Chapter 26
“I’m not a lady,” Diana muttered and immediately felt like a fraud for saying so. Because for the last several weeks, she’d been doing everything to prove to herself and those around her that she was.
“Ha!”Claudette responded, mocking her.
But Diana couldn’t focus on the French woman’s opinion just then.
The thinner of the two men was scribbling into a book, barely allotting her a single glance. However, the other gentleman afforded her all of his attention from where he sat, reclined in his chair, hands folded over his paunch. Diana resisted squirming when he trailed his gaze down, and then back up her figure. He didn’t mean to seem insulting, she assured herself, but was likely considering Diana as a potential performer—as a dancer.
She hoped.
After apparently deciding Diana’s appearance was satisfactory, he finally leaned forward and licked his lips. “A lady, eh? Seeking employment? Are you running away from your cruel father, Luv, or perhaps it’s your husband who’s sent you running to make a career on the stage.”
“Neither” Diana said, resisting the urge to curtsey. She was also confused that they hadn’t risen from their chairs to greet her. “I just want to be a dancer.”
The resounding laughter of all three of them summoned heat rushing into Diana’s cheeks.
“I don’t expect to perform right off. I’m willing to work my way up. And despite…” She swept her hands down her dress, which, although was one of her least favorites, managed to look quite respectable and expensive in this setting, “I can work.” And in case they didn’t hear her, she lifted her chin and spoke with more conviction. “I’m not above hard work.”
She clenched her teeth in the face of their obvious disbelief. Shehadhelped the housekeeper at their home on Farm Street on several occasions. At least once a week, she had dusted and rubbed practically every inch of the railings and trim with lemon oil.
Although—she glanced around at the filth that seemed to cover everything behind stage—nothing had prepared her for this.
But she would work that out later. First, she needed to secure a position. She needed to become an independent woman.
“Let’s see what you can do.” The larger man jerked his chin.
Claudette was sitting down to a piano-forte Diana hadn’t noticed. For a moment, she was puzzled. Did he wish to see if she really could clean? But then he raised his arm and made a twirling motion with his finger.
Was he granting her an… audition?
“Right now? Here?” Diana indicated the tiny space outside his door.
“Plenty of room.”
Why hadn’t she thought to prepare herself for this possibility?
“Of course.” She agreed. Hands shaking, she set her reticule and bonnet on a low table that she hoped was clean. What if she missed a step? What if she stumbled? Or even worse, landed on her bottom?
But no, she reminded herself. She had spent a significant portion of her life preparing for just such a moment.This was an opportunity.Diana wasn’t about to squander it.
She was finally going to get the chance to showcase her talent in front of professionals.
Claudette plucked out a recognizable melody, and Diana nodded.
I can do this.
Closing her eyes, she counted down from eight and allowed her instincts to guide her. Even in this limited space, she could twirl, and move her arms, and swivel, and she executed a few carefully aimed kicks. When Claudette changed the tempo, Diana adjusted as needed. And at the song’s conclusion, Diana might have kept right on moving to the beat in her head if not for the smattering of applause from the gentlemen watching her from the office.
Short and begrudging applause, but applause, nonetheless.
“Not bad, eh Pip?” The larger man rose and stepped out of the small room. Then, with his hands clutching the lapels of his waistcoat and his arms resting on his belly, he studied her. “Do you have a name?”
“Miss Diana Jones. Are you Mr. Whitley?”
“I’m the manager.” He nodded, “And this is Mr. Pip Grainger, director. You’ve never danced professionally, have you.”
“No,” Diana shook her head. “But I’m a fast learner.”
