Eliza Redgold - Playing The Duke's Mistress

‘Then I must prevail upon you to allow me to make up for it now.’ He took another step towards her, closing the gap between them. She could see him more clearly now, even in the dim light from the door. Around his mouth were two brackets that suggested the hard line of his mouth could break into laughter. She found that difficult to imagine.

‘I believe I owe you not one but two apologies, in fact,’ he said smoothly. ‘The first is an apology for not having seen you perform on stage before. It was my loss. You played an exceptional Rosalind. You were—remarkable.’

‘Thank you.’ She inclined her bonnet an inch. If he thought she was going to be appeased by flattery for her performance, he was very much mistaken, and she couldn’t help feeling suspicious.

The line of his mouth curved. ‘You’re the first actress I’ve ever met who doesn’t appreciate praise.’

‘I thought you avoided actresses,’ she replied swiftly.

He released a dry chuckle. ‘Touché, Miss Fairmont. It’s true I have limited acquaintance with ladies of your profession.’

She raised an eyebrow of her own. ‘Yet you seem to have such set opinions about them. Perhaps you ought to learn more before you make such outrageous allegations in the future.’

‘That’s precisely why I’m here,’ he said to her surprise. ‘But let me make my second apology. I ought not to have made such comments about your profession and offered money to your friend.’

Heat surged thought her body just recalling the incident. ‘It was an insult. Not just to Mabel, but to all actresses.’

He bowed. ‘Allow me to express my regret.’

Calista stiffened and tugged her cloak more tightly around her. Something about the way the duke spoke was unconvincing. She could always tell. Her ear was attuned to insincerity, for a line spoken without conviction would never ring true on stage. Was he mocking her?

‘Thank you for the apology. But it doesn’t sufficiently excuse your behaviour, especially as a member of the aristocracy. You have only made me more determined to avoid your kind in future.’ She sketched a curtsy. ‘Good evening, Your Grace.’

Her skirts swirled as she made to move past him.

‘Miss Fairmont. Wait.’

Slowly she pivoted.

His coat billowed behind him and in a single stride he was once more beside her.

‘Yes?’

‘It seems I need to be more honest with you.’ He paused. ‘I’m the head of the Carlyle family. I told you that last night. But my cousin Herbert is my personal responsibility.’

‘In what way?’

‘Herbert had some trouble when he was younger.’ He appeared to choose his words with care. ‘I took it upon myself to look out for him.’

She studied him. ‘And you still do.’

He inclined his head.

‘Your cousin is a grown man,’ she said.

‘So I’ve been reminded by him. But old habits die hard.’

Once again she studied his face. This time in his dark eyes she saw honesty and more. ‘You’re fond of him.’

He nodded. ‘He’s a foolish fellow at times. But I must own it. I am fond of him.’

‘I have a younger sister. She means everything to me. If she was in trouble, I know I’d intervene on her behalf,’ Calista admitted.

‘Then you understand family duty,’ he said.

‘Yes. I do.’

Silence filled the misty air between them.

‘Herbert is easily influenced,’ the duke said after a moment. ‘I’d hate to see him duped.’

Calista stepped back. ‘That may be so, but it still doesn’t give you the right to speak to anyone in such a manner. And it doesn’t excuse what you said about actresses.’

‘Perhaps all actresses aren’t the same,’ he conceded.

Was he sincere? Doubt wavered inside her, but she knew it would be ungracious not to accept his apology. After all, he’d come to the theatre to watch her performance, then waited for her in the cold night air.

Calista held out her gloved hand. ‘I accept your apology. I’m not one to hold a grudge.’

He took a step backward. For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to take her proffered hand. Then he reached out his own. His leather-clad fingers enclosed her own. His hand was large, his grip firm.

‘Thank you for being so understanding,’ he said. ‘It’s most gracious of you.’

His fingers trailed across the woollen palm of her glove. Even through the fabric she felt the heat of his touch.

Rapidly she withdrew her hand. ‘I’d defend my sister, Columbine, and Mabel, too, so I understand your impulse to protect Herbert. And you’re wrong about actresses, you know.’

He raised a sardonic brow. ‘Am I wrong about Miss Coop?’

He seemed to discern her inner struggle to find an honest reply. Mabel could be flighty; there was no doubt about that. Calista had witnessed enough of her flirtations, and there had been many, and they often ended in tearful disaster. Whether this affair would last with Sir Herbert was difficult to predict. Yet surely the two of them deserved a chance at happiness, without the interference of the Duke of Albury.

‘Mabel has a good heart,’ she said at last. ‘She believes herself to be in love with your cousin.’

A smile darted at the corner of the duke’s mouth. ‘A most diplomatic answer.’

Calista felt her own mouth turn upward. His gaze followed the curve of her lips.

She felt a flicker, deep inside her, followed by instant wariness.

Calista pulled her cloak over her body. ‘Well, goodbye. Thank you for coming to the play and for your apology.’

‘I hoped you might take supper with me,’ he said suddenly, to her surprise.

No dinners with dukes. She’d broken her rule once in this past week and she wasn’t going to make that mistake again. She ignored an unexpected shaft of disappointment at the thought. ‘Thank you, but I can’t accept your invitation.’

‘I can promise you might actually eat some lobster this time.’

A laugh burst from her lips. The supper two nights before had held some comic elements, she realised now. ‘Lobster is more to Mabel’s taste than mine. But it’s late and I must go home.’

If he was disappointed by her refusal, he made no sign of it. With his hand raised he moved towards the street. ‘Allow me to call you a hansom.’

How she longed for a hansom cab to carry her home safely, but the money could never be spared. Every shilling she spent on herself was money she would be unable to save for Columbine’s care.

Quickly she shook her head. ‘I prefer to walk.’

His eyes narrowed. He lowered his raised hand.

‘Then perhaps you will allow me to accompany you to your lodging,’ he said smoothly.

‘What?’

‘Do you think dukes don’t walk? The streets of London are open to everyone.’

‘But...but my home is a good distance away. The walk does me good after performing,’ she added as an explanation. ‘Fresh air, you see.’

‘There’s fresh air in London? Then I’m sure it will also do me good.’

Was that slight curve of the duke’s lips another half-smile? In the dim gaslight Calista couldn’t be sure.

The burly doorman returned to his post. ‘All right there, Miss Fairmont?’

‘Yes, thank you, Fred.’

The man settled back against the doorframe, his arms folded.

The duke raised an eyebrow.

‘There are sometimes gentlemen who won’t take no for an answer when they ask an actress to dinner,’ Calista told him quietly.

‘Indeed?’ He frowned. ‘I will accept your refusal, but I hope you won’t give me one. You will come to no harm in my company. You’ve already encountered my more undesirable characteristics. I may bark, but I don’t bite. Not often at least.’

Calista bit her lip. Her instinct was to trust the duke. How could that be, after his behaviour the other night? Yet she couldn’t deny it would be good to have company on the way home, especially in the current circumstances.