Heiress Without a Cause Read Online Free PDF Page A

Madame never used Madeleine’s real name — but it was the news she imparted, not the usage of her name, that made Madeleine’s stomach rebel. “Who were they?”
    “They did not introduce themselves, but I could never forget the red-haired gent. He was a fixture in Covent Garden when I was a dancer there. He’s the one what just inherited the dukedom.”
    “Ferguson? Or rather, Rothwell?” Madeleine asked, closing her eyes against the blow.
    “Aye, Rothwell,” Madame exclaimed, slipping into the Yorkshire accent she worked so hard to hide. “He was enthralled. As soon as he saw you enter, he only had eyes for you.”
    “My God,” Madeleine whispered. “I am ruined.”
    “Ruined? No, this is excellent news. We will make a fortune!”
    Madeleine had trusted Madame Legrand for five years. Despite her misgivings, Augusta let Madeleine stage holiday theatricals at Whitworth, the Stauntons’ country estate in Lancashire. Madame was still a dancer when Madeleine hired her to produce the first performance, since it was customary to let professionals run the show while the amateur houseguests giggled their way through their assigned parts.
    The last Yuletide theatrical had been particularly unbearable. Augusta’s friends were too well starched to participate, and Alex and Sebastian would only play along for so long before escaping to the billiards room. Madeleine wanted to act on a real stage, with real actors and a real audience. Madame had somehow saved enough to open her own theatre the previous year, and she was the only one Madeleine could trust with such a mad request.
    Madeleine tried to reason with her. “We cannot continue. If I am caught...”
    “But your talent! You cannot walk away — I have never seen a debut like this. Besides, I’ve seen you many times as Lady Madeleine. I vow no one would recognize you as Hamlet.”
    Madeleine could hear the roar of the crowd in her ears again, the sound filling her to the brim. She did have talent, she knew she did — but she also had a reputation, and expectations, and responsibilities.
    She had stolen two weeks from her real life. But real life always came back.
    “I can’t,” she said, her voice matching her misery.
    Madame pursed her lips. In the awkward silence, Madeleine heard the distant laughter of the audience watching the pantomime. She wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and stay there the rest of her life, reliving the memories of tonight and letting her possible ruin wash over her.
    The chance that Ferguson — she had dreamed of him with that name the night before, even if she would die before admitting it — recognized her under her wig and breeches was enough to make her feel ill. How could he not recognize her, despite her disguise?
    Madame interrupted her thoughts. In a brisk voice, she said, “I am truly sorry, but I have to think of my theatre. You simply must extend your performance.”
    “It is impossible,” Madeleine said, firmer now, like Madame was a chambermaid banging the tinderbox too early in the morning. “I am not some desperate country girl. Why would I continue now that I have almost been caught?”
    “You may not be starving, but I think you would do anything for your reputation. The gossip column of the Gazette would pay richly for my story.”
    Madeleine’s backbone crumbled. “Why would you do that to me?”
    “I really do not want to force you, my lady,” she said, with such sympathy that Madeleine almost believed her.
    Then her face hardened. Madeleine saw the steel that enabled her to rise from penniless opera dancer to successful theatre owner. “You saw the clientele before your debut. Your talent could accomplish in a month what it would take me years to build. We can make a new agreement — just another month, I promise. If you play four nights a week, I will let you go at the end of it and never breathe a word of your identity to anyone.”
    “How can I know you won’t betray me again?”
    “My word is