Page 22 of No Mistress Of Mine

Leaving him in the doorway, she crossed the room and stepped behind the dressing screen. Henry’s voice floated to her over the top as she slipped out of her dancing shoes.

“Shall I tell you what I have in mind?”

She was skeptical, but it never did any harm to listen. “Sure,” she answered, bending down to untie her garters and roll off the flesh-colored stockings that had helped make Lola Valentine so wickedly notorious. “Why not?”

“I want you to come with me to New York. As I said, this isn’t a romantic offer. I think you have enormous talent, and I can make you a star.”

She laughed, a cynical sound forged from years on the boards. How many times had men said those exact words to her? Still, Henry Latham at least had the bona fides to make such a claim credible. “Don’t you live in London?” she asked as she unhooked the bodice of her costume and slid the dress down. It landed in a pouf at her feet.

“Yes, but I’ve decided to return home. Come with me, and I’ll give you your own show and make you famous. And I’ll pay you a generous percentage, far more than you’re getting here.”

Lola peeked around the side of the dressing screen. “I’m not sure I want to go back to New York. I’ve... danced there already.”

“What do you want?”

She ducked back behind the screen and hung her dress on one of the pegs on the wall and didn’t answer.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said, as she began loosening her corset laces. “I can guess. You want to be an actress.”

Lola paused, her arms falling to her sides.

“You want to thrill audiences, hold them spellbound. You want to hear them gasp and sigh, and you want to know they’ll be talking about you long after show is over and the lights are out. You want what all performers want. You want to be loved.”

Was he mocking her? She couldn’t tell. “That’s not it,” she answered as she unhooked her corset busk. “I already have all that. Men love watching Lola Valentine strut around, kicking off hats with her foot and singing bawdy songs.” She could hear the tinge of bitterness in her voice as she spoke. “Men love seeing Lola pout her lips and show off her legs and shimmy her bosom. They adore Lola. Were you in the audience tonight? Three curtain calls. Lola’s famous here in Montmartre. Or, maybe I should say she’s notorious.”

“Ah, now we’re getting the truth,” he murmured. “You want to act because you want to be taken seriously. You want respect.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “Well, if that’s what I want, I’m doomed to disappointment.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Did you read the reviews forA Doll’s House?” she asked as she hung her corset over the top of the screen and began stripping out of her sweaty underclothes. “According to theTimes, my performance was ‘reminiscent of a drunken butterfly, brilliantly colorful, but also awkward, graceless, and infinitely pathetic.’ ”

“You don’t have to quote your reviews, honey. I read them. I also saw the play.” He paused. “Denys thought you could act.”

“Denys is...” She paused and swallowed painfully. “Blinded by passion.”

“I’m not, and I agree with him.”

The words were like lighting a match to a stick of dynamite. “Don’t,” she ordered fiercely, peeking around the screen again to glare at him through narrowed eyes. “Don’t butter me up, Mr.Latham, and tell me what you think I want to hear. It won’t get me to come to New York with you.”

“What about training? Would that persuade you?”

“Training?” Intrigued, she started to step out from behind the screen but stopped just in time, remembering she was naked. “What do you mean? What kind of training?”

“Truly good acting isn’t something where you just step out onto a stage and start giving brilliant performances. It takes rigorous training. It takes practice and criticism and direction. You, I assume, haven’t had much of that.”

“I haven’t had any of that. Well, not until I started rehearsals forA Doll’s House.”

“So I’ll train you. I’ll pay for lessons. You can perform for me, and I’ll critique you, offer direction. I was quite an actor in my day, you know. I’ll see you learn your craft the right way. And when I think you’re ready to give drama another try, I’ll back a serious play for you. I’ll even make it Shakespeare. As far as serious acting goes, he’s the top of the tree. And if you’re good, I’ll back your career. Maybe we’ll even open our own theater in New York, and you can put on your own plays.”

“This is all really nice of you.” She paused, tilting her head as she looked at him. “And what do you get?”

“At least three years of Lola Valentine performing her one-woman show in Madison Square.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “And that’s all?”

“I don’t want to sleep with you, honey,” he said bluntly. “I’m getting too old for girls like you. I’ve got a mistress already, one my own age who suits me just fine. I met her here, but she lives in New York. That’s why I’m going back.”

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