Two Sinful Secrets (34 page)

So she brought Dominic his lunch and then sat quietly in the stalls to watch the rehearsals.
It was enthralling, and for a few hours she was carried out of herself and her worries.
She even forgot that Dominic was Dominic, her husband, he disappeared so thoroughly
into his role. Sophia had come to find the theater a magical place where everything
was transformed.

But not today. Today, when she stepped through the doors from the lobby, the enchanted
haven was chaos.

One of the stagehands ran past her, and beyond him she could see the other actors
pacing the aisles or slumped in the seats. Onstage, the scenery that was almost finished
for Act One was pushed askew. In the half-light, Sophia could see Isabel sitting on
a prop throne with her father and Dominic huddled around her. Even from that distance,
Sophia could see that her sister-in-law’s pretty face was wet with tears.

Sophia saw one of the actors she knew striding out of the nearest rows of seats. She
put down her lunch basket and took his arm as he rushed past her.

“Patrick, what is going on?” she demanded.

For a second, he looked at her as if he didn’t know her, but then he gave her a quick
smile. “Ah, Mrs. St. Claire. I’m afraid the Majestic has had a bit of bad luck this
morning.”

“What sort of bad luck?” Sophia cried. Her gaze flew to the stage, but she couldn’t
see much.

“Miss Isabel fell off the stage steps and twisted her ankle,” Patrick said with a
sad shake of his head. “She can’t even take a step now, and the play opens tomorrow.”

“Is it broken?” Sophia asked. Even as she spoke, the lobby doors opened again and
a man with a bushy white beard hurried in. He carried a black leather case and rushed
up the aisle.

“Ah, Dr. Martin! You’re here at last,” William St. Claire called as he rushed to the
edge of the stage. “My daughter is quite crippled, such a tragic accident.”

“Papa, that you are an actor doesn’t mean you must be so dramatic. I am sure it is
just a twist and I will be up in a moment,” Isabel protested. But Sophia could hear
the taut pain in Isabel’s voice, and her concern grew.

“I will be the judge of that,” the doctor said as he climbed the stage steps.

Sophia hurried after him. Dominic gave her a distracted smile, and she went to him
to whisper in his ear. “Is Isabel very hurt?”

He shrugged, his attention still on his sister as the doctor knelt in front of her.
“It all happened so fast. She tripped and went down the steps before anyone could
see what was happening. When Papa picked her up, she was crying and her ankle was
already swollen. Poor Issy. She’s sure she has ruined the play’s opening.”

“Oh, stop fussing!” Isabel cried. “You all act as if I am on my deathbed. It was merely
a tumble down the stairs. I am perfectly fine.”

Before anyone could stop her, she pushed away the doctor and surged to her feet, only
to crumple to the stage
with a cry of pain. William scooped her up in his arms and carefully set her on the
throne again.

“You have wrenched the muscle very badly, Miss St. Claire,” the doctor said sternly.
“You must stay off the ankle for at least a week if you don’t want to cause further
damage.”

“A week!” Isabel sobbed. “How can I? The show opens tomorrow. I have no understudy
since that wretched Elise ran off in Paris. I must walk right now!”

“No, Issy,” William said firmly, but Sophia could see how worried he was. He ran his
hands through his dark hair, leaving it standing on end. “I won’t allow you to hurt
yourself any more. We can put on a revival of last year’s
Twelfth Night
. You had no role in that one.”

“But everyone is expecting a new play,” Isabel said. “We have never done
Two Gentlemen
before.”

Sophia watched the scene helplessly. This was meant to be her family now, and yet
she felt so distant from the scene, so powerless. Then she felt a gentle touch on
her hand. She looked up to find Dominic watching her with a small smile on his lips.
His eyes narrowed as if he examined her for the first time.

“Father,” Dominic said. “I think I may have the solution.” He drew Sophia closer to
his side. “Sophia can take the part until Issy is better. She has been running the
lines with both me and Issy, and she knows it perfectly.”

Sophia gasped at his words. It was as if the whole scene on the stage froze. Everyone
swung around to stare at her.

“It’s an excellent solution,” Dominic said. “We won’t have to comb London for an actress
who knows the part, and she would fit into the costume.”

Sophia wasn’t sure how she felt at his words. Scared,
certainly. Unsure. Excited? Her father-in-law was gaping at her as if she was some
alien creature who had just wandered into his theater and he had no idea what to do
with her.

“A Huntington? At the Majestic?” he muttered. “Perhaps she knows the lines. But knowing
the words doesn’t mean she can act. You know that, Dominic.”

“She can act,” Dominic insisted. “And besides, she is so beautiful that, even if she
forgets a line or two, no one will care. It would be a sensation.”

William’s startled stare became speculative. “That is certainly true. But remember
what happened when your sister Lily tried to act…”

“That won’t happen now.” Dominic gently tugged on Sophia’s hand and gave her an encouraging
smile. “Show him, Sophia. I know you have learned the part.”

For a moment, she felt just as frozen as anyone else. The whole situation did not
seem real. All she could sense was everyone staring at her, waiting, judging. She
was a Huntington among St. Claires, and surely they expected her to fail.

But Isabel was clapping her hands happily, her tears drying, and Dominic gave Sophia
a smile that made her want to try her very hardest. Made her want so much to finally
do well at something and please him. Please herself.

That old feeling of rebellion and yearning for freedom, the feeling that had been
inside her for as long as she could remember, soared through her again. Being an actress,
publicly treading the boards, would mean the disapproval of her own family forever,
but she had never been able to gain their approval anyway. She saw now
that, for all her longing, she never could have. She had to make her own life now.

She held her head high and said, with far more confidence than she felt, “Very well.
I will do it.”

The confidence was still not fully there the next night, when Sophia stood in the
wings waiting for her cue. She was running on sheer nerves, having had very little
rest since she agreed to go on for Isabel. Dominic and his father had gone over and
over her part with her, dragging her around the stage until she was dizzy with it.
Then she had gone back to the St. Claire house and listened to Isabel’s lessons on
the role as she sat with her injured foot propped on pillows.

William had still looked despairing despite all Sophia’s efforts, but luckily tonight
he had vanished somewhere while she was in her dressing room, and she didn’t have
to watch him pace and tear at his hair.

“You will be fine,” Isabel insisted as she pushed Sophia out of the dressing room
with the tip of her new walking stick. “Better than fine. Stupendous! They will love
you.”

Right now, Sophia would happily settle for much less than “love.” She would settle
for not having rotten vegetables thrown at her.

As the seamstress fluttered around her making last-minute adjustments to her costume,
Sophia stared out onto the stage. It was a whole new world, seeing it from back there
instead of up in a box. Less mysterious but more intriguing. Her husband hardly looked
like himself at all as he moved around the stage, amid the scenery that
looked like an exotic city in the lights. And she was supposed to be a part of it.

Don’t let me ruin it
, she silently pleaded.

She glanced up and caught a glimpse of James on the walkway above. He nodded and gave
her an encouraging smile, and she smiled back.

“That is your cue, Mrs. Dominic,” the seamstress whispered.

Sophia thought she might faint she suddenly felt so dizzy. But her new family was
depending on her. She took a deep breath and pretended this was just another Society
ball. She had playacted her way through plenty of those. She stepped out onto the
stage.

At first, she was blinded by the bright gaslights and by the knowledge that dozens
of eyes were out there and watching her. Dominic moved toward her, his velvet and
cloth of gold costume dazzling, and held out his hand to her.

“Have patience, gentle Julia,” he said, in a voice that was her husband’s and yet
not. Deeper, richer.

And something truly magical happened. It was as if the theater vanished, and she was
truly in another world, with the sun beating down on her. She was not herself. She
felt such different emotions. She
was
Julia.

She took Dominic’s hand and said, “I must, where is no remedy…”

Dominic had never felt more proud of anyone in his life. And it was for a Huntington.
Surely at any moment pigs would go flying over London Bridge.

He watched his wife as she stood at the center of a bright, chattering group. After
the opening night of a
play, his father always hosted a small party for important patrons and friends in
the Majestic’s sumptuous lobby. It was always a popular soiree, where champagne flowed
and everyone tried to hear news about the rest of the Season. And tonight Sophia was
the star of it all.

She took a glass of wine that James offered her and smiled up at his brother in thanks
as she listened to something Lord Maltravers was saying to her. She had changed from
her costume to a new gown of green satin, and emerald combs sparkled in her black
hair. She seemed to sparkle, too, as well she should after what she had achieved tonight.

His wife was a natural actress. She had claimed the stage as if she had always owned
it, and she had shown a perfect intuition when it came to working with the other actors,
listening to them and drawing out the emotions of a scene. She had blossomed there,
and the quiet, worried-looking Sophia he had seen since that encounter with her cold
mother was mercifully gone.

“She did well enough, I suppose,” he heard his father say in a comically grudging
tone.

Dominic turned to see his parents standing behind him. His mother had her usual serene
smile on her face, and she held tight to his father’s arm. Dominic had to grin when
he saw the disgruntled look on William’s face. His father would never have wanted
a Majestic production to fail, but neither did he yet want to admit that a Huntington
had saved it tonight.

Even if the Huntington in question was now a St. Claire.

“Now, William dear, you know you are being unfair,” Katherine admonished gently. “Sophia
was wonderful.
I haven’t seen an actress take so naturally to the stage since our Isabel had her
first role. And with only a day’s training.”

“Hmph,” William said. “If you say so, Katherine.”

“I do say so, and you know I am right.” Katherine reached for Dominic’s arm with her
free hand and drew him to her side as they watched Sophia charm the patrons. “You
must be very proud, Dominic.”

“I am,” he admitted. The evening, which could have gone so wrong, had been a triumph.
He never would have imagined it of Sophia Huntington when he first met her in Paris.
He had sorely underestimated his wife.

Sophia glanced across the lobby and caught him watching her. He feared he must have
looked rather fierce, because a flicker of doubt dimmed her radiant expression. He
quickly smiled at her, and she smiled in return. She raised her hand as if to wave
him toward her.

Then she suddenly froze. Her stare was aimed beyond him and his parents, and her hand
fell to her side. James took her arm, his brother’s face suddenly dark as a thundercloud.

Dominic turned and saw that the lobby doors had opened. A couple stood there, the
petite blonde he had seen with Sophia’s mother in the park and a tall, black-haired
man who was the mirror image of Sophia herself. And just behind them was Lord Huntington,
watching the party with his usual cold, superior sneer on his face.

“Dominic, what is it?” his mother said. She looked toward the doors, too. “Who are
those people?”

“Surely that is Lord Edward Huntington,” William said. His father was not easily surprised,
yet he sounded astounded that yet another Huntington was at his party.
“Mrs. Dominic’s brother. And I do think the other man is the Duke of Carston’s cousin.
I have never met him, but he has quite the reputation around London. He did not attend
the play. What is he doing here now?”

Dominic was already turning toward his wife. He was afraid he knew all too well what
Hammond was doing there.

We are ruined. I can hardly believe it even as I write these words. John rode in today,
looking gray and haggard, and I have never seen anyone so angry. He has locked me
in my room, raving about my family and how they led him into the loss of so much money.
But how can that be? Nick and my father were as deceived as anyone! I cannot cease
crying, but he will not come to me. He will not listen.

What will become of me now?

W
hat is that bastard doing here?” James said tightly. His hands curled into fists.

“I’m not sure,” Sophia answered, staring at Lord Hammond in cold shock. The glow from
her moments on the stage was fading fast. She looped her hand around her brother-in-law’s
arm to keep him at her side, in hopes he wouldn’t dash off and do something rash and
hotheaded. Not here, in the St. Claires’ own theater, with everyone watching. She
wanted to try to do right by her new family, not cause them even more trouble.

But what
was
Hammond doing here again? And with her brother Edward and his new wife, too. What
game did he play? She had hoped her marriage would send him off after other prey,
but now she feared that had been a mistake. Maybe it had only strengthened his resolve.