The Vaudeville Star

“I don’t think I’ve seen such an elegant curtsy in quite some time,” he said, smiling.

“I’m so glad you approve, sir. I practiced to get it just right.”

“You practiced?”

“Yes. When we were told you were coming, I wanted to make sure I did it correctly, sir.”

The king broke out into a loud laugh. “Talented, lovely, and forthright. What a combination!”

Ruby blushed.

“There is to be a ball tomorrow at Devonshire House. I would consider it an honor if you would come as my special guest, my dear,” he said quietly.

Ruby was stunned by the invitation. “Of course. I would be delighted. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The king nodded at the group once more. “Splendid! Splendid! A welcome addition to London theater.”

As his entourage moved offstage, Ruby saw Alice Keppel glance at her before she turned away. Zeta had not heard the king’s invite to Ruby as she had been engrossed in her conversation with the king’s mistress.

“Did you hear that?” Zeta said to no one in particular. “She remembered me from my performance years ago. Ha!”

Ruby clutched Bessie’s hand and turned to her. “Did you hear?”

Bessie nodded, her eyes wide.

The king had invited her to a ball. The king! She shivered with excitement.

King Parker paced across the floor of his suite several times in irritation. He had been to see the troupe perform and had been pleased by everything he saw, including Ruby. She was becoming the star she was destined to be. But at the end of the night, he had returned to his town house after receiving an unsigned note that his presence was requested.

When he had entered his town house, he discovered Lourdes sitting in the parlor waiting for him. She had lied to get in, claiming she was Mrs. Parker from America.

“I don’t understand why you are angry,” Lourdes said, shaking her head.

“And I don’t understand why you are here, Lourdes. Last we spoke, I gave you the Manhattan town house as well as all the presents I had given you over the years and spoke of a clean break.”

“I know, but—”

“In return,” he continued, “I made it clear that I was going to marry again. A mistress is not something I want to bring into the new marriage.”

“I didn’t think—”

“Obviously,” he said, helping himself to a drink.

She stood and moved toward him. “I missed you. Is that so wrong?”

King swallowed the brandy and eyed her. “Lourdes, I know the break was not what you wanted, and I’m sorry for it. But it is what I want.”

He sat on the sofa.

“You’re still in mourning, King. You can’t do anything yet. Why not enjoy yourself in the meantime?” She moved to kneel between his legs.

“Hmmm.”

He watched as she unbuttoned his trousers. Everything she said was true. He might as well take advantage of Lourdes’s considerable skill while he waited for the mourning period to end. He threw his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. There would be time enough to rid himself of Lourdes and marry Ruby. Yes. And Lourdes was skilled. Very skilled indeed.

The next morning,

the troupe’s opening night was written about in several newspapers. One reporter named James Mortimer had been born in Virginia and was a known Confederacy sympathizer. He had worked as an attaché for Napoleon III in France and as a journalist in England. He was known for his caustic theater reviews.