Midnight at Mallyncourt Read Free Page B

actress.”
    â€œYou want me to—to perform?”
    He nodded slowly, studying my reactions. Those peculiar eyebrows, one so straight, the other arching wickedly, gave his countenance a decidedly satanic cast, and Satan himself could hardly have been more devastatingly handsome. Edward Baker was unlike any man I had ever met. I was frightened, and intrigued. I felt emotions I had never felt before, and I wasn’t at all sure what they signified.
    â€œIn a theater?” I asked.
    â€œNo. I want you to pretend to be my wife for a month or so—six weeks at the most.”
    â€œYour—your wife?”
    Again he nodded. “It would be simple enough. I would introduce you as Mrs. Baker, and you would maintain the role only as long as necessary. It would be a role—nothing more. You would dress the part and act the part, displaying a modest, subservient affection toward me whenever anyone happened to be around. In private, you could hate me all you liked. I would make no physical demands on you, I assure you of that.”
    â€œThis is—incredible,” I said, dignity vanishing. “I’ve never heard anything so preposterous in my life!”
    â€œThere’s nothing preposterous about it,” he continued smoothly. “Let me explain further. I have an uncle, you see, and he is very rich. Very ill, too. He has only two male heirs, myself and a certain cousin of mine. He intends to leave his estate to one or the other of us. My cousin is a sullen brute, moody, temperamental, thoroughly unworthy, but, oddly enough, my uncle feels I am even more unworthy of the inheritance. Fortunately, he hasn’t yet drawn up his will. Time and again he’s told me that I need the influence of a good woman, that a suitable marriage would be the making of me. As you may have surmised, I’m not at all inclined to marry just to please him, so—”
    â€œSo you want to deceive him,” I interrupted. “You want to make him believe you’re married, and when he makes the will—”
    â€œPrecisely,” Edward Baker said.
    â€œA very clever idea.”
    â€œI think so, yes.”
    â€œExactly the sort of thing a man like you would think of. You’d have no scruples about deceiving a sick old man.”
    â€œNone at all,” he assured me.
    â€œWhat made you select me for the part, Mr. Baker?”
    â€œBecause, my dear, you were brought up as a gentlewoman. Despite your rather sordid surroundings, you have class, breeding. It shines through, even when you’re playing a Cockney tart as you were in that deplorable drama I witnessed last night. It’s a quality no actress could simulate unless she had a background similar to yours. You wouldn’t have to act, really. You could discuss literature, music, the arts with perfect ease, and you could do needlepoint, pour tea properly—you could be the young woman you would normally have been had fate not intervened four years ago.”
    â€œYou do know a lot about me, don’t you?”
    â€œAs I said before, I know everything I need to know about you.”
    â€œA pity you wasted all that effort, Mr. Baker.”
    â€œThen you refuse the offer, I take it?”
    â€œNothing on earth could induce me to consider it.”
    Edward Baker smiled to himself, as though he knew better. He stepped aside as I stood up. I brushed my topaz silk skirts. I adjusted the tilt of the wide-brimmed tan straw hat adorned with brown and white plumes. The smile still flickered on his lips. As I started to leave, he made a mock bow, one arm folded across his waist, the other outstretched. It was a parody of courtly manners. I wanted to slap his face.
    â€œPleased to have made your acquaintance, Miss Randall.”
    â€œThe pleasure’s not mutual, I assure you.”
    â€œNo? Pity. You and I would have been good together.”
    I moved across the grass toward the pavement.
    â€œOh, one other