Chapter 1

one

Theatre Royal, 1887

T HE MORE ROYSTON knew human beings, the more he appreciated animals.

He'd been a footman at the service of Lord Stephen Dunn, Earl of Havisham, for two years now, but His Lordship's attitude still surprised him, and not always in a good fashion.

Royston stood at attention in the plush, private opera box of the earl, feeling a bit out of place in his footman uniform. The box looked like a giant jewellery case. Velvet everywhere, golden stucco, and polished wood.

"My lord, I'm afraid I didn't understand," he said.

Lord Havisham brushed an invisible speck of dust from his shiny evening suit. "It's all very simple. I'm going to receive a lady here tonight."

Of course he was. If a competition in adultery existed, the earl would be the champion.

"Mrs. Haywood will come with her daughter, Miss Haywood." Lord Havisham cast a bored glance at the seats in the auditorium that slowly filled with people before the beginning of the performance. "Do you follow me so far?"

"I do, my lord." Royston had understood that part even the first time the earl had explained it. It was the second part that wasn't clear.

"I want you to keep Miss Haywood out of my box." The earl pointed at the box door for extra clarity.

"Yes, my lord, but what if Miss Haywood wishes to leave? And where should I keep her? In the hallway? For how long? The play is about two hours long."

The earl's request was ridiculous. Soon the play would start, and he was supposed to prevent a woman from watching it.

Lord Havisham huffed. "I don't care where you keep Miss Haywood. Rest assured, I'll let her in at a certain point. I want to be alone with her mother for a while."

The fact the earl was interested in the mother was a comfort of sorts, since he had the tendency to favour young women.

Royston bowed, still full of doubts. "My lord."

"Don't listen to what Miss Haywood says in case she protests. She won't get in here with her mother unless I say so."

Miss Haywood didn't know it yet, but she was going to be upset. Royston bowed again. There was a lot of bowing to perform around aristocrats.

Lord Havisham sat down on the stuffed chair, his features softening. "I know you disapprove, but Mrs. Haywood is the widow of a gentleman who died years ago. A robbery, I think. Anyway, I didn't want to meet her in my house, for personal reasons."

When Lord Havisham talked about meeting a woman for ‘personal reasons,' he meant he was looking for a new mistress.

"Needless to say," Lord Havisham said, "no one should know I'm seeing her here tonight."

Royston didn't say anything. The only comment he wanted to voice was, ‘You're a bloody idiot and should be ashamed of yourself.' His mother had been a prostitute in a brothel in Clerkenwell. He knew all about lords' mistresses and other dirty secrets.

"Of course, my lord. I know my place. But I must speak my mind."

"Pray, do." Lord Havisham sounded bored.

"My lord, what if Miss Haywood wants to leave the theatre? Once she realises she can't enter the box, she won't have any reason to stay here. Not to mention she'll get upset."

That gave the earl something to ponder. "Hmm… no, don't let her leave for any reason. I don't know for how long I need to be alone with Mrs. Haywood. Just don't let her leave the hallway."

Ridiculous.

Lord Havisham waved him out. "That's all, Royston. You may wait outside."

Royston bowed one last time before leaving the opera box. The things he did for a salary. But the alternative was to return to being a cat burglar, risking being thrown in prison at any moment, or starving in a dank alleyway. Both options weren't appealing in the least.

He stood in the hallway next to the door as the other members of the audience walked to their boxes. Perhaps he complained too much. As someone who had grown up in a brothel, become a professional thief, and narrowly escaped from the peelers more times than he'd care to count, having been hired as an earl's footman was a huge improvement. A regular salary, a warm and dry room, and proper meals.

Two years ago, he'd stopped a rival thief from robbing the earl, not out of goodness, but because he'd wanted to rob Lord Havisham himself. But in an ironic twist of fate, Lord Havisham had misunderstood Royston's action and thanked him for his help. Then he'd offered Royston a position as a footman.

He couldn't judge others. Despite Lord Havisham's questionable morals when it came to his wedding vows, Royston had to admit the earl had been nothing but kind and generous to him. He enjoyed a level of freedom other footmen didn't have, a higher salary than average, and even paid medical bills. His past wasn't a secret to the earl, and as long as Royston didn't steal again, the earl wouldn't give him the sack.

But if he was going to be honest, he didn't enjoy having to cover for His Lordship's philandering, or keep a young woman separated from her mother only because the earl had to dirty-puzzle in his box.

Well, at least tonight, the job was easy. Surely, he wouldn't have any problem keeping Miss Haywood in the hallway.

Angeline had always wanted to go with her mother on one of her elegant nights out. Theatre premiers, operas, concerts, soirées. Mama had never taken Angeline with her until that night.

She admired the way Mama commanded everyone's attention whenever she entered a room, even though she didn't hold any titles. Or how the gentlemen— no matter their age, marital status, or peerage —seemed enthralled by her with just one glance. It wasn't a matter of beauty because Angeline had never managed to tear a smile from anyone, despite the fact she'd inherited her mother's looks. Same raven hair and black eyes, same pillow-like lips, and same curves. Yet no one noticed her.

Not that she minded. In fact, being at the centre of attention wasn't her first aspiration. But she wondered how it would feel to have the same uncanny power of charming people as Mama had.

Every head turned towards Angeline's mother as they crossed the busy lobby of the Theatre Royal. Ladies and gentlemen in their finest clothes waited for the play, The Romany Rye , to begin. A few gentlemen were so intimidated by her beauty that they fidgeted and blushed. Oddly enough, others pretended not to see her, even though Mama gave them a graceful bow of her head. How rude.

Mama's blue silk gown hugged her body, exalting her hourglass figure, and showed only a hint of her decolletage. Angeline wondered if her mauve gown had the same effect on her. Not likely, judging from the almost pitiful glances tossed in her direction. Some gentlemen looked at her as if to say, ‘Poor creature.'

She paused to admire the high-vaulted ceiling, the frescoes, and the large windows. She could get used to going out with her mama.

"Did you do some research, as I asked you?" Mama asked, climbing the sweeping stairs, her chin up.

"Of course." Angeline hurried up to walk next to her. " The Romany Rye is the story of two half-brothers and the jealousy tearing them apart."

"Goodness me." Mama stopped at the top of the stairs. The lights from the chandelier played with her diamond necklace. "I don't mean the play. We aren't here to enjoy the performance. We have a mission."

Actually, Angeline would love to watch the play although her first official appearance in society was more important. Alas, when she'd been the age to be a debutante, Mama hadn't enough money to bring her out. Thank goodness their finances were in order now. More than in order, as the diamond necklace proved.

"Come here, darling," Mama said.

She followed her mother to a quiet, dimly lit corner in the hallway.

Mama lowered her voice. "I'm going to introduce you to an earl. I hope you studied The Ladies' Book of Etiquette, and Manual of Politeness as I asked you to do. This meeting is very important."

Well, Angeline had read the book, but remembering it was another matter. "I did read the manual."

Mama narrowed her gaze. "I don't mind you spending time riding or practising with the bow. A lady needs to spend time outdoors, and physical activities are good for the body, but you shouldn't neglect your etiquette studies just because you want to shoot arrows at a hay target."

A target at two hundred yards, something Angeline was proud of and that required a lot of practice.

"We must think about your future." Mama touched Angeline's cheek. "I haven't cared enough about that so far. But I promise you'll have a more comfortable life than I did. You won't make the same mistakes I did."

Angeline held Mama's hand. "Not every man is like Father."

Her father had been a drunk and violent man, who had disappeared one day when Angeline had been a child, leaving them full of debt and in a decrepit house. She had to thank her mother for all the sacrifices Mama had made and for never giving up to keep her daughter alive. Mama had gone into service and worked hard until she'd been able to leave service and establish herself as a respectable lady.

Angeline had briefly worked as a maid as well, but Mama was the one who had improved their lives drastically with her ability to make money. Angeline didn't exactly understand all the intricacies of Mama's financial enterprises— she invested her money in different businesses and stock markets — but she was well-connected in society. An earl had invited her into his box, after all. Mama was London's darling at the moment.

Angeline watched a family of three heading to their box. The girl had to be around fifteen, pretty in a pale-yellow gown. They smiled at each other, looking so happy. A happy family with a proper husband and father was possible. Having a happy family of her own was her mission to prove to her father how wrong he'd been to leave them.

"You worry too much, Mama. I'm sure I'll find a lovely husband and have a house full of children and love."

Instead of smiling at the idea of seeing her daughter settled and happy, Mama's expression tightened. "There's still time to marry. I'm not in a hurry to become a grandmother."

"Time? Mama I'm practically a spinster."

Mama waved dismissively. "A husband can wait."

Angeline didn't argue. Husbands were a delicate topic. After Mama had been abandoned and mistreated by her husband, she didn't respect marriage. But…

"Why am I meeting this earl then? I thought tonight's introduction was the first step to find me a suitor."

"Absolutely not." Mama's cheeks flushed under the rouge. "What I want for you is Lord Havisham's connections."

Connections? What did that mean? Connections for what? Anyway. She was at the theatre and would enjoy herself. Yes, sir, she would.

Footmen and theatre hosts ushered ladies and gentlemen to their boxes. The air was thick with the scent of different expensive perfumes. Mama stopped in front of box number twelve, where a quite imposing man stood as if guarding it.

Goodness. If the man was a footman, he worked in the wrong trade. With his massive body and brooding gaze, he should be a highwayman or a pugilist. Footmen, in her mind, were supposed to be elegant. The man looked like a war machine ready to tramp everything in his path. His dress livery was impeccable and freshly pressed, but the hard hazel eyes were those of a murderer.

Mama stepped back from the imposing footman. "Good evening. I believe Lord Havisham is waiting for us."

The footman cast a long, assessing glance over them as if pondering how long it'd take him to wrestle both of them to the ground. Not much, judging by how quickly he dismissed them. Angeline felt that stare patting her down. She glared back, hoping he noticed her disapproval.

"Who are you, madam?" Even the voice sounded dangerous, as sharp as a knife.

"Mrs. Haywood and my daughter, Angeline." Mama pointed her fan at the door. "His Lordship is waiting for us, and the play is about to start. So please move aside, fella."

Without a word, the footman slid inside the box and shut the door.

"How insolent," Angeline said. "Leaving us here without a word, and he demanded we introduce ourselves" She'd learnt something from that etiquette book, after all.

"Patience." Mama patted her perfect chignon. "The first rule to gain a man's favour is to let him believe he has the upper hand."

"Do you want to gain that footman's favour?"

"You never know whom you might need one day. It's better to keep friends with everyone, just in case."

"Isn't that manipulation?"

"No, it's survival."

The footman came out only to shut the door behind him. "His Lordship will welcome you now." He held the door open for Mama, but after she entered the box, he blocked Angeline. "His Lordship specifically required only Mrs. Haywood's presence."

"Excuse me?" Mama said.

Angeline didn't step back this time. "But we're together. Mama?"

"Wait a moment, darling. I'll have a word with Lord Havisham." Mama closed the door, leaving her alone with the highwayman.

"I'm sure the earl wants to see me as well," she said.

He didn't grace her with a comment.

"I don't understand why I have to wait here."

He didn't say anything.

"You could say something."

"Is ‘please wait here' enough?"

She scoffed. "How rude."

"I said please," he pointed out.

Never mind. She waited for the longest minute in her life. When Mama came out of the box, she was flustered and tense.

She shot a glare at the footman. "I'm sorry, darling, but the earl and I must discuss some business."

"In the opera box?"

Mama tapped her fan against her palm. "It's a long story. The earl wants you to wait here. Perhaps at the end of the first act, he'll allow you in."

"I won't be able to follow the play."

"You already know the plot, don't you?" Mama patted Angeline's cheek. "I'll see you later, darling."

"What about the play?" Angeline craned her neck to talk with her mother, but the rudest footman in history shut the door. "I'm sorry!"

He gave her a quick nod. "Consider your apology accepted, miss."