A Golden Cage Read Free Page A

should not Deanna have the same choice?”
    Joe’s mouth tightened.
    Laurette patted his arm. “Don’t sulk. It’s only a handful of actors in Mrs. Grantham’s garden, not suffragettes on a hunger strike.” And with a trill of laughter, she spirited Deanna away.
    â€œMen,” she said as soon as they’d rounded the back of thetheater. “You know I would never do anything to put you in harm’s way. And if any of your mother’s friends objects to your visit backstage, tell them I made you do it.”
    She led the way, humming one of the tunes from the show.
    They passed a tent set up for dining.
    â€œSo society won’t have to interact with the hoi polloi, though, mark my words they’ll be sauntering down to get a close-up view before the night is over.”
    Ahead of them a wide wooden walkway ran between the back wall of the stage and a row of tents. They made their way down the path avoiding the large chunks of pyramid, which was being dismantled and carried into one of the tents. It had looked so real onstage, but now Deanna saw that it was made mostly of thin wood and cardboard.
    There was a costume tent and an equipment tent, and two additional tents on the end.
    â€œSee? Separate dressing areas for males and females. Perfectly respectable.”
    As if to prove her wrong, a commotion burst out ahead of them, and a woman carrying a heavy bundle of gowns out of the women’s changing tent backed out with a final battery of French. As she was turning to go, two beefy workers careered around the corner, carrying a length of footlights between them.
    â€œWatch yer back.”
    The
costumière
let out a squeal. At the last second, they managed to slide past one another and detour around Laurette and Deanna so smoothly that if it had appeared onstage, a choreographer would have been employed to ensure there would be no mishap.
    But once disaster had been evaded, the accusations andinsults blossomed into a bouquet of harsh words—with sneers from the stagehands and fiery insults delivered in perfect French from the wardrobe lady—catapulting over Deanna’s head.
    Laurette pulled Deanna aside. “Perhaps not totally respectable. But energetic. Yes, real energy. If it could only be reined in and used for . . .”
    Laurette’s words trailed off as she saw a handsome middle-aged man in an exquisite dressing gown striding toward them. He was still wearing full makeup; his hair was parted in the middle and winged back from a long face and patrician nose.
    â€œ
Mon Dieu
, if it isn’t the lovely Laurette.” He bowed low over her hand, then still holding that hand, he looked up. “And where is the honorable Lionel this evening?”
    â€œWaiting for his dinner up at the terrazzo.”
    â€œBut of course.” He let go of her hand. “And how did you enjoy our little show?”
    â€œWell, actually—”
    â€œYes, a butchery of a play that wasn’t that meaty to begin with.” He glanced at Deanna and tilted his head.
    â€œEdwin. May I introduce my friend Deanna Randolph? Deanna, Edwin Stevens, our star of the evening. And manager of the acting troupe.”
    Deanna curtseyed, trying to take in this debonair, refined gentleman who had just spent the last hour playing the ridiculously comic Professor Papyrus. She wondered which one was the real Edwin Stevens.
    â€œEdwin. I’ve come to say hello to Amabelle Deeks. Is she in the ladies’ tent?”
    Edwin’s eyebrows winged slightly upward, making his expression more humorous than he obviously intended. “She is in the last tent with the other chorus ladies.” He noddedtoward the end of the row of tents, moved closer to Laurette, and said so quietly that Deanna almost didn’t hear him, “If she has a friend, that friend should take her away . . . now.” He lifted his head. “Ah, Theo. I was just coming to