He looked across the room at her. Their eyes met and she could think of nothing, do nothing, benothingexcept a speechless fool as he stared at her.
Melinda, on the other hand, had no such problem. She let out a low curtsey. “Your Grace,” she said, her tone filled with the kind of theatric deference that they normally reserved for performances of Shakespeare’s works.
Northfield darted his gaze to Adelaide’s understudy, though he showed no interest in the pretty brunette. “Good evening.”
“Melinda Cross, Your Grace,” Melinda cooed, edging herself closer and batting her eyelashes seductively. “I’m Mrs. Ford’s understudy.”
“Mrs. Ford,” Northfield repeated, his eyebrows lifting.
Adelaide somehow kept her expression calm. The actresses all labeled themselves as Mrs. It was the best way to maintain a modicum of safety and decorum in a profession that was looked down upon by their so-called betters.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Adelaide said, moving forward at last. “I’m Lydia Ford.”
“Yes, I know,” Northfield said, a tiny smirk tilting up one corner of his full lips.
Great God, why did her brain have to point out that they were full? Now all she could do was stare at them. And he certainly never hadthatlook on his face when he was in ballrooms being proper and…skulky. Was skulky a word? She didn’t even know anymore. Either way, he looked…wickedright now.
Melinda looked between them slowly and then sighed. “Well, I can see where I’m not wanted. Good evening, you two.”
“Don’t shut the—” Adelaide began, but Melinda slipped from the room and closed them in together. “—door.”
Northfield tilted his head. “Don’t want to be alone with me?”
Adelaide took a long breath and thought briefly of her first night on the stage. She’d been just as petrified as she was now and it had gone well. Thus far Northfield had made no indication that he recognized her true identity. All she had to do was present herself in the way he expected and she would be fine.
Somehow.
“We’ve only just met,” she said, stunned by how husky her voice sounded. That fact would help her, of course, for it was a bit different than her normal tone. But why did her throat feel so thick? “Do you think it’s proper for us to be alone together?”
He seemed to consider the question. “Perhaps not. But I’ve been proper for a long time and it’s gotten me…”
He trailed off, and for a brief moment she saw a flash of emotion over his face. A flash of regret and pain and anger that touched her soul. She knew all those emotions very well, herself, and considering what he’d been through lately, she believed he had every right to them.
But she wasn’t meant to know those things, gossip or not. So she smiled. “What has it gotten you?”
“Nothing,” he finished with a small shake of his head. “Nothing good, at any rate.”
She shivered at how close the room felt and turned away to give herself some space, at least in her crowded brain. “Why did you want to meet me, Your Grace?”
He chuckled. “I imagine I’m not the first man who has come to your dressing room to talk to you after a show.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him and caught her breath once more at how handsome he was. This was getting ridiculous. “It would be a lie to say you were.”
“And you don’t lie?” he asked, his gaze narrowing.
She faced him. There was such an edge to his voice. To his body language. A tension and a coiled strength that felt very…dangerous. And yet she didn’t want to step away from it.
“I try very hard not to,” she said, even though that was a falsehood in itself.
Right now her entire persona was a lie. Lydia Ford, the actress this man was…well, it felt like he was stalking her across the room. Every time she edged back, he moved forward, and it was very distracting. But he was stalkingLydia, and Lydia only existed for a few hours each week and then she was packed away like the costumes Adelaide wore and the lines she spoke.
“You’re blushing,” Northfield said with another half-smile. “Do I make you nervous?”
She swallowed and pushed her shoulders back slightly. “You do, for I’m still not certain why you are here, Your Grace.”
“Ah,” he said, folding his arms and making his broad chest even more noticeable. “Well, I can remedy that. I came to congratulate you on a good show.”
She tilted her head. In Society she might be viewed as an innocent lady, but that was as much of a mask as Lydia was. Adelaide was no fool and she knew the reason why men came in the back to talk to actresses.
