positions.’
‘Not if he has the gentlemanly instincts you say he has,’ Jessica pointed out with depressing logic. ‘If he loved you, then he would sacrifice himself by refusing to see you any more. As Bel said, he does seem to restrict himself to married women, so he has some scruples.’
‘And anyway,’ Bel added, ‘it isn’t what he thinks about your respective positions, it is what society thinks.’
Maude fell silent, wrestling with the conundrum. The only possible solution appeared to be to become his lover, then hope he fell in love and realised that, having hopelessly compromised her, he must marry her. But what if he did not fall in love and felt he had to offer anyway?
‘This is 1817,’ she said, raising her chin and meeting their sympathetic looks with determination. ‘Things are changing, men with wealth and intelligence are breaking into society.’
‘Merchant bankers and nabobs, maybe,’ Jessica said doubtfully. ‘But the theatre is simply not respectable. Not for marriage.’
‘In that case,’ Maude declared, getting to her feet, ‘the Unicorn is going to become the first respectable theatre in the country.’
‘The evening post, sir.’ Eden’s butler proffered the laden salver. ‘Dinner will be served in thirty minutes, sir.’
‘Thank you.’ Eden took the pile of letters and began to flick through them. He was dining at home, alone, for the first time in weeks and finding it hard to relax. His brain was still working on too many levels. There were the remaining issues with the staging for How to Tease, there were the tactics to persuade Madame to take the role of Lady Macbeth and, if she did, the problem of producing a version that would not bring down the wrath of the Patent theatres and the Lord Chamberlain for performing ‘legitimate’ drama without a licence.
Ways of improving the scene shifting were beginning to form at the back of his mind, there was the situation between Golding, Merrick and Poole to resolve and decisions about investments to make.
Investments. He tossed the letters down on to his desk unopened. They were not normally a problem. His instructions to his broker were straightforward enough, he simply had to decide on one or two points and send a letter to the man. No, it was Lady Maude Templeton and her harebrained desire to invest in the Unicorn that was baffling him. And Eden Hurst did not like being baffled. Challenged, yes—he enjoyed a good fight. But not baffled by a brown-eyed lady with a pointed chin, a cool manner and a staggering disregard for convention.
He wanted to make love to her. Oh, yes, he most definitely wanted that. His imagination had no trouble conjuring up the image of her naked on his big bed upstairs, that thick hair tumbling around her shoulders, her hands gripping his shoulders as he sank into the tight wet heat of her. But he also, oddly, wanted to get to know her. Understand her, not simply discover why she had come up with this madcap scheme. And why should he want to do that?
Eden gave himself a brisk mental shake and returned to his post. Bills, letters from aspiring players, the opening scenes of a play written in odd green ink… He really should get a secretary for all this.
One plain white wrapper of fine quality paper, sealed with a crest pressed into the dark blue wax; that looked more interesting. He cracked the seal and spread out the single sheet.
Lord Pangbourne requests the pleasure of Mr Hurst’s company for refreshments during the second interval at the Unicorn on Monday next.
‘My God, she has told him.’ Eden stared at the invitation, reluctant admiration stirring. No sign of a horsewhip, not yet at any rate. Perhaps the earl was as unconventional as his daughter, or perhaps he thought to show her just how unsuitable a person Eden was for her to associate with by putting him into a social situation.
That was the logical answer. And in order to remove the puzzle of Lady Maude from his life, all he had to do was to turn up and act as Lord Pangbourne would expect. Eden toyed with the combination of clothing and manner that would make him appear louche, dangerous and entirely impossible.
His on-stage style was already established; he just needed to develop that to the point of caricature. He had seen enough old-school actor-managers to be able to assemble the worst characteristics of all of them. And then even the most indulgent father would take fright and bundle his daughter off out of harm’s way, leaving Eden to manage his theatre in tranquillity.
He picked up the paper and as he did so the faint scent of gardenias wafted to his nostrils. So, this firm black hand was not that of the earl or his secretary. Lady Maude herself had penned it. Eden smiled thinly. Was her father even aware he was going to have a visitor to his box on Monday night?
‘It is fortunate that the private boxes at the Unicorn are spacious, for this one seems very full of large men tonight,’ Jessica remarked to Maude on Monday evening as the Derehams entered with their guest. Lord Pangbourne, with Gareth at his side, was greeting them, giving the friends the opportunity to study As he’s naval acquaintance.
‘Why not fall for him?’ Jessica whispered. ‘He looks so distinguished in that uniform and he is very good looking and not too old either. Not more than thirty, do you think? A younger son, of course, but excellent connections. Your father would be delighted.’
‘I have no interest in other men, as you very well know,’ Maude hissed back, too tense to enjoy being teased. The officer was tall and rangy in his dark blue uniform, his hair close cropped, his eyes, as he turned to be introduced to the two young women, a deep and attractive blue against weather-tanned skin.
‘Lady Standon, Maude, this is Captain Warnham. My lord—Lady Standon, my daughter Lady Maude.’
Greetings exchanged, the captain settled his long frame between Maude and Jessica. ‘It is a long time since I have been inside an English theatre,’ he commented, looking around with interest. From the boxes opposite came the flash of light on lenses as opera glasses were raised to scrutinise comings and goings. It would be all round the ton before long that a handsome naval officer was newly in town.
‘You have been at sea for many months?’ Maude enquired, fanning herself. The theatre was crowded and the heat rising from the gas lamps added to that generated by the crowd and her own anxiety.
‘Three months in the South Atlantic, ma’am. I am back for some weeks before sailing for Jamaica on another mission.’
‘The West Indies? How fascinating, I have always wanted to go to those islands.’ Maude, her twitching nerves over Eden momentarily forgotten, leaned closer. ‘They always sound so romantic and exotic.’
Captain Warnham smiled. ‘They have their charms, I am sure, but they also have slavery, hurricanes, tropical disease and pirates.’
‘And sunshine and blue seas and parrots and waving palm trees,’ Maude said wistfully, thinking of the drizzle that affected London.
‘My husband and Lady Belinda have a cousin in Jamaica, do you not, Bel?’ Jessica raised her voice to catch Bel’s attention.
‘Jamaica? Yes, Clemence Ravenhurst. We are expecting her father to bring her over to England this summer to stay
