Tomorrow's Dreams (2 page)

His shoulders sagged with defeat. He'd simply have to find a way. He had to do something … anything to end their relationship.

Forever.

Chapter 2

“Wh-what happened?” Penelope gasped, starting at the sight of the hovering angel.

There was a clomping of boots; then Julian Tibbett, who sang the role of Erik, her huntsman betrothed, appeared in her line of vision next to the angel. “Ah, so you've finally decided to rejoin the world of the living, have you? You had us worried.”

Penelope cringed at his choice of words. “You were worried.” She jerked her head in the direction of the angel.

Julian let out a whoop of laughter, while the angel simply looked confused. Then dawning lit her face, and she too laughed.

Smiling faintly, Penelope insisted, “It was a shock to wake up and see an angel hovering over me like a blue-and-gold-clad vulture. For a moment I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.”

“A vulture, eh?” Julian stroked his sleek black mustache, his dark-eyed gaze sweeping the length of the angel as if comparing her appearance to that of the rapacious bird.

The angel released an indignant squawk and punched his arm.

Grinning broadly, he looped his arm around the girl's waist and pulled her close to his side. “Pen, let me introduce you to your guardian vulture, Elizabeth Hempal. She'll be replacing Mathilde Meisslinger as one of the angels in next week's production of
Faust
.”

Penelope returned the girl's cordial nod, wincing as her neck spasmed with a crick. “What happened to Mattie?” she asked, reaching up to massage the sore area.

“She got a better offer from Samuel Pike. Since I knew Lizzie, here, happened to be available, I suggested that she be hired as a replacement. When our harpy wardrobe mistress heard of the change, she insisted that our new angel try on the costume this very evening, just in case it needs adjustments. Hence”—he made a sweeping motion down the length of Lizzie's body—“the getup.” Casting an appreciative glance at the woman's impressive bosom, which looked ready to pop out of the too tight bodice at her next breath, he added, “As you can see, it's a perfect fit.”

Lizzie released a musical giggle and playfully slapped his lean cheek. “You're an out-and-out bounder, Julian!”

“True,” he returned, eyeing her as though she was a sheep and he was a wolf with mutton on his mind. “However, if you go change your clothes, I'll take you to the German Winter Garden and let you mend my wicked ways.”

Lizzie hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Penelope. “It doesn't seem right to leave Miss Parrish alone.”

“She won't be alone. I'll be here.”

By the weight of Lizzie's frown, Julian's reassurance had done nothing to assuage her concern.

“Never fear, sweet Lizzie,” he crooned in a dulcet tone. “I may be a bounder, but I'm no fool. Miss Parrish has a fiancé who looks capable of breaking me in half should I behave improperly. Now, seeing as how I like being in one piece”—he straightened up and clasped his hands in front of him—“I'll stand here pious as a praying saint until the doctor arrives.”

Wringing her hands with indecision, Lizzie glanced down at Penelope, who smiled and nodded her approval. For all his rakish reputation, Penelope knew she'd be perfectly safe in Julian's company. Though he had expressed a less than brotherly interest in her when she'd first joined the company, he'd respected her rebuffs to his advances, and over time they had become friends.

Having gained Penelope's blessing, Lizzie practically flew from the room.

“She seems nice,” Penelope commented, struggling to sit up. While pretty to look at, the rose damask chaise upon which she lay certainly left much to be desired when it came to comfort.

“Lie down!” Julian barked. When she didn't immediately comply, he threatened, “If you don't lie back down this second, I'll take that fiancé of yours aside and tell him what a stubborn wench you are.”

Penelope laughed. “I'm afraid it's too late for that. He's well aware of my willful ways.”

“And he still wants to marry you?” Julian released a dramatic sigh. “Ah, well. I can't say as I blame him. One glimpse of those dimples of yours would be enough to convince any man to overlook a number of faults far worse than mere obstinacy.
However
”—he crossed his arms and fixed her with a severe stare—“in this particular instance, I'm certain that your Mr. Tyler would insist on your obedience, as I am now.”

“But all this tufting is lumpy.” She poked at the knobby surface with a grimace. “My back feels as if I've been lying on a bed of rocks.”

Julian seized a velvet pillow from the overstuffed chair opposite the chaise and held it up by its fringe trim. “Down-filled,” he announced, lightly punching it with his free hand to demonstrate its softness. With that, he slipped it beneath her back and shoulders. “There. Now, no more arguments. Lie down.”

Penelope shot him a mutinous look.

“Now!” That single word warned her quite succinctly that if she didn't obey, he'd make her.

“This is ridiculous,” she groused, settling back against the cushion with a beleaguered sigh. “I'm perfectly fine.”

“Fine?” He raised one black eyebrow. “You came backstage after the last curtain and”—he slapped his palms together with a loud
smack!
—“fainted. That's hardly what I call fine.”

“But I've never fainted in my life,” she protested softly.

“Well, there's a first time for everything.”

But why now, she wondered, more unsettled by the episode than she cared to admit. She'd never been a delicate sort of female, and she'd certainly never been one for swooning. So what had happened? Her brow creased. Granted, the theater had been rather stuffy tonight, and she hadn't been feeling at her best the last few days. Still—

“Lizzie was waiting in the wings to show me her costume, and you practically fainted at her feet,” Julian added, his voice cutting into her musings. “It was she who ordered me to carry you to your dressing room and sent the stage manager for a doctor.”

Too uncomfortable to endure the torments of the bumpy chaise a second longer, Penelope pushed herself into a sitting position, murmuring, “I'll have to remember to thank her.” To her mortification, gravity sent the bodice of her unhooked gown slipping down her arm, exposing an indecent amount of lacy chemise and embroidered corset. As she wrestled it back up onto her shoulder, she felt her loosened corset begin to slip as well.

Like the gentleman he normally wasn't, Julian turned and sauntered over to the dressing table, where he pretended to study the extravagant bouquet of white roses Seth had sent. “By the way,” he said, without turning from the flowers, “Lizzie made me wait outside while she loosened your cors—uh—garments.”

Smiling at Julian's uncharacteristically delicate reference to her underclothes, Penelope tied her corset strings and latched the top hook of her gown. Decent now, she sat on the edge of the chaise and flexed her stiff muscles, teasing, “You're going to wilt those flowers if you stare at them any harder.”

With a blasé shrug, Julian turned to face her. “So? That fiancé of yours sends you a fresh bouquet every evening.” Grimacing as if someone had stuck a pin into his backside, he muttered, “I'd hate to see the man's florist bill.”

“Seth does spoil me,” she conceded, starting to rise.

In the blink of an eye, Julian was by her side, pushing her back down again. “You really should lie down until after the doctor has examined you.”

Penelope smiled up into her friend's face, touched by his expression of grave concern. “I feel fine. Really. It must have been the heat from the footlights that caused me to faint.”

“Be that as it may, it would be wise to wait and make sure you're all right.”

“Surely it can't hurt me to sit at my dressing table?” she argued. “Seth will be here soon, and I want to remove my greasepaint before he arrives.

After considering her request for a moment, he nodded with obvious reluctance. “All right. But don't even think of moving from that table.”

As Penelope lurched unsteadily to her feet, eager to prepare herself for Seth's arrival, her foot tangled in the trailing hem of her costume. She would have fallen had Julian not caught her. As his arms whipped around her waist to steady her, the single hook holding the back of her gown together gave way, and again her bodice slid down over her shoulders.

At that moment, as Penelope half stood and half lay in Julian's arms with her sagging bodice exposing more than a glimpse of her bosom, there was a firm rapping on the door. Before she could think, much less respond, the door swung open.

On the threshold stood Seth.

Her heart leapt with pleasure at the sight of him. Smiling with all the love she felt inside, she pulled herself from Julian's grasp and opened her arms to welcome him into her embrace. “Seth! Darling!”

Seth didn't say a word, nor did he acknowledge her greeting with so much as a glance. His stare was burning into Julian. Without letting his gaze waver, he stepped into the room, slamming the door behind him.

Julian stumbled backward, blanching the color of ashes. “This isn't how it looks,” he choked, visibly quailing.

Seth's stare grew more intense. “Oh?”

Penelope dropped her arms to her sides, taken aback by the implication of his monosyllabic utterance. “You don't think that Julian and I were …” She released a shaky laugh.

Seth's gaze cut from Julian to Penelope. “What the hell am I supposed to think when I find my fiancée half-naked and lounging in another man's arms?” He practically spat the words.

Penelope flinched, stung by his accusation. “I wasn't lounging,” she retorted. “And I'm certainly not half-naked!”

With insulting thoroughness, Seth's glittering gaze raked the length of her body, taking in every incriminating detail of her disheveled appearance. Suddenly his eyes stilled, as if arrested, and a grim smile twisted his lips. “Really?”

Penelope followed his line of vision to her breasts, gasping as she noted the way her nipples were clearly visible through the sheer cambric of her chemise. In her joy at seeing Seth, she'd completely disregarded her state of undress, never once pausing to consider that he might think the worse of her admittedly compromising situation. After all, he knew that she loved him and that she'd never do anything to jeopardize their future together.

Or did he? With suddenly nerveless fingers, she yanked her bodice up. Of course Seth knew how she felt. Hadn't she shown him how much he meant to her? She'd bestowed upon him the greatest gifts a woman could give a man: her love, loyalty, trust, and devotion. She'd promised him her forever.

Most significant of all, she'd given him her innocence. Shouldn't that in itself be enough to prove the depth of her commitment to him and their upcoming nuptials? Shouldn't the mere fact that she'd been a virgin when he'd first taken her two months ago be proof that she was no woman of easy virtue?

As she ineffectually attempted to secure the hooks at the back of her costume, her indignation at Seth's jealous suspicion escalated into self-righteous outrage. How dare he have so little faith in her and her love! How dare he sully her character with his contemptible accusations!

As Penelope fumbled with the contrary fastenings, her cheeks burning with resentment, Julian moved to gallantly shield her from Seth's insolent stare. Holding out his open hands to Seth in a gesture of supplication, he entreated, “If you'll listen for a moment, I can explain everything.”

“And what are you going to tell me?” Seth pinned the man with his disdainful gaze. “That my fiancee somehow just happened to fall into your arms?”

“Well, yes,” Julian admitted, realizing how improbable his explanation was going to sound. “Miss Parrish did fall, and it was only by a stroke of luck that I was near enough to catch her.”

Seth lifted one tawny eyebrow. “Let me guess. Miss Parrish, who I happen to know has the constitution of a pack mule, succumbed to a fit of vapors, and being the gentleman you are, you rushed to her rescue.” His jaw hardened into an angry line. “Of course, as a good samaritan, you felt it was your Christian duty to undress her.”

Julian stiffened. “How dare you imply that I'd take advantage of a helpless woman, or of any woman for that matter!”

“I don't have to imply anything,” Seth countered, his voice laced with biting scorn. “One has only to look at the children one sees clinging to the skirts of half the women in the chorus to see the evidence of your satyric machinations.”

Julian advanced toward his antagonist, his face darkening to the color of aged claret. “I ought to drag you out into the alley and throttle you within an inch of your life for casting such aspersions against my character,” he hissed.

“Try it.” By his aggressive stance, it was obvious that Seth was spoiling for a fight.

“Stop this nonsense immediately … both of you!” Penelope pushed past Julian's anger-stiffened form to stand between the two men, both of whom looked ready to burst into violence at any moment. Facing Seth squarely, she said, “Despite what you're thinking, nothing happened between Julian and me. The simple truth is that in spite of my, as you so vulgarly put it, pack-mule constitution, I fainted after the final curtain. Julian was kind enough to carry me in here. If you don't believe me, you can ask anyone in the cast or crew. Go ask Elizabeth Hempal. She was the one who loosened my garments and was with me up until about five minutes ago.”

Seth broke free of his glaring match with Julian long enough to cast her an incredulous look. “Oh? And why did this Elizabeth do something as improper as leave you alone in a state of undress with Don Juan here?” He jerked his thumb at Julian.