Page 54 of No Mistress Of Mine

During the next few days, she spent a lot of time wishing she’d just kept her mouth shut, and it was a good thing her first rehearsal came on Monday, for it provided an excellent distraction. Even if she did have to put up with Arabella Danvers.

“Really, Jacob, is it necessary for MissValentine to be quite so zealous in her reading?”

The actress’s voice from the other side of the table yet again overrode Lola’s reading of her part, and she stopped, managing to stifle an exasperated sigh as she lowered the script in her hands.

“I appreciate that in light of past events, MissValentine wants to offer us some reassurance regarding her abilities,” the other actress went on, and Lola didn’t know which she found more irritating—Arabella’s tendency to talk about her as if she weren’t in the room, or these continual reminders to her peers of her inexperience. “But we’ve already had a full day, and if she insists on speaking her lines with such painstaking histrionics, her small part may keep us here all night as well.”

Lola had to bite down, hard, on her lower lip to stop herself from pointing out that Arabella’s almost continual interruptions to discuss the nuances of the plot and her criticisms of her fellow actors were the real reason all of them were still here well into the evening. But she did not want to earn the reputation of being difficult to work with, and she couldn’t afford to be seen as arrogant. Unlike Arabella, she didn’t have a long line of successes under her belt to mitigate such behavior.

She could only hope Jacob Roth would take Arabella to task, but the director was either a tactful man who didn’t want his star performer storming out in a snit on the first day of rehearsal, or he’d worked with Arabella often enough that he didn’t find her behavior irritating. Either way, he’d been choosing to ignore the woman’s remarks all day, and he did so again. Without comment, he gestured to Lola that she should resume.

Arabella, however, gave her no opportunity to do so.

“MissValentine’s enthusiastic rendition is commendable, I am sure, but hardly necessary. Today is just a table read, after all.”

“Since it’s only a table read,” Lola countered before she could stop herself, “then why are you making such a fuss?”

Beside her, Blackie Cowell gave a stifled snicker, and when she glanced sideways at him, he gave her a wink. Blackie was dark and witty, every bit an Irishman, and he was also a talented actor, and she was glad he’d been chosen to play Cassio, Bianca’s love interest. Blackie was one of the few people here who didn’t seem to mind she’d been cast. Grateful to have him as an ally, she gave him an answering wink, but before the table read could resume, they were interrupted.

“Good evening, everyone.”

At the sound of Denys’s voice, chairs instantly scraped the floorboards as those seated around the table stood up. “Lord Somerton,” Jacob greeted him as he entered the rehearsal hall. “Good evening.”

“Jacob.” He paused beside the other man and glanced around, his gaze flitting past her without a pause. “Working late, I see.”

“You as well, it seems.”

“Unfortunately, yes. From my window, I noticed that the lights were still on over here, and I wondered why you were being such a slave driver toward these poor actors on their very first day.”

Jacob did not enlighten him. Instead, he smiled. “They can discover how amiable I am at a later date. Still,” he added, pulling out his pocket watch, “it is almost eight o’clock. Let’s stop for today, everyone. We’ll resume tomorrow morning.”

Sighs of relief greeted this decision, though Lola suspected from Arabella’s face that she wasn’t among those happy to end for the day.

She started to join those leaving the room, but Denys’s voice stopped her. “MissValentine? If you and Jacob would be so good as to remain behind, there’s something I wish to discuss with the two of you.”

She remained by her seat as Denys talked to Jacob, and her fellow actors began heading for the door. All but one.

“My, my,” Arabella murmured, pausing beside Lola on her way out as other actors streamed past them, “the grass certainly doesn’t grow under your feet, does it, dear?”

Lola looked into Arabella’s hard, beautiful face, saw the derision there, and realized the other woman was aware of her true position here. “I see you know of my good fortune.”

“Everyone knows.”

Lola sucked in a breath, feeling as if she’d just been punched in the stomach. “Already?”

Arabella smiled, seeming to sense her dismay. “There’s a word for women who accumulate a fortune the way you have, you know.”

Lola tamped down any hint of what she felt, for she refused to give Arabella that sort of satisfaction. “I’m sure there is,” she murmured with a shrug, and was rewarded for this show of indifference by the frustration that flashed across the other woman’s face. Thankfully, Arabella let the matter drop, stepped around her, and walked out of the room without another word.

“Ugh,” Lola muttered, shuddering as she turned away. “What a poisonous woman.”

Those words were barely out of her mouth before she noticed that Denys and Jacob had stopped their conversation and were standing by their chairs waiting for her, and they must have overheard at least part of the conversation. Reminding herself that it was probably best not to voice her opinions out loud, she resumed her seat. “What is it you wish to discuss, my lord?”

Denys took the chair opposite her and waited until Jacob had also resumed his seat at the head of the table before he spoke.

“I have a decision to make,” he said at last, “and I am honestly not sure which way to proceed. Jacob knows about your participation in the Imperial already, MissValentine. I told him myself that day at the Savoy.”

“I daresay many people know,” she answered with a sigh.

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