“Anyone know where she came from?” asked Sebastian. It was time he knew the story she’d told.
Heads shook all around. “A mystery, that one,” said Mattie, with no small amount of longing in his voice.
“I have a theory, meself,” said Fix-All, lifting his brow meaningfully. “A high-born bastard.”
The theory provoked a round of affirmative grunts.
“What makes you think that?” asked Sebastian.
“The way she talks and carries herself.” Fix-All was clearly pleased at being asked to expand on his theory. “Like a lady. Tries to cover it up, though.”
Soppitt’s eye narrowed on Sebastian. “She talks a little like you, come to think on it.”
“Yeah, well…” Sebastian trailed. Then he grunted, and that was the end of it.
Soppitt jutted his chin toward the stage. “The trap door isn’t about to fix itself.”
Sebastian nodded, even as he inhaled a snort. The Duke of Ravensworth didn’t take too kindly to commands. But as Seb, well, he was able to shrug it off, because the work was only pretense, as far as he was concerned. The true reason he was here was currently pacing the boards, muttering to herself like a bedlamite.
He caught the very instant she registered his presence—not because she acknowledged him, but the opposite. Tension squared her shoulders, and she kept her gaze determinedly averted. He let his tools fall to the stage with a solid clank. Not even the flicker of a glance. That was how closely she was keeping the periphery of her eye on him.
“Lilah,” he said.
She acted like she hadn’t heard him and turned, presenting him her back.
“You’ll need to keep to that side of the stage while I repair the trap door.”
She continued muttering to herself as if she hadn’t heard him. But the tips of her ears betrayed her. They’d gone bright red. He suspected her cheeks had, too.
Arms crossed over his chest, he stared down at the gaping hole where the trap door should’ve been closed. Now, how to repair a trap door?
Right.
It wasn’t anything a hammer, some nails, and the rusty spring Soppitt had placed in his hand couldn’t fix.
He tossed Delilah one last glance before jumping into the gaping square hole. The stage now level with his chest, he considered the job before him. Nails had wormed loose from hinges that had rusted and curled from years of exposure to the elements and overuse. He considered the hammer, nails, and spring in his hand. He discarded the spring as useless. The solution was to employ a few cross boards and hammer the door shut until new hinges could be procured.
The Duke of Ravensworth decided it so.
The aristocrat in him wasn’t buried so deeply, after all.
One last glance toward Delilah, who was intently keeping to her end of the stage, and Sebastian dropped to his knees and set about his task, through layers of cobwebs and much to the annoyance of a feral orange tabby cat who dashed away, but not before sending a few well-directed hisses his way.
But just as Delilah’s person wasn’t too far away, neither were thoughts of her.
He admired the seriousness with which she approached the craft of acting. Every evening, he’d watched her tread the boards. Though her parts were small, she never gave the same performance twice, acting intuitively, playing off the other actors and even the audience.
The fact was she shouldn’t have been born a lady. If she hadn’t been, she would currently be reigning supreme over the finest stages of England and the Continent.
A stray wicked thought wormed in.That Delilahwould’ve been in need of a patron. It wasn’t that he wanted to collect her like a possession. Butthat Delilahmight’ve been nice to him… Perhaps tossed a smile his way every so often… Given him a chance to…
He shouldn’t finish the thought.
It decided to finish itself.
Seduce her.
He’d never been free to seduce Lady Delilah Windermere.
