“You two have been many things, Lola, but indifferent has never been one of them.”
Lola’s mind went tumbling back into the past before she could stop it—the torture of keeping him at arm’s length in Paris, the bliss of their meetings at the house in St.John’s Wood. His mouth on hers and his body on hers and the frantic, wild euphoria of afternoons in bed together. Warmth flooded through her, pooling in her midsection, flooding her cheeks, tingling up and down her spine.
“Acquaintances, hmm?”
Kitty’s amused voice was like a splash of icy water.
“Yes,” she said, scowling. “And if you keep making fun of the idea, I fear our friendship is not long for this world.”
“Sorry.” The amusement vanished from her friend’s face at once, replaced by a somber expression. “All teasing aside, I’m not sure a man and a woman can ever work together. Romance, I should think, would always get in the way.”
“That’s not true. I know plenty of people who’ve had love affairs, broken up, and worked together quite amicably afterward. It happens in theater all the time, and you know it.”
“Well, yes, for a play here and there, maybe. But you’re talking about a lifetime of being in business together. And besides,” she added before Lola could argue, “even if you and Somerton do establish a platonic relationship, very few other people will believe that’s what it is.”
“I don’t care what people believe.”
“Somerton does.”
Lola grimaced at that unarguable fact. “I know,” she acknowledged with a sigh. “But I don’t see what either of us can do about it. Over time, people will just have to accept there’s nothing of that sort between us.”
“And his sweetheart? Do you think she’ll accept it?”
Lola blinked, taken aback, though she knew she shouldn’t be. “Denys has a sweetheart?”
“That’s the rumor.”
“Who—” She paused, her voice gone and her throat dry, and she felt the need for a swallow of champagne. She gulped down the entire contents of her glass before she could voice the inevitable question. “Who is she?” she managed at last, and she was absurdly proud of the indifference in her voice.
If Kitty wasn’t deceived, at least she didn’t tease about it. “Lady Georgiana Prescott. Daughter of a marquess. Very highbrow and elegant, if the scandal rags are to be believed.”
Lady Georgiana. Of course. How fitting, how right that he should return his attentions to his childhood love, the woman his parents had always wanted for him, the perfect sort of woman to marry an earl’s son. Even as that thought passed through Lola’s mind, however, she felt a bit bleak.
“Well, there you have it then,” she said, striving to sound brisk and matter-of-fact. “When he becomes engaged to Lady Georgiana, it will show everyone there’s nothing between us.”
“You are underestimating the depths to which people’s minds can sink. Most people will assume Somerton is having his cake and eating it, too. After all”—Kitty swirled her champagne, her eyes meeting Lola’s over the rim of her glass—“he always did find you quite a scrumptious slice of cake.”
“Denys would never do what you’re suggesting! He’s far too honorable. And,” she added before her friend could say something cynical about the baser aspects of the masculine nature, “I wouldn’t let it happen. Why would I?”
“Why?” Kitty tilted her head as if pondering the question. “Hmm... let’s see. He’s good-looking, rich, a viscount, a future earl, and a very nice fellow who once had quite a passion for you. Yes, why, indeed?”
“I ended our affair,” she reminded her friend hotly. “I left him for another man.”
Kitty shrugged, running one finger idly around the rim of her glass. “You wouldn’t be the first woman who’d broken things off with a chap and taken up with another only to realize she’d made a mistake.”
“I did not make a mistake! I left him for a man who knew what I was, who would never expect me to become something I could never be. We are both better off, and Denys would agree.”
“I’m sure he would.”
Her friend’s mild agreement only impelled Lola to hammer the point home. “Lady Georgiana will make him a much more suitable wife than I ever would have. And,” she added as Kitty opened her mouth again, “I’d never become entangled with another woman’s sweetheart! How could you think I would?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Kitty held up a placating hand. “I’m not impugning your character. But I am concerned for you. Are you certain you and Somerton can work together?”
“We have to. It’s the only sensible thing to do.”
“Very sensible,” Kitty agreed gravely, but Lola caught a distinct hint of amusement in that reply. Before she could decide, however, the other woman spoke again. “What are you doing three weeks from tomorrow? There’s a flower show that day in Regent’s Park. It’s for charity—London hospitals, army widows, or some such. I bought two tickets, thinking my flat mate and I would go, but she can’t, I’m told. Care to take her place?”
“I’d love to, but I’m not sure I’ll be free. Rehearsals run on Saturdays, too.”
