Chapter Two #3
He was noticing this one. The woman’s lips were pink and her face was flushed and there was such elegance in her appearance that it contrasted strangely with the unkempt clothing and the wrinkled nose and pinched mouth comprising her harassed expression. Why, she could be a countess!
“What, I say, are you looking at?” the woman snapped.
Samuel cleared his throat. “I do beg your pardon.”
“And another thing, I—what did you say?” The woman took a swift step back, seemingly entirely taken aback by his swift apology.
Interesting, Samuel could not help but think. She did not expect kindness. She certainly was not experiencing good fortune. “What is your name?”
From the jut of her chin, the woman appeared displeased with the direction of conversation, but good manners evidently made her say, “Morgan. Rosemary Morgan.”
She spoke the name imperiously, as though he would recognize it.
Samuel did not. “My name is—is Samuel. Where are you going in such a hurry, Miss Morgan?”
Her focus ranged over him, and Samuel could see that she was taking in the impressive great coat, the refined fit of his suit, the way he held himself. She could not have been more obvious in her appreciation for him—for my money, Samuel thought ominously.
Then his stomach jolted. My suddenly increasing money.
“I am an actress,” Miss Morgan said grandly, as though he should have known and it was a mere kindness that she was reminding him. “I have graced the stage across Europe! I was feted for my Juliet, praised for my Katherine, adored for my—”
“‘An… An actress’?” Samuel repeated.
Something in his mind was starting to percolate, and he hardly dared examine the thought in case it melted away.
Miss Morgan’s shoulders sagged. “Yes, an actress. An actress out of work, for the present, for I have been callously and most scandalously cast aside by a—”
“‘Out of work’?” echoed Samuel, his spine tingling.
Out of work. An out-of-work actress. A beautiful, aristocratic-looking woman who was clearly down on her luck, able to act…
“Yes, and it is something history will never forgive the Grand Theatre.” Miss Morgan sniffed, as though she had been conned out of a great prize, but in fact she, herself, was the prize. “Looked over for being old!”
Samuel blinked. “‘Old’?”
Old? The woman could not be more than… Well. Four to six and twenty? She was still young, and beautiful, and rather alluring, to tell the truth.
Miss Morgan held her head high. “That is what they tell me. For that, I am cast out of my latest production and now have no work at all to speak of! The audacity!”
Samuel grinned. “That is most excellent news.”
His statement had clearly nettled her as a brisk, wintry breeze tugged at her hair, which she rapidly tried to keep out of her face as if pawing away the irritation Samuel had caused her.
“It is most certainly not excellent news! It is an outrage! It is a scandal! It is an insult of the greatest measure!”
“Yes, yes, most unpleasant,” he said hastily. Goodness, but the woman can speak. “But my point is, you are currently without employment and therefore looking for some. And you are an actress.”
Yes, it might just work. It is foolishness itself, Samuel thought wildly, but was it not foolishness that had gotten him into this mess in the first place? Was it possible that an equally foolish act in the opposite direction would balance the whole thing out?
Miss Morgan was glaring, clearly highly suspicious. “Are you quite well?”
“Very well, thank you,” Samuel said brightly. “Look, Miss Morgan, I may have a job for you. For an actress such as yourself. Out of work.”
She took a hasty step back. “I don’t do anything like that, sir, and you offend me by even suggesting I would—”
“No! No, nothing like that,” he said quickly. He was no innocent; he knew the ways that many actresses found to make money when parts dried up. “No, this would be…different.”
Still entirely unethical, Samuel could not help but think. But not like that.
“I think I have a part for you to play,” he said slowly, his mind racing. Could this work? “Would you be willing to discuss it with me tomorrow?”
He would have to look into some of the legality of the thing—he couldn’t talk to Mr. Todd, but there must have been another solicitor in this town who would be up for the task.
“Tomorrow?” repeated Miss Morgan, her expression curious but clearly wary. “Over… Over luncheon? You would pay?”
Samuel tried not to grin. Without work and clearly hungry. That was all to the good; he would need someone who could be relied upon, and there was no one more reliable than someone depending on the scheme for their next meal.
“Tomorrow, and I will pay for luncheon at—” Blast, there had to be a second hotel in this place. He could hardly meet the woman where he and his family were staying…
“Francois’s Restaurant. Near the bathing huts,” Miss Morgan said quickly, as though concerned he would lose interest. “At midday?”
Samuel smiled and held out his hand. “It’s a bargain.”