“Indeed?” Blayne said, pleased that he’d not have to play either the outraged father or the tolerant man of the world—since he’d no idea of which one he was supposed to be here. And smiling, because Gray Dylan was as wealthy as he was influential, he asked, “When?”
“Soon as we can—before she comes to her senses and changes her mind,” Gray said, accepting his brother’s handshake and then his offer of a handkerchief, as he tried to erase the color he saw everyone smiling at on his carmine cheeks.
“Maybe even New Year’s Day, if Judge Wilson is willing?” he asked Josh.
“If your lady is, he’ll be,” Josh answered, as he saw Hannah’s smile. “Might be nice at that—a New Year’s party and a wedding…We can do it, but can we do it up right this fast, Lucy?” he asked his wife.
“It would be beyond wonderful!” Lucy Dylan cried. “We’ll let Delia stay up to be bridesmaid—we’ll invite everyone, just everyone. We’ve got champagne onhand already, and I can order more, and flowers; we can have the wedding before the new year or just after it. Of course, it would depend on whether Hannah wants to be married this year or next. That is to say, one way she could be married a year by next week, and the other she could be a newlywed for a year. Of course, it all depends on what she says, although what a party it would be, I mean…”
“Take a deep breath,” Kyle commanded, just as he used to do all those years ago when he’d taught her to act. And though they hadn’t spoken in nearly a decade, she immediately did as he asked. Then, on an expelled breath she said, with evident relief.
“Yes. We can do it, and I’d love to.”
Then she grew still, staring at Kyle, realizing how well that admonition worked and how it had always calmed her. Hannah grew even more still, remembering him at last.
“Oh, Kyle,” Hannah said, her eyes wide with grief, “I’m so sorry, what a way for you to find out! I never meant…”
“Indeed,” Kyle said swiftly, his dark face smooth and calm, for whatever expression had come over it, when he’d heard the news, had been as quickly erased, and no one had seen it, being intent upon the newly engaged couple. “What better way? It’s novel, most theatrical. My congratulations. Am I invited?”
But before she could answer, he added just as smoothly, “I applaud the drama of it, of course. But what a dreary honeymoon for your bridegroom—with you on the stage here every night of it.”
Hannah’s parted lips closed. She spun around and stared at Gray.
“I never thought about it,” she confessed. “It went right out of my head. But, of course, I have to play the whole run of the revue.”
“And,” Kyle put in quietly, “it does look to be a good long one. But I’ll never be the one to ruin love’s young dream. Go along, Hannah, with your beloved. I’ll find a replacement.”
Hannah stared at him. He shrugged and smiled sadly. It was the best present he could give her, and they both knew it, and it was difficult to tell which of them was more surprised by the offer.
“No need,” Blayne Darling spoke up. As everyone turned to him, he seemed to enlarge, until everyone wondered why they’d ever looked away from him. “There’s another Darling willing in the wings. I’m between engagements at the moment—such, alas, is the fate of the aging thespian, I suppose,” he said coyly, as they all grinned at the ludicrous thought, as he’d intended them to do.
“Oh, I don’t mean to don a wig and play my dear daughter’s part—as if I could,” Blayne said at once, as everyone, except for Kyle and some of his cast, chuckled at that, “but now, that Father’s part inCurfewis a meaty one…My dear sir,” he said to Kyle, “would you take one Darling in place of another? Let my Hannah have her brief engagement of another sort, as well as her honeymoon, and you—take me in her stead? The publicity might just make up for her absence, do you think?” he added with just the right touch of humility to take the foolishness from such a rhetorical question.
“My dear sir!” Kyle exclaimed, all personal pain forgotten as the aching, empty places in his hungry heart filled with another kind of profound love. “Harry, what say you?” he called to the actor who’d played the part.
The actor, knowing future victory could be snatched from the jaws of this inevitable defeat, bowed and said quite humbly, “I’d be honored to have you take the part, Blayne.”
“We’ll enlarge it, of course,” Kyle said to Blayne, who nodded and said, “Of course.” And as Kyle began to pour glad murmurs about the marvelous publicity into his inclined ear, Blayne nodded again, to signal his wife to take notes, and they strolled off to plan their revised production, leaving the company to begin toasting the success of the revue, the coming marriage, and the new year.
But for the first time that Hannah could remember, her mother didn’t follow her father immediately. Instead, she came to Hannah’s side and kissed her cheek, and gave her hand to a bemused Gray. As he looked down at the slender, dark-haired woman, she said in a quiet undervoice, “Congratulations, my dear. I’m Hannah’s mother, by the by. You’ve done very well for yourself, she’s a good girl. Ah, he looks for me! I’ll see you again, no doubt,” she murmured, before she hurried away.
There were real tears in Hannah’s eyes as she watched her go. She looked up at Gray, her eyes shining.
“Ah! Wasn’t that wonderful of her?” she asked with such sincerity that all he could do was nod and put his arm around her, silently promising her, whatever happened, a very different future from her past.
Chapter Twenty
“You,” Gray said accusingly, as Hannah clung to his arm, humming a tune from the show as they left the theater after the cast party, “are tipsy.”
She slowed her steps and glanced up to him.
“Yes. Quite so. Tipsy,” she said, reaching up to touch a gloved forefinger to the tip of his nose, “Perspicacious of you, sir. But since I said that so very well, you will note that I am not drunk, or soused, or dreadfully inebriated. So you see, you’ll have to leave off your vile plans to seduce me, villain. Because I know just what I am doing, and I love doing it, because I am merely merrily tipsy, thank you very much.”
She missed a step and giggled. He helped her into the hackney coach, and when they sat back, kissed her. When he stopped, he sighed.
“It’s hard being a really good vile seducer when I live so darned far off,” he complained, as he nosed her ear. “By the time I got you back to my place way out there at the top of the park, you’d be stony sober, and with your hangover already starting.”
“But I’m not drunk,” she protested in a soft little voice. “I really do just feel giddy. It’s not the champagne—although that does help,” she admitted so prettily he moved to kiss her again. Before he could, she said wistfully, “But seducing me, drunken or sober, might be quite impossible, you know, however good a villain you may be.”
