âRemember, you have lines to study for tomorrow.â
Mr. Dickson gasped in delight. âDo you play tomorrow, Miss St. Lys?â he asked eagerly. âI had no idea! There was nothing about it in the Theatrical Inquisitor , was there, Queenie? I read the theatrical pages to her every morning.â
âIâll leave a billet dâentrée for you at the door, Mr. Dickson,â Celia promised as Fitzclarence pushed her up the steps. âBut now I really must go. Good night! Good night, Queenie!â
âIf I were your lover, Iâd find a way to make that man disappear,â Fitzclarence muttered. âWhat a bloody pest!â
âHeâs a very nice man,â she said. Her next breath was a gasp of dismay. âOh no! Heâs looking in the hack! Youâd better be quick, Clareâbefore he sees that wretched girl!â
Hastily, she closed the door in his face. Leaving Tonecho to lock up and bar the door, she made her way past the tall porcelain Chinaman on the hall table. A mandarin, no less, he seemed to nod sagely to her as she paused to light her bedroom taper.
Five minutes later, she was curled up in bed with a well-worn copy of Romeo and Juliet . Resolutely, she opened it to the first page. Notes she had written at the margins three years before were undecipherable now. With a sigh, she reached for the tiny gold spectacles on her bedside table. She really ought not to have had that last glass of champagne.
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Dorian, Duke of Berkshire, could not sleep. The events of the evening had upset him greatly. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Miss Tinsley, her face contorted with jealous rage, striking the beautiful Miss St. Lys across the face. Finally, he stopped closing his eyes.
Slipping on his dressing gown and slippers, he made his way to the stairs. Berkshire House was dark and quiet. As if across a great distance, he heard the quarter chime of the clock in his motherâs boudoir. Downstairs, in the library, he found his mother seated at the massive mahogany desk that had been his fatherâs. Dressed for bed, a cap over her gray hair, she was writing busily and did not hear him come in.
âMama?â he called to her softly, holding up the bedroom taper he had brought with him.
âDorian!â she exclaimed, glancing up. âYou should be in bed.â
âSo should you be,â he said.
âI couldnât sleep.â
âNeither could I.â
The duchess set down her pen. âDo you want to talk about it?â she asked.
Dorian walked over to the fire and added a log from the box. âI keep turning it over and over in my mind,â he said bleakly. âPoor Miss St. Lys! I ought to have done something. I ought to have stopped it.â
âWhat could you have done, my darling? It is not your fault. I am sure Miss St. Lys does not blame us for Miss Tinsleyâs shocking behavior.â
âIt never should have happened. We should never have gone to the Green Room at all.â
âYouâre quite right, of course,â she said. âIt was very wrong of Miss Tinsley to insist upon going backstage after the play. I was quite shocked. But then, blood will tell.â
Dorian looked at her incredulously. âIf you knew she was wrong, madam, why did you indulge her? It is clear, I trust, that I shall not be making Miss Tinsley an offer of marriage.â
âNo indeed,â she agreed very readily. âI have already struck her from the list.â
âYou have a list?â he asked, momentarily distracted.
âOf course I have a list,â she replied. âMiss Tinsley is no longer on it. You need never see her again. I have been writing to the other patronesses,â she went on. âMiss Tinsleyâs vouchers to Almackâs are to be revoked at once. As of tonight, she is no longer welcome in the first circle of society. She will find her level, I daresay. With a dowry of three
Mina Carter, J.William Mitchell