Page 85 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
THEN IN A TWINKLING
ANNA BRADLEY
CHAPTER1
THE PANDEMONIUM PLAYHOUSE, LONDON,, NOVEMBER, 1812
“If you were half as shrewd as you think you are, Dinah Bishop, you’d have secured Oliver Angel before a lady with a prettier face than yours snatched him up for herself.”
Dinah didn’t have to glance into the looking glass to see who’d crept up behind her. No matter where she was or what she was about, her entire body prickled with irritation when she heard that sneering voice.
Florentina Fernside, undisputed queen of the Pandemonium Playhouse stage, darling of the drunken rabble in the pit, and tormentor of every actress doomed to tread the boards alongside her.
Dinah resumed stripping the heavy layer of stage powder from her face as if Florentina hadn’t spoken. The woman had the attention span of a pot of face paint. If Dinah ignored her, she’d soon grow bored and go away.
“Of course, you’re not the first actress here who’s made a mess of her opportunities, but I’d taken you for one of the clever ones.” Florentina sauntered across the room, skirts twitching, and dropped into the chair beside Dinah’s at the dressing table. “Imagine my disappointment at finding you’re as dim as all the rest of them.”
Dinah tossed aside the damp cloth in her hand with a resigned sigh. Florentina wasn’t going to go away on her own, but Dinah was more than willing to chase her off. What a shame she hadn’t thought to pick up one of the rotten oranges hurled onto the stage this evening. Witless as she was, even Florentina knew enough to run when spoiled fruit was hurled at her head.
“Or did you think your own face so alluring a man couldn’t see past it?” Florentina turned her gaze to her own reflection, her rosy lips curling into a smirk as she tweaked one of her dark ringlets into place.
Dinah met Florentina’s narrowed eyes in the mirror. “Is that how you lost Lord Archer? Overestimated the allure of your own pretty face? Pity, but then pride does come before a fall. You should study your Bible more often, Florentina. Book of Proverbs, I believe.”
Dinah didn’t bother to hide her satisfaction as Florentina’s smirk darkened into a scowl. Florentina had lost her wealthy protector to another of the Pandemonium’s actresses, Dinah’s dearest friend, Penelope Hervey. William Angel, the Earl of Archer had fallen madly in love with Penelope last Christmas, and had made her his countess. Penelope was Lady Archer now, and mistress of Cliff’s Edge, a lovely estate situated on the edge of the sea in Essex.
An actress turned countess. Dear me, how shocking! London was still reeling over it, but no one so much as Florentina, who could be relied upon to fall into a fury whenever Penelope’s name was mentioned.
“I suppose you thought you’d enjoy a similar happy fate as your friend.” Florentina tossed her head. “You should have known better, my dear. Lord Oliver is as constant as a child with a shiny trinket clutched in its fist.”
Dinah rolled her eyes. For pity’s sake, this again? Everyone in London believed she was Oliver’s mistress. It wasn’t true, but the truth was far less entertaining than a delicious lie, and no lie was more delicious than a lie about Oliver Angel.
London had suffered a severe blow when they’d lost Lord Archer to Penelope. The ladies might yet be in despair if Archer’s younger brother had been anyone less than Oliver Angel. As it was, Lord Oliver’s dimpled smile set hearts aflutter all over the city. Dinah’s own heart was icier than most, but even hers thawed a degree or two when Oliver grinned at her. There wasn’t a lady in London who could resist those deep dimples at the corners of his mouth.
Of course, resistance was a matter of measures. Dinah might admire Oliver’s dimples, but more often than not dimples came with a rogue attached, and rogues were too troublesome to bother with. People in general were a great nuisance, but she forgave Oliver his occasional antics because he was entertaining and clever, and truly kind-hearted.
She was fond of him—nottoofond, because it wasn’t wise to be too fond of a man with a smile like Oliver’s—but he was one of only a handful of people she considered a friend. “Lord Oliver isn’t my protector, Florentina.”
Florentina let out a laugh shrill enough to crack the looking glass. “Well no, dear. Notanymore. After the spectacle he and Lady Serena made in his box tonight, the entire theatre knowsthat. Why, at one point his tongue nearly fell out of his mouth.”
Dinah’s hand froze as she reached for her hairbrush. “Lady Serena? Lady Serena Howard?ThatLady Serena?”
“Who else?” Florentina’s fingers flew to her mouth in mock chagrin. “You mean to say you didn’tknowabout her? Goodness me. How humiliating for you to find out this way. I do beg your pardon, dear, but then you would have found out soon enough. Every gossip in London will be whispering about it by tomorrow morning.”
“Lady Serena was in his box tonight?” Dinah detested having to ask Florentina, but she couldn’t see a thing from her own position on the stage aside from the glare from the chandeliers suspended from the ceiling. Oliver might have tumbled from his box into the pit below without her noticing.
“Lord Oliver, Lady Serena, and Lord Erskine. What a trio, to be sure.” Florentina rose from her chair and flounced across the room. “You should have predicted his attention would wander, and secured him before it did. Alas, it’s too late now.”
If the gentleman in question had been anyone other than Oliver Angel, perhaps Dinah would have secured him, just as Florentina suggested. She wouldn’t be the first lady to trade the stage for a place in a wealthy gentleman’s bed. But for all Oliver’s caprices and whims, his quirks and foibles, he deserved better than that.
Better than Lady Serena, as well.
Dinah had recently put some distance between herself and Oliver in hopes he’d overcome a silly little infatuation he’d developed for her, but she hadn’t turned him loose so a venomous viper like Lady Serena could snatch him up and devour him.
“Well, my dear, I’m truly sorry for you.” Florentina turned to Dinah with a triumphant smile. “Indeed, I am, but it’s your own fault, and heaven knows you aren’t likely to do any better than Oliver Angel.”
With that parting shot, Florentina swept from the room, and Dinah was left alone, staring into the glass at the troubled blue eyes peering back at her.
Lady Serena Howard. Of all the ladies London had to offer, why would Oliver chooseher? She was witty and beautiful, yes, and she had a certain lazy elegance the stupider gentlemen seemed to find irresistible, but Oliver was no fool. The woman might be one of London’s most sought-after courtesans, but she was notorious for leading her conquests from one disastrous scandal to the next, bleeding them dry of every last guinea, then tossing what was left of them aside before moving onto her next wealthy patron.
