Maddy led the way into her dressing room. What could this elegant lady want with her? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be to Maddy’s benefit. Aristocrats often exploited the lower classes for their own selfish purposes. Yet Lady Milford had come to her rescue and it would be churlish to refuse to hear her out.
Maddy usually felt a sense of tranquility when entering this cozy chamber. It was her refuge from the hustle and bustle of the theater. Tonight, however, she was aware of the dingy cabbage roses on the wallpaper, torn in places and stained by soot from years of burning oil lamps in close quarters. Articles of clothing were scattered around from her quick wardrobe changes between scenes. Gertie must have been too busy helping the other performers with their costumes to tidy up.
Maddy cleared a ruffled petticoat off the single wooden chair in the corner. “I’m afraid you’ll have to pardon the disorder. I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”
Lady Milford gracefully seated herself. “It is I who should beg pardon, Miss Swann. It was discourteous of me not to have arranged this meeting in advance.”
Maddy pulled out the stool by the dressing table, and the legs scraped noisily on the wood floor. Sitting down, she noted the clutter of cosmetics and reached out to replace the cap on an open jar of rouge. It irked her that she felt embarrassed by the mess. What did it matter what this woman thought of her?
Nevertheless, she straightened the hairbrush and hand mirror, then put a cork in a bottle of perfume. “Perhaps you had better tell me why you’re here.”
The woman folded her gloved hands around the velvet reticule in her lap, her posture straight and her gaze direct. “Allow me to be frank. I understand you are soon to hold an auction for select gentlemen of the ton. An auction in which you yourself are to be the prize.”
A pot of greasepaint dropped from Maddy’s nerveless fingers. She caught it just as it rolled off the edge of the dressing table. Was her ladyship an angry wife come on a mission of rebuke?
No, Lady Milford appeared to be in her middle years. The noblemen were all bachelors in their prime.
Was she an irate mother, then, wanting to protect her son from a conniving actress?
But Lady Milford didn’t look livid. Serious, perhaps, but not on the verge of explosive fury. None of the men were named Milford, anyway.
“Indeed,” Maddy murmured cautiously. “The gentlemen are to bring their sealed bids to me tomorrow night, and in due course, I shall select the winner. But … how did you find out about the auction?”
“My source is of no consequence,” Lady Milford said with a flutter of her fingers. “However, I should like to ask, is it true that only those men who have received an invitation will be permitted to submit a bid?”
“I—yes. I could hardly open it to the general public.” She’d chosen only a dozen or so nobles who were proper and well heeled, men powerful enough to protect her from Lord Dunham, yet not cruel in nature. If she was to embark on an illicit affair, it would be with a gentleman who would treat her with a measure of decency.
“I see,” said Lady Milford. “That is why I’m here, Miss Swann. I wondered if you would consider extending an invitation to my godson, Viscount Rowley. With the death of his brother over a year ago, he is now heir to the Earl of Gilmore.”
Maddy’s jaw dropped. Not because she knew who Viscount Rowley was—she had never heard of him—but rather, because Lady Milford actually seemed to be expressing approval of the auction. So much so that she would come here to solicit an invitation on behalf of her godson!
The situation was so mind-boggling that Maddy couldn’t make sense of it. Ladies often turned a blind eye to the peccadilles of their male relatives. Yet they would never dream of helping those men actually acquire a mistress.
“I—I hardly know what to say, my lady. I know nothing about Viscount Rowley.”
“My godson has been abroad for the past ten years on a trip to the Far East. He has only recently returned. But I can assure you, he is a very wealthy man. Whatever compensation you hope to receive, he has the means to exceed it.”
“A monetary settlement is only a part of my requirement.” Maddy balked at the notion of trying to explain her selection process to this stranger. It was just too private, too personal. Especially when it came to her most secret desires. In the dark of night, she had burned to discover what it was like to lie naked with a handsome man. To experience the glories of lust in his heated embrace …
However, she had never felt inclined to be free with her favors as other actresses often were. Promiscuity had always been distasteful to her, perhaps because of the influence of her lady mother. Over the years, Maddy had developed a reputation for rebuffing offers from even the finest gentlemen. Consequently, many of them had clamored to participate in this auction of her virginity.
“What are your other requirements?” Lady Milford asked.
Under the woman’s direct stare, Maddy battled a blush. “The gentleman must be someone I can admire, someone who is fine-looking but also adept at intelligent conversation.” A thought occurred to her. Perhaps Lord Rowley was some sort of imbecile who could not speak for himself. “May I ask, why are you acting as the viscount’s emissary? Is he incapable of pleading his own case?”
Lady Milford laughed. “Hardly. If you must know, he’s busy unloading his ships and is quite unaware that I am here tonight. With the auction scheduled for tomorrow evening, I deemed it wise to act swiftly.”
“Do you mean to say he’s never even seen me?”
“No, but when he mentioned his desire to attain a … woman, I immediately thought of you, Miss Swann. I’ve attended your plays in the past and I’ve been most impressed by both your talent and your beauty.”
“Oh—thank you.”
“You no doubt find my intrusion into his affairs to be rather odd,” Lady Milford went on. “To that, let me say that my godson’s happiness is of the utmost importance to me. And I am of the belief that you are the perfect match for him.”
Maddy blinked. The perfect match? The woman spoke as if she were negotiating for a bride, not a mistress. “I’m pleased you would think so highly of me, my lady. But I’ve only your word to go on. With me never having made Lord Rowley’s acquaintance…”
“Ah, but you can meet him when he delivers his sealed bid. I’m certain you’ll find him to be a charming, handsome gentleman with a quick mind and a noble heart. And far superior to any of those on your list.”
“Of course you would believe so. He is your godson.”
Lady Milford smiled with genuine warmth. “Excellent point, Miss Swann, though you should know that I’ve something of a reputation as a matchmaker. As such, I am very well acquainted with all of the eligible bachelors that you have chosen. Shall I read their names aloud and enumerate each man’s weaknesses?”
She reached into her reticule and withdrew a folded piece of paper.
“No! No, that won’t be necessary!” Irked, Maddy crossed her arms. Really, this had gone too far. It was disconcerting enough to discuss the auction with such a fine lady, let alone to feel maneuvered by her. Clearly, Lady Milford would not surrender when it came to fighting for her godson. Yet in spite of it all, Maddy found her curiosity stirred about this paragon of manhood.
What real harm could there be in allowing one more bid?
She blew out a breath. “All right, if Lord Rowley wishes to participate, then so be it. Have him bring his written offer here himself tomorrow evening at eight, at the same time as the other gentlemen. But I will make you no promises.”
“Excellent.” Looking pleased, Lady Milford tucked the paper back into her reticule. Then, oddly enough, she drew out something else. Something that sparkled a rich reddish hue in the light of the oil lamp.
A pair of shoes?
Forgetting her wariness, Maddy found herself leaning forward on the stool. Yes, they were shoes. Exquisite dancing slippers, each with a glittery buckle, and much finer than anything she’d ever admired in a shop window. She couldn’t take her eyes from them. They seemed almost … alive. Countless tiny crystal beads frosted the garnet satin, giving the shoes a shimmering glow.
Lady Milford placed the pair on the floor in front of Maddy. “As a token of my gratitude, perhaps you’d like to borrow these for a time.”
“Borrow them—”
The token reeked of a bribe, and Maddy didn’t think it fair to the other gentlemen. Yet before she’d even completed that thought, she was kicking off her scuffed old shoes and sliding her stockinged toes into the elegant garnet slippers.
At once, a feeling of happiness flowed through her veins. She sprang up from the stool and twirled around, marveling at how gloriously comfortable the shoes felt. The weariness of standing for hours during the play vanished completely. It was as if her feet were enveloped in the softest cotton batting.
“They fit perfectly, my lady! How did you know my size?”
A hint of mystery tinged Lady Milford’s half smile. “It was good luck, I suppose. They shall be yours until you no longer need them.”
Until she no longer needed them?
The conversation had taken another peculiar turn as Maddy sensed an underlying message that she didn’t quite understand. It was rather like reading a play with a page missing from the script.
Lady Milford arose from the chair and glided to the doorway. There, she turned to give Maddy a keen look. “I do hope you’ll grant me one more wish, Miss Swann.”
“What is that?”
“You’ll wear the slippers tomorrow while you accept your bids.”
With a flick of her rich plum cloak, the woman vanished into the corridor, leaving Maddy with her lips parted in unspoken refusal. Lady Milford asked the impossible. It would be folly to wear such beautiful shoes on the following evening. Not that Maddy dared to explain why.
No one must know about her secret plan for the auction.