She chewed another, her jaws aching with how hard she ground them together. She was going to miss the man. How had she let that happen?
“You were very quiet at breakfast.” He took her arm and guided her around a trio of slobbering dogs, tugging at their leads. “Do you still feel indisposed from last night?”
The concern in his voice almost undid her. He might not trust her, but he did care. Would it be so unwise to tell him everything? Lay all her fears and worry bare? He would be a fool to help her remove her sister from home, but she couldn’t imagine he’d actually impede her actions. She sucked on her bottom lip. Probably.
“I’m fine.” She walked closer to him, enjoying the feel of his sleeve brushing against her shoulder. Even that small connection was enough to settle her nerves. Last night she’d let emotion get in the way of common sense. John wasn’t required to bare his own soul in order for her to do the same. Some things weren’t on a quid pro quo basis.
But it would have been nice.
Her heart beat double time. So, she’d decided. She would tell John the truth about herself. Cerise would warn her to think through the implications more thoroughly, chew on it from every conceivable angle, but the decision felt right.
The dingy sign for The Burns Theatre came into view.
Tonight. After the show, she’d sit John down and tell him all. And pray there was some way to both save her sister and remain in London. With John.
Perhaps she could get her sister a role at the theatre, as well. Hide in plain sight, as it were. It had worked for Netta.
She tightened her grip on his arm. John would come to their shows and afterwards treat them to a chocolate and pastry. Then she’d take Eleanor back to their apartments, tuck her in…and let John tuck Netta in after Eleanor had gone to sleep.
She sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the slight hitch in her lungs. It could work. It would work. She’d make certain of it.
He opened the backstage door for her and guided her in, his palm drifting lower on her back than proper.
Perhaps she’dlayhim down and tell him the truth. Men were better listeners when on a bed. More motivated to give her the answer she wanted to hear. She smiled. That plan was much more logical. Even Cerise would approve.
“LeBlanc!” Mr. Jarvis, the stage manager, raised a hand and lumbered towards them down the hall. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to speak to you.” He ran a hand through his greying hair. “Who’s your friend?”
Netta made the introductions. “Is there something the matter, Jarvis?”
“Only the casting forHenry V.” He blew out his cheeks and looked at John. “We start rehearsals in three weeks and start selling tickets in six.”
“You don’t want me for Bardolph any longer?” Her heart sank. Without this job, where would she and Eleanor go?
Jarvis snorted. “Don’t be an idiot.”
John straightened, his muscles tensing, but the stage manager paid him no heed.
“I want you for Henry.” Jarvis folded his arms across his barrel chest and winked. “And I’m prepared to negotiate. I know how you enjoy that.” He elbowed John playfully. “Discussing her salary has become like a game between us, one I always lose. But I don’t mind. My mam always said I was too soft for business.”
John looked at the spot where the stage manager had nudged him. He arched an eyebrow. “Yes. Miss LeBlanc is quite fond of games.”
Netta’s heart flopped about inside her chest. The lead. Henry. It wasn’t unheard of for women to play leading men, not in the smaller theatres. But she hadn’t thought she’d have a chance to star in a show. “What about Cerise?” The wax paper bag crinkled between her fingers as she twisted it. “She’s the preeminent actress at The Burns. People come to see her.”
“Found another theatre.” Jarvis grunted. “Leaving us after this run.”
Netta gaped. “Leaving?” Her friend had never mentioned another theatre. Hadn’t even said she’d been auditioning. But, of course, an actress of her talent would be looking for better opportunities. She should be aiming higher.
But it hurt that Cerise had never mentioned it. They were supposed to be friends.
Like you’ve told her about your future plans?
Her shoulders rounded. She had always kept a wall between herself and Cerise, between herself and everyone, and this was the consequence. She never allowed herself to get close enough to truly know a person, inside and out.
She shot a look at John. What would it be like to have that with him? No secrets. No artifice. Just…them.
“That’s marvelous.” John took her elbow and squeezed. “You’ll make a wonderful Henry.”
Yes, she would. She could already envision how she’d play him. The tenor of her voice. The swagger when he walked. She held that vision for a moment, then, with a sigh, packed it away. “I can’t.”
