Page 3 of The Dark Duke’s Cinderella (The Untamed Ladies #1)

CHAPTER 3

“W e’ve attracted no small number of interested looks so far tonight,” George said from beside Philip as they wound up the stairs to their box at The King’s Theatre that evening. “And by we, I mean you, Colonel. Your popularity seems to have soared after your time abroad—despite the scar.

“From your letters, I figured you would return to England looking like the Barguest itself. But in truth, the scar is doing you a service. I fancy the women of London see it as a testament to your patriotism . ”

“I shall endeavor to take that as a compliment. But what the devil is a Barguest?” Philip asked, struggling to keep up with his friends.

The climb irritated his ribs. He could perform most daily tasks without trouble, but stairs and slopes were deadly.

George laughed, his freckled face brightening with a smile. “A monstrous hound of legend that stalks the Dales. My old nurse used to tell us stories of the creature when we misbehaved, saying it would snatch us from our beds in the night if we didn’t harken to her orders.”

“More Yorkshire nonsense,” Simon chimed in, turning to look over his shoulder as he led the way forward. “I can scarcely understand a word you say anymore, Georgie. That new northern drawl of yours is an affront to my ears. And besides, the only bar guests I’m interested in are the sorts we’ll find at the club later. Well-fed and over-watered drowsy hounds, looking to risk it all over a round of Faro. Hmph… Would that we had skipped the culture altogether and gone directly to White’s.”

Philip remained neutral in their fight, enjoying the innocent ribbing between his two friends. They had met in front of the opera house and conversed for a while ahead of the show, directing their respective footmen to head inside without them. Philip hadn’t known what to expect from their reunion, especially now that they were a man down for good. But reuniting with George and Simon had been like putting on a well-loved pair of boots—they fitted without question.

“You don’t sound much different to me,” Philip said to George while Simon was distracted with their usher. “But you’ve been spending time in Yorkshire? Are your family not from Somerset?”

George shrugged one shoulder. “My uncle’s eldest married a lord from York and consigned us all to spend the summer there.”

Philip nodded. “And the marriage business? Have you made any progress?”

A laugh caught in George’s throat. “You haven’t changed, discussing love and marriage with as much cold fervor as you discuss business. No… I am still as hapless in love as I ever was. But I’m hopeful for this Season. Now that I am the Baron of Walford, perhaps my chances will improve.”

His happy expression faltered. Philip chose not to press him further on the matter.

Simon whistled suddenly to get their attention, pointing to their advancing usher. As they walked down the shared corridor to their box, Philip watched Simon flash a dazzling smile at a few passing young women and their chaperones. George seemed to know them. Their charmed expressions fell in quick succession as their gazes flitted from George to Simon, before finally landing on Philip.

Four pretty young faces colored with shock.

Was it his appearance or his new title that commanded the fear in their eyes?

He could swear he heard them whisper amongst themselves as they left. “Don’t be silly, Helena… The Duke of Wells… different now… not smiling… and that scar… The war carved something into him…”

Philip smiled in secret. They were honest, little things if nothing else.

The Stockton box was well situated, providing a good view of the stage while being far enough away from the chaos of the upper galleries to enjoy the show in peace. Philip settled in his seat while George gave him an overview of the opera they would be watching. But he was barely listening.

He glanced down into the pit and felt suddenly exposed. As if all the eyes in The King’s Theatre had fixed on him at once.

Perhaps I am not a beast like Barguest . But my looks and rank are certainly novel enough to warrant the ton’s attention. There is nothing to be done but let them stare. And if prospective brides find my disfigurement too high a price to pay to become a duchess, then I invite them to keep staring.

Sitting to George’s right, Philip leaned in while Simon inspected the program for that evening, grumbling to himself.

“Far be it from me to echo our friend’s earlier complaints, but why did we come to the opera rather than White’s?” Philip asked, cutting George off. He kept his voice low. “Given Simon’s lamentation over our choice of activity tonight, I suspect that you were the one who organized the events of the evening.”

“Does it not always fall to me to organize you three?” George gasped softly, then corrected himself. “You both, I mean…”

Philip looked away, giving George time to collect himself.

“My cousin is performing tonight,” George explained, gesturing toward the empty stage. “She has had a difficult time of things recently, and I wanted to lend my support to her by attending her first London show this year.”

“Speaking of Alicia, are we?” Simon interjected suddenly, leaning over him with a teasing smile. “Georgie plays the role of innocent confidant well enough, but a mastermind lies behind that unassuming freckled forehead—I have always known it.”

“That accusation is beyond the pale!” George’s cheeks flushed red, and Philip knew all too well why. “But, of course, I wasn’t thinking when I invited you, because it’s been so long and… Well, you don’t mind that we’re here, do you, Philip?”

Philip shook his head, inspecting his own program. “Alicia and I have not spoken for many years. Our courtship was a mistake, and we both knew it—so short that I dare say it shouldn’t even count as one. We are strangers to one another now.” He looked up, unaffected by the revelation that she would be performing that evening. “Does your uncle still curse the ground she walks on?”

“I’m afraid so.” George’s face betrayed every thought that crossed his mind. From the look of him, things were dire between Alicia and the earl. “Alicia knows her own mind, and he does not like that. He’s not entirely wrong to worry for her, of course. The daughter of a peer, leaving the ton to pursue a career in the opera… She has known her fair share of troubles, but her heart still belongs to the stage.”

“If this is where she thinks she belongs, then there is nowhere better for her,” Philip said, suddenly contemplative. “One cannot lead a safe but shallow life.”

“Speaking from the heart, Wilmington?” Simon drawled from George’s left, brandishing his smile like a weapon. “Perhaps you and the Seconda Donna have more in common than you initially thought. I’m certain she would find your service to our country romantic. She is still undeniably lovely. You are both still single. Perhaps there are grounds for a happy reunion.”

“Hardly,” Philip said emphatically. “No doubt she remembers as little of me as I remember of her—and what she will remember cannot possibly be favorable…”

Not favorable at all. He had met Alicia eight years ago during her first Season, and their courtship had lasted all of two weeks. His father had forced him into it, convinced that she would be the diamond of the Season.

He and Alicia had both been miserable during their brief acquaintance. A few walks around Hyde Park had confirmed that their dalliance was going nowhere, even though she was beautiful and he had been woefully eligible at the time. A year later, she left England to pursue her singing career.

Philip knew as much about that time of her life as the rest of the ton. Alicia Walford was a leading lady in the making, with a scandalous reputation to match, and she would not resign herself to becoming a wife.

“What was it they used to call your father at the time?” Simon asked. “The Duke of Darkness…” He laughed. “I suppose that makes you the Duke of Darkness now. First the Barguest, and now the Duke of Darkness… This night is taking on a most mystical air. Anything could happen—why not a reunion?”

“For my stance on marriage has not changed,” Philip uttered, growing increasingly uncomfortable.

Simon pursed his lips. “I never said anything about marriage . Not all meetings between a man and a woman must be entirely orthodox…”

“That’s my cousin you’re speaking about!” George cried, drawing the attention of the patrons in the box beside theirs. He shot them an awkward smile and lowered his voice. “Those days of indiscretion have long since been over for Alicia. She is looking to settle down and become a respectable woman.”

“Ha! She could no more become respectable than I could—and good on her for it,” Simon said, adjusting the drapery beside him to put a barrier between themselves and their eavesdropping neighbors. “No, you must be mistaken. With a record like hers, she would have better luck finding a husband in one of those foreign countries she loves to visit so much. Why come back to England? Unless you mentioned Philip was returning to us too… Are you hoping to play matchmaker this Season, Georgie? Hell and damnation, you are! I can see it in your eyes!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never force her on a friend. Perhaps she feels she left a life behind here. Or perhaps…” George shrugged, diving nose-first into his program like he could hide there. Simon was onto something. “Well, I don’t know! I can’t read her mind. I only know what she said.”

“And what you said, no doubt, planting the seed of a future love in her head. Well, what perfect timing for you, Wilmington.” Simon was like a dog with a bone. “The disgraced Seconda Donna and the Duke of Darkness returned to England. There have been worse matches.”

“In theory,” Philip said, grateful when the surrounding footmen began to withdraw, signaling the start of the opera. “But it is as I said. Alicia and I could not be more different. I had no attachment to her back then, and I cannot develop one now. But if you are so determined to unearth the past, let us review the catalog of your dismal courtships, Stockton. It is surely more interesting than mine.”

He grinned, giving Simon a taste of his own medicine.

Simon smiled from ear to ear, as silence settled over the theatre. “It is as you said,” he whispered. “Who would dream of a safe but shallow life?”

* * *

Anna’s heart hammered in her chest as she reached the main staircase. Her group had been among the last patrons to be checked in, and the foyer was now empty. The opera house attendants had disappeared too.

It was eerily quiet. She could hear the gentle din of the gallery behind the doors. But otherwise, it felt like she had the entire theatre to herself.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure where to go to find her cousin. The performance would start soon. Who knew whether Alicia was still getting ready?

Looking down at her feet, Anna noticed a crumpled program on the carpeted stairs. She picked it up and inspected the title.

“ Tancredi ,” she read softly, smiling at the name.

The summer prior, Alicia had sent a collection of Italian sheet music to Anna as a birthday gift. It had incensed her father, who wanted Anna to have nothing to do with Alicia. One of her male cousins must have intervened because her father eventually agreed to let her keep them. Among them had been Tancredi .

If they were performing Tancredi , then Alicia would be singing in the first scene. And just like that, doubt settled in.

What am I even doing here? There’s barely any time left . And if Father learns that I slipped backstage, he will wring my neck or worse.

Suddenly, the doors to the main gallery creaked open. A group of mixed voices sounded behind her. There was no time to turn back—an acquaintance of her father could be among them.

Taking the stairs quickly, she hurried across the foyer and ducked into the nearest room. A set of stairs led downward. She took her chances with the dark.

New voices carried in the air toward her, and then she caught the sound of a female voice performing scales. She had unwittingly entered through the stage door and was now beneath the stage itself.

Clutching the program in her fist, Anna followed the singing voice.

A series of small rooms lined the first hallway, likely dressing rooms. Most of the doors were shut. Anna approached the singing voice and recognized it as Alicia’s.

Her cousin stood in her private room, struggling to finish her singing exercises between her sobs. She pressed a hand to her abdomen. The calming gesture obviously had no effect on her, because she burst into tears between Fa and So .

“Alicia?” Anna asked in a panic, stepping into the doorway.

Her cousin gasped loudly, hopping back from the dressing table. Her costume hung from a hook on the wall behind her—a luxurious red gown adorned with gold filigree.

“You’re not allowed to be here, Anna,” Alicia scolded, reorganizing her cosmetics. She cast a glance at the chatelaine watch lying on the table. “There’s only ten minutes before I have to go on stage, and the costume assistant could be back any minute for final touches.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” Anna bit her lip, turning to close the door behind her. “But I couldn’t help myself, Alicia. When we met on the stairs earlier, you looked so…” She struggled to find a descriptor that wouldn’t alarm her cousin. “I simply thought you might need to talk. And now you’re here, and you’re crying?—”

“I’m not crying,” Alicia cut in.

The red rings around her eyes begged to differ.

Alicia sighed deeply and pressed a hand to her forehead, then reached for a nearby carafe of water.

“It’s no use lying to you,” she continued. “Something has come over me. A sudden megrim, perhaps. I tried to tell that wretched impresario that I couldn’t perform, but he didn’t believe me. Said I was simply nervous and letting my stage fright ruin everyone’s night.” She scoffed, incredulous. “I played this role for six months in Milan, and now he thinks I’ve let my nerves get the better of me? Oh…”

Without warning, she swooned. She stumbled back into the wardrobe behind her.

Anna rushed forward, grabbing the carafe before it could fall from Alicia’s hands. She steadied her cousin, inspecting her from head to toe. Her face was unusually pale beneath her stage makeup. She certainly looked sick. How could the impresario not have believed her?

“There isn’t someone else who can perform in your stead?” Anna stepped away to grab one of the chairs by the wall, pulling Alicia down to sit. “Do you not travel with other singers who know your part?”

“The chorus is entirely male. The Prima Donna and I are the only females in the company. We might have been able to recruit someone outside the company, had I not informed the impresario so late. He cannot find a replacement for me on such short notice. I was upstairs, scanning the boxes, hoping to spot a singer in the crowd who could replace me for the evening.” Alicia shook her head in defeat, then winced as though the gesture had made her headache worse. “No luck.”

Anna nodded, finally understanding the reason for her cousin’s earlier trip to the boxes. Her eyes drifted to the side table by the vanity, where someone had left a bottle of brandy and a glass.

“He wanted me to drink that. He swore that it would make me feel better,” Alicia explained despondently. “But I couldn’t… I didn’t want to…” She drew in a shaky breath. “Never mind. None of it matters anyway. If I do not perform tonight, the impresario will never forgive me. I’ll never work in Haymarket again—maybe not in the whole of London. It’s a brutal business. Do you know how many younger, more beautiful singers there are out there? Women who would skin me alive for the chance to steal my role? It has been my dream to perform Rossini in England, and now I’ve ruined everything.”

Not for the first time in her life, Anna felt completely helpless.

“I wish there was something I could do,” she murmured, crouching in front of Alicia. She set the carafe on the floor, and it clicked against the tiles. “You know that I would do anything for you.”

Her cousin was silent for a moment, seeking out her hand and taking it. Burnt clove had stained her fingernails on her otherwise flawless hands. Alicia turned toward the door, where the distant sound of an orchestra could be heard.

The overture had begun. They were running out of time.

Anna opened her mouth to speak, hoping to bolster her cousin’s spirits as her doom approached. Instead, Alicia fixed her with a desperate look.

“You could do it,” she murmured, gripping Anna’s hand tighter.

Anna’s eyes widened. “I… I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, Anna!” Alicia leaned forward in her seat and pulled Anna into a hug. “Yes, it’s perfect. You’ll go on stage instead of me, and no one will be any the wiser. We look so similar, and you sing so well—but we have to hurry!”

Her world started to spin as Alicia rushed around the room, grabbing her costume from the hook. Her hands were all over Anna then, beginning to undress her and take down her hair.

The music roared above them, making Anna feel sick. She clutched onto her dress before it could fall from her shoulders, jumping out of Alicia’s eager grasp.

“Alicia, stop!” she cried. “I can’t perform in front of all those people! I’ve scarcely sung for anyone in my life. The part of Isaura… I’m not even a contralto. The range is much too low for me, and?—”

“Mezzo, contralto? Does it really matter?” Alicia reached for Anna again, steadying her on her feet. “So long as you can sing in tune, you’ll be fine. I know you’ll be fine. Your voice is beautiful, Anna. You studied the music I sent over, didn’t you? You know the part?”

Anna tried to come up with a lie, but she knew Alicia would see the truth in her eyes. She nodded, recalling the arias she had sung to the trees of the Yorkshire Dales.

“Then everything will be perfect. The costume comes with a mask, something the stage designer implemented for our London shows.” Alicia stepped around Anna, rummaging in her bag. She pulled out the most beautiful mask Anna had ever seen. Black, white and red, with golden gems inlaid around the eyes. “Put this on, and the dress, and show London what it means to be a real Walford woman.”

“I can’t…” Anna’s head started pounding. “I can’t do this. It’s beyond me. And if Father finds out?—”

“But you can , Anna. Please, you must.”

There were minutes left before the overture ended. The look in Alicia’s eyes grew more desperate with each second that passed.

“I can’t go out there and make a fool of myself by spewing all over the stage. All I’m asking of you is to sing in the first scene. Hopefully, I’ll be well enough to take over after that. I know you will do me proud, cousin. Believe in me if not yourself.”

Still not convinced, Anna took the mask from Alicia and held it close to her chest. The bottle of brandy glimmered out of the corner of her eye.

Maybe this is my chance, terrified as I am, to finally take control of my life.

Unhappy Anna , she bemoaned silently, bastardizing the text. What a beautiful day for you!