‘I am sorry for all that has befallen you.’ Jack hardly took in the words. With her wonderful blue eyes drawing him like a siren into a calm, inviting sea, he was mesmerised. Catherine Balmore had actually gone out of her way to find him after the rehearsal. Now he was standing alone with her at the side of the stage.
‘You look so much better than when last I saw you. You were so…’ She blinked as though the memory was too painful to resurrect.
‘’Twas most kind of you to visit me in the Infirmary. It raised my spirits greatly.’
‘I am glad I achieved something for I have been no help in other ways.’
‘That was enough… though I did hold out the hope that you would visit me on my return to Mr Acorn’s house.’
Catherine fluttered her long eyelashes. ‘I fear that you are cross with me.’
‘No. No, far from it,’ Jack put in hastily. ‘Please do not think such a thing.’
She grinned. He so wanted to run his fingers over those smooth, rounded cheekbones that stood proud every time she smiled. ‘I would have come; however, I think my presence would not have been welcomed by the young mistress of the house.’
‘Bessie?’
‘I think she does not like me.’ Jack knew this to be only too true. ‘She mistakenly thought that I was stealing her father’s affections. And now she believes I am trying to wrest yours away, too. The glances she cast in my direction this morning spoke eloquently of her feelings for you – and for me.’
Jack had been all too painfully aware of Bessie’s air of indifference. That morning’s rehearsal was Bessie’s first venture into the theatre since childhood, when Acorn had brought her on stage whenever he felt it was necessary to win over the hearts of an unresponsive audience. The trick had usually worked. Once she was in her teenage years, and her womanly charms became apparent, he had kept her away from the boards. Acorn realised that his chances of making a favourable marriage for her would be hindered if she bore the social stigma of “actress”. They made desirable mistresses, not respectable wives. Not that he had been above using her in the meantime, as Jack had discovered to the cost of his ego.
Jack had approached the rehearsal with some trepidation, and had been glad that Bessie was with him. The troupe had engulfed him with questions and salutations. Mrs Trump had planted a great open-mouthed kiss on his lips and Mr Southby had suggested a night of celebration (which Bessie had fortunately excused him from on the grounds of tiredness). Courtney had been completely unruffled, which put Jack on his guard. What nasty surprises had he got hidden up his elegant sleeve? Of course, he might not do anything. He may think he has done enough to warn me off, thought Jack. It was impossible to tell what was going on behind those dark, handsome eyes.
And Catherine? Dear, alluring Catherine. She had come and said how pleased she was to see him restored to health. She had even leant forward to kiss his cheek, but had checked herself when she received a frosty look from Bessie. Now she had sought him out while Bessie was occupied; Courtney had taken her to one side at the end of the rehearsal of A Comedy of Errors and said that he wanted to run through some points about her part (ironically that of Luciana, sister of Adriana, played by Catherine – a fine piece of casting that would create tensions both on and off stage). In fact, besides his own fears of Courtney, and Bessie’s claws sharpening every time she clapped eyes on Catherine, the atmosphere was one of harmony. Gone were the frictions and animosities that Acorn enjoyed manipulating. The rumblings of discontent, so much part of the theatre’s life, were disconcertingly absent. In the time Jack had been away, Courtney had taken this strange collection of individuals and moulded them into a proper group. The rehearsal had been fun, even relaxed. As far as Jack could see, Courtney had done them all a good turn by ridding the company of Acorn.
So here he was now within touching distance of Catherine. A tingle of desire danced up and down his spine. Her eyes held his, which made it difficult to take a surreptitious squint at her cleavage (which he had noted earlier was more modestly trussed than usual with a crossed handkerchief at the bosom; less flesh to ogle, still much to admire).
‘Catherine, I am sure you have it wrong. Bessie’s apparent chilliness is simple filial jealousy – her father was smitten by your beauty – and what warm-blooded man would not be?’
She took the flattery with an appropriate show of coyness.
‘As for me, I am sure she does not hold a candle. We have become friends, no more. She is going through a difficult time and I have lent her a shoulder to cry on.’ A person less likely to cry on anyone’s shoulder it would be hard to find, but it sounded good. ‘To be exact, my affections are not attached to anyone.’ He paused. Should he? Was this the moment? ‘Anyone save the most divine creature I have ever set mine eyes upon.’
‘Pray,’ she teased, ‘who might this wonder be?’
Wasn’t it obvious? ‘Why you, Catherine.’
Her eyes dropped, and for the first time Jack saw that she was disarmed. Had he pricked her poise? For a moment, her fingers toyed with her lace cuff. Did she feel something for him? His expectations rose.
‘Have I spoken too boldly?’
‘No.’ Her eyes met his once more. Was there a tinge of moisture in them? ‘Jack, I am fond of you. However, my feelings can go no further.’ His excitement sank as swiftly as it had risen.
‘Captain Hogg?’
‘Yes,’ she replied hesitantly.
‘I see. It was foolish of me. Please forgive me.’
She laid a hand on his. ‘I am flattered; truly I am. Dear Jack, it can never be, for our future paths will never run the same course. But for the present, can we not be friends?’ Her hand pressed his.
‘Yes. Yes, I would like that.’ He was crestfallen.
Then she leant forward and pressed her lips to his, working his mouth open. His knees went weak. It was the longest kiss he had ever had from a “friend”.
‘Please forgive me if I am interrupting something important.’ Bessie’s timing was immaculate.