Sarah jumped up on a chair. “Not if we keep our heads. What if the excitement is because word has spread about the play? What if everyone is here to be the first to witness our triumph?”
“Are you talking about a London crowd?” one of the actors scoffed. By the looks on their faces, the other actors agreed with him.
“I can’t do it,” Marcus said. “I’m out.” He flew from the room. Sarah tried to step in front of him but he dodged her.
“That is it,” Louisa said. “Without Thom or Marcus, we can’t put on the play—”
“Or I can play the part,” said a familiar male voice from the doorway.
The Duke of Baynton stepped forward from where he had obviously been listening outside the door.
Sarah stared at him, a thousand different emotions assailing her at once. She wanted to fly into his arms, she wanted to hurl things at him, she wanted to embrace him . . . His presence threw her off. He looked so noble and handsome standing there.
And what was she? A failure. He was right to choose the young, lovely heiress. Sarah would never be anything.
“I know the role,” Gavin said as if interpreting her silence for doubt. “I have the lines memorized and I believe I’ve seen enough of the rehearsals to have a general idea of where to move.”
“But you have never been on stage,” Sarah reminded him. “It won’t work. It can’t work. We are done.”
Lady Baldwin voiced all the actors’ opinions when she said, “Why won’t it work? His Grace would be perfect for the part. And this Rovington would not dare to throw anything at the Duke of Baynton.”
“Rovington?” Gavin asked.
“Yes,” Lady Baldwin, always the chatterbox, said. “We have learned he has paid men to ruin the play. He wants to ruin and disgrace Sarah.”
That was not true. Rovington was after Gavin and he and Sarah knew it.
“I am definitely playing the role,” Gavin said. “And,” he continued, raising his voice to include the others, “I will double your wages for this evening. You will have earned it if Rovington and I come to blows.”
A cheer went up among the actors.
Sarah did not join them. She wanted to run from the room, from London, perhaps even from England.
Gavin came to her. “Sarah, don’t back down now,” he said in a voice only the two of them could hear. “You have more courage than this.”
“Do I?” She could almost laugh but the sound would be too bitter. Her actors already were continuing to prepare for their parts. The matter was solved. Her play would go on.
Gavin had watched her struggle with her emotions. He understood why she did not want to rely on him. Besides their argument last night, she was not one to ask for help, especially his help.
And yet he was not sorry for this opportunity.
He had come backstage to wish her well. The moment he’d set eyes on her, he’d realized he would be a fool to lose her. His Sarah had more spirit in her small finger than a battalion of men had in their whole bodies.
The weight of the play was on her shoulders. But he was here now. He’d not let Rovington or anyone harm her.
She sized him up. “Your breeches are fine for the part as is your shirt. We will have to use your jacket as well.” He had on a well-tailored coat of marine superfine. “Tie a less complicated knot in your neck cloth.”
Gavin obeyed. While he did, she took a painted wooden sword from one of the other actors. “Wear this.”
Gavin buckled the sword on and stepped back.
“Better,” she snapped. She handed him the actor’s tricorn hat. Her gaze had not met his since he’d come backstage and volunteered for the part. There was definitely a divide between them.
As they walked to the stage, Sarah said, “You know the lines, but saying them is different when one is in front of an audience. If you become lost, look to me and I’ll mouth the words to you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her back straightened at his humble response, but she ignored it.
