Once Upon A Regency Page 6

  She took a cleansing breath to bring herself back to the present, and turned away from Mr. Hawke. “Whenever you are ready, I want you to pretend to attack me.”

  It must be instinct—or perhaps boys were taught how to grab a woman as part of their education—but it seemed all men tried to hook a woman around the neck when he meant her harm. Mr. Hawke was the exception. He draped his arm across her body, cradling her against his firm chest. His gentleness caught her by surprise, and instead of trying to break free of his hold, she closed her eyes and sank against him.

  “If you promise not to hurt me,” he whispered in her ear, “you may take me to the ground.”

  Sacre bleu. He smelled magnificent, like a cozy wood fire on a cold night blended with a hint of spice. She swallowed hard and nodded. “W-when a man grabs you, try to get your hand between his arm and your neck, so you have a little room to breathe.” She demonstrated as she walked through the steps. “Now hug his arm to your chest and duck low, throwing your shoulder forward and thrusting out your leg.”

  Mr. Hawke pitched forward, tripping over her leg, and landed on the stage with a thunderous bang. She gasped as he winced.

  “Mr. Hawke!” Rachel rushed to kneel at his side. “Are you hurt?” She glared at Claudine. “Look what you did. What were you thinking?”

  Claudine was frozen, unable to speak or move. He peered up at her. She braced herself for the insults and derogatory names that were sure to come. Any moment she expected Mr. Hawke to rail at her—to shout insults and call her names.

  He laughed.

  At first, she couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing. He held his belly and howled with laughter, his whole body shaking. Suddenly, her fellow actresses were chortling also.

  She was too shocked to do anything except stare. Eventually, she realized he wasn’t angry. He truly found the situation humorous. Her spine softened and she allowed herself a smile.

  When he and the actresses finally sobered, Rachel stood and offered him a hand up. He thanked her but pushed from the floor without help. He winked at Claudine again. “If Miss Bellerose’s demonstration doesn’t instill confidence, I don’t know what will. I will be teaching my sisters that move.”

  Jane cleared her throat. Pink infused her youthful face. “Mr. Hawke, could I practice with you? I want to know I can defend myself when it comes to a man.”

  He sketched a bow. “I am happy to oblige.”

  Granting Jane’s request garnered a flurry of requests from the rest of the actresses. Once Jane was in place, he grabbed her. She toppled him to the floor, but his fall was more graceful this time since he knew what to expect. “Do you want to try once more?” he asked.

  Jane answered affirmatively, and he allowed her a second try before he gave Anastasia a turn.

  Natalia stood next in line, eying him like a juicy steak. Claudine frowned and called for Benny. “Will you partner with Natalia and Rachel? Mr. Hawke is going to grow tired of being flat on his back.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Natalia’s gaze narrowed on her as Benny jogged up the stairs.

  Claudine smiled at the two actresses. “Imagine the boost of confidence that will come with handling a man like Benny.”

  Rachel heartily agreed and insisted on partnering with Benny first. Natalia came to stand beside Claudine while Rachel and Benny took position.

  “The gentleman would never grow tired of being on his back with me,” Natalia murmured, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. “May the best woman win.”

  Claudine gazed up at the rigging and shook her head. “I am not competing for any man’s attention.”

  “Splendid, because I think you have the advantage.” Natalia nodded toward Mr. Hawke. “He cannot keep his eyes off you.”

  A prickling heat spread up Claudine’s chest and neck when she realized he was watching her and standing close enough to have overheard their conversation. She was saved by Oliver’s arrival.

  “Gather ‘round,” he said as he walked from the wings. “Lars has an inflammation of the ear. The doctor said the problem goes away in a few days.”

  Jane clasped her hands in front of her chest. “How marvelous.”

  Oliver ran his hand over his hair, which was always a sign of distress.

  “What about the injury from his fall?” Mr. Hawke asked.

  Oliver’s mouth set in a grim line. “That is more complicated. Lars has a concussion. There is no telling how long the recovery will take, but he will be unable to perform.”

  Claudine’s gut clenched. “Tilde must be beside herself. I should go see to her.”

  “Not until we decide how to proceed,” Oliver said. “With Lars on bed rest, we are in a pickle. The odds of finding a replacement are not in our favor.”

  A gouge appeared between Anastasia’s brows when Oliver glanced her way. “Don’t look at me. I am not kissing a woman on stage.”

  Mr. Hawke’s gasp was audible. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Sometimes I have to portray a man,” Anastasia explained, “but the inspector kisses Claudine’s character. That is where I draw a line.”

  “I see.” Mr. Hawke smiled. “You heard the lady, Mr. Jonas. Frankly, I’m surprised you have asked her to play a man’s role in the past. She is far too pretty. She must be an excellent actress.”

  Anastasia giggled and stammered her thanks. Like Jane, she was one of the younger girls and was easily flattered, although Claudine had to admit it had been a rather honest observation.

  “Oliver, you know how this works,” Claudine said. “You became Lars’s understudy, because you didn’t want to hire another actor. You have to step into the role.”

  Oliver was growing pale again. “I—I didn’t think I would be called upon. Lars never misses a performance.”

  “You know anything can happen. That is the purpose of an understudy. We have no choice. You have to go on stage in his place.”

  Beads of sweat popped up on his forehead. He’d grown up in the theatre, but nine and twenty years of exposure had done nothing to eliminate his bashfulness on stage. “We could postpone opening night.”

  “Oliver, you will be all right. We can’t postpone.”

  “I can.” His voice had assumed a slightly hysterical quality. “I can do whatever I think is best for the company.”

  Mr. Hawke came to stand closer to Claudine. “Surely, you are not suggesting that postponing the production is in the best interests of the theatre. Missed performances mean lost earnings. I cannot allow opening night to be postponed.”

  Claudine sent him a smile of gratitude. It was satisfying to have an ally.

  “Nevertheless, it is clear Mr. Jonas is uncomfortable stepping into the lead role,” he said. “It wouldn’t be in anyone’s interests to have him faint on stage.”

  So much for an ally. She took a deep breath to encourage restraint. “I feel strongly postponing would be a mist—”

  “I will play the lead part,” Mr. Hawke said.

  Claudine recoiled. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I have experience. My mother insisted on having a Christmas Pageant every year until I was ten.” Mr. Hawke’s carefree smile was beginning to get under her skin. Did he think this was a lark? The stage was her haven, and this play was hers. She wouldn’t have it ruined by some wealthy dandy with nothing better to do with his time.

  “Absolutely not,” she said. “Playing in a Christmas Pageant does not count as experience. Besides, you are wrong for the part.”

  “How do you know I’m wrong for the part? You’ve never seen me on stage.”

  She waved her hand up and down several times from his snowy white cravat to his polished Hessians. “I’m looking at you on stage now. You are nothing like the inspector in my play.”

  “I assume this play will have costumes.”

  She huffed. “Bringing the character to life involves more than putting on a cloak and sensible hat.”

  “I’m familiar with acting, Miss Bellerose.”


  “As if you have any notion of what acting involves. This is a professional production, and Lars has performed for royalty on the Continent. Oliver has the lead role.”

  “He doesn’t want it.” Mr. Hawke flashed his dimpled smile. “But I do.”

  If he thought to use charm to bend her to his will, he had underestimated her. She would defend her art to the death. It was all she had in her life. She squared her shoulders. “No means no, sir.”

  Oliver’s gaze swung back and forth between them. “I say yes.”

  “Oliver!”

  He held up his hand to silence her. “I understand your reservations, but Mr. Hawke has agreed to renegotiate. He isn’t closing the theatre. You’ve gotten your way, and your play is going to be performed. And when I woke up this morning, I was still the manager. No more arguments.”

  Claudine blinked to ease the sting at the back of her eyes. Oliver’s betrayal hurt. “He is going to ruin the performance. You can do this. Once you are on stage, your nerves will disappear.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  Mr. Hawke was no longer smiling, and he reached as if to pat her shoulder, but drew back before making contact. “I promise not to ruin anything.”

  “Trust me, Claudine,” Oliver said. “The play is in my hands now, and I want it to be successful, too. I will still be the understudy. If Mr. Hawke isn’t ready by opening night, I will go on stage in his place. This is the way it must be if you want to see your play performed.”

  Her hands tightened into fists at her sides. Neither man was giving her a choice. Either she agreed to their conditions, or her vision wouldn’t be brought to stage. She hated the helpless feeling descending over her.

  “Very well,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height, which had never been tall by anyone’s standards.

  Oliver offered his first smile of the day. “That is better. Someone find a script for Mr. Hawke. It’s time to rehearse.”

  “I despise you both,” she said in French, although it wasn’t entirely true. She cared for Oliver like a brother, one she wanted to throttle.

  Mr. Hawke’s eyebrows hitched slightly. Oliver didn’t understand her. “I will endeavor to change your opinion of me, Miss Bellerose.”

  “Good luck.” She marched off stage left. “I’ll look in on Tilde and Lars and borrow his script.”

  RESISTING ROMEO

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Russell read the scene’s final line aloud and looked up from his copy of the script as applause came from their small audience. The actresses had volunteered to observe his first rehearsal and offer constructive feedback, and he was happy for any help.

  “You have admirers already, Mr. Hawke. Bravo.” Miss Bellerose’s smile appeared strained. She looked beautiful in a lavender print gown that made her eyes impossibly blue and displayed her slender waist. He meant what he had said in Jonas’s office about not looking for a dalliance, but he couldn’t deny she was enchanting beyond reason. He’d caught himself staring at her several times today.

  He gave her a smile he reserved for those he wished to charm. “I will not be distracted by them, if you are worried.”

  “Of course not.” He received the tense smile again.

  Jonas clapped his hands to gain everyone’s attention and warned the women to sit there quietly if they were going to watch. “From the beginning, Claudine.”

  Rehearsal required more stamina than Russell had imagined. The manager made them go through the scene repeatedly, interjecting when he had an order about where Russell was to stand, or what to do with his hands. He loved every minute of it, though.

  Miss Bellerose was in her element, and the joy of watching her work was worth biting his tongue every time Jonas yelled at him. Their rests between scenes were short, and he spent them trying to talk with her, but invariably another actress would interrupt to praise his timing or presence on stage. For his first time acting in a professional production, he thought he must have been doing very well.

  By the end of the day, he could no longer feel his feet. He accepted congratulations from the various actresses, even though he could barely utter a sound from his scratchy throat. He longed for a soak in a hot tub and two fingers of brandy, but he was reluctant to say good-bye to Miss Bellerose. Everyone else had vacated the auditorium. As she tucked her script into her bag, he approached her.

  “Everyone seems to think I am a natural,” he said. “Was I all right?”

  There was that damned smile again. “Marvelous. Will you be back tomorrow?”

  He cocked his head. “Do we have rehearsal tomorrow?”

  “Oui.”

  “Then yes, I will be here.”

  “Marvelous,” she repeated and hefted her bag from the floor.

  “Allow me.” He took the bag from her. “It was a long day. Perhaps you would like to join me for dinner at the Clarendon.”

  “Merci, but no. Dinner will be waiting for Benny and me when we return home.”

  The big man had been around all day. He was helping build the set, and Russell had only caught glimpses of him from time to time once rehearsal began.

  “Miss Bellerose, may I ask Benny’s relationship to you? Is he a brother? Perhaps a cousin?”

  “He is like family,” she said, much to his relief. “Benny, we should be going.”

  Her shadow walked from the wings as if he’d been waiting for his cue.

  “At least allow me to see you safely on your way home,” Russell said. “There was a vagrant loitering outside the theatre last night. I believe you could defend yourself, but I would hate for you to be called to action.”

  She glanced at Benny and flashed a real smile for the first time that day. “It really isn’t necessary, but you are very thoughtful.”

  “It would allow me peace of mind.” Russell offered his elbow, and she looped her arm with his. They walked across the stage and descended the steps. “Earlier today I was speaking to Mr. Jonas about keeping the theatre open during the winter. I thought perhaps you would have a few good ideas on how to earn money throughout the year.”

  Her eyes flared. “Are you truly seeking my suggestions?”

  “Who better to ask? You are an experienced actress. I imagine you have seen what has worked and what has failed.”

  “I have, but no one has ever asked for my opinion. I’m rather taken aback.”

  He tapped two fingers to his temple. “I am brighter than most. What is your answer? May I count on your assistance?”

  “I would be honored, Mr. Hawke.” She lightly squeezed his bicep, and he nearly forgot what they had been discussing. “After opening night, we can direct our attention toward planning for winter.”

  It was dark when they stepped outside. Russell searched the shadows for anyone hiding and found the area clear of any potential danger. A carriage was waiting at the curb.

  “My driver has arrived,” she said. “Would you like us to drop you by the Clarendon?”

  “Thank you. That would be lovely.”

  He shared a bench with Benny, which meant he was crammed against the wall, but he didn’t mind. Any discomfort added to his day was worth this moment with Miss Bellerose. She became animated as she discussed her ideas for a special production after Christmas involving an all female ensemble with dancing, singing, and acrobatics. He rather liked her suggestion. Beautiful women always drew in the men, and pretty costumes, singing, and dancing would appeal to the females in the audience.

  They arrived at the hotel too soon. Miss Bellerose offered her hand before he climbed from the carriage. He raised it to his lips, holding her gaze as he placed a kiss on her glove.

  “I haven’t had an opportunity to thank you for trying to help Oliver. The Drayton is all he has. I think he sees it as the last tie to his mother, may she rest in peace. In their early days, Oliver’s mother and my mentor were close friends. Oliver was one of the first people I met when Nan brought me to Drury Lane, but that is a story for another time.”

/>   Russell grinned. Jonas thought she wouldn’t trust him enough to speak of her past. He was wrong and Russell couldn’t be happier. “Good night, Miss Bellerose.”

  “Bonne nuit, monsieur.”

  On the walk to his room, he couldn’t feel his feet for another reason. He was certain he was walking on air.

  * * * *

  By the fourth day of rehearsal, Mr. Hawke’s admirers had multiplied like locust. Upon the owner’s suggestion, Rachel and Natalia had been contacting other actresses they knew to come to the theatre with the hope Oliver could recruit more talent for a winter show.

  Claudine didn’t even know most of the women huddled around Mr. Hawke during the break showering him with praise. A bitter taste rose at the back of her throat as she observed the nauseating display of blatant flattery.

  “They shouldn’t be bothering him during break,” she whispered to Oliver as they stood in the wings. “Why won’t you do something about it?”

  “I think he likes them,” the manager said with a shrug and took a sip of wine from the bottle Mr. Hawke had so generously presented to him that morning. How easily her friend could be bought. “Besides, they are building his confidence.”

  They were creating a man so arrogant that his hat probably no longer fit his head. “He struts around stage now like a randy rooster.” Her stomach clenched as Natalia stood too close and brushed a piece of lint from his jacket. “I cannot stand another minute of this drivel.”

  She tried to march away, but Oliver captured her arm. “I think you are jealous.”

  “I am not.”

  Oliver grinned. “You don’t like to share the limelight.”

  “Now I know you are teasing,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “When are you going to tell him Lars is already showing signs of improvement and could be back by the end of the week?”

  Oliver simply grunted in reply. She knew it wouldn’t be an easy conversation, but they agreed Mr. Hawke’s acting wasn’t showing promise, contrary to what his admirers thought.

  Before the break, the women’s lovesick gazes had followed Claudine’s leading man as he wandered aimlessly around the stage, sweeping his arms dramatically as if he were a bird taking flight and making the most ridiculous facial expressions she had ever seen.