John frowned. “What?”
“I can’t take the part.” She wagged her finger at Jarvis and forced a cheer she didn’t feel. “You know I don’t take leading roles. We went over this when you wanted me to play Juliet.”
The stage manager rubbed his jaw. “Yes, but you never explained why. There will be more money.”
Not nearly enough to make the risk worth it. Cerise’s salary barely topped Netta’s own modest one, not when she added in the wages she earned from helping to sew the costumes. And if she was going to strut upon a stage in London, even one as working class as The Burns, it had to be in a role where her identity was concealed.
“I’m not ready for a leading role.” She tucked her bag of sweets into her reticule. “I am content with the minor parts.”
Jarvis leaned forwards and took her hand. “I know you’re afraid, but you needn’t be. It won’t be any harder than what you already do. Besides,” he said, looking her up and down, “you’re too pretty to keep hidden behind disguises. If you let me help you, I’ll be able to make you a star.”
John peeled the man’s fingers from her and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Miss LeBlanc must get ready forthisshow. If you will excuse us.” And without waiting for a response, he marched her down the hall, forcing Jarvis to leap aside or get knocked over.
“That was rude.” She craned her head to give the manager a wan smile over her shoulder. “And I have twenty minutes yet. Plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time for Mr. Jarvis to flirt with you,” he grumbled.
Netta paused at her dressing room door. “What? There’s nothing between me and Jarvis.”
“Not from any lack of interest on his part.” He pushed open the door, then caught it as it bounced off the wall and swung back towards them. He glowered back down the hall. “But at least he recognizes talent. Why don’t you want the lead role?”
She pushed past him into the empty room. Cerise must already be dressed and backstage. Too bad. She would have been useful to avoid this conversation. “I never cared for Henry. He always struck me as overly pompous.” She sat at her dressing table chair and removed her bonnet.
His eyebrows shot up. “Pompous? It’s a lead role. You don’t have to like him.”
She twisted her hair up and slid the dark wig over her head. “Ido.” She tucked a stray blond lock out of sight. “Haven’t you heard actresses are temperamental?”
He stood behind her and crossed his arms, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Every actress I’ve met wants the biggest role possible. What’s going on, poppet?”
She pulled a pot of face paint in front of her. Her stomach pulled tight. “It’s only….” She stirred the paint with her finger, focusing on the swirling brown colors.Tell him. The odds were better that John would help rather than hinder her plans. So why were her palms sweating and her heart racing?
“It’s the theatre, isn’t it?’ He widened his stance and nodded. “It is shabby, I agree. Wilberforce has my pantaloons cleaned twice after I sit on the seats here. Of course I can get you a job at a higher-class theatre. All you needed to do was ask.”
“Pardon?” She twisted in her chair. “You think you can just hand me a role?”
“Of course.” He bent over her and adjusted his cravat in the mirror. “The manager of Drury Lane has been most eager to be a guest at The Black Rose. He’ll give you a role for a night at that club.”
“Just like that. No audition?” Her skin prickled, her face going hot. Yes, she had been prepared to ask him for his assistance in protecting Eleanor. But this was different. This was business. Her business.
She was a professional actress, damn it. She would earn her own parts, not be rewarded with them because she’d spread her legs for a man.
“It is good timing that this play ends in a couple of weeks.” He smirked. “I’m sure it will be a great loss for Jarvis, but he’ll survive without you.”
“What, exactly, are you implying?”
John lifted one shoulder, all casual elegance. “Merely that your manager has developed a tendre for you. I suppose it is inevitable, considering that you work together every day.”
She’d never heard anything so absurd. Jarvis was near old enough to be her father. Not that he wasn’t handsome in his own way, but they had never been anything but professional with each other. “And is proximity the only reason for a man and woman to come together? Is it merely because I reside under your roof that we have developed a relationship?”
He pursed his lips. “It didn’t hurt.”
Netta pushed to her feet. “I need to change into my costume. I think you should leave.”
A line creased his brow. “Leave? It’s not as though I haven’t seen your body before.”
She growled. Had she thought to trust this man with her most dangerous secret? This controlling popinjay who only seemed to like her because she was at hand?
“I hope you have a good memory. You won’t be seeing it again for a long while.” She pointed to the door. “Leave.”
