Page 83 of The Duke's Dream
How could she live up to these lofty expectations?
“But why?”
“Because you represent all that is feminine and pure and unattainable. It is what you wanted, was it not? To inspire women?”
“Yes, but—”
“But me no buts. Remember Langley’s words? Don’t think, just do.”
Helene stared at her lap. It was all happening fast, and her life would change. Still, wasn’t this why she had trained so hard?
Verón cleared his throat. “Fame is capricious. Today’s muse can become tomorrow’s tramp. Only through careful cultivation of your image will you grow into a star. Don’t trouble your pretty head. Old Verón will guide you. Now… You might be asking what you will win.”
He clasped his hands, eyeing her intensely. “What do you want? No, don’t tell me. You will have a new wardrobe made for you by none other than Madam Piaget. All in white, La Sylphide has to wear white all the time. And a raise. I can’t have my prima ballerina living on soloist wages. Your own dressing room… What else, chérie?”
Helene lifted her chin. After blotching all of William’s teachings, she could not fail this one. Verón would probably balk, but she would set her slipper down firmly. She owed it to her friends.
“I want you to close the green room. No more patrons.”
“Done.”
Helene gasped. That easy?
Verón shrugged. “Your image of chasteness has to be kept intact. Having La Sylphide mixed with males in the dressing room won’t do. Which reminds me of the Duke of Albemarle…”
A furious wave of heat climbed from her cheeks to the tip of her ears. “I—”
“This is a serious matter. I wouldn’t dream of interfering with the theater’s biggest investor, but you must keep the relationship secret. Any breath of scandal can taint your image.”
Frowning, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She was sure William would find no objection, being as scandal-averse as he was. They already met only at her apartment. No matter how much she would like to experience more—more living with him—her career had to come first.
“You are right, of course,” she said, nodding slowly.
Verón grinned widely and tapped her hand. “I’m glad we agree. After all, no respectable woman would be inspired by a sullied La Sylphide, would she?”
Helenesatatthevanity in her new dressing room, fingers hovering above the expensive makeup Verón had provided. The luxuries she and Celeste had only admired from afar. She reached for a red lipstick, but hesitated, looking at the door. What if it weren’t for her? Avoiding the new things, Helene caught her pearl powder.
When the door opened, she was applying the glitter to her arms.
Verón poked his head through the threshold. “You have visitors.”
Helene knew it. He would not refrain from inviting lecherous patrons.
Lady Thornley and the Duchess of Devonshire sauntered inside.
Gasping, Helene stood and curtsied.
Lady Thornley embraced her. “I knew all along. You are a star. Congratulations, child!”
Helene’s cheeks heated. “You are too kind.”
The Duchess of Devonshire—the ton’s grand dame—gazed up at her as if she were an apparition.
Helene plastered a smile on her face, unsure what to do with her hands.
Lady Devonshire touched the tulle of her skirts. “Thank you, thank you so much. When you dance, I feel it is me up there. Soaring!”
The curtain call sounded. Uncomfortable, Helene looked at the door.
