Page 52 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
It shouldn’t smart. But it did.
He quashed the momentary pique. “For the next twenty minutes, I’m Romeo and you’re Juliet, and we’re trapped in helpless enchantment.”
The sad truth was that, at least as far as he was concerned, it was true. She’d bewitched him at first sight just as powerfully as the fictional Juliet had bewitched his alter ego. Seeing her looking so lovely and so bloody approachable right now only dragged him deeper under her thrall.
Her tentative smile made his susceptible heart flip over. “Thank you.” Then even more surprising, she moved closer and caught his hand in a quick clasp under cover of her floaty skirts. “Good luck, Your Grace.”
He started to tell her to call him Lucas, but she’d already left him to skitter behind the scenery and climb up onto her balcony.
The applause was warm for Portdown’s recital, then warmer still as two footmen slid the painted flat away to reveal a balcony above a moonlit orchard in Verona. A lilting violin solo established a mood of romance.
Evesham sucked in a deep breath and stepped onto the stage. To his surprise, when he spoke the words that he’d said so often in rehearsal, his voice emerged steady and resonant. “But soft, what light from yonder window breaks?”
***
“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”
Juliet blew her watching suitor below a couple of final kisses before melting away from the balcony to her bedroom, which was in reality the flimsy stairway. Romeo kept watch, as if he couldn’t bear to lose sight of her. The curtain rigged up between a pair of wooden columns descended upon him standing alone in the moonlight.
For a moment, the hush extended before a thunderstorm of applause broke out.
Juliet felt like she’d held her breath for the entire scene. Her father had had her playing at amateur theatricals since she could lisp a line. Most of the time, she was a competent, if not inspired actress. Very occasionally, something lifted her out of the everyday into a realm where she didn’t play a part, she became a character.
Tonight for the wondrous interlude of the balcony scene, she’d been a young girl desperately in love for the first time. She’d felt all of Juliet’s bubbling joy and aching longing and crippling fear.
Evesham had taken the journey with her. His skills as an actor had blossomed with every day, but tonight he’d been extraordinary. She’d believed every vow of adoration. She’d recognized him as her soulmate. Her heart had broken a little, when she had to leave him to return to her chaste bed.
She stopped at the base of the stairs and struggled to shake off the overwhelming effect of the past few minutes. Because she was most certainly not that innocent young girl, and Evesham was as far from ardent, romantic Romeo as a man could be.
“Juliet, you were miraculous.” Her father rushed up and drew her into a heartfelt hug. “I’ve never seen you light up the stage like that.”
“Thank you,” she stammered, still floating somewhere between Verona and Afton Park. In front of the crimson velvet curtain, the cacophony of shouts and clapping continued.
“You’ll have to take a bow,” her father said, releasing her. He turned to Evesham, who approached from the other side of the stage. “Your Grace, you were a revelation. I had high hopes, but even I am awed. Well done. Very well done.”
Evesham looked as lost as she felt. Like her, he’d been caught up in the spell. If he hadn’t been, she couldn’t have dissolved mundane Juliet Frain into Shakespeare’s glorious words as she had.
When his eyes met hers, the warmth that she read there had her heart performing somersaults. She battled to remind herself that it was just the play, but it was impossible to get a grip on reality just yet.
“Juliet, you were wonderful,” he said. “I couldn’t look away from you.”
When he extended his hand, it seemed natural to take it. His fingers closed around hers and sent heat surging up her arm.
Her father gave them both a push forward as the curtain rose. The roar of approval was deafening. Dazed, Juliet looked out over the audience, who were on their feet and cheering with no hint of genteel irony.
“Bow, bow,” her father urged from the wings.
Evesham laughed and sent her a glittering look. “We’ve done it.”
Still holding her hand, he gave a low bow. When he straightened, Juliet dipped into a deep curtsy. As she rose, his hand firmed around hers. When she turned to him, he lifted her fingers to his lips.
For a moment, the boisterous crowd disappeared and she stared into his dark gaze. Then she recalled that every eye was focused on them. She jerked her hand back and made herself smile at the audience, as the curtain fell once again.
But the crowd wanted more. Half a dozen curtain calls before Juliet and Evesham retired to the wings and her father took his place at the front of the stage to deliver Prospero’s immortal farewell to sorcery. For this, he wore conventional evening dress so that he was ready to mingle with the spectators after the show.
“Our revels now are ended. These, our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits and are melted into air, into thin air.”
Evesham was holding Juliet’s hand again. Around them, the wings were empty. There were no more scene changes, so the staff had disappeared to set out the refreshments at the end of the gala.
