An audible ripple of surprise and interest emanated from the crowd.
To her shock, Dare hoisted himself up to stand on the balcony railing. Julienne wasn't certain if the gasps she heard came from the audience or from her own throat. Both, she suspected. In all her days in the theater, she had never been more at a loss; her mind went blank, and she felt the particular panic that came from forgetting a crucial line.
Except that this time there were no scripted lines to learn. This was no play at all.
The crowd, however, was behaving as though the scene was merely a continuation of the earlier performance, maintaining an expectant hush. Julienne held her own silence, unable to guess what machinations Dare had planned.
Looking totally at ease in his precarious position, he leaned a shoulder against the column supporting one side of the box.
"I have made a wager regarding your choice, mademoiselle," he announced, enunciating clearly. "I've wagered that you will choose me."
The rowdy throng in the pit reacted with a chorus of titters and guffaws, while the rest waited with bated breath for her response.
"Have you indeed?" Julienne managed, stalling for time. "You have a very high opinion of yourself, it seems."
"An opinion that is warranted." His gaze slewed over the crowd. "Does anyone here doubt I can win the heart of this lovely Jewel?"
There were whoops and shouts from the riffraff in the pit and a spurt of clapping from the upper tiers. Dare sketched a debonair bow, acknowledging their approbation.
It was a dangerous maneuver, Julienne thought with alarm. If he were to fall from that height, he could severely injure himself. But he had always been the most reckless man of her acquaintance. Reckless, daring, outrageous. He appeared totally unconcerned that he was making a spectacle of them both in front a multitude of gawking spectators.
And the audience obviously relished his bold tactics, responding with titillation and delight.
Gritting her teeth, Julienne moved along the stage, closer to his box, while trying to recruit her wits. Dare had cleverly trapped her with his public declaration. She had no intention of taking a lover, most certainly not the notorious rake who so forcefully reminded her of the tormenting past, one who still had the power to bring her pain. But she didn't dare refuse him outright, not without jeopardizing all she had worked for. Her livelihood depended on pleasing her audience.
Fortunately, she had performed for years, and she had a great deal of practice dealing with rogues and obstinate pursuers.
Making a belated recovery, Julienne placed her hands on her hips and eyed Dare up and down, looking him over critically as she might a horse at Tattersalls.
"Perhaps your inflated opinion is warranted after all," she agreed thoughtfully. "Your reputation certainly precedes you. The notorious Lord Wolverton- a thoroughly wicked rake, famed for his charm and address and his fondness for debauchery. The Prince of Pleasure-is that not the name I heard? Also known as the scourge of feminine hearts."
"Yet you have fast become the scourge of male hearts, ma belle."
"That was not my intention," she said, offering an alluring smile that contradicted her words. "But since you remark on it… I might venture to make a wager of my own." She faced her audience, playing to the crowd. "I stand accused of willfully breaking gentlemen's hearts. Well, in this instance, I shall endeavor to live up to the accusation. I wager that I can bring the Prince of Pleasure to his knees."
The roar of approval was almost deafening, punctuated by the thunder of stomping feet and howls of glee. It was several minutes before the theater quieted enough to allow the spectacle to continue.
Dare's own smile was devilish. "So you think you can break my heart?"
"I am certain of it."
"You are welcome to try." He gave another bow, holding her gaze riveted. "I look forward to the first engagement, my beautiful Jewel."
Anticipating a delicious battle, the crowd burst into a wild round of applause. By the time Julienne swept a low curtsy and made her escape, bets had already started flying over who would win.
The manager, Samuel Arnold, lay in wait for her. She could barely make out his words over the pounding of her pulse and the still-deafening clamor behind her, but she realized he was expressing his approval. Forcing a smile, she fled backstage.
There were two green rooms at the theater, one designated for the general members of the company, another more elegantly appointed one for the principal performers. Here the actors met their adoring public and held court for their admirers.
Weakly Julienne sank onto a chaise longue to wait for the expected throng and buried her face in her hands, oblivious to her stage makeup. The rise of emotion churning inside her threatened to suffocate her.
She had thought herself prepared to face Dare, but never under such unsettling circumstances-matching wits with him in so open a forum, on such a shocking subject as what lover she intended to choose as her protector. She couldn't even begin to guess his motivation for issuing his public challenge, unless it was retribution for her past sins.
She could understand his desire for retribution. Seven years ago she had ended their betrothal in such a way that Dare would no longer want her for his bride. She'd purposely driven him away, for his own sake. Yet that hadn't made relinquishing him any less devastating- nor, in the end, had it saved her from ruin.
It had been the most terrifying, heartbreaking experience of her life. Not only had she lost Dare, but subsequently she'd found herself utterly defenseless, at the mercy of a grasping libertine and the machinations of a venomous old nobleman. Between the two of them, the Earl of Ivers and the Marquess of Wolverton had destroyed her good name, nearly destroyed her.
They had left her broken, her dreams shattered in fragments, herself shunned, her shop utterly devoid of customers and income, her beloved Maman sharing in her shame.