Certainly the girl herself had no reservations about Juliet if she wished for her to marry her brother. Juliet shivered at the thought. Being embraced by Mr. Hopkins must no doubt be a cold affair, even if his Christian name was Romeo.
She would keep her promise, though the thought of seeing everyone's reaction to such delicious news was tempting. Why ever had he kept it secret? His sister must be exaggerating. Romeo was a name that might cause a few odd looks, but it was nothing to be ashamed about. It was a romantic, beautiful name even if it did not fit him one bit.
No, he should have been named Horace or Humphrey if his name was to match his demeanor. Still, she would say nothing of it. To anyone but Mr. Romeo Hopkins. When the time was ripe.
To think of him in the play was absurd, however, no matter what his sister thought. He knew it; she could see it in his eyes when he tried to refuse earlier. And he was absolutely correct. That part should rightly go to Pendrake.
Miss Hopkins aside, fate did not intend the role for a man with ledger ink in his veins.
* * * * *
"To lower yourself to make a fool of yourself in a play is bad enough, but one with that unfortunately named character in it . . ." Annabel swept a hand through her hair, adjusting a jeweled ornament and raising her parasol to block the sunlight from reaching her complexion.
She leveled a warning glare upon him. ". . . Your father will not be pleased to hear of this, R.J."
No, his father would find acting in an amateur production most frivolous. Still, for Annabel to invoke his father's name, she must be truly furious.
He shifted on the warm marble of the garden bench, feeling a bit like a schoolboy caught in a foolish prank. "Father will not hear until long after the play has been forgotten. I hardly think it will matter to him at all." A bit of leftover schoolboy devilment made him hold off telling her that he was not truly going to play the role of a lovesick swain.
"That is not the point I am making, R.J." Annabel was assessing him shrewdly, and he realized that she still believed he was enamored of Miss Fenster. "I just don't think it is rational to allow yourself to be caught up in these goings-on."
His neck muscles clenched at her use of the word. Rational. As long as he could remember, she, or his father, had used it to mean that he was in danger of allowing his mother's emotional and unpredictable blood to control him.
If anything would ever convince them that he had no more self-control than his mother had possessed, it would certainly be mooning after Juliet Fenster. Something the role of Romeo would require of him.
Susannah laughed. "Oh, Mother. It is just a bit of fun. Why, even Lord Blessingham will be joining in as Mercutio."
"He will?" Her fury abating as suddenly as it had arisen, Annabel Hopkins sighed. "I will never understand these young men. They should have more serious things to occupy themselves with. Such as finding a wife."
"I agree, especially now with the lower classes making their discontent known."
Annabel frowned. "Malcontents plague every society."
R.J. shook his head. His visit to London had been enlightening. Times were changing, and practices must change with them. Industry was revolutionizing the world. And crushing a segment of the population.
"It is time for the leaders to lead, not sit idly by, fiddling while Rome burns."
"Odd, then, that you chose to play." Annabel frowned.
R.J. answered, feeling as if his sister had given him a reprieve he did not deserve. "As Susannah has said, everyone is joining in. And I would not want to be shamed by refusing." He looked hard at his little sister, who had the grace to blush before she smiled back at him.
"You will be wonderful," she teased him. "I have little doubt that you will find a wife among the admiring audience for certain."
The teasing did not surprise him, but the hint of true hope in her eyes made him worry that she had decided one of the women here at this lavish house party would make him a good wife. He hoped it was not Matilda Durham, his stepmother's candidate for daughter-in-law.
Annabel raised a brow. "Indeed, that would be a miracle. There has been not one to his taste in a thousand young misses until now." Again, her look was searching, but she said nothing aloud about her suspicions, and he did not want to mention them in Susannah's company for fear that his little sister would think the match an excellent idea.
"But fate has cast the die, Mother." Almost as if she read his mind, his sister turned to tease him. "R.J. will soon be smitten; I can feel it."
"Can you?" Annabel frowned, then schooled her features into a motherly smile. "I admit I have hopes that Lord Blessingham will have decided to ask for your hand by the end of this visit. But even I cannot bring myself to believe your brother will ever choose an English miss for a bride."
Susannah glanced down into her lap evasively and blushed. "I feel Lord Blessingham will speak soon." She looked up into her mother's gaze, such sincerity blazing from her eyes that he wondered what true emotion lay beneath.
"Lady Blessingham. I see you making your curtsy to the queen when I say the name." Annabel's eyes shone.
Susannah shivered almost imperceptibly. He would not have noticed if he had not been able to see the trembling surface of the silk shawl resting upon her shoulders. He wondered if her chill came from anticipation, distaste, or fear as she added, "I endeavor not to hope it too forthrightly for fear he will hear my thoughts and turn away from me." Her words sounded insincere to his ears, but evidently Annabel herself did not hear the false note, for she merely beamed in motherly pleasure.
"Never worry, sister," R.J. teased her in retribution for her earlier taunts. "If anyone can bring a man to have the nerve to beg for your hand, Romeo can ask it of brave Mercutio."
"Thank you, dear brother." There was no thanks in her eyes, though, he noted. More fear that he might actually deliver Blessingham to her, unwanted though he was.
His tone more sympathetic, he said, "You shall have fate decide before our visit is done, I am certain of it."
She frowned at him. "Then I wish the same of you."
But her unhappiness with him disappeared as she glanced over his shoulder, and her face broke into a genuine smile.
When he turned, he saw Juliet Fenster approaching, dressed as usual in the stylish manner that no doubt cost the duke a pretty penny. He had learned enough of her circumstances to know that her brother did not have the wherewithal to outfit her lavishly in the high fashions that she favored. No, the funds for her wardrobe came from the duke, and the ungrateful woman seemed to delight in finding expensive frippery to beggar her sister's husband with.
He wondered if he should put the idea of his playing Romeo to her Juliet to an end now. It would please Annabel, he knew. But even as he had the thought, he knew he would not. It would make Miss Fenster entirely too free to manipulate Pendrake into the role — if she had not already done so.
She navigated the garden in a gliding swirl of cobalt blue skirts, seeming not to touch her unseen feet to the ground. She was followed by a few of her young admirers, one of whom had an armful of papers.
As she reached them, he caught a whiff of a perfume that was not from the garden but from Miss Fenster herself. She smiled at him and gestured so that the young man handed him — with a jealous scowl — a sheaf of papers with "Romeo" scrawled on the top.
For a moment he thought his secret out on display for all to see, but then he realized that these were his lines for the play, copied out in a neat, flowing hand. The chance to end this nonsense was at hand. He could return the papers to her. Leave the role to someone else, even if she chose Freddie. He clutched the sheaf of papers in his hand. Feeling as if he had stepped off the edge of a cliff, he made his decision.
He would play Romeo.
Still reeling from the idea of himself as an actor, R.J. looked into her smiling eyes and could not resist sharing his misgivings by quoting the bard: "For my mind misgives some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, shall bitterly begin his fearful date with this night's revels and expire the term of a despised life, clos'd in my breast by some vile forfeit of untimely death."
She laughed at him. "I hope, my dear Romeo, " she hesitated, her smile widening, and his heart missed a beat at her casual use of his name. Was there knowledge in her eyes that had not been there before? "that you do not say your performance will be so poor as to require your death of shame?"
She knew. He could see the knowledge of his given name in her eyes. A knowledge that had been missing before. Only Susannah could have told her. But when?
All were smiles as they awaited his response, none aware of her appalling breach of manners. "I can only say that I hope I have more of consequence to do than playact in my life, Miss Fenster," he answered stiffly.
The smiles dimmed, but more at his poor wit than at her forward behavior. She, however, merely tilted her head and laughed at him. "But he that hath the steerage of my course direct my sail." She quoted the rest of the bard's line at him to the murmured approval of the others. And then, she had the audacity to add, "And I, as the commander of this play, shall be sure to steer your performance so as not to ruin the enjoyment of the audience, I assure you, my dear Romeo."
Again she said the name. Frustration filled him at this vulnerability. None of the others understood the daring intimacy or that she had been bold enough to call him by his first name. Except, of course, Susannah, who was smiling as if she were much too pleased with herself. Whatever did the girl think would happen? Had she, he wondered with dread, decided that this Miss Fenster was suitable wife material for him? Heaven forbid.
He glanced at his stepmother. She did not seem in the slightest uncomfortable to hear him called Romeo. No, wait, there was a perceptible purse to her lips, now that he looked more closely. If she knew that Juliet was fully aware it was his true name, she would be furious.
Of course, he realized with a start, it was the first time she would have heard him addressed by that name. He had not heard it since his mother died when he was five.
His father had always called him R.J. Everyone but his mother had called him R.J. But no, it was not a name to be forgotten. Which was why no one ever dared say it aloud. Until Juliet Fenster.
He glanced down at the script and felt the stir of unease. He must look at her and say these words of love? He had forgotten Romeo's youth and impetuous nature. This had never been his favorite play. He had preferred Macbeth or Hamlet.
He stood quietly, ignoring the urgent desire to hand the misnamed sheets back to her. To concede defeat and watch her lure Pendrake wherever she would. In the end it was her smile and the amused look in her hazel eyes that decided it for him. He was no coward.
Let her declare his name for all to hear. He would protect his friend. No other would play this part. Only he could show the mocking Miss Fenster that there was still one man alive who could see beyond her wiles and resist her charms.
Knowing that she alone would understand his meaning, he said softly, "The play's the thing. Is it not, fair Juliet?"
There was a tiny gasp of surprise from Annabel, which he ignored. It was the dawning spread of realization upon Miss Fenster's features that he relished.
She understood he would not relinquish the part now. Imperfectly concealing a frown, she said, "Truly, my Romeo."
Looking down at the sheaf of papers in his hand, he thumbed through the lines as if he hadn't understood the threat implicit in the subtle emphasis of her angelic voice reciting the name his mother had given him.
For the first time, he understood how his mother could have considered it beautiful. He bit back a groan. How was he to survive nine days of rehearsal, listening to Juliet's soft, sweet repetition of his despised name?
* * * * *
"Please deliver your line, Mr. Hopkins," Juliet said curtly. She knew she should not be too obvious, but after three days of rehearsals, her unhappiness was great. She had pictured approaching Pendrake to offer him the role of Romeo. She had been certain in her heart that he would see the true nature of her offer that she would rescue him from a loveless match if he could only bring himself to think of his own happiness first. Unfortunately, Pendrake had managed to elude all her attempts to offer him the role.
Indeed, she had not had a chance to speak to him when his fiance was not glued to his side. Their behavior was disgraceful, the way they spent every moment in each other's company. One might even imagine they were in love. And now she was stuck with Mr. Hopkins. Mr. Romeo Hopkins. What was she to do?
As if in answer, he said his lines, "O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven ... "
She was captured by his eyes, by the power of his voice. Not the voice of a boy but of a man who knew what he gazed upon. Who knew what he wanted. She shivered. As the silence grew around them, she forced herself back to sense. Back to the realization that her line now waited to be spoken.
Stiffly, she said, "O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet."
He did not speak his next line; instead, the heat of his Romeo retreated back into the ice of the real Mr. Hopkins. "Miss Fenster, may I suggest that Juliet has not yet spied her Romeo and so it would be more appropriate if you were not staring into my eyes?"
Juliet glared down from the crate she stood upon, which would serve as a makeshift balcony until Rosaline had finished overseeing the production of the appropriate scenery. "We are merely rehearsing, Mr. Hopkins. I assure you, I find it necessary to watch you deliver your lines. I am also directing this play, if you would be so good as to recall." She would not have him believe she had actually been captivated by him.