She ran a long, assessing look over his face. “My aunt and I had supper with the gentlemen. Nothing—” she hesitated for a moment“untoward happened. Afterwards, my aunt and I went home together in a hackney carriage.”
He smiled in relief. “I’m pleased to hear that. Will you go out with them again?”
Her mouth flattened. “I don’t see that is any business of yours.” Her chilly tone let him know he was being far too intrusive with his questioning.
His stomach sank.I’ve offended her.“You’re right, of course. So, I will reiterate that you may find assistance at mysister’s mission in Wapping, should you ever need a place of refuge. I gave you a card with the address last night.”
She looked away. “Yes, I have it still.”
He relaxed a little with the knowledge that she had kept the card. “Good.”
She turned back to him and pinned him with a look. “However, I will never go there. After spending sixteen years at the Duke Street Orphanage, where my creativity was repressed and almost crushed, I will never seek refuge at an institution again. Luckily, my aunt found me and removed me before I was forced to become a governess or servant.”
What?He blinked, taking in this new information. He had imagined her raised in the theatre community by her aunt and possibly other family members for her whole life. How else had she become so proficient and successful a performer?
The harried waitress arrived with their meals. Francis paid for them. Clunking the bowls, a plate of bread and their spoons onto the wooden table, she scurried away with the coins for the meal in her apron pocket.
Francis tore a thick slice of fresh bread into his bowl and took up his spoon. What else could he suggest? “My sisters run a school for young ladies in Harley Street.” The comforting warmth of the potato and leek soup filled his mouth. “Perhaps if you are ever in need of refuge, that would be a preferable alternative.”
Again she shook her head. “I can’t imagine myself at a school for young ladies. I don’t belong there and they wouldn’t want an actress amongst them and putting off parents.” Miss Bartlett began to eat, using her spoon as daintily as any high-born lady.
“You don’t know my sisters. Their views are very liberal. My whole family is the same.”Which is why men like Marchmere despise us—and we, his opinions.
One side of her mouth crooked up, showing her disbelief. “I think not, despite their views about actresses.” Her tone was decisive.
They finished their meal and Miss Bartlett poured each of them a cup of tea from the earthenware pot before her.
Concern for her twisted in Francis’s stomach. Why was he going to so much effort for this woman, more than for others? Was his inappropriate attraction to her heightening his protective instincts?
He needed to keep a professional distance in order to assist her, but that was difficult when he was so drawn to her. He didn’t want to see the destruction of this beautiful young woman’s innocence or the ruination of her career through becoming an unmarried mother. “That is, of course, your choice,” he said, and lowered his voice. “I try to refrain from speaking ill of anyone, but Lord Marchmere is a married man. I couldn’t help but notice that his interest in your aunt seemed contradictory to that. And Travener…well, the company we keep is a reflection of our true selves, is it not?”
She sipped her tea. His words put a wariness in her gaze.
“If the school is closed for the upcoming Christmas holiday, which is likely as my sisters generally visit Hampshire then, I will give you the address of another place of sanctuary.” Francis pulled out a card from the card tin he kept in his pocket and handed it to her. “May we both hope you never have the need to use it.”
She glanced at the printed words and tucked the card into her reticule. “Thank you, Reverend Brody, but I doubt I will ever need such assistance asyouraddress.” A raised eyebrow added a challenge to her words.
They finished their meal in silence and Francis hailed a hackney carriage for her then assisted her into it. Stepping backfrom the curb, he dipped his chin in farewell before striding back to St Paul’s Church.
Have I done the right thing giving her my address? Have I lost my mind?Should she ever turn up there, her presence would lead to the ruination of both his career and her reputation. If the broadsheets ever got hold of such a tidbit of scandal—an actress and a clergyman living together. Think of the lampooning cartoons that would be drawn!
And yet, he knew he needed to offer her his assistance in any way he could.
Chapter Four
Clarissa returned to her lodgings to find her aunt still abed with a raging headache. Her absence from their sitting room gave Clarissa time alone to consider her conversation with the Reverend Brody. In hindsight, she appreciated his kind gesture, but couldn’t imagine herself ever needing or accepting his help.
He was a good man. She could see that now. He didn’t show any condescension to her as an actress, which many of his calling had done previously. His severe black outfit and simply tied cravat did not diminish his good looks and powerful frame.
Her gaze had roamed his face as he spoke…and she had wondered what it would be like to be kissed by those perfect lips. She’d had to keep pulling her thoughts back to their conversation. Better he never guessed where her thoughts had strayed.
She sighed. She didn’t expect to encounter him again. After all, he had said he visited all the theatres in the parish regularly, not just The Regent Theatre.
Clarissa changed her clothes for dry ones and lay out her damp outfit over a chair in front of the fire. Soon dinner would be served in the boarding house dining room below. And then she must leave for the theatre for tonight’s performance.
She doubted her aunt would be well enough to accompany her. Good, because she needed time alone to consider the recent and unexpected change in her aunt’s behavior. And Dora’s absence would excuse her from another unwanted dinner invitation from Travener, should he appear at her dressing room door.
But not for long.
