silent, the air frigid. She was too tired to get a fire going now. Every dark corner seemed menacing. Teeth chattering, she threw off her clothes and climbed into bed. The bedclothes were cold and damp. She wrapped herself in her shawl and gradually began to feel warmer. The shaking ceased, but sleep evaded her. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the earl’s sneering face. He wasn’t done with her yet. For some reason, the madman had become obsessed with her. She would not let that man ruin her life. She would show up for work tomorrow. But the grim and frightening life she was now forced to lead made her quake. She had never been so alone.

  ***

  The fire was terrifying. Flames licked the curtain, and climbed the walls as dense, stifling smoke filled the theater. The last of the audience, coughing and screaming, rushed to the side door, followed by actors and stagehands. They turned away when they found the door barred from the outside and ran to join those escaping through the front entrance.

  Gina found herself at the end of a long line of people all attempting to squeeze through the narrow entrance at once. Someone fell over, others tried to climb over the top of them as the panic and screaming reached fever pitch. Gina hauled young Alice, the goddess Persephone, to her feet, and they waited, gasping for air as those ahead of them escaped out into the street.

  The stage manager, Dave was the last to leave, because he’d gone back for the dog. Worried about him, Gina turned. He was behind her. As she and Alice stumbled out into daylight, their eyes burning, they were knocked flat with the whoosh of the roof crashing down in a shower of sparks. Gina picked herself up and turned as Dave disappeared under a tangle of burned beams and roofing. The dog whined and ran in circles until its owner rushed over to claim it and lead it away.

  Gina stood among the shocked crowd as the fireman tried to douse the flames.

  A flash came from a black box on a tripod as the photographer from a newspaper took their picture.

  The Watch questioned them, but she’d noticed nothing untoward before the smoke and flames obscured everything.

  The Salvation Army people moved among the crowd with offers of assistance, and a woman threw a coat over Gina’s shoulders. Despite Gina assuring her, she was fine; the woman insisted on esc
orting her home. Gina was glad of the coat and numbly allowed the woman to lead her away.

  In Gina’s flat, the woman sat her in a chair and made her a cup of tea.

  As Gina sipped it, the woman said, “You must repent from your life of sin, my dear. Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed as your theater was destroyed. This has been God’s warning.”

  Gina put the cup down and it rattled in its saucer. She would never forget poor Dave disappearing under the pile of burning timber. “Are you from the Salvation Army?” She hardly managed to get the words out, her throat felt so raw.

  The woman’s eyes seemed to burn as brightly as the fire. “No. I am a messenger from God.”

  Gina stood with her head swimming. Her legs threatened to collapse under her. “Thank you for your help. I’m most grateful. I’d like you to leave now.”

  “Don’t forget my message. Save your soul while you can.”

  Relieved, Gina closed the door on the woman. She crawled into her bed and huddled under the covers. Minutes later, there was a loud knock on the door. Worried that the woman had come back, and too exhausted to deal with anyone, she called through it. “Who is it?”

  “What will you do now, Gina?” At the sound of Ogilvie’s voice, her heart began to pound, and a sob escaped from her lips. “Your options have certainly narrowed, is that not so? Remember. You have my card.”

  Gina heard him laugh as she moaned and slid to the floor. Might he have started the fire?

  Could anyone be that evil? Her first instinct was to go to the police. But if she told the police of her suspicions, they would dismiss it. She had no proof and they would not take her word against an earl’s. She sobbed. Why did he hate her so?

  She stayed sitting on the floor until she became stiff with cold, and then wearily rose to peer from behind the curtain. There was no sign of him, but it didn’t make her any more confident. He wasn’t done with her.

  She crumbled as the desire to keep fighting deserted her. The rent was due on Monday. The landlord would no doubt demand she pay the rent by offering him her body.

  Blair. She’d tucked his calling card in her purse. Was he in London? To turn to him went against everything she’d been taught. Her mother and Milo would turn in their graves, but better Blair than any of the others. If he still wanted her, she would go to him.

  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.