The thought gave her pause.
She pulled her head back, gazing up at him as her lips tingled and every part of her cried out for more. “I am an actress,” she told him.
He stared at her. “I am aware, darling. And a very fine one. The finest I have ever seen.”
“Being an actress has been my life for the last eleven years. It is all I have known,” she added.
A frown creased his forehead. “Of course it has. I have no wish to stifle you.”
Did his goodness and his love for her know no bounds?
“But you must,” she argued. “For your own good—for your sake, and for Lady Verity’s I must stop being an actress. I cannot be both.”
“Of course you can.” He cupped her cheek, his gaze plumbing the depths of hers. “I am not going to ask you to stop being an actress when you wed me, if that is your fear.”
No, he would not, would he? Because he was Felix, and his love was so unbelievably pure and strong. As she searched his handsome face, she could see the truth for what it was.
A weight lifted from her heart. If he had demanded she cease acting, she could not have borne it, regardless of how much she loved him. But here he was, being selfless, telling her she could continue acting at great peril to his reputation.
And it was her concern for his reputation and Verity’s that told her what she must do.
“You need not ask me, Felix,” she said. “I will stop acting. It is what is best for everyone, and I know it.”
“What would you say if I told you I was planning upon building a new theater with Theo Saville, and that it would be yours to run as you saw fit?” he asked then.
She stilled, so taken aback by his question, she did not know what to say at first. “Truly?”
“Truly,” he said. “After the night I went to you in your dressing room, I knew you still had feelings for me, merely that you were doing your damnedest to thrust them aside and ignore them. For the past few days, I have been doing everything in my power to both see to it that you were safe and that I might have something to offer you as my wife.”
“Felix.” She stared at him, caressing his jaw. “The last thing I want is for you to make concessions for me. Please do not give up anything on my behalf. You, Verity, and your love are all I need. I promise you.”
“Along with Theo, I have invested in a new theater, to be named as you choose. We will own two thirds of the theater, and he will own one third.” he continued, ignoring her protestations.
“Why would Mr. Saville accept such a disparate partnership?” she asked.
She had seen the way in which Mr. Saville had run the Crown and Thorn. He was a perceptive man, quite canny, adept at marketing himself and his theater to those around him. Surely he had no need of an additional theater, especially one where he would only own a third, when he had such a thriving venture all to himself.
“Because he has seen you in action, Johanna,” Felix said. “He knows how talented and perspicacious you are. Running another theater from afar will suit him. He can fill his pockets without all the work.”
“The work will be mine,” she guessed, rather warming to the notion. One of her dreams—far-flung, she had supposed—had been to run her own theater one day. The inevitable end to every actress and actor was that their roles became more difficult as they aged. She had not yet reached that point, but she had reached the point of understanding what lay ahead of her.
She was a career-minded lady. A new woman, after all. And she would not feel ashamed or deny that part of herself. Nor would Felix want that, she was sure.
“If you want the work,” Felix elaborated carefully, “it will be yours. I make no expectations or demands of you. If this is not what you want, we shall not do it. If it is what you want, the stage will be yours to do with as you wish. If you want to continue acting, you may. I will admit I have my own best interest at heart, hoping that you would choose to act here in London rather than traveling the Continent as you had originally planned.”
He still wanted her to act?
Her heart was pounding.
And aching. With love. So much love.
“You do not mind if I continue as an actress,” she said slowly.
“Of course I do not mind,” he said, his voice wry now. “How dare I deprive the world of such an impeccable talent?”
“What if I want to stop acting?” she asked.
She loved acting, it was true. But she was not averse to making a change. She had been pursuing the same vocation for almost half her life. The notion of running her own theater held untold appeal.
