Love Plays a Part (16 page)

“Playgoing certainly agrees with you,” he observed dryly. “One would think from your appearance that you were awaiting your beloved.”

Samantha ignored this. “Such a performance,” she breathed in a voice of awe.

The earl smiled laconically. “In which role do you most like the great tragedian?”

Samantha frowned. “I cannot exactly say. Surely Othello is a noble man, but the role of Iago gives the actor so much more scope to display his talents. And how well Kean does that.”

“I see that you still have stars in your eyes.” The earl allowed himself a slight smile. “But I assume that you have considered my warning about gods with feet of clay.”

Samantha nodded. “I promise you, milord, I shall remember that Kean is a man - like other men.”

The earl eyed her shrewdly. “See that you do.”

There seemed more to this statement than the mere words, but Samantha chose not to pursue them. To do so might lead her into another entrapment; his lordship seemed very good at such things.

Then the curtain rose again, and she was once more enthralled by Kean’s genius. Some moments later she was about to turn and make a comment to his lordship when a shadow fell across her lap and a strange voice said, “So this is where you have vanished to.”

Samantha looked up to see two gentlemen. Both wore the traditional breeches and stockings and carried
chapeaux bras.
Samantha recognized the haunted-looking Lord Byron, but the other, a smaller rather neat-looking man, she did not know.

His lordship rose gracefully. “Hello, Brummell, Byron. Why have you deserted your places in the pit?”

So this was the celebrated Beau Brummell, the man who told all male London what it could wear. Samantha was a trifle surprised to see that Mr. Brummell appeared to look like any other gentleman. His face was on the long side, his complexion fair, his hair a light, rather nondescript brown. His features did not seem particularly plain or particularly handsome. Certainly both Byron and the earl surpassed him in good looks. His linen was exceedingly white and his cravat beautifully tied, but Samantha could find nothing else outstanding about the man, nothing that seemed to mark him as the arbiter of fashion that she had heard so much of.

“We came to see what it is that has caused you to desert your box,” said Brummell. He glanced down at Samantha, and she felt embarrassed.

“I have watched Kean from the wings before,” said his lordship, and Samantha wondered if the earl meant to ignore her presence completely.

“I had heard that you were hot on the heels of a certain Lily Porter,” continued the Beau. “But if I am not mistaken, Miss Porter sports tresses of a golden hue. This charmer is more in the chestnut line.” His gray eyes regarded Samantha curiously, and one of his eyebrows rose expressively.

The earl frowned. “As you are quite aware, Beau, this is not Lily Porter.”

Byron smiled. “Indeed not. This is the little seamstress I encountered outside Kean’s door the other day.”

Samantha found herself clenching her fists angrily. Lord Byron had no right to make her being outside Kean’s door sound so - so degrading. She shifted her eyes back to the theatre. She would just disregard these ‘gentlemen’ who spoke so patronizingly of a poor seamstress. How embarrassed they would be to know that they were discussing a lady of quality, and as though she had no ears with which to hear them!

The earl put an arm across the shoulders of each of the men. “Come, let us adjourn to my box. We shall be less likely to disrupt the performance there.”

Byron chuckled, and Brummell disengaged himself from the earl’s friendly arm. “You have never before been concerned about disrupting the performance,” said he. “We have seen Kean’s Hamlet too, my friend. But we are not Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and I for one do not intend to move from this spot until I have learned the name of your newest - friend.”

By now Samantha was smoldering. So this was how poor, innocent young women were treated by the high and mighty lords - cozened by fair words and false promises into giving up their virtue and then spoken of loosely by the very men who had contributed most to their downfall! It was only with the utmost effort that Samantha kept her tongue between her teeth. If she said anything now, even so much as a word, she might let her secret out.

“Her name is Miss Everett,” said his lordship, with something very like anger in his voice. Samantha stole a quick look at his face and found that he was frowning rather fiercely. She wondered if his pride was hurt at being found with a mere seamstress. She began to wish she had risen to her feet with the earl, but to rise now would only incur more looks from the men and, anyway, she could not leave this place until the afterpiece was over. No, the best thing to do was to remain seated and ignore them, these bad-mannered lords.

Then the Beau looked down at her and said, “Good evening. Miss Everett. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

For a moment Samantha hesitated, but finally she forced herself to reply. Even if they were bad-mannered, she need not appear churlish. “Good evening, Mr. Brummell,” she replied coolly, raising her eyes to his.

“Now,” said the earl quickly, “come along. I have several matters of moment to discuss with you.” Without so much as a glance of farewell to her he led the others away. She turned her face back to the stage, but though she could avoid looking at them, she could not avoid hearing Byron say, “A trifle plain for me, but then, each to his own taste.”

His lordship’s reply, if he made any, was lost to Samantha’s ears as the trio moved on. Her nails bit into her palms as she fought to control the anger that was racing through her. How very insulting these high and mighty lords could be.

A brittle little laugh from the shadows behind her caused Samantha to stiffen, but she did not turn. She knew that laugh. Lily Porter was standing there, and more likely than not she had heard every word of the degrading exchange. Samantha kept her head proudly erect and continued to watch the performance. She would never let that little snip see that she was embarrassed and, anyway, thought Samantha grimly, Lily Porter would fare no better with these lords. Except that she undoubtedly knew how to exchange banter with them in a way that was entirely foreign to Samantha. Samantha frowned. Probably Lily Porter would have jumped to her feet and gaily traded
bon mots
. She would not have been at all dismayed by Mr. Brummell’s familiarity. For the first time Samantha began to wonder if she had made a mistake in taking this place. If she were to be daily subject to such indignities -

And then she put a rein on her emotions. She must not let herself be so carried away by indignation. Young women were undoubtedly treated like this all the time. No wonder so many of them ultimately fell victim to their pursuers. There seemed to be more dignity accorded an incognita than an honest woman!

The afterpiece continued, but much of the humor was lost on Samantha, who was still fighting a battle with her rage. Just wait until his lordship showed up again. She would certainly give him a piece of her mind!

The afterpiece was soon over, and its frivolity had not served to lessen her anger at all. She was put out with Brummell and Byron, but she was incensed at his lordship. She pulled her cloak tighter around her as she and Jake hurried through the dark streets. They had left somewhat later than usual because Samantha had had trouble finding her cloak. It was not where she left it, and she had had to search the whole of the work room before finding it, stuffed behind a trunk. This sort of thing could only be laid at the doorstep of Lily Porter. Samantha was quite sure the young actress had done it, but of course she had no way to prove that. And so, as she trudged along beside Jake through the dark - and by now almost deserted - streets, she was in a vile temper.

“Lord Byron sits by you in the pit, doesn’t he?” she asked Jake.

“Yes, miss.” Jake didn’t shorten his stride. “I saves him a seat.”

“I see.” Samantha said the words crisply. It was becoming increasingly clear to her that no one would condemn those men for their rude behavior. No one at all. “What sort of person is Lord Byron?” she asked.

“He’s a good sort. Once a while we talk about the plays.” Jake looked around him nervously. “If you please, Miss Samantha, we’d do better to walk and not talk. There’s a carriage back there that’s sort of suspicious. Been keeping pace with us for a while. It’s too far back for me to see if it’s got a crest. Since there’s not many folks about -”

“Of course, Jake. Let’s hurry.” Samantha shivered inside her cloak, but she did not turn to look at the ominous carriage. That would only slow them down. The flat was only a short distance from the theatre, and she had never been frightened before. But the business with her cloak combined with the carriage did look rather suspicious, and Lily Porter was not above any kind of skulduggery. Samantha was sure of that.

They arrived at the flat out of breath but safe. “I’m sorry if I scared you, Miss Samantha. But that carriage did seem kinder queer.” Jake closed the door behind them.

“It’s all right.” Samantha took a deep breath. “It’s better to be suspicious when you needn’t be than not to be suspicious when you should.”

As he turned to go off to his room, Jake paused. “Oh, yes. Miss Samantha, I almost forgot. Mr. Pomroy sent a footman today. He says he’s engaged a box for Covent Garden for Thursday next. Mr. Kemble’s a-going to do Hamlet. And Mr. Pomroy thought as you might enjoy to see it.”

Samantha smiled. “I should very much like that. Please go in the morning and tell Mr. Pomroy so.”

Jake nodded and looked at her with a little smile. “Mr. Pomroy says as how you should get a new gown, ‘cause this is a
good
box. To tell you the truth, miss, Mr. Pomroy sets up to be rather fashionable.” His eyes twinkled. “Allowing for his belly and all. And he were more than a little uncomfortable in the two-shilling gallery. Not that I was supposed to tell you that, you know.”

Samantha suppressed a smile. “I see, Jake. Well, don’t worry. I shall order a new gown tomorrow - so you may set Mr. Pomroy’s fears at rest.”

Jake smiled. “That I will, miss. Though I’d best be sort of delicate about it. His missus - she got so high in the instep she can’t remember when she used to be just an ordinary young woman.”

Samantha nodded. “Very well, Jake.” As he went off toward his room, Samantha turned and made her way up the stairs.

Chapter 9

The ensuing week seemed a long one for Samantha. Finally Thursday arrived and she was being dressed for her visit to Covent Garden. As Hester helped her into her new gown of coral silk, Samantha thought back over the events of the last week. She had not seen Roxbury since the previous Thursday when he had gone off with Brummell and Byron, leaving her so abruptly. She had thought he might come to see Bannister play Sir David Dunder in
Ways and Means
the previous night, and she had been rather on edge, wondering how she should behave with him when he arrived. But the play had progressed without his lordship’s presence. Samantha had been forced to admit to herself that she missed his keen comments and his theatrical knowledge. The play seemed flat and dull without him. Still she was spared his rakish remarks and so should have been grateful. Why she was left then with a vague feeling of discontent she could not exactly say.

She stood before the cheval glass regarding herself in the new gown. She had been right about the color; it suited her well. Of course, her own color was high because of her excitement over the coming evening.

Hester brushed vigorously at her mistress’s chestnut hair. Then she began to twist it around her fingers and pile it high on Samantha’s head. “What are you doing?” Samantha cried, almost frightened by the woman who looked back at her from the glass. If his lordship saw her in this gown, he would never cease his pursuit, she thought, then banished the idea. She was not interested in his lordship this evening. Not the least little bit. She was going to the theatre to enjoy herself. Of course, she was bound to make comparisons between Kemble’s Hamlet and Kean’s. But that was as it should be. What a shame Roxbury would not be there to give her his critical insights. But she was thinking of the earl far too often. She must not let the man of taste and distinction blind her to the rake that inhabited the same body. As he himself had said, a rake could only be expected to behave like one.

Hester finished the curls, and Samantha stared at them critically. “Are you sure this style is not too young for me?”

Hester snorted. “You’re only five and twenty, you know. Ain’t as though you was carrying fifty years around.”

Samantha frowned. “Yes, but I don’t want to look ridiculous.”

Hester grinned, her prim mouth bowing slightly at the corners. “That you ain’t. While you been at that awful theatre, I been keeping my eyes open. And believe me, tonight you look every inch the woman of quality. What jewels you going to wear?”

Samantha shrugged. “Perhaps Mama’s pearls. I do not like to go about glittering.”

“It don’t hurt none when you’re trying to attract a man.” Hester stopped, aware of Samantha’s rising anger.

“I’ll just wear the pearls,” repeated Samantha. “There are matching eardrops too. I need my long kid gloves, the ones that were Mama’s. I remember Papa telling me how they used to dress for the theatre and how lovely she was.”

Hester nodded. “That she were. A most lovely creature. And you got her good looks - her hair too.”

Samantha was embarrassed by this praise. She did not feel she truly deserved it. Oh, she was passable enough, she supposed. Her features were regular and her skin was clear. She was not given to overeating either and so had maintained a neat figure. But she would never, by any stretch of the imagination, be a beauty. She could not even understand why the earl should seek her company as he did, especially as he had once made that comment about her plainness.

Samantha clasped the pearls around her throat and put the loops in her ears. These would have to serve. That was all.

“I shall take my mama’s good shawl,” said Samantha. “The theatre may be chilly.” She looked at her bare arms and shivered. “I am not used to such gowns.”