Page 31 of Three Weeks with a Princess
Though Lia had grown quite fond of Amy over the past week, the girl was anything but innocent. As the Lester Troupe’s most popular dancer, Amy had garnered a legion of admirers bent on luring her to bestow her favors on them. Not a day went by that some little gift or carton of sweets or small posy didn’t arrive from one of her swains. Not that Amy was the only recipient of such largesse. Most of the female performers regularly received gifts from their admirers. And Lia was under no illusions that some of those men were not intimately rewarded for their generosity. Amy, the most popular girl, was currently being courted by a viscount, a baronet, a bachelor magistrate, and a prosperous haberdasher who kept her well supplied with stockings and lace.
“Will I do?” Amy smoothed down the bodice of her costume. “Or will you need to stick me some more?”
She was dressed as a nymph for the upcoming production ofThe Queen of Mount Olympus, which would star Lia’s mother and open in a few days. Amy looked more like a naughty milkmaid than a classical nymph, given the cut of the costume and the stays that pushed up her décolletage. When Lia pointed out to her mother that the outfits were historically inaccurate, Mama had simply laughed and said that no one in the audience, especially the men, gave a fig about sartorial accuracy when it came to dancers.
Lia had found it disconcerting to discover that some pieces in the theatrical program were quite unsophisticated and even ribald. She’d known, of course, that the licensing laws prohibited the company from performing spoken drama and the classics. And while she didn’t expect Shakespeare, she’d hoped to be given something more challenging—not to mention tasteful—than a nonspeaking role in the unfortunately named burlettaA Surprise for the Publican’s Wife.
“We’re done for now,” she said to Amy after inspecting her work. “Just let me unpin you, and then I’ll go ahead and finish stitching up the repair. Your costume will be ready for opening night, I promise.”
Amy breathed out a relieved sigh. “You’re a dear, Miss Lia. When it ripped at rehearsal, I was afraid I’d have to repair it myself, and I’m all thumbs when it comes to needlework. Never been much good at all that domestic nonsense.” She gave Lia a knowing wink. “Not that I have to be, thank God.”
“Indeed not,” Lia said dryly.
Apparently Amy was very particular when it came to her lovers. They had to be handsome, rich, and willing to spend to keep her in style. Lia couldn’t help feeling a bit squeamish about the hard-nosed way some of the company actresses and dancers discussed their current or prospective lovers, as if they were horses at auction at Tattersalls or investments on the Exchange.
Not that she blamed them; the theatrical profession was uncertain at best. It was no wonder female performers often supplemented their incomes with gifts or financial support from lovers or patrons.
Thankfully, Lia would never find herself in such a vulnerable position. With her mother and stepfather’s patronage, she should be able to establish a successful acting career that would enable her to support herself and Granny. In the meantime, her stepfather had made it perfectly clear that she was welcome to stay with them for as long as she wanted, despite her mother’s obvious reluctance to go along with that plan.
The final niggle—and a fairly large one at that—went by the title of the Marquess of Lendale. Lia had been dodging him for almost a week. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get away with that much longer, though; Jack was an exceedingly determined man. She did miss him terribly, except when the image of that humiliating scene in the library sprang into her mind. Then she told herself she never wanted to see him again.
“Hallo, Miss Lia,” Amy said, waving a hand in her face. “Are you in there?”
Lia startled. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
Amy peered at her. “You’re not coming down with the beastly cold that tackled Mrs. Andrews, are you? You look flushed as anything.”
“No, I’m perfectly fine, thank goodness, although I can’t say the same for poor Mrs. Andrews. It was bad enough that her assistant seamstress decided to run off and get married. Then to come down with that awful cold, and with less than a week before the opening, too.”
“That was bad luck,” Amy said as she struggled to get out of her costume. “But you’re almost as good with the needle as she is.” She wrinkled her nose. “Still, it don’t seem quite right that you had to take on the job of wardrobe mistress, you being Mrs. Lester’s daughter and all.”
Lia moved behind Amy to help her. “Most of the work was already done, and I did promise Mama I would assist in any way I could.”
“Yes, and they’ve got you copying out the cue lines and speeches for the actors when Mr. Lester makes changes to the script. If you ask me, they’re taking advantage of you, love.”
Lia couldn’t hold back a sigh. “You’re very kind to say so, but I truly don’t mind. Although I had been hoping for more than just a walk-on part in one little scene.”
“I think it’s because your mother’s jealous of you. Anybody can see you’re a younger version of her, and it can’t be easy to have that thrown in your face every day. She won’t want you stealing her thunder on that stage, I guarantee it.”
Lia stilled for a moment. “Mama just wants to make sure I don’t rush into anything or get in over my head.”
Amy snorted. “I don’t think so, love, but you tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Lia’s hands were a bit clumsy and she snagged a pin in the strap of Amy’s stays. When she tugged it out, it pulled the strap down, exposing the girl’s shoulder and upper back.
“Goodness,” she said with a frown. “How did you get that awful bruise?”
Amy hastily stepped away. She yanked off the bodice and handed it to Lia, then pulled her strap back over her shoulder. “I don’t even know. I suppose I was clumsy and bumped into something.”
That didn’t make sense because Amy was the most graceful person Lia had ever met. She practically floated, both on and off the stage.
“You should put some cool cloths on it, or perhaps some arnica. I’d be happy to go to the apothecary and get some for you.”
“Don’t fuss, Miss Lia,” Amy said sharply. “It’s fine.”
“All right, if you’re certain.” It was the first time Lia had known Amy to snap at anyone.
The dancer grimaced. “Just listen to me, biting your nose off like that. Sorry, love. I always get a little peevish before opening night. It’s nerves, that’s all.”
