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While he was performing at a tiny hack theatre outside of London, the Marchioness of Denbigh spotted him. She was so taken with him and his talent that she set him up as an apprentice at the Theatre Royale in Bath. He worked hard, trained in acting and voice, and became one of the top actors of his time. When he reached the age of one-and-thirty, just one year ago, he opened the Regal Theatre.
Sophie reminded Zach a bit of his mother. She had been timid and soft-spoken as well, and she was all he’d had in the world.
“Please, Mama. Please don’t leave me,” he’d begged through his tears.
The pain in her eyes still haunted him. She’d held on for days, and in the end, even at the tender age of seven, he could see that she was in agony. He told her to go ahead to a better place, that he had been selfish to beg her to stay, and she went, a serene smile on her face as the life drifted out of her.
Zach closed his eyes, willing back the tears that threatened to fall. He hadn’t thought of his mother in ages. He had fleeting thoughts now and then, always wishing that she could see how far he had come in the world. She would have been his biggest supporter, and she would have been proud of every step he took toward his career.
Something about Sophie brought thoughts of his mother to the surface, but not in a strange sort of way at all. Her demeanor just reminded him so much of his mother’s demeanor.
His attraction to Sophie—that was something different altogether. She was truly beautiful. Those hazel-green eyes were so big and doe-like and her lashes so long. Her hair was a stunning darker blond, thick and rich, and her body… She may not be as buxom as some of the women he had been with, but she was absolutely perfect. She fit against him so well. When they finally joined their bodies in the act, he had no doubt the earth would move.
He tried shooing the thoughts away. After all, he had much work to do. Rehearsal started on the morrow. He went about his work, but Sophie’s face still hovered inside his mind’s eye.
He feared he’d never be free of her.
* * *
Sophie sucked in a br
eath, gathering every ounce of courage she possessed. Then she entered the parlor where Ally sat, alone, thank goodness.
“Ally?” she said timidly.
Ally looked up from the book she was reading. “Oh, Sophie dear, I didn’t hear you come in.”
Sophie eyed her sister’s bulging tummy. “How are you feeling today?”
“Pretty good. Thank you for asking. Although, this baby seems to think my bladder is an enemy. I’ve had to use the convenience a dozen times already today.”
Sophie let out a small chuckle. She loved that Ally could always find the humor in every situation. How had Ally, who had grown up in the same household as she and taken much more abuse, turned out so different? Ally wasn’t afraid of anything, and she went after what she wanted, often defying convention to do so. Sophie wished she were more like her sister.
“Could I…talk to you for a few minutes?”
Ally put her book down on the table and patted the seat next to her on the divan. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
What was on her mind indeed? Sophie hoped she could get the words out without stumbling over them. But if anyone could understand, Ally could.
“I’ve…just come from the theatre.”
Ally’s eyes shone. “And I suppose you saw Mr. Newland there?”
Sophie nodded, her cheeks warming.
“And…” Ally urged.
“Oh, Ally, it’s all so…complicated.”
“Love is rarely uncomplicated, my dear.”
Love? Sophie hadn’t said anything about love. “I’m not talking about…love. At least, I don’t think I am.”
“Very well, then. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I… I let him kiss me again, and we went…further again.”
Ally’s mouth dropped into an O. “Are you saying you actually…had intercourse with him?”
