“Be the pineapple,” Jacob coaxed, edging closer. “Intriguingly unusual and irresistibly sweet. Research each theater manager before sending a query, and be sure to imply that their most hated rival not only has shown interest, but also is actively trying to keep this manuscript out of your target’s hands. He’ll not only snap it up, but also insist on exclusivity.”
“It’s not that easy,” said Vivian. “Perhaps you and your family can feel good about making up lies to manipulate people everywhere you go, but I want to earn my accolades.”
That cut closer than she knew.
“It’s not lying… exactly,” said Jacob. “It’s worth a try, at least.”
All right, yes, it obviously involved a wee bit of lying. And some manipulation. But that didn’t make it a bad idea. Not when mutton-heads all over England were rejecting plays this excellent, unopened and unread.
Jacob hadn’t the least doubt that if one of those theater managers actually read so much as the opening page, they’d be prepared to duel at dawn for the right to perform Vivian Henry’s theatrical debut.
“If you won’t use human nature to your benefit, then you can’texpect footlights and confetti from a total stranger,” he told her. “Iknow you’re talented enough to be a star overnight, but no one else knows it. That’s why apprenticeships—”
She looked unimpressed. “Why should I play apprentice to someone who cannot write as well as I do?”
“Because that’s how the world operates.” He slid the stack of plays back onto the sideboard behind her hips. “Working one’s way up the ranks is a necessary step. You could take a volunteer position—”
“I ought to be paid for my labor!”
“Of course you should. But these are the facts. You would hear the same advice if you wished to be a baker or a blacksmith. In many cases, masters are well paid for training apprentices. That path may currently be out of your means—”
“And out of the question,” she ground out with obvious frustration. “I don’t want to waste my time and money copying someone else’s words for the next five years, when I’m readynow—”
She jabbed her finger into his chest for emphasis.
He caught it and trapped her hand to his chest.
She glared at him in consternation.
“You don’t have to convince me that you’re worthy,” he said softly. “I already know that you deserve everything you want.”
Her eyes widened and her lips parted. She did not remove her hand from beneath his. The air crackled with awareness.
He could feel his heart fluttering against her palm as he lowered his head toward hers, fully expecting to be pushed away and rejected.
She was the great and talented Vivian Henry. The woman whose name crossed everyone’s breakfast table every morning. The lady with all the answers.
He was just Jacob.
“You’re taking too long,” she murmured against his lips. “Kiss me before I die of anticipation.”
He wasted no time in heeding her advice.
Their hips bumped against the sideboard, sending reams of neatly stacked plays flying. Neither of them paused. Vivian’s hands laced tight behind Jacob’s neck, and his own arms wrapped gently about her, cradling her close without trapping her to him. She tasted like success. Like the perfect opening line to a poem.
Helikedthat they’d both taken the first move together. He liked that she chose to kiss him. That she tasted like pies and marmalade. He liked that she argued with him. That she shared her thoughts and struggles.
He only wishedhehad the answer she sought. The ability to wave a magic wand and grant her the opportunity to shine, like the star she was destined to be—if only people would look and see what was right before their eyes.
His heart gave a little jump of excitement. Jacob Wynchester might not be able to do much about theater managers’ prejudices, but Sir Gareth Jallow… nowtherewas a chap with a fair bit of influence.
Jacob had never leveraged his alternate persona’s fame in the pursuit of literary favors, but he supposed it was no different from Tommy utilizing any of her infinite disguises in the pursuit of justice. And the unfair prejudice against Vivian was an obvious injustice.
Unlike Tommy, Jacob couldn’t claim he’d be bending the rules to help a “client.” Vivian meant more to him than that. He didn’t want her to disappear from his life the moment her cousin came home.
But even if she did… even if all the future held for them were a few fond memories… at least he could offer a little help up the ladder she very much deserved to climb.
She’d made her opposition to trickery clear—but his praise was no sham. He’d be telling the full and honest truth about what a talented and worthy writer she was. He’d shout it from the rooftops, if he could.
