Wedding Promises. Jennifer Faye

But a good bit of dialogue...that’ll get people watching. So, how’s your Shakespeare?’

      ‘Rusty. Very, very rusty. I mean, I used to help my mum learn her lines, and she did a few of Shakespeare’s, but that was years ago. As was my A-level English Lit course, for that matter.’

      ‘Your mum?’ Noah frowned. ‘She was an actress?’ Did that explain Eloise’s strange prejudice against actors? Had one messed her mother around? Or was her dad an actor?

      For someone he knew so little about, he felt strangely invested in her past. And in her immediate future, come to that.

      ‘Of a sort. Look, it doesn’t matter now. The point is, I don’t know the lines. Any lines. For any play.’

      ‘You don’t need to,’ Noah told her, pushing aside his questions about her parents for a time when Eloise was less stressed. So, some time next year, probably. The woman had been stress incarnate since he’d met her. Strange—that wasn’t something he’d ever found attractive before. ‘We’ll do readings rather than acting out the scenes. It’ll work fine and you don’t need to worry about remembering anything.’

      Eloise frowned. ‘I suppose. But...’

      Now they were getting to it. ‘So, what’s the real reason you don’t want to do it? Worried I’ll show you up? Trust me, I wouldn’t. It’s a long time since I’ve done Shakespeare too.’

      She pulled a face. ‘That’s not it. Well, yes, partly, I suppose. You’re an actual actor. I’m someone who’s just read the plays a few times.’

      ‘I’m an actor who mostly beats people up in films these days,’ he reminded her. ‘But, actually, I’m looking to get into some different roles, so maybe a change of pace will be good for me. And I think fooling around on stage with me will be good for you too. We can just do the comedies, if you like. It’ll be fun.’

      ‘Fun? Standing up there with the famous and the beautiful watching me make a fool of myself? Not my idea of a good time.’

      ‘That’s what you’re worried about? Them?’ Noah shook his head. He knew from personal experience that nobody attending this wedding thought too much about anyone except themselves. ‘I really wouldn’t.’

      ‘Easy for you to say. I don’t...’ She swallowed and met his gaze. ‘I told you. I really don’t like being the centre of attention.’

      So that was it. ‘That’s why you didn’t want to do the dance either,’ he said, remembering how she’d shrunk away, almost disappearing into the wall, when she’d been watching him and Melissa dance that morning. ‘And why you wear such boring clothes.’

      ‘Leave my clothes out of it,’ she grumbled. ‘Not everyone has to be a peacock like Melissa.’

      ‘Or a show-off like me,’ he finished for her. ‘But it doesn’t matter. That’s the joy of acting. You’re not the centre of attention at all—your character is. You can be someone else for a while. It’s fantastically freeing.’

      ‘Really?’ Eloise didn’t look entirely convinced.

      ‘Sure. Why do you think so many actors are screwed up as human beings? It’s not the job that does it. It’s the reason they choose the job in the first place. Who else would pick a career that lets them escape from themselves?’

      ‘I suppose,’ Eloise allowed. ‘But that doesn’t change the fact that it would be me up there on the stage. Making a fool of myself.’

      ‘I won’t let you do that.’ He reached out a hand to take hers. ‘Come on. It’ll be fun. I promise.’ It would be, he was certain. And fun was definitely something Eloise needed more of in her life.

      She sucked in a deep breath, so deep he could see her chest move. ‘Okay,’ she said at last. ‘Let’s do this.’

      * * *

      If women in Shakespeare’s time really wore dresses as uncomfortable as the one Noah picked out for her, suddenly Eloise understood why they always looked so miserable in paintings. She’d almost rather be wearing the hideous bridesmaid’s dress. Almost.

      ‘Perfect,’ Noah said as she stepped out from the Portaloo she’d used as a changing room. Apparently stardom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

      ‘I feel like an idiot.’

      ‘But you look like a star,’ Noah promised.

      Eloise glanced down at the corseted bodice, the intricate lacing and embroidery and the full skirt. The deep winter green of the fabric suited her, she knew, and the golden stitching added something special to the dress. But it wasn’t until she met Noah’s gaze and saw the warmth and approval in his eyes that she truly believed she looked okay.

      More than okay, if the way Noah’s gaze travelled her body was anything to go by. She almost wished there was a full-length mirror around so she could see for herself.

      But she knew that the prettiest costume couldn’t hide her from the reality of what she was about to do.

      Why had she agreed to this? How had she let him convince her? He hadn’t even really had to try—he’d just smiled at her and told her it would be fun, and she’d fallen for it.

      This was why she needed to stay away from Noah Cross. Something that would be a lot easier if they weren’t both in the wedding party from hell.

      ‘Are you ready?’ Noah asked as they stood at the side of the stage.

      ‘No.’

      Noah smiled, and handed her the first reading they’d decided on—one of her favourite exchanges between Beatrice and Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing.

      ‘You can do this,’ he whispered. Then he took her hand and led her out onto the stage.

      It had been so many years since she’d done this, Eloise had thought she must have forgotten how. But as she stood there, script in shaking hand, it all came flooding back. The tiny local theatre in her home town, just a few miles away from where she stood now. The scruffy red velvet seats in the audience. The way the wood of the stage smelt. The heavy curtains that rose and fell on their shows.

      Eloise, twelve years old, standing in the chorus line of their latest musical, watching her mother fall in love with her leading man, rehearsal after rehearsal. And her father in the wings, humiliated again. And knowing, even then, that this affair wouldn’t last either. That everyone would talk—in whispers, if her dad was around, and openly if he wasn’t—and predict when they might make it official. Whether this time Letitia would leave, find a man who could be equal to her instead of staying with her boring, grey old husband.

      And every time she would threaten to walk out, there’d be scenes—on stage and off. And every time, as the last night ended, Eloise would know it would all be over soon. That her mother would never really leave, never really chase the perfect happiness and true love she claimed she wanted.

      Because if she was happy, where would the drama be? Letitia lived for the drama, not the love.

      She’d even chosen drama over her own daughter when she’d seduced Derek away from her. Eloise was under no illusions about what mattered most to her mother—or to actors in general.

      Noah gave her a look and she took a breath, smiled and began the act. She’d taken all the drama classes, played her parts in the society beside her parents, so she knew what she was doing.

      But she would never be an actress. Not when she’d already seen how much happiness it could destroy.

      It was easy to lose herself in the lines, the humour, the characters. Noah had been right about that, at least. Up there on the stage, she could almost believe she was another person and that made it a lot easier.

      They hadn’t planned a full performance, as such, so there was no start time and no audience waiting patiently for them to start. Instead, they began the scene