Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“You make a lovely angel, Lady Madeline.”
Penelope settled the makeshift crown of rosebuds she’d made over Maddy’s curls, then stood back to study the effect.
Maddy was wearing a gauzy white gown they’d found in the trunk of costumes they’d brought to Lord Snedley’s party.
With her golden curls and big blue eyes, Maddy looked every inch the divine celestial being she was meant to be.
“Be thankful you get to play an angel,” Dinah grumbled, tugging at the seat of her breeches. “I’d like to wear a pretty gown now and again. Why do I always have to play the gentleman?”
“You’re not a gentleman.” Penelope grinned at her. “You’re a scoundrel. It’s not the same thing at all.”
“Gentleman, scoundrel. What’s the difference? They both wear breeches.”
“At least you’re not playing a prostitute.
” Penelope smoothed her hands down her tight bodice with a sigh.
She shouldn’t have to be the doxy in a play she’d written herself, but she could hardly send Lady Madeline onto the stage dressed as a harlot.
Lord Archer would have an apoplexy. He was already going to be furious with her, as it was.
No tricks, he’d said. No foolishness. She’d promised it.
Yet here she was, about to embark on an evening of tricks and foolishness.
“Can’t have a farce without a prostitute or two.
” Dinah tossed her mane of long dark hair over her shoulder.
She shoved the tattered top hat they’d dug from the bottom of the trunk onto her head and turned to Penelope with a resigned expression.
“All right then, I’m ready. Where’s Lord Oliver?
We can’t begin the play without our hero. ”
“I’ll go fetch him.” Penelope ducked under the curtain, stepped down from the stage the servants had erected at one end of the drawing room, and went off in search of Lord Oliver.
She’d written up a few pages of hasty lines for him for tonight’s performance.
He’d taken them from her with a grin, delighted to have been assigned the role of hero for the evening.
She wandered from the drawing room into the hallway, but there was no sign of Lord Oliver. Perhaps the gentlemen were still at their port—
“Good evening, Miss Hervey.”
Penelope turned at the deep voice and found Lord Archer striding down the hallway toward her. “Oh, good evening, my lord. I was just—”
“Looking for my brother? Yes, I thought you might be, so I…” he trailed off as he drew closer, his blue eyes darkening to a stormy gray as he took in her tight bodice and short skirts.
Her costume was modest by theatrical standards—she’d appeared on stage wearing less—but with his deep blue eyes fixed on her, she felt more exposed than she ever had at the Pandemonium.
But then she wasn’t obliged to look her audience in the eye at the Pandemonium, and Lord Archer’s eyes seemed to be everywhere at once, warming her wherever they touched.
His gaze moved down her bare neck to her snug bodice, and then lower, to the hint of ankle and calf revealed by her short skirts.
“I’m playing a whore,” she blurted out by way of explanation, then instantly prayed the floor would open under her feet and swallow her whole.
I’m playing a whore?
A flood of heat swept up her chest and throat and surged into her face. Whores were common enough on the London stage, but certainly out of place here at Cliff’s Edge. Christmas greenery, roaring fires, the rich scent of mulled wine, and…whores.
No. It wasn’t at all the thing.
Lord Archer was frowning down at her. “A whore? You assured me there’d be nothing improper about tonight’s performance. I hope I’m not going to regret allowing my sister to participate.”
“Oh, no. Lady Madeline is playing a Christmas angel. As for the rest of the play, it’s perfectly appropriate.” Penelope bit her lip. Mostly appropriate, anyway.
Lord Archer’s dark blue gaze roamed over her again, lingering on her loose hair. “I’ve just been up to Lord Oliver’s bedchamber. He’s on his way to the drawing room. The servants expressed an interest in watching the performance. Do you mind if they attend?”
“Not at all, but I warn you not to expect too much, my lord. It’s just a silly little farce. Pure folly, really. I’d hate for you to be disappointed.”
His eyes flicked to her bodice again, and he cleared his throat. “I’m sure I won’t be. Are you ready, then? Shall I call the guests to the drawing room?”
“Yes, please.” Penelope curtsied to him, then darted away, her cheeks still hot from the look in his eyes when they’d dipped to her bodice.
He might aspire to be a proper gentleman, but there was a good deal of the rogue still in Lord Archer, and it had only taken a daring décolletage to lure it to the surface.
When she arrived back stage Lord Oliver was there, chatting with Lady Madeline and trying not to stare at Dinah in her scoundrel’s costume. “I hope you’re not nervous.” Penelope took his arm and led him to his place on the stage, then gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s only a short performance.”
Lord Oliver cocked a playful eyebrow at her. “I think it’s you who should be nervous, Miss Hervey. You wrote the play.”
She had indeed, and she was dreading the moment she’d have explain herself to Lord Archer, but this wasn’t the moment to fret over it.
One disaster at a time.
Penelope pressed a dozen shiny false coins into Lord Oliver’s hand.
“Now, remember, my lord. You’re playing a rake.
You’ve been wagering all night, you’re in your cups, and you’ve got a, ah…
lady of questionable virtue on your arm.
” She would not say whore again. “All you need do is stumble about on the stage, tossing playing cards and coins about, and demanding more female companionship. Then you’ll get into a brawl with Miss Bishop. ”
Lord Oliver snorted. “This is all disturbingly familiar.”
“Just follow Miss Bishop’s lead with the fight. She’s very good at them. Once she knocks you to the floor, Lady Madeline will take the stage.” Penelope turned to smile at Maddy. “Are you ready?”
Lady Madeline looked a bit terrified, but she nodded. “I think so.”
Dinah made a shooing motion toward the curtain. “We’re ready. Go on.”
Once again Penelope ducked under the curtain. Lord Archer was seated right at the foot of the stage, with Lady Lavinia and Lord Christopher on either side of him. The rest of the house party guests were scattered around the room, with a dozen or so servants standing behind them at the back.
Penelope waved a hand for quiet, then announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, for your entertainment this evening we have a new play, never before staged, entitled “Boughs of Folly,” written by Miss Penelope Hervey. It’s a remarkably silly little play, but if you’re amused by it, we’ll consider our work a success.
Joining the Pandemonium players on stage this evening is Lady Madeline Angel, as the Christmas angel, and Lord Oliver Angel, as Lord Rodrigo Rakehell. ”
“Bravo!” Lord Christopher ignored Lady Lavinia’s quelling look, stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle.
Penelope shot him a grin, then ducked back under the curtain, scurried to her place beside Lord Oliver and called, “Curtains, please!” The two stable boys Lord Archer had recruited for the job swept the curtains back, and Lord Oliver sprang immediately into his role as Lord Rodrigo.
“Women!” He shouted, tossing a handful of coins into the air and staggering about on the stage like a drunken scoundrel. “Bring me more women at once!”
Lady Lavinia gave an outraged gasp, but the rest of the audience burst into laughter, and Penelope had to bite her lip to keep from joining them.
She hung on Lord Rodrigo’s arm, swaying her hips and flirting her skirts.
She reached over, snatched Lord Rodrigo’s top hat off his head, and slapped it down on her own.
“More women, more whiskey, more wagering!” Lord Rodrigo shrieked. “I’m a wicked, aristocratic rake, and I must have my way in all things!”
Lord Christopher was convulsed with laughter, and the ladies—with the exception of Lady Lavinia—were blushing and giggling behind their hands. Even Lord Archer was grinning.
Lord Rodrigo, encouraged by their reaction, made a great show of flinging his arm over Penelope’s shoulder and stumbling about for a few minutes before he lurched across the stage toward Dinah, who was seated at a table with a mess of playing cards scattered before her. “I must have more than this scoundrel!”
Lord Rodrigo snatched at the cards, and Dinah shot to her feet, her chair toppling over behind her. “Unhand those cards at once, sir, or you’ll feel my wrath!” She raised her clenched fists in front of her and took a threatening step toward Lord Rodrigo.
He peered drunkenly at her, then tossed the cards he’d snatched into her face and raised his own fists. “You’ll feel mine first!”
Dinah was a gifted acrobat. She dove forward and landed a convincing-looking blow on Lord Rodrigo’s face.
Penelope screamed and retreated to the back of the stage while Dinah bounced about, spinning this way and that and jabbing at the air with her fists before she advanced on Lord Rodrigo again, and faked a vicious kick to his shin.
Lord Rodrigo howled and grabbed his leg, and one of the stable boys stationed at the curtains let out a shout. “Oi, that’s a capital fight, innit it? That’s very good, that is!”
Lord Rodrigo hopped around the stage, moaning and carrying on about his leg until Lord Christopher was howling with laughter, and both stable boys were yelling at Dinah to finish the “blasted rakehell.”