The Duke's Indiscretion Read Free Page A

way down the left corridor that led to the lower orchestra seating, encountering only one or two patrons outside the theater proper who hardly gave him a second glance. He had just a few seconds before applause would break out, signaling the final interval, and he wanted to be inside before anyone noticed him. Finally an overseer of sorts came into view, standing guard in front of the wooden doors that secured the backstage area, probably from people like him who would disrupt the act and its players intentionally or otherwise.
    Planting his best charming smile upon his mouth, Colin strode up to the theater employee with a purposeful, regal bearing, until he stood before the scrawny young man who, up close, didn’t appear to be more than twenty years of age.
    â€œHis grace, the Duke of Newark, to see Miss English, please,” he stated with casual assurance, pulling down on his velvet cuffs. “I won’t be but a minute.”
    The youth’s eyes lit up fractionally in surprise as he scanned him from head to foot, assessing. “Is she expecting you?”
    Predicting such a standard inquiry, Colin clasped his hands behind his back, never averting his direct gaze. “Of course. And it’s important.”
    After only seconds of deciding it best not to tempt a confrontation with a man of his rank, the youth nodded once. “You’ll only have a few minutes, your grace,” he admonished, just a trace of disapproval in his tone, “before the final act begins.”
    â€œI shouldn’t need more,” he replied lightheartedly.
    The young man moved to his side and opened the door, just enough for him to slip through, then closed it softly behind him.
    Colin stood in the dark, allowing only seconds for his eyes to adjust, then made his way around various bins and large, painted scenes, ropes and pulleys, and props of all kinds, hearing the sudden cheering and applause from the audience just as he neared the small back rooms where he knew the protagonists and players would take a few minutes of rest before returning to the stage for the opera’s finale.
    He heard soft voices and snickering around him as the cast and crew started making their way backstage, though he acted very well as if he knew precisely what he was doing, nodding once or twice to work hands in grubby attire who glanced at him, showing only the slightest interest, or perhaps confusion, in seeing a man in formal regalia treading where he shouldn’t. He knew which room belonged to Lottie, as he’d attempted to meet her here before, and he walked immediately toward it without interruption. Drawing a deep breath for confidence, and hearing not a word inside, he grasped the knob and let himself in.
    Her dressing room was a bit brighter than he thought it would be, taking note of three oil lamps, lit for the interval, two on each side of the dressing table that reflected light from the long, gilt framed mirror, and one across the small room, sitting atop an old oak wardrobe.
    Colin first noticed a lady’s maid, adorned in costume, placing cosmetics, brushes and little bottles of who knew what on the table in front of the mirror. She glanced up when she heard him enter, staring at him, her mouth opened a bit in puzzlement.
    â€œAre you—may I help you, sir?” she asked with wide eyes, clutching a thick brush to her breasts.
    Colin smiled. “I’m here to meet Miss English.”
    â€œOh.” She hesitated, looking him up and down with assessment just as the scrawny youth had done. “Is she expecting you?”
    He wanted to tell her abruptly to leave, and that his reasons for intruding were none of her business. But he supposed it was highly unusual for the famed soprano to be interrupted by strange men from the audience during a performance.
    â€œYes,” he answered simply, looking not at her, but around the room, observing for the first time how the decorations were highly indicative