Any lasting relationship with Drew was a fantasy, she reminded herself bitterly. No matter, her background or breeding. In the world that he inhabited, an actress was no better than a woman of the streets. He desired her, wanted her only for a brief tumble, and then, when she bored him, he would leave her. How could she even consider spending an evening with such a man?
"It's time," Tate said, her face suddenly appearing in the mirror behind Blaine. "Come along, do. What have you been about, miss, that you're not ready? Have you got your fan? Your reticule?"
She let the nattering words of the dresser wash over her as she made her way to the wings. Her hand gripped the velvet curtain as she listened to the lines of the actors. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then expelled it slowly to relax herself. She closed her eyes and let her mind block out the sounds around her as she concentrated on the role she would be playing. When she opened her eyes, she was calm, moving on stage at the sound of her cue.
For the evening's bill, John Tibbles had chosen a comic opera, blatantly pirated from a commedia dell' arte offering at Drury Lane. Blaine was Columbine and her entrance was met by a tumultuous roar of approval from the pit. Moving forward to the center of the apron, she sang her song, her eyes lifted to the upper gallery. Her movements were graceful and she kept a sweet smile on her face as befitted her part. It took all of her concentration to keep from looking at Drew's private box but she had made up her mind and was determined to ignore the man.
Teddy Mortimer, one of her favorites in the company, was Pantaloon. She smiled as he tugged at the absurdly long points of his short white beard. Teddy had a fine sense of comic timing and his rich deep voice rolled out over the audience as he raised his brown mask with the hooked nose into the air.
She knew Drew's eyes were on her. She could feel them almost as a physical pressure, weighting her down. Lethargy invaded her body and yet her heart felt light as though she were floating. It took all her control not to raise her eyes but she fought the urge, keeping her gaze firmly on the actors on stage.
Harlequin capered across the boards and led her forward. Whitiker Chalmers was new to the company but he had shown well in rehearsal. He had a lean, wiry body which looked well in the costume of red, blue and green diamonds. As he waved his sword-bat, he stroked his moustaches and slyly grinned, displaying a gap-toothed smile that made Blaine giggle. While he sang, she fixed her eyes on his face in wide-eyed admiration, although her mind was far away.
The play moved at a spritely pace and, through it all, Blaine avoided glancing at the private boxes. She was proud of her determination but there was a bleakness to her spirits that she found hard to define. Her final song spoke of a love that could never be and her voice trembled with emotion as she completed the final trilling run. There was absolute silence in the audience when she finished and tears sheened her eyes, giving a rainbow effect in the light from the argand lamps.
Suddenly the roar of the crowd broke over her in a wild cacophony. For a moment she was disoriented. Without thought she looked up at Drew's box and was immediately transfixed by the blaze of emotion she read in his eyes. It was as though they were alone in the theatre; two minds attached over a great distance. Nothing mattered to Blaine except to forever bask in the light of approval she found there. She knew he had been waiting all evening to discover her response to his invitation. For once his austere features were hesitant, almost as if he were afraid of her answer. Holding his glance, she dropped into a graceful curtsy. As she rose, she nodded her head in a simple sign of acceptance.
Chapter Ten
"You have surely lost the wits you were born with," Tate snapped. "What will happen if he recognizes you?"
She stared at the figure on the window seat which faced out onto Portman Square. Seeing the set jaw of her mistress and the fiery determination in the golden-hazel