Everything I Ever Wanted (11 page)

In all likelihood she had, South thought. And the unfortunate circumstances which may befall her? What do you know of them?

"Nothing."

"Is her life in danger?"

"I have not heard such. It has only been intimated that she may be exposed."

"Perhaps she should be," South said frankly.

"I cannot say. I have made no judgment about her affair with Senor Cruz. It is not my place. I only thought there would be interest in knowing that the business between them is no longer entirely their secret."

South nodded. "Your source for this information?" he asked.

"My own."

He recalled this was what she had said once before. South did not press. Instead, he inclined his head slightly and thanked her. "I will be certain to relate what you have told me."

"Thank you."

South inclined his head again, his mood thoughtful. More than a minute passed before he said, "There is something I would discuss with you, Miss Parr."

"Of course."

Speaking as if his question were of no consequence, he asked, "What do know of Mr. Rutherford?"

India frowned. The purpose of his question, coming as if from nowhere, confounded her. "Rutherford? Mr. William Rutherford?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"We are acquainted only."

"He is one of your admirers, I believe." South could divine no reason to explain that he knew it for a fact. He waited to hear her response.

"He comes often to my dressing room after a performance," she said modestly."He is always most complimentary."

"I see. And he has stopped his nightly sojourns?"

"Hardly nightly. He attended the theatre perhaps two or three times each week."

South did not disabuse her of the assumption she made regarding Rutherford's attendance. He had observed Rutherford arriving at the Drury Lane Theatre just as the evening's performance was ending, then joining the throng outside India's dressing room.

"May I inquire as to your interest in Mr. Rutherford?" asked India.

South considered what he wanted to tell her. "As it happens, I have learned only this evening that Mr. Rutherford has fled the country to escape his creditors."

"Indeed. It does not surprise."

"You knew of his debt?"

"It had been brought to my attention. But why do you mention it?"

"Merely to satisfy a curiosity," he said.

That was no answer at all, India thought. "And have you?"

"Not entirely," he said. "I am wondering if you evinced some feeling toward Mr. Rutherford?"

"If I ?" India wished she could see Southerton more clearly and perhaps know better the bent of his mind. "I assure, I have not. He comes to my dressing room, pays his compliments, and often leaves his card with me. I have never responded to any of his overtures. In point of fact, I give the cards to Doobin. If you can credit such a thing, he collects all cards left with me."

"My card also?"

She shook her head. "No. I did not give him yours." In fact, she had burned it."Do you not believe that Mr. Rutherford has fled?"

"My mind is not set on the matter."

"I see."

"He was very attentive toward you."

"Was he? I'm afraid I did not realize such was the case."

South's chuckle was rueful. Poor Mr. Rutherford.

India pressed on. "Am I to understand from what you have said that you suspect Rutherford's disappearance is in some manner connected to me?"

"I admit that when you lay it out before me in such plain terms it appears to warrant no such conclusion."

"I should say so," she said coolly. "There is nothing at all flattering about your suspicions."

"My dear Miss Parr," South drawled, "it was certainly not my intention to flatter you." He could sense her drawing herself up, spine stiff, chin thrust forward, challenging. South supposed it was a good thing that the wandering sliver of moonlight did not flash itself across the half-smile playing about his mouth or the amusement he could not check in his eyes.

"That is just as well," India said."I am certain that upon further investigation you will discover Mr. Rutherford is precisely where the on dit places him."

"No doubt you are correct," South said neutrally. He found one corner of the window blind and moved it a fraction with the tip of his index finger. He peered out through the crack. The theatre district would soon be upon them. Letting the blind fall back into place, he casually raised one leg and extended it to the opposite seat, effectively blocking the exit by hitching his boot heel on the edge."However," he began quietly,"in the event you are not correct, will you reconsider the colonel's offer of protection?"

"No. I will not. I remain quite firm in that regard."

Her words were certainly firm, South thought, yet he could not shake the sense that her resolve might be wavering. Her head was turned at a slight angle away from him, as if even in the darkened carriage she did not want to risk meeting his eye. "Do you resist the idea because of me?"

"I do not know what you mean."

He felt quite certain she did. Her knee brushed his foot as she turned slightly toward the door. Though he did not suspect she was a coward, he was glad of his foresight to block the exit. "Well, Miss Parr?"

The carriage began to slow. The cadence of the horse's hooves changed and the cab ceased to rock. "The theatre," she announced.

"Yes." South did not move. "Be so kind as to answer the question."

She started to rise. For the first time she realized he was in her way. "You said I must make a pretense of some errand. I am prepared now to do that."

"I will go with you."

India sat down quickly. "No."

"Very well. Answer the question I put to you."

The carriage bobbled as the driver climbed down. India threw up her hood, tucking a wayward strand of pale hair inside. She made certain the frog at her throat was secure. "He will open the door," she said urgently. "Let me pass."

"You are concerned someone will see us together."

"Please," she said huskily. "Remove your leg."

"Miss Parr." There was an absence of patience in his tone. The door rattled slightly.

India fumbled for the handle from the inside. "My lord, sit back. I will return quickly."

It occurred to him that she might not return at all. For all that she had been anxious to relate her information this evening, she had taken considerable pains not to be seen with him.

What would be the consequences, he wondered, if he were to make certain exactly the opposite happened? South prepared himself to find out. Leaning forward, he pulled India Parr onto his lap and used her openmouthed surprise to press his lips to hers.

The carriage door swung open.

Her lips were cool at first touch. South imagined the condition had much to do with the blood draining from her face. She had no reason to anticipate that he would treat her with so little regard, and indeed, he had no liking for breaking her trust. For all that he had pulled her abruptly into his arms, he managed to hold her carefully, supporting her weight in a cradle of his arms and thighs, protecting the back of her head by cupping it in one hand. Strands of her silky hair sifted through his fingertips. He was met by the faint scents of soap and lilac as his fingers delved more deeply to rest firmly against her scalp.

South did not press his first advantage of surprise. He did not change the slant of his mouth over hers or run his tongue along the line of her lips as he was wont to do. His eyes were not entirely closed. He kept the merest fraction of his hooded glance on the opening, where the driver was still fumbling to shut the door that had been flung to one side.

This was finally accomplished with a considerable degree of force, some rending of material, and several embarrassed, apologetic utterances. None of it was done, however, before the pair of men walking past the carriage had halted and taken their fill of the interior tableau.

The cab was thrust into darkness again by the closing of the door. South lifted his head slowly, but not far. "Have a care what you say or do," he whispered. "There is an audience still attending our performance, whether they can see it or not."

India did nothing. She neither struggled to get upa response she thought undignified at this juncturenor permitted herself the luxury of relaxing against him, a response she considered too revealing in nature. She remained precisely where she was, trying not to think forward to the consequences of his actions.

"Have you swooned, Miss Parr?" South asked with polite interest.

Her tone was a trifle acerbic. "No, my lord. You can be quite certain that is not the case."

"Oh."

India wondered at his capacity to derive humor from the situation and, in turn, make her find the same. She felt the corners of her mouth edging upward and was glad for the darkness that kept him from being witness to it. "Was it your intent to provoke such a response?"

"No," he admitted."It would have been deuced inconvenient."

"You have no smelling salts at the ready, I take it."

"None."

She stared up at him, trying to make out his fine, handsome features. She had to rely on her memory instead to find the quicksilver smile she knew was flickering about his mouth and lending his eyes a certain roguish glint. Why had he come so late to her life? she wondered. It was a thought that required rigorous suppression and received her full attention so that it was immediately accomplished. What she said was, "You, my lord, are a complete hand."

South made no reply for a moment, and still, when he spoke, he could not shake the husky timbre from his voice. "And you, Miss Parr, are a handful."

He helped her move then, as he knew he must. When she was seated on the opposite bench once more, he found the blind and snapped it. Its fluttering intruded loudly on the silence they had only imagined surrounded them. Moonshine lighted the interior of the hackney and tinted India's complexion in a pale blue wash. She was perfectly composed, though he suspected composure was not at all what she felt.

"You will explain yourself, won't you?" she asked softly, her voice barely carrying across the small space separating them.

Aware that the driver had not moved, nor had the two men who had been raptly attentive to their brief intimacy, Southerton leaned forward and raised India's hood again. "Soon enough," he said. "You will go into the theatre now on whatever errand you have devised."

India nodded. She could still feel his fingers touching her hair, tucking flyaway strands around her ears, sliding along the back of her neck from the base of her skull to her shoulders. It didn't seem to matter that he was already reaching for the door, prepared to open it. The gentle, concerned touch of him was still upon her as she accepted the driver's assistance and climbed down.

"Good evening, India." James Kent separated himself from the man at his side and stepped forward. He did not directly block India's path, but his intention to gain her notice was clear.

She stopped and lifted her bowed head. "Mr. Kent." There was no need to inject a note of surprise in her voice. It was her natural reaction to be confronted by the theatre's manager and occasional director at this hour. "You are rather late leaving tonight, are you not?"

"Tallying receipts," he explained."A tiresome but necessary business."

"And the totals?"

James Kent was not given to effusive displays of emotion. Although he demanded something different from the actors under his direction and care, he wasted little effort demonstrating the same. "Satisfying," he said levelly. "A happy consequence when you take the lead, India."

She did not think he sounded particularly happy, but she refrained from pointing this out. "It is kind of you to say so." India inclined her head in a parting nod and made to pass. Kent fell into step beside her instead. "There is no need for you to accompany me," she told him. "I have a key. You gave it to me, if you would but recall. I can show myself in."

"It is no trouble." He glanced toward his companion and motioned for him to wait. "I will only be a moment."

India did not hear the other man's reply. She supposed he merely nodded. It took a measure of self-control not to turn and identify Kent's companion. It was no one from the troupe or he would have made himself known as Kent had. "Really," India said, "there is no need."

"And really," Kent countered, "it is no trouble."

She did not press further objection to his company. "Then thank you. I will be but a moment. I have only come for the script you distributed tonight." She felt rather than saw Kent glance back toward her rented hack.

"You are, perhaps, giving a private performance this evening, India?"

She did not stiffen, because his question was not unexpected. "Not so private as I might have wished," she admitted without any hint of embarrassment.

James Kent was possessed of a thin, angular frame that barely filled out his skin, let alone his black frock coat. It hung from his shoulders with no regard for where the seams were placed. Pressing one hand to his chin, Kent rubbed the bony point with his thumb and forefinger as India opened the rear entrance to the theatre he had locked but minutes before. His mild tone couched the import of his words. "Have I reason to be concerned, India?"

She felt an all too familiar tightening in her throat. India had known James Kent too long to be deceived by his offhanded interest. "I cannot say if you should be concerned," she told him. "Only that I am not."

He said nothing, helping her light the lantern hanging just inside the door instead. Kent took it from her hands and raised it, studying India's face. "I've worked too long with actors to have any particular fondness for them. In the main, I find them a means to an end."

India had heard this blunt speech before. "So you have said." She began to walk away from him and toward her dressing room.

"It is always troubling when one such as yourself is placed in so prominent a position. The public clamors for your work, and I, perforce, must accede to their demands or accept their disapproval, I find their dictates tiresome, yet cannot dismiss their interest for my own." He paused, allowing silence to underscore his words."I put the question to you again, India. Do I have reason to be concerned?"

She rounded on him. "How am I to answer that when you cannot decide if your rife would be improved with my presence or the lack of the same? If your concern were for me, Mr. Kent, I should be glad of it, but it is only for yourself, and I find it intrusive in the extreme."

The director was not deterred. "And what of the troupe? I speak for all of them."

Because there was truth to that, India relented. "I have no intention of leaving the theatre," she said. "You are making too much of what you saw or think you saw."

"Oh, I know what I saw, India. It is the Viscount Southerton, is it not?"

India turned and began walking again, taking pains not to rush her steps.

"Is it an affair of long standing?" he asked. It was difficult to believe that such was the case. There was little that India Parr did that did not come to his attention. Quickly. "I had heard Rutherford."

"Really," she said, giving neither credence nor lie to the rumor. "How odd." India entered her dressing room, found the script of Morton's comedy Speed the Plough on the table among her pots of rouge and paint, and picked it up. She waved it in front of Kent."You cannot fault my dedication."

"No, not that." The words were offered reluctantly, as though it pained him to admit it, which it very nearly did. He regarded her gravely, his next offering nearly choking him. "Have a care, India. Whatever Southerton's interest, it can only be in passing. And until it passes, it is bound to cause difficulties for you."

"Why, Mr. Kent, I believe you are evincing some concern for me after all."

The sound he made came from deep at the back of his throat and could be taken as gruff denial or simply a need to clear it. He held up the lantern as she passed again, and followed her back into the corridor. "I hasten to add it will cause difficulties for all of us. Southerton is the Earl of Redding's heir, you know."

"Yes."

"You shouldn't have clobbered him on the chin."

So Mr. Kent had heard about that, also. There was no point in telling him the viscount had invited that action."He and his friends behaved boorishly, and his apology was without sincerity."

"Mrs. Garrety related you delivered a facer that would have done a Corinthian proud."

India shrugged.

"I fear it is what has piqued his interest in you."

"You are assuming he is my companion," she said. "I would remind you that I have not said the same." They walked the remainder of the way to the exit without a word passing between them. The hack was waiting for her. Kent's companion was gone. "Your friend appears to have deserted you."

"No particular friend, India. An investor, I had hoped."

The faint smile that had softened her features vanished, and she turned sharply to look at Kent. "I hope you made no promises to him on my behalf, Mr. Kent."

There was no change in Kent's grave and gaunt visage, no indication that he was in the least offended. "I am no pimp."

"As a man who allows that his actors are but a means to an end," she said without inflection,"it is the very definition of what you are." India did not pause as Kent was stopped in his tracks by her unaffected riposte. The driver came to attention as she approached the hack, and opened the door for her. She climbed in, ignoring the hand Southerton extended to her, and sat down. "Oh, do let us be off," she said wearily. "I am for the comfort of my own bed." And lest Southerton mistake this for an invitation, she added, "Alone."

South's chuckle rumbled pleasantly. He rapped on the communicating door with the driver, and the hack rolled forward. "That was Kent, wasn't it? The manager?"

India felt certain South knew the answer to his own question, but she answered anyway. "Yes. He also happens to be the director of our current production and our next." Her thumbnail flicked the loosely bound pages of script. "Morton's Speed the Plough ."

"A good choice."

"Yes. He is not to be faulted for his talent in choosing promising material." India sat, gave her head a small toss, and let the hood fall away again. When she realized she was sitting uncomfortably on the back of her cloak, India merely unfastened the heavily embroidered frog at the base of her throat rather than move and right the material. "He saw you, just as you intended he should. I did not confirm it, though he put the question to me often enough. I cannot say why I left him wondering, except to suppose it is because I dislike being the subject of his interrogation as much as I dislike your using me."

South made no response to this. He asked instead, "And the other man?"

"An investor, Mr. Kent told me. Or at least he was in anticipation of such a coup. I collect I was to have figured in some way in the man's interest. You might have dashed his hopes."

Southerton's dark brow creased as he considered what she was telling him. It was not only the content that troubled him but the disinterest with which she related it. "What are you saying, Miss Parr? That Kent holds out the promise of your affections to these plump-pocketed asses?"

"Better to be the carrot than the stick," she said philosophically. When this quiet rejoinder was met by silence, she went on. "Never say you mean to be high in the instep about it, not after you made me a pawn in your own game. My value to the company has always been more than my onstage performance. A public liaison with any one man diminishes the hope that I will be another's."

"You have no say in the matter?"

"On the contrary, I have a great deal to say, and none of it that matters. Mr. Kent does as he will. You do as you will. As for me, my lord, I am no whore but merely play at one at the behest of those who would have it so."

There was a faint ringing in South's ears as if they had been thoroughly boxed. The dressing-down she delivered smarted at least as much and humbled him more. "In the future," he said sardonically, "you will simply clap me smartly on either side of the head and have done with it."