Page 12 of In Pursuit of a Christmas Bride
And she wished, most of all, that Roger would find another actress to swan about after because she was tired of him threatening to take everything away from her.
“Oh, there you are, Matilda.”
Her friend and fellow actress Betina Meyers swooped in, hooking her arm through Tilly’s. She was petite and curvy, and even when she wore her hair in blonde ringlets, she only stood to Tilly’s shoulders.
Betina was known for her comedic acting talent and had performed at several London theaters before Tilly became her understudy two summers prior.
“Heavens, what happened to your wrist? You wandered away on us, and you missed Lord Bucksworth attempting to arm wrestle a German prince. I say attempting because Lady Amelia Jordan had to step in and stop it before the prince embarrassed himself.”
“I needed a moment,” she said, distracted by the commotion around her. The party, now several hours in, saw many of the guests well into their cups, and merriment and chaos abounded.
“He was looking for you,” Betina said.
Tilly whipped her head around to meet her friend’s worried stare. “It’s bad enough he dictates what I do on stage, but now he must follow me around as well.”
Betina leaned closer. “I bargain he wants more than to follow you around.”
“I know very well what he wishes,” she snapped, “and I’ve been clear I am not interested.”
“I don’t think that will stop him.”
Tilly nodded, scanning the crowd for Roger’s tall frame. He hulked around London, tossing threats around and controlling the purse strings on Drury Lane. It wasn’t as if he had earned respect from anyone, but he commanded it, nonetheless, because no one dared go against him.
Tilly wished to be married. She wished for a family. And she was certain Roger would never allow it until she made her way into his bed first. She had made that mistake once in Dublin. She vowed never to do it again.
“He’ll ruin everything for you,” Betina continued. “He is not a patient man, and if you make him wait much longer, I suspect you won’t be able to act in London again. Not to mention what happens if he exposes?—”
“Not here,” Tilly rushed. The panic clawed at her throat. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought of it all before. She had worked for years from a young child touring with traveling theater groups. And now, some small-minded man wished to take it all away from her because she didn’t wish to be his mistress. He wanted complete control of her.
And she was powerless to do much of anything because of what was at risk if he exposed her.
Without a reputation, she would have nothing. Which was why she fought to keep her character pristine by attending endless charity events and teas. If attending an event, she brought her crabby chaperone and never strayed out onto a dark balcony. She was skilled in polite conversation, was excellent at piano and needlework, and never participated in any flirtations with the many potential patrons who waited to be introduced at the end of all her performances.
Which was all the more reason why her behavior this evening was both alarming and surprising. It was careless, and yet she wasn’t satisfied by one magical kiss in the forest.
She grabbed a glass of champagne off a tray from a passing waiter and gulped down the bubbly liquid. Her world had just been altered, and she wouldn’t let Roger steal away what she had just discovered with her handsome stranger.
She would find him again, and he would be hers.
Funnier things had happened. Falling in love in an instant was not beyond reason. She had parted ways with reason years ago and had been much happier for it.
“Now come along,” Betina insisted. “Come sing with us. Let’s worry about Roger later.”
Tilly did what she did best, forced on a smile and acted as though she wasn’t being blackmailed by an utter cad, and thetonloved her all the more for it.
Dawn was quickly approaching,and Henry tumbled out of the carriage, laughing to himself as he stumbled a step. It wasn’t like him to stay out all night with his friends, who now taunted him from inside the carriage.
After breaking up the duel, he left with Stephen to attend a private party somewhere near Mayfair before finding himself at a gaming hell. He hadn’t seen her again.
He had searched.
Even with her bright red hair, she had disappeared.
But he would see her again, and perhaps soon.
“Get some sleep, Romeo,” Stephen teased. “Being lovestruck suits you. I dare say you’re tolerable now.”
When Henry sobered up, he might take offense, but right now, it felt as if he could run for miles. It felt as if he could make the sun rise in the morning and set at night, and still have enough within him to summon the moon on the stormiest night.
