Page 19 of No Mistress Of Mine

“ ‘I am no strumpet,’ ” she declared. Turning her head to look straight at him, she said her last line of the play. “ ‘But of life as honest as you that thus abuse me.’ ”

He knew that for Lola, the words were a lie, but in her role as Bianca, the declaration rang out true, vehement, and convincing. Her face, as always, was breathtakingly beautiful, but at this moment, it also showed Bianca’s inherent courage.

My God, he thought, startled, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat.What if she really can act?

Even as that thought passed through his head, he tried to dismiss it. There wasn’t any meat to the role she was reading for. And Jacob had been right to point out that Act Five wasn’t much of a basis on which to judge her talent.

“Well, well,” Jacob murmured beside him, laughing a little. “Your plan seems to be backfiring, my friend. I think a more demanding test of MissValentine’s skill is required.”

Without waiting for an answer, Jacob turned toward the stage. “Thank you, MissValentine,” he said, breaking the silence. “If Lord Somerton has no objection, I’d like to see more.”

Denys stirred, but hell, what could he say? He was supposed to be an observer, and nothing more. This, he appreciated darkly, was what a man got for beingfair.

At the confirmation that she’d passed first muster, she pressed a hand to her chest and gave a little laugh of relief. “Of course,” she said. “What shall I read next?”

“Why not continue right where we left off? Read Act Five, Scene Two.”

Denys jerked upright, dismayed, but Lola spoke before he could object. “Scene Two?” she echoed, sounding bewildered. “But Bianca has no lines in Scene Two.”

“Just so,” Jacob said, and in his voice there was a hint of amusement Denys could only think was at his expense. “I want you to read for Desdemona.”

Her lips parted in astonishment, and despite his usual rule, Denys felt compelled to intervene. “Jacob, what are you doing?” he muttered. “I thought we decided weeks ago that Arabella Danvers would play Desdemona. We’ve already offered her the part and a place in the company.”

“You think about box office receipts too much, my friend,” Jacob chided him. “But never fear. Arabella will play Desdemona. Still,” he added, raising his voice so that Lola could hear what else he had to say, “I haven’t decided who shall be understudy. I want to determine if MissValentine has the necessary skill to take on that role should it become necessary.”

“She doesn’t,” Denys muttered, whether for his own benefit or Jacob’s, he wasn’t quite sure. Either way, the director only chuckled and waved a hand encouragingly in Lola’s direction.

Lola, however, didn’t see his gesture, for she was staring at Denys, waiting, as if expecting him to override his director’s decision, but he had no intention of doing so. Giving her plenty of rope was his only option at this point.

“You seem hesitant, MissValentine,” he called to her. “Desdemona is a demanding role, of course, particularly for someone of your limited experience. It would be understandable if you don’t feel you’re ready for it.”

Her chin lifted at once. “I am prepared to take on any role, my lord.”

“Then let’s begin,” Jacob said, putting an end to any more baiting on Denys’s part. “Jimmy, you may start with Othello’s bit about cruel tears.”

Jimmy complied, drawing Lola’s attention, but Denys’s gaze, however, remained fixed on her, and he watched with a hint of dread as she began. Desdemona was one of the most overdone roles in the Shakespearean repertoire, and Lola, as he well knew, had always tended to overdo it. But as she played out the scene, there was no sign of the girl whose performance six years ago had been shredded by every theater critic in London. She displayed none of the awkwardness or overdone theatrics he remembered. Her American accent didn’t seem to matter. Nor did the lack of props, scenery, and costumes. At this moment, not even Denys could doubt that she was Desdemona, the wronged innocent.

Lola, as he well knew, wasn’t innocent, and she certainly wasn’t the wronged party in their past, but in this situation, their past should not matter, only her ability. And as he watched her prove him wrong in that regard, he began to feel a hint of desperation.

She’s always been trouble,he reminded himself.From the moment you met her.

That was irrelevant, and he knew it, and Denys began to fear he’d be saddled with Lola, and all the havoc that came with her, for a long time to come.

She sank to the floorboards, heedless of the hard, unforgiving surface, and Denys watched with a mixture of artistic admiration and personal dismay as she demonstrated the murder of her character.

She reached for the sides behind her prone body, but not, he realized at once, because she needed to read from them. Instead, she slid the sheets of paper over her face, a representation of the pillow Othello had used to suffocate his wife. With her face hidden, the twitching of her body against the floorboards seemed such a convincing display of Desdemona’s death throes that it didn’t matter that Jimmy was still on his feet. It was easy to envision Othello kneeling over her, committing the act of murder.

“My God,” Jacob said beside him.

Denys knew the director well enough to appreciate that those two muttered words were an expression of artistic appreciation, and they deepened the dismay he felt.

Her body stilled. There was a moment of silence, then Jimmy seemed to realize this was his cue and began reading the next lines of the play. Denys, however, kept his gaze on her, waiting with bated breath, knowing what was to come. At last, she moved, demonstrating that Desdemona was not yet dead, and when the improvised murder weapon slid away from her face, he leaned forward in his seat, straining to hear her last lines.

“ ‘Commend me to my kind lord,’ ” she said, her voice soft but pitched to carry perfectly to the very last row of the theater. “ ‘O, farewell.’ ”

She missed her best line, he thought, but then, her head lolled toward the seats, her eyes looked straight into his, and he realized he’d been mistaken.

“ ‘A guiltless death I die,’ ” she rasped, and the words hit him with the impact of a blow to the chest.

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