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Mae opened to the door to her room to find a male figure seated on her chaise. It didn’t entirely surprise her—she had caught his expression when she had left the stage door with Lord Avery a few hours before. She closed the door behind her and he rose to greet her.
“Miss Carrington.”
She held out her hand and waited for him to kiss it. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said once he released her hand. She walked breezily passed him. “What if someone were to see?”
“I paid them no to.”
“I could report you to Mr. Edwardes.”
“You could, but you won’t, will you, Mae.”
“I suppose not.” She set her handbag on the edge of her bed and looked at him expectantly. “Aren’t you going to help me with my coat?”
“Wouldn’t you prefer Lord Avery to do it?”
“Don’t be petty, Loxley,” she scolded. “It doesn’t suit you.” He helped take off her coat and let his hands linger on her arms just a moment longer than appropriate before returning to his seat on the chaise. “Thank you. Now, I would offer you a drink but it appears that you already took the liberty of pouring yourself one.”
“I could use a refill.”
He made no move to pick up us glass from the side table. It was a calculated and she knew it. She leaned close to him as she reached for the glass. “Then let me get that for you,” she said slowly with her lips hovering deliberately close to his. She pulled back just he leaned in.
“Don’t be a tease, Mae. It doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m only doing what you asked,” she said innocently as she refilled his glass and poured one for herself. “Besides,” she said as he handed him his glass. “You’re not the only man in London.”
“I am the only one who will give you what you need.”
“Debatable,” she took a drink.
“Avery won’t propose to you.”
“Of course not,” she said with an intentionally casual tone that she knew would surprise him. “His parents would never approve of him marrying some ‘tart from the stage,’” she continued as she sat down at her dressing table to take off her hat. “He hasn’t yet admitted to himself that he lacks the fortitude to go against them, so there is no reason for me not to dine with him.”
“You will be dining with me tomorrow.”
“Will I?” She set aside her hat and rolled the hatpin in her hands thoughtfully. “Pity you failed to inform me before I made plans with Sir Thomas.”
“Cancel them.”
She put down the hat pin decisively and turned so that she faced him again. “I don’t think I will.”
“He’s only interested in getting underneath your corset.”
“Yet you’re the one in my dressing room.”
“I’m merely requesting the pleasure of your company for tomorrow evening.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Most people would frame your ‘request’ as a demand.”
“I’m not most people.” He finished his drink and stood up. “And neither are you.” He gave her a slightly more than chaste kiss on the cheek before walking to the door. “Goodnight, Miss Carrington.”
Mae watched him leave with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. He could be maddening, but she had worked very hard to get to this point. Working her way through society and conquering the season had been one thing. The likes of Lord Loxley were another. It had been easy enough to draw him in—becoming the star of the season was all she had needed to do that. The more the others wanted her, the more Loxley did as well.
The challenge came from his need to control her. All of her suitors wanted to control her to some extent. The difference with Loxley was that he was clever enough that he might be able to achieve it. For a simpler a woman, this could be reason enough to cross him off her list, but Mae was never one to back down. She was just as clever as Loxley, if not more so. Loxley simply required special handling.
The following night Mae was not the least bit surprised to find Loxley leaning casually on the wall outside her dressing room.
“Lovely performance, Miss Carrington.”
“Thank you, Lord Loxley,” she responded primly. “I did not expect to see you backstage tonight.”
He held out an envelope. “I came to give you this.”
She took the envelope from his outstretched hand and scanned the note inside. It contained apologies from Sir Thomas for having to cancel dinner plans. “This does not mean I will be dining with you.”
“I think you’ll find your usual suitors otherwise engaged—a card tournament of sorts at the club,” he explained with a tone of smug nonchalance. “Apparently, it features quite a grand prize.”
“I’m sure,” she said knowingly. Mae couldn’t ignore the small thrill she got from the fact that he had gone this far to ensure he had her for herself, but she refused to let him have the upper hand. She spotted her dresser down the corridor. “Jane,” she called. “Please tell Mr. Chapman that my plans have changed and I will accept his dinner invitation for this evening.”
The woman nodded and headed in the other direction. Mae turned her attention to Loxely. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get changed.” She couldn’t hide the amusement at his surprise at the way she had upended his plans. “I do hope I’ll see you at Lady Winters’ soiree tomorrow night.”
“Thank you again for dinner, Richard,” Mae said as they reached the door of the Gaiety. “There really was no need to actually take me out.”
“I thought I invited you,” he said with a smirk. “That’s what Jane told me, anyway.”
She smiled back at him as she pulled her keys from her handbag. “My need for a diversion did not mean that you actually had to buy me supper.”
“We both needed to eat.”
He took the key from her hand and opened the door, holding it open so she could enter first. The halls of the backstage are were quiet. Some of the girls would be still be out enjoying their evenings, but most were already settled in for the night.
“Would you like to come up for a drink?”
Richard shook his head. “I wouldn’t want any of the other girls to see me in your room.”
“Then let’s go to your dressing room,” she suggested, staring to walk in that direction without waiting for answer.
“Someone still might see,” he hedged, but when she looked over her shoulder he was already following her down the corridor.
“Yours is strictly a dressing room.” She stopped outside the door to his room. “No bed.”
“People still may talk.”
“Let them.” Mae looked at the door expectantly and waited for him to open it. Sure enough he did. She smiled and walked through. “Besides, I won’t be around much longer anyway.”
Richard didn’t respond to her comment, and just walked over to the small bar. She made herself comfortable on the couch and watched him fix their drinks. The dressing room was a far cry from the cocktail parties with glittering crystal that had filled her evenings of late, but there was comfort in the familiarity of this space.
“So,” Richard began as he handed her a glass. “Did I make an adequate diversion from Lord Loxley?”
“I never said it was Loxley.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She smiled and took a sip of the drink. “How did you know?’
“He wants you.”
“So people seem to think.”
“Do you want him?”
“He’s landed gentry.”
“That’s not an answer.” Anyone else would have laughed off her answer, but not Richard. He fixed her with a searching look. “What do you want?”
“What every girl wants, of course.” She shrugged and broke his gaze, choosing to look down at her drink as she took another sip. “Money and power.”
“Money isn’t everything.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re top of the bill.”
“And you’re a chorus girl in the back row?” he teased and she rolled her eyes. “You have real talent, Mae, and you’re genuinely happy when you’re on stage.”
“So?”
“Shouldn’t that factor into what you want?”
Mae held her hand up as if she pantomiming a marquee. “Richard Chapman: Wide Eyed Idealist.”
“I’m being serious. There’s no need to rush into a marriage.”
“I’m nearly twenty-two.”
“I didn’t realize you have one foot in the grave.”
She chuckled slightly and then became seriously. “Go ahead and laugh, but you don’t understand what it’s like.”
“I have an idea. I’ve been trying to make a career in the theatre longer than you.”
“You can afford to ‘try’—I can’t.”
“You’ve been doing it this long...”
“How many ‘leading’ women have you sung with in your career? Can you remember their names? Their faces?” she listed sharply. “There are dozens of girls who would give anything to take my place, and in a year or two or even sooner, one of them will.”
“You don’t know that.”
“How do you think I got here?” She shook her head dismissively as she continued, “It’s so much easier for you men. You have less competition at the outset and if it all falls apart you can do anything. Whereas my options consist of a tawdry burlesque act or scrambling to find a husband interested in a washed up tart.”
“Mae, you are not…”
“It doesn’t matter what I am—only what I seem to be,” she interrupted firmly. “I grew up working class and I’ve come too far to just become some factory worker’s wife.”
“A man like Loxley can be dangerous.”
“So can a woman like me.”
He smiled and raised his glass to her. “There is not a woman in this world as formidable as you.”
“Thank you.”
They clinked their glasses together and each took a drink without breaking eye contact.
Loxley had been ignoring her all evening. Yes, her dance card had filled quickly but if he had wanted his name on there, he would have made certain that it was. He was toying with her. She could feel his eyes on her while she danced, but every time she turned to look at him his attention was elsewhere. She finally caught his eye halfway through the night. It was mid-dance, and each time she twirled around he was watching her—challenging her. Until the final time she spun around and he was walking out of the room.
Mae finished the dance and excused herself to powder her nose. She left the ballroom and headed in the direction she had seen him go but found the corridor empty. Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into a service corridor.
“Loxley,” she gasped. She did not need to see his face to know it was him. Saying nothing, he spun her around so her back was against the wall and his body was pressed against hers. Mae cocked her head and gave him a challenging look. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Have I?” he asked, trailing his hands up and down arms, drifting underneath the fluttery lace sleeves at her shoulders. “I believe you were avoiding me first.”
“I was busy,” she said casually, despite the fact his proximity and fingers were beginning to drive her to distraction.
“And now?” he asked, pressing his knee between hers so her legs inched apart under her skirt.
“Now what?” she said breathlessly before claiming his lips. They kissed passionately, but he pulled back when her hands slipped under his jacket.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he said in a scolding tone as took her wrists in his hands, wrapping his fingers around them firmly. Mae could feel her heart racing and was certain he would feel her pulse beating against his fingers. “We wouldn’t want someone to walk in.”
“That’s half the fun.”
She kissed him again and he released her hands. Mae could feel him giving in. She could always tell when a man wanted her, and Loxley definitely did. But then he pulled back, dragging her lower lip between his teeth as he did.
“Loxley,” she pouted.
“I’m busy,” he said as he straightened his jacket. “Maybe next time you won’t be.”
It was two days before she saw Loxley again. She spotted him from the stage and, aside from that first glance, she pointedly refused to look his direction for the rest of the performance. While she hadn’t let it show during the rest of the soiree, she had been fuming. Loxley had no right to play games with her like that—to think that he could best her so easily.
And yet, a part of her enjoyed the way he challenged her. None of her other suitors did.
The performance finished and there was no sign of Loxley, which was not entirely surprising. He would make her wait—confident he had the upper hand. Mae would show him otherwise. She went into her dressing room, pulled on her dressing gown, and sat down to wait.
Jane came by, but Mae waved her off, opting to fix a pair of drinks. She was just refilling her glass when he appeared in her doorway.
“Lord Loxley.”
“Miss Carrington.” He inclined his head at her but didn’t move from the doorway. “Not going out tonight?”
“I find a night in every now and again can be quite enjoyable.” She picked up the drink she had poured for him earlier and held it out. “Care to join me?”
Loxley said nothing but he stepped forward to take the glass out of her hand. Mae smiled and walked around him to close the door of her dressing room. Leaning against the closed door, she took a long sip of her drink.
“Are you trying to seduce me, Mae?”
“I hardly need to,” she countered with a smirk. “You’re the one who came to my dressing room.”
“I thought we were past all this.”
“Past what?”
“The games. I’m not going to chase you, Mae.”
“Yet, here you are.”
“You need me.”
“You need me.”
“No, Mae, I want you. There’s a difference. Without you, I’m a Marquess, whereas without me, you are…” he trailed off and gestured around the room.
Mae felt a spike anger at the way he casually insulted her. “What is it that you think I am?”
“Let’s just agree that you need the Loxley name far more than I need you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“You think you this all figured out?” Mae asked, gesturing between the two of them. “You’re forgetting that I possess something you don't.”
“And what is that?”
“I can make people like me.”
“They like the way you look.”
“It's more than that. I didn’t get where I am today based solely upon my pretty face.”
He looked her up and down. “I’m aware of your other talents, Mae.”
She gave him a disgusted look, refusing to dignify that with a response and choosing instead to channel that anger into something sharper. “People don't like you, Loxley.”
“I don’t need people to like me. I have money.”
“Money alone can’t get you the power you desire.”
“It’s given me plenty of power thus far.”
“And still the Loxley name is not the most powerful in London.”
“I have power where I need it.”
He was close, but Mae needed to push him just a little bit father. “I wouldn’t think a man like you would be satisfied being second best.”
“And having you on my arm would change that?”
“Yes.”
“How so?”
“Give me a week and I’ll prove it to you.”
“A week?”
“A week,” she repeated, holding out her hand. He shook it reluctantly, but Mae could tell that the reluctance was feigned.
“You really think you can impress me?”
“Oh, I know I can.” Mae looked from him to his near empty drink. “Now, would you like another, or do you have somewhere more important to attend to?”
He finished the drink and held the glass out to her. Mae couldn’t help but smile at his predictability.
A week later, Mae received a response from Loxley. It wasn’t in the form of him appearing in her dressing room; rather, it was a formal invitation on stationary. Like the kind one would send to a proper lady. She responded in kind, and two days later she was in the back of his motor car.
“When are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Will you tell me how you maneuvered that business with Esher?” Loxley asked. “Let alone knew that I had business with Esher.”
“I have my ways.”
“So it seems.”
He would never admit it, but Mae knew she had impressed him—that she had proven that she had more than just her looks and popularity to a relationship. Exactly as she had intended.
“We’re here,” Loxley announced a few minutes later.
Looking out the window, Mae immediately recognized the brilliant white exterior of the Georgia building as Loxley House. “Are you hosting a soiree?”
“No.”
“Then why bring me to your home?”
“You’ll see.”
They entered the house and Loxely gave a tour that ended in the largest of the salons. “So what do you think?”
“Your home is lovely.”
“I am not asking about taste, I’m asking about potential.”
“Potential for what?”
“For becoming the center of London society.”
“Oh that,” Mae mused. “Well, that would depend on its occupant.”
“Occupants. Lord and Lady Loxley.”
“Is that a proposal?”
“Would you accept it?”
“You know that I will never be the kind of wife that throws garden parties and idles away her life in the country.”
“If I wanted that, I would have been married years ago. With my title there have been plenty of options.”
“I have my options too, remember?”
“But do any of them live up to this?” He gestured at the salon and Mae followed his gaze, beginning to imagine herself inhabiting this space—this opulence being hers. “We’re a powerful team, Mae. Together, London would be ours.”
It would, she realized. With his money and title plus her ability to charm and manipulate, Mae could expand the power of the Loxely name and her own influence. She could have a life that all the girls at the Gaiety—girls anywhere—desired. Becoming Loxley’s wife was the way to achieve all that. It didn’t matter if she loved him. Love was an illusion. This life would be anything but.
“Well?”
“Well, what? You have yet to properly ask me anything.”
“Miss Carrington, will you accept my proposal of marriage?”
Mae scanned the room one last time before returning her gaze to him. She smiled as he met his gaze. “Yes, Lord Loxley, I will.”