An Actor’s Scheme of Seduction (Preview)

Chapter One

London

1826

Two gigantic posters of Alexander Russell, the lead actor in Vendetta in Verona, looked down on the crowded lobby as murals in a church. It certainly explained while clusters of ladies stood under each of the posters, glancing up at the man, ready to prostrate themselves in worship.

“Isn’t he lovely,” a lady sighed.

“The handsomest of all men,” another replied with a handkerchief to her eye. “A veritable angel.”

Half of London ton seemed to be present for the performance, even though it was the performance’s third showing.

Lady Lucille Barrington, the sole daughter of Duke Tattershall, stood aside from them but was a part of the admiring throng. If the likeness was at all like the man, he was outrageously handsome, with brown hair, piercing green eyes, and the look of the righteous avenger.

It was appropriate; Alexander played Aloysius Balthazar, the vengeful older son who could not be stopped in his suit to avenge his younger sister who had been taken advantage off and kidnapped by his arch enemy, Ezra Bassano.

“Come along, Lucy,” her father, Albion, an aficionado of the performing arts, gestured to the stairs. “We’ll see enough of him on the stage. No means to dally here.”

“Yes, yes,” her mother, Elizabeth nodded. “We shan’t stay here with these gawking women. Tis unseemly. Do they think the man is going to step down from those posters and propose to all of them?”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind,” Lucy’s bosom friend, Susanna, whispered in Lucy’s ear—although clearly not hushed enough as her mother gave Susanna an eye.

“He’s an actor,” Elizabeth said with a disparaging sniff. “His place is on the stage and with women of his kind. Certainly not in the company of his betters.”

“He is supposedly the most talented actor to take the stage since the famous Mister Edmund Kean,” her father said, his face lighting up. “Another tragic actor, known for his genius and ability to command the stage.”

“Isn’t that Lady Delilah Farnham?” Lucy blinked.

Elizabeth cast one look over her shoulder and tutted. “My point. I doubt her father, Earl Willoughby, would approve of her gazing at a portrait of an actor like that. It is obscene. Your father is right; we must find our seats.”

Tuning from the throng, Lucy grasped the skirts of her ivory gown, a lovely shade that set off her creamy skin and placid grey eyes, then proceeded up the stairs and into the grand theatre, leaving the fawning crowd of theatregoers behind. Heading to the private box, Lucy stopped herself from looking over her shoulder.

What her father did not know was that she had admired Alexander from the first time she had seen him playing Tristan to a young Isolde. That play had been three years ago, on the day of her eighteenth birthday, and now, at one-and-twenty, she was no less enamoured.

Their private box had a burgundy carpeted floor, plush padded wingbacks, and a direct line of sight to the stage. As agreed with the owners of the theatre, there were four programmes lined out on their seats, but Lucy reached for hers before sitting.

Seated, Lucy reached into her pearl-studded reticule for the delicate ivory handle of her lorgnette. She dimly heard her mother and Susanna whisper to each other about the play as they read the programme, but Lucy’s eyes were trained on the stage.

She needn’t look at the programme because she knew the story already. The play was a parody of Romeo and Juliet, but the feud took precedence instead of romance.

Alexander’s character was the lead male of the family of four girls.  Their father had died, and their mother had run off to be a nun.

Their youngest girl had been seduced and abducted by Ezra, but Ezra’s sister, Helena, was in love with Aloysius. There was a torrid romance between the two with Aloysius seducing Helena to find his sister.

It was only after he retrieved his sister and killed Ezra that he found out that he did love Helena. Sadly, Aloysius only realized it too late as Helena had killed herself in grief while knowing that Aloysius did not love her.

The curtain lifted and the play started. Lucy had her glasses to her eyes, and she trained them on Alexander’s emotional face. During the whole two hours, Lucy let herself believe he was Aloysius, the vengeful guardian of his family.

She knew his cause; she felt his anger and despair at the time he went to rescue his sister, but she slipped away from his fingers every time. At the penultimate moment when Aloysius realized he loved Helena, Lucy leaped to her feet as she watched him rush into the room only to see the bottle of poison slip from Helena’s hand.

With a scream of horror, he caught her body as her eyes flickered close and her hand went lax. The curtains closed while he pressed his lips to hers in an agonized goodbye.

A tear slipped down Lucy’s cheek at the moving scene, but she brushed it away before her mother—who viewed these things as fanciful nonsense and only humoured her husband and daughter when they attended the theatre—could see it.

Albion stood and added his clap to the applause ringing through the room. “Splendid performance, wouldn’t you say, Lucy?”

“I agree,” she replied, relieved that her voice was not clouded with emotion. “T’was very poignant.”

“Well, that’s that, I suppose,” Elizabeth interjected. “Shall we go? I see no purpose in staying here when the play’s done.”

“The casting calls dear,” Albion reminded her kindly. “I want to see the men and women who executed such a wonderful act.”

A silent huff came from her mother, but she did not speak again until the actors were announced. As they left the box and descended the stairs, Lucy’s father told them to go ahead of him for a moment.

“I only need a word with the theatre manager, dear,” Albion replied. “I only be a moment.”

Elizabeth was not pleased, but while she scowled, her mother did not utter a word, not even when they were in the carriage.

“Lucy,” Susanna began. “Do you know of the actor who played Ezra? I forgot his name.”

“Thomas Grave, I believe,” she replied. “A bit of a brooder, isn’t he?”

“With those dark slashes of his brows, yes,” Susanna replied, a bit dreamily. “A wonderful antagonist. He played his character to perfection.”

“Hmph,” her mother snorted as she plucked out a fan. “For the life of me, I cannot see why you three are so enamoured with such fantasies. T’is not real.”

Secretly, Lucy rolled her eyes. Countless times had she and her father had this argument with her mother, and it was not worth repeating. Gazing out the window, Lucy smiled wanly. Alexander had captured another part of her heart that night and while he would never know it, she would.

Her father joined them in the carriage with a warm smile. “What a lovely night, don’t you think, ladies?”

“Very,” Lucy replied.

On the way home to their Grosvenor mansion, Albion led the conversation and Lucy chatted along with him, pointing out the symbolism of some props, some poignant phrases and even some telling actions.

“Scene two,” Lucy was saying. “When he mentioned how his sister’s abduction made him feel as if he were drinking from Death’s cup, which foreshadowed not only Helena’s death but the loss of his love, too.”

“Very much so,” her father stroked his chin. “And so many more subtleties than I could ponder at one sitting.”

“You’re—we’re—going back then?” Lucy asked hopefully.

“I—”

“I hardly think so,” Elizabeth cut in sharply. “Lucille, you have so many occasions planned with Lord Draven, you won’t have time to go lollygagging.”

At the mention of her engaged, Lucy’s high spirits soured. The man, Hugh Drake, who her parents—mainly her mother—had chosen for her to marry was someone that, over the last eight months of their courtship, Lucy had not once found common ground with.

“I’m sure we can find one night, dear,” her father replied. “Or even better, ask Drake to join us. I am sure he’ll appreciate the arts, just as we have.”

“I’ve never once heard Lord Draven mention such,” Elizabeth added.

“He should start,” Lucy muttered under her breath while her gaze was trained out the window. “If he wants to marry me, that is.”

The crunch of gravel under the carriage’s wheels muffled her words as they drove down the lane heading to the manor. Her father alighted first, giving a hand to her, Susanna, and her mother before they headed up the marble stairs and into the house.

The cool night air was chillier than before, and Lucy heard the faint rumbles of thunder. A good thing, because if it rained in the same pattern it had, it would continue to the next day; Susanna, already slated to stay the night, would stay to next evening.

“Goodnight, dears,” her father said to her and Susanna. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“And Lucille, we must talk about Lord Draven,” her mother added sharply. “I heard what you said about what he must do if he wants to marry you and it’s not appropriate. I will see you tomorrow.”

With a curt nod, her mother left to the corridor where her parents’ bedroom was while Lucy took another. With Susanna in step with her, she entered her rooms and pulled the pins in her hair out.

Quietly, Susanna tucked a lock of her strawberry-blond hair behind an ear and, levelling a brown eye to Lucy, said, “You don’t like Lord Draven, do you?”

“I—” Lucy sighed and shook her light brown locks out to rest on her shoulders. “It’s not that I dislike him; I have never found any connection with him. And he is so…present. I wouldn’t be surprised if he comes tomorrow morning even though I just saw him yesternight.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Susanna asked as she opened her bag. “A lot of ladies would be happy for their suitor to be so attentive.”

“I cannot explain it,” Lucy replied while disrobing.

“Is he not handsome?” Susanna asked.

“He is, and you’ve met him enough to know that.” Lucy replied.

“Is he not engaging enough?”

While donning her night clothes, Lucy considered this. “He’s brilliant but a tad too smug with it. And we never seen to agree on anything. I can say the sky is blue and he’ll argue that it is cobalt.”

Slipping into the one half of the massive bed while Susanna perched on the edge, Lucy sighed. “I don’t know how else to tell Mother that we do not suit. She thinks it’s a passing thing, but how can something be passing when it’s stayed the same over seven months?”

“What do you want then?” Susanna asked as she tightened her robe, preparing to go to the next room across from Lucy’s.

“I—” Her mind flashed on Alexander. “I am not completely sure, but I know Hugh is not him.”

Leaning in, Susanna hugged her friend. “You’ll find the best one for you, I know it.”

Settling into her bed, Lucy’s mind ran on Alexander, recalling the passion on his face when he confronted Ezra. A pang in her breast told her that was what she wanted: emotion, passion, fire. Sadly, if her destiny were Hugh, she would never get it.

Slipping to sleep with Alexander’s bright blue, fiery eyes on her mind, she found herself… cradled in warm strong arms.

“Shall I reread the passage, love?” A husky voice said in her ear. “Or shall I kiss you once more?”

“Choices, choices,” Lucy laughed while pretending to think. “I think …kisses.”

She broke off as warm lips skimmed the curve of her ear. Shocks danced along the delicate shell, skimming up her spine and tightening in her belly. Mired in sensation, she tried to focus on the emotions unfolding within her. Tempting, sinful, exhilarating.

Deft hands turned her, and lips were on hers in an instant. She could not breathe, could barely think as her seducer’s lips roved over hers with skilled intensity. Sensation overrode everything and shivered when his tongue swept against her bottom lip.

“Open for me sweetheart,” he whispered. “Let me in.”

He took her mouth with raw desire. Within seconds, she surrendered, yielding with a delicious sigh. He pressed open-mouthed kisses down her neck and shoulders, revelling in the downiness of her skin. Her fingers slid against his scalp, urging him closer. Lucy slid one of her hands up into his hair as sparks of desire sizzled along her flesh.

“What is it you want from me?” he asked, the rumble of his deep voice reverberating through her.

The best answer was the truth, though perhaps not all of it. If she confessed her love, he might run screaming in the other direction. “I want you to want me the way I do you.”

He responded, pressing their mouths together again and again until he slanted her lips apart and brushed his tongue along her bottom lip. A moan ripped from her lips, but he swallowed the sound.

Pulling away, Lucy found herself drowning in gem-cut sea of mesmerizing blue…familiar blue, that of Alexander Russell.

Lucy woke with a gasp and pressed a trembling hand to her thumping heart.

Dear God, did I just have a wicked dream…about Alexander? 

Chapter Two

Sometime past midnight, Alexander lay in bed, hands tucked behind his head. The thick fog and smoke of London was a familiar haze in the tiny room above the theatre, while clear moonlight streamed through a part in the curtains.

The performance had ended hours ago but when he would normally collapse into sleep after exuding so much emotion, sleep was far from him that night and he did not know exactly why.

When he still could not decipher the reason for his sleeplessness, he stared up at the shadows frolicking on the ceiling while his mind dissected the moments of the play—moments where he could have been better, and instances when he could have drawn back on the emotions were heavy on his mind.

With a sigh, he turned over on the bed and felt the sheets slip over the backs of his naked thighs as the only clothing he had on was his small clothes. He could not wait until he left for his apartment at Soho as this tiny room, once his sole haven, was stifling.

Fame had a funny way of making one feel alone.

Is this it? Sorrow for not having someone in my bed is why I am awake? 

Snorting, Alexander canted his head to the side. He would have female company as the season was about to end; he would be at his home and would have his privacy once more.

Sighing, he slid out of bed, donned a silk banyan, and went to a cupboard where he liberated a bottle of Tobermory whisky. Years before his success, Alexander remembered the precious pennies he had spent on blue ruin, but now, as thankful as he was for the rocky road that built him, he was glad to be on a smoother path.

Taking the glass to the window, he leaned on the sill and looked out at the dimly lit street below him. Ghostly fog, from the recent rains, lingered on the streets, the thin strands winding around the iron light posts and up the doorsteps of other buildings.

Sipping the burning liquid over an empty stomach, Alexander savoured the burn in his chest. His mind averted from the buried thought that at his age, six-and-twenty, he should be more settled in life, maybe married and be stable. But no—for his career, his image and to draw the covered female crowd, he needed to look the available bachelor.

Finishing the drink, he set the glass aside and slipped back into bed. Mayhap things would be better in the morning.

***

“Beg your pardon?” Alexander nearly snapped at the theatre manager. “We’re to do what?”

The theatre manager, Elroy Perkins, adjusted his spectacles. “It’s a special performance requested by His Grace, Duke Tattershall. You know I could never refuse a duke such a simple request.”

“This was my vacation,” Alexander replied while raking a hand through his hair. “And now we have to do a private play at his home? For how long?”

“He wants an exceptional performance to be done on his birthday with is five weeks from now,” Perkins said. “I know it cuts into your vacation, but His Grace is paying us handsomely and he is housing us as well. I wanted to give him a definitive answer last night, but I knew I had to speak with you first. It all hangs on your say-so, Russell. I know you want time off, but I doubt you’d refuse another thousand pounds or so into your bank account?”

Alexander muffled a curse. Just as things were going well, here came this spanner in the works. He turned away to see Thomas, his co-star and Amalie, his second who had played Helena last night, looking at him with pleading gazes.

How could he refuse them the chance to get more money when he knew both needed it? Thomas was the sole support of his sister who was away in boarding school, and Amalie had an ailing mother. Not to mention the rest of the cast, who would be pinching their pennies until the next season came about.

Five weeks at a ducal house would not hurt, would it? Living in the lap of luxury for once? He could sacrifice a few weeks, hell, it was not as if he would be doing much at home in Soho but sleeping anyway.

Turning back to Perkins, he sighed. “Fine, fine, we’ll do it.”

Amalie leaped from her seat to hug him, “Thank you, Alex, thank you so much, I need this.”

“I know you do, poppet. It is fine,” he said, using a rarely spoken endearment while giving her a one-armed hug. Facing the manager, Alexander asked, “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Perkins said. “Be free to spend the rest of today as you would like.”

With a few more preparations put in with Perkins, Alexander left for his room to pack. They had not settled on which play to preform yet, but they had a few options. The duke had asked for a light-hearted comedy, and they could go the customary Shakespeare route or do one of the few original works the theatre had in store.

While packing a few trunks, Alexander thought about the duke; he knew about Duke Tattershall, as did most theatres did. The man was a patron of the theatre and had donated a lot of money for the training of actors, actresses, even opera singers, all for the continuation of arts across London.

Alexander also knew he had a daughter, but he had never come across her name or seen her before and wondered why that was. Maybe she was married?

Shrugging, he added his clothes into another truck and his shoes, stage wear to one side and outside boots into another. He only left a few changes of clothes for the night and the next morning.

With his clothes packed, Alexander lingered in the room for a moment before deciding to do as Perkins had said and enjoy the rest of the day. He swung a coat over his shoulders and left the room and the building.

A year ago, White, the gentleman club, had extended a gratuitous membership, to which he had used only twice, at Christmas and his birthday in August. He headed to a less frequented coffee shop down the street and found a table in the back.

He ordered a cup of strong Turkish coffee and settled nearby a window to wait. He could have easily refused the offer, but it would not have been right. Alexander was acutely aware that many others were not paid as much as he and Thomas were for their leading roles in so many productions, and it was only right to give them the chance to survive during the lull period.

Propping an elbow on the table, Alexander mused over the situation. If they were to perform a comedy, he could let Thomas take the lead for once, but then, his friend was most comfortable playing the villain because of his brooding looks.

There were a few other actors that would shine in the lead but again, if the duke had laid the onus on him to accept or reject the offer, the chances were good that Duke Tattershall wanted him as the lead.

A young woman set his coffee before him, and Alexander slid her a shilling for thanks. Sipping the heady brew, Alexander mused over how strange it was that the duke’s daughter was so absent from society.

Finishing the drink, he gazed back out the window. “I suppose I will meet the elusive miss on the morrow.”

***

The very next morning, even before the mist had lifted from the ground, the troupe of thirty-five—the actors, the stagehands, and the production crew—arrived at Barrington Park, the ancestral seat of the Duke of Tattershall. It was the stateliest of all the country homes Alexander had ever beheld.

Shouldering a pack, he whistled under his breath. “If money go before, all ways do lie open.”

“Merry Wives of Windsor, indeed,” Thomas said by his side. “I’ve heard whispers that the lady of the house is not so much as a devotee to the arts as much of her husband is.”

“How…odd,” Amalie muttered. “I thought one was supposed to marry one with similar tastes?”

“I do not believe that is how it works in le bon ton, poppet,” Alexander said. “You can be opposites in any way except when it comes to money. As long as you keep old grandfather’s money in the family, it doesn’t matter if you’re a milkmaid married to a manor lord.”

“And that only happens in fairy tales,” Amalie sighed longingly as they mounted the stairs behind Perkins.

A horde of black and silver footmen had met them at the forecourt and now while their trunks were being carted up into the house, the group was led inside.

The walls, made of seamless cream-colored marble with Aubusson runners under feet, a row of wooden cabinets lining one wall and a tiered, crystal chandelier overhead showed how luxuriously the London ton lived. Every bit of marble, metal, and mirror said old money and pure elegance.

“Alexander?” Amalie whispered.

“Hm?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know a lord or two looking for a wife, would you?” she asked.

Biting back a snort, Alexander looked up as a butler announced, “Introducing His Grace, Duke Tattershall, Earl of Upton and Baron Harewood, Albion Barrington and his daughter, Lady Lucille Barrington.”

Looking up, Alex’ gaze skirted past the duke to the lady behind him…and felt affixed to where he stood. A blast of awareness ran through him, and the feeling jabbed through his heart at the sight of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.

Her beautiful, grey expressive eyes, rimmed with long lashes were wide with surprise and her oval face was flushed so prettily.

Mist…fog…moonlight? No, no, pearls. That it is, her eyes are like pearls. 

Soulful, expressive, and luminous, they were wideset, but not too wide. And the lady’s hair was not drab brown. It was more like cinnamon with wisps of fairer blonde framing her face. Softly rounded cheeks tapered to a piquant little chin. Lips, rosy and full, were parted in surprise and he noted the bottom one had an inviting divot at its centre.

Stunned, Alexander was a hair late in his bow, but he hoped the duke had not noticed.

“Welcome to my home, Perkins Troupe,” Duke Tattershall greeted warmly. “Before I say more, I am aware that your troupe was supposed to be on holiday at this time, but I do hope that the amenities my house will provide for you will make up for the missed retreat.

“Your rooms are here, meals at your request, full stipends for you and whatever else you might desire for a wonderful performance in over five weeks,” Duke Tattershall continued.

The words went through Alexander’s ears as if they were sand through his fingers. His attention stayed on the young lady while his arousal flared.

When he managed to tear his eyes away from her face, he admired how her peach gown gathered under the bosom and fell in a soft, graceful column. The delicate puff sleeves bared most of her shoulders.

He saw how her fingers twitched as if she wanted to reach out and touch one of the actors to make sure they were real.

As her gaze ran over the troupe, her eyes made four with Alexander’s and a fission of heat ran up his spine. He could have sworn the rest of the room faded away as the only thing he saw was her, and the delicious pink that arched over her cheekbones.

Mischievously, he winked, and she went ruby red; now his fingers were itching to reach out and touch her.

He’d enjoyed a fair share of women in his bed, and a part of him wondered how she would be, yet as her eyes turned and dipped to the floor in exquisite, instinctive surrender—which he would wager meant unplumbed depths of feminine passion—his arousal spiked that much more.

Yet he was not a fool. He had learned long ago to stay away from virgins. Moreover, this was a duke’s daughter; he would be drawn and quartered before he could ever touch her. Worse yet, he was an actor, who was there to do a job, not fraternize with anyone there.

I will have to admire from afar. I suppose. 

“Please, after you all are settled in, I do ask you to join me and my daughter for luncheon,” Duke Tattershall said jovially. “My butler, Simmonds, will show you to your wing. Thank you all for coming.”

Alexander paused in moving off, hoping for another moment to meet her eyes, but she kept looking studiously away. Turning with the group, Alexander saw an older woman standing on the walkway above, before she turned her nose up and disappeared down a corridor.

I suppose that’s the lady of the house Thomas told me about.

Alexander followed them up the grand stairs, a bit amazed that they weren’t being shunted off to a servant stairwell. The West Wing, a place for guests, he assumed, was lavish with thick rugs on the walkways, and rooms the with adjoined washing rooms.

The bedchamber Alexander chose had a rather austere, masculine feel, with a massive tester bed, a few chairs near a marble fireplace, a coffee table and copper tub in the bathing chamber. He did not need anything more.

Closing the door, he gravitated to a window and spotted rolling lands beyond the house that circled around to the front. Expansive parklands and impeccably designed gardens surrounded the building.

He braced his hand on the sill and let out a long breath.

I am here for a job.

Lady Lucille is off limits.

I cannot touch her.

He tried to make the words into a mantra, but after the third reiteration…he failed.

As soon as he had finished packing out his things, Perkins came to his door, while dabbing at his forehead. Flustery, he said, “Sorry to disturb you, Russell, but His Grace would like to see you in his study. He’d requested a personal meeting with you when he had spoken to me, but I’d forgotten.”

Stifling a sigh, Alexander turned. “Lead the way.”

---

“An Actor’s Scheme of Seduction” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

The alluring and art-loving Lucy Barrington leads a lonely life, yearning to find the man of her dreams. Unbeknownst to her, fate brings an unexpected twist that could make her dream a tangible reality… When her father, the Duke, invites one of London’s best acting troupes to perform at his house, Lucy’s first glimpse of the lead actor takes her breath away.

His dazzling eyes spark a desire within her, but will she surrender to a potentially dangerous game of lust?

The talented Alexander Russell has always been a leaf blowing in the wind, more devoted to his acting career than to love. His world is turned upside down, though, when he finds himself affixed to Lady Lucy’s luminous grey eyes. Although he knows that even a glance at the Duke’s daughter could get him into trouble, he has a hard time restraining himself from expressing his burning desire…

What is the charming actor willing to do when he realises that the woman he can not have is the same woman he simply can not live without?

Lucy and Alexander’s attraction is strong like a magnet, but their apparent class differences threaten their flaming affair to its very core. As if that was not enough, there is another man in Lucy’s life who lurks in the shadows ready to cause a scandal… Will they manage to break all the barriers that keep them apart? Or will their lustful relationship be shattered once and for all?

“An Actor’s Scheme of Seduction” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!