Page 61 of No Mistress Of Mine

Her voice drew him out of the past, reminding him this wasn’t Paris, he wasn’t that wild man about town anymore, and seducing her wasn’t his priority nowadays. Hell, it wasn’t even on the table.

He took a deep breath. “Yes?”

“I know we’ve decided that it’s not necessary to make an announcement of our partnership to the acting company, but I wonder if you could make a different one.”

“What’s that?”

“Maybe suggest that certain members of the company keep their interruptions of their fellow actors during rehearsal to a minimum?”

He grinned. “So I should take your side against Mrs.Danvers? Is that what you really want me to do, partner?”

“Oh, I suppose not, when you put it like that. But the woman is so damned irritating.”

“What do I care?” He deliberately widened his grin. “I’m not the one who has to work with her.”

She sniffed. “That’s rather a selfish attitude, partner.”

“I don’t know why you need me anyway. Turn your charm on her, and she’ll come around.”

She gave him a wry look as she leaned across the table and tossed her empty bottle and the paper from her sandwich into the picnic basket. “As much as I appreciate your faith in my ability to be charming, in this case, it’s wasted. I couldn’t charm Arabella if I waved the part of Lady Macbeth and a thousand pounds under her nose.”

“You underestimate yourself.” He laughed. “I don’t know how I ever managed to gain the upper hand with you at all, honestly.”

“Because you’re so nice. I told you, that’s always been my weakness.”

“Nice, am I?” He studied her, remembering some of her other weaknesses—the way her knees would buckle whenever he kissed her ear, and the long, slow caresses that melted away her resistance, and he didn’t feel nice at all.

She must have sensed what was passing through his mind. “I should be going,” she said abruptly, and jerked to her feet. “It’s late.”

“Of course.” He forced naughty thoughts away, stood up, and reached for the picnic basket, then gestured to the doorway. “I’ll walk with you.”

“We never did talk about my proposal,” she remarked as she waited for him in the corridor, and he turned off the gas jets in the rehearsal hall.

“No, we didn’t.” He joined her in the corridor, and by the light Dawson had left burning, they walked to the end, where they paused by the door that led to the alley. “Why don’t we meet about it Saturday afternoon after you finish rehearsals?” he suggested. “I don’t believe I have any fixed engagements that day.”

“Saturday?” She shook her head. “I can’t. I have plans that afternoon.”

He wondered suddenly what her plans might be, but he knew he couldn’t ask. He also knew he shouldn’t want to know.

“Perhaps we can meet the following Saturday instead?” she suggested.

“Of course. Shall I order tea?”

“If you want it.”

“Do you want it?” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to kick himself in the head. “What I mean,” he added at once, hurling himself onto safer ground, “is that tea’s not really an American habit, so if you would prefer not to have it, just say so.”

“Tea would be lovely, Denys, thank you.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Just remind me to remove my gloves beforehand. I’m prone to forgetting that sort of thing.”

He chuckled, remembering how she’d looked, tea things in her gloved hands and a look of chagrin on her face as she’d realized her predicament. “I shall endeavor to keep you up to snuff,” he assured her.

He opened the door for her, pulling his latchkey out of his pocket as she walked through, but when he’d extinguished the last light and started to lock the door behind them, her voice stopped him.

“You should take the other exit, at the front of the theater. You’ll reach the mews more quickly that way.”

“And leave you to navigate a London alley alone and secure a hansom on your own? At night? I’ll do no such thing.”

“It’s only a few dozen feet from here to the Strand, and only a few blocks from there to the Savoy. I shall be quite all right.”

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