Amber gave a sigh. “No, Nan, it’s not kind. But I can’t help it. I’m in love with Lord Carlton, mad in love with him. Nan! He’s Bruce’s father! Not my husband—I married Luke after Lord Carlton had gone to America. Oh, you’ve got to help me, Nan! Help me to keep Rex from finding out. While he’s here I’ve got to see him—and I will see him!—but he’ll be gone soon, in a month or two, and when he’s gone Rex will be none the wiser. I’ll marry him then—to make it up to him.
As Amber talked Nan’s flexible face changed, her expressions shifting like the play of sunlight over water, and at the end she ran to throw her arms about Amber. “Oh, I’m sorry, mam! I didn’t know—I didn’t guess—I thought he was just some gentleman you’d taken a fancy to.” Suddenly she smiled broadly, holding onto Amber’s arms. “And so he’s little Bruce’s father! Oh, of course! Why, they look alike!” She gave a gasp and put one hand to her mouth. “Lord, but it’s mighty lucky the Captain would never go out with you to see ’im! If he ever saw his Lordship—”
Carlton was staying at Almsbury House and two days later Amber sent a note inviting him, with Almsbury and his countess, to see the play—she wheedled Killigrew into reserving four seats in the front row of the King’s Box—and she asked them to have supper with her in her apartments afterward. Lord and Lady Almsbury were intended as decoys in the event that Captain Morgan should arrive unexpectedly.
They accepted, and for the next forty-eight hours Amber was in a flurry of excited preparation. She had Nan call in a woman to help her clean so that every speck of dust was brushed from the drapes and the walnut furniture oiled and polished until it gleamed. She went herself to the New Exchange to buy a great supply of artificial silk flowers, since the fresh ones were not yet in bloom, and she badgered Madame Drelincourt into finishing a new gown for her several days before it had been promised. She consulted the head-cook at Chatelin’s about the supper and the wine, trying to remember everything that Bruce liked best, and just before she left for the theatre she repeated once more to Nan the multifarious instructions which covered each smallest detail.
Halfway down the stairs she stopped suddenly, turned about, and ran back again. “Don’t forget to put a decanter of water on the tray with the brandy, Nan! Lord Carlton likes it that way!”
She got there very early and, once dressed and painted, went down into the pit to circulate about among the young men. She made a great show of all her charm and gaiety, hoping that Lord Carlton would see her and be impressed and perhaps a little jealous to find how popular she was with all the fops. But it was almost three-thirty and she was once more back behind the curtains when she saw him come in.
Lord and Lady Almsbury walked ahead, going to the seats which Amber had sent some boys to keep for them; but as one of the ladies leaned back and put out a hand to take hold of Bruce’s wrist he stopped, smiling, and bowed. Amber watched with anxious alarm while he bent over to hear what she was saying and saw her languid-eyed stare, the lazy intimate grasp which her hand kept on his, as though they had been long and well acquainted.
“Hey!” She heard Beck’s voice suddenly just beside her. “Who’s the handsome fellow my Lady Southesk is giving an assignation to?” Carnegie’s husband had recently succeeded to the earldom of Southesk.
“That’s Lord Carlton and he’s
Beck looked at her in mild surprise and then smiled. “Well—” she drawled. “And if he is or isn’t—what’s that to you, pray?”
Quick anger at her own foolishness rushed over Amber, for she knew well enough that in spite of the half-hearted friendship which existed between them nothing would please Beck so much as an opportunity to create trouble between her and Rex Morgan. “It’s nothing at all to me! But I happen to know he’s laid his affections elsewhere.”
“Oh? And where’s that?” Beck’s voice was a musical purr and her eyes gleamed with sly malice.
“On my Lady Castlemaine!” snapped Amber, though it burnt her tongue to say it, and she flounced off.
She wished then that she had not invited Bruce to come back to the tiring-room after the play—for she knew that Beck’s sharp eyes would be upon them—and just before the last act she sent a boy to their box with a note asking him to meet her at Almsbury’s coach instead. She was not on the stage at the end of the play, and she rushed through her dressing to be ready to go by the time the crowds began streaming out of the theatre.
She left before anyone had returned to the tiring-room and made her way over to Almsbury’s coach, where Bruce stood waiting at the opened door. “Bruce! I’m so glad to see you!” She lowered her voice and glanced quickly around, for she did not want to be seen or overheard by anyone who might know Rex. “I sent you that note because I thought—”
