Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,53
recommendation?’
‘Are you sure this is what you want, gel? The theatre is no easy life. Oh, to be sure you might find a patron, someone to keep you in fine style, but you just don’t strike me as that sort.’
Last night had proved different. Shame washed through her, but she met the old lady’s gaze calmly. ‘I want to sing.’ She wanted to be free of debt. She wanted to support her sisters. Give them the kind of life her father should have provided.
But she wouldn’t do it by tricking a man into a marriage he didn’t want.
Lady Keswick sighed. ‘I can see there is no moving you, gel. Hand me my writing implements and a tablet.’
Trembling with anxiety that she might miss the stagecoach in the village if Lady Keswick didn’t hurry, Rosa fetched what she needed and stood shifting from foot to foot as she watched the minutes on the mantelclock tick by.
Lady Keswick blotted her note and folded it carefully. ‘I am not sure how much good it will do you, my dear. It is a long time since I walked the boards.’
‘Thank you.’ Rosa took the note. In a rush of tenderness she leaned forwards and gave the old woman a hug. ‘Thank you. I will write and let you know how I do.’
‘You do that, my dear. But I am going to give Stanford a piece of my mind.’
Hopefully, not until after eleven when the stage would be well on its way to London. Rosa tucked the note in her reticule and slipped out of the door. Now to start the next stage of her life.
No more silly mistakes. She’d made enough for a lifetime.
She pelted down the servants’ staircase, valise in hand. The rest of her clothes she would send for once she found work. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about what she would do if she couldn’t find a position.
It was unthinkable. She had enough money left from her first month’s employment to hold off Triggs for a week or two, and some left over to pay for lodging, if she was careful.
She tiptoed past the library, its door slightly ajar, though she could not imagine any of the guests being out of the bed so early. The muffled sound of someone crying stopped her steps. It wasn’t her business. She took another stealthy step. Another choked sob, then a paroxysm of crying issued from the room.
Lady Smythe. She just knew it. Perhaps she’d had bad news from her husband. She pushed open the door.
Lady Smythe looked at her, then turned her back, her shoulders hunching as if trying to make herself invisible. Rosa winced and stepped inside, dropping her valise inside the door. ‘May I come in?’
Lady Smythe sniffed. ‘No.’
Thank goodness. Rosa turned to leave.
‘Oh, Mrs Travenor, I’m sorry, but my life is ruined.’
The rise in her voice, a most pathetic wail, brought Rosa up short. She turned back. Even with her nose pink and tears running down her cheeks, Lady Smythe looked adorable.
‘Did you speak to Lady Keswick?’
‘I did. Last night.’ Her shoulders drooped. ‘She said I was a goose. That Mark would come for me the moment he heard I was here. But it has been days and days and still no word.’
‘How would he know where to find you?’
She sniffed. ‘I left a note.’
Startled, Rosa sat down beside her on the sofa. ‘You never mentioned a note.’
The young woman lifted her tear-stained face. ‘That’s not the worst of it. Bannerby came to my door last night. I wouldn’t let him in. He said he knew I had Stanford in with me, and he would let the whole world know I was his paramour.’
‘But Stanford…’ She bit her lip. ‘I mean, he wasn’t with you.’
She shook her head. ‘Bannerby knocked on his door and there was no answer so Bannerby took it as evidence. Oh, if only the storm hadn’t stopped me from leaving last night.’ Her shoulders sagged more. ‘Everything is so awful. I want to go home.’ She gave a little hiccup of a sob.
Rosa put an arm about her shoulder. ‘Then leave today.’
‘I am. The post chaise will be here at any moment.’ She raised her watery gaze, her lower lip trembling. ‘But I fear it is too late. When he finds out what I’ve done, when he hears Bannerby’s lies, he will be so angry.’
‘Are you afraid of your husband?’
‘Oh, no, he is the dearest, kindest man imaginable. But Mama said even the nicest of