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       ‘Mr Devlin—’

      ‘Alistair,’ he whispered.

      ‘Mr Devlin,’ Victoria repeated, closing her eyes. ‘I beg you to listen to me—’

      ‘I don’t want to listen,’ he said, drawing close.

      ‘I want … this.’

      And then … he kissed her.

      Victoria had been kissed before; once by a fumbling youth in a childhood game and once by a friend in a Christmas theatrical. But she had never been kissed like this. Never been made to feel as though she was in danger of losing her mind. The searing heat of Alistair’s mouth obliterated every rational thought, and for a moment she didn’t care that she must tell him a potentially damaging truth.

      All she knew was that she was falling in love with Alistair Devlin. Whatever happened tomorrow would have no bearing on that.

      Slowly, reluctantly, they drew apart, their eyes holding each other’s in the dim evening light. Victoria hadn’t known it was possible to feel like this, but she did know that things would never be the same between them again. Soon she would have to tell him the truth. Soon she would have to explain why this secret life had been imposed on her. But in the aftermath of his kiss all she wanted to do was draw his head down to hers and kiss him again …

      About the Author

      GAIL WHITIKER was born on the west coast of Wales and moved to Canada at an early age. Though she grew up reading everything from John Wyndham to Victoria Holt, frequent trips back to Wales inspired a fascination with castles and history, so it wasn’t surprising that her first published book was set in Regency England. Now an award-winning author of both historical and contemporary novels, Gail lives on Vancouver Island, where she continues to indulge her fascination with the past as well as enjoying travel, music and spectacular scenery. Visit Gail at www.gailwhitiker.com

       Previous novels by this author:

       Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

      AUTHOR NOTE

      The theatre has always been a popular form of entertainment, and it was well attended during the Georgian and Victorian periods. Jane Austen frequently went to performances at Drury Lane and Covent Garden when she was in town, and many a notable actor and actress rose to fame during this period. To others, however, it was a breeding ground for sin and corruption.

      NO OCCUPATION FOR A LADY was born out of a single question. What might a gently bred lady do that was not entirely respectable and not widely approved of by society? The answer? Almost anything to do with the theatre—so naturally my heroine had to become deeply albeit secretly involved with the writing and production of plays.

      This meant I needed an aristocratic hero who was not an avid theatregoer, who despised deception in all forms, and whose own interests were as far removed from the frivolous world of the theatre as possible. Throw in an eccentric uncle who owns a theatre, a mother who thinks it’s the devil’s playground and a brother who hates the spotlight and you have the makings of a family disaster—and, hopefully, of a compelling love story.

      I hope you enjoy this light-hearted romp through the world of Regency theatre!

       Author’s Note

      The Licensing Act of 1737 introduced the heavy hand of censorship to the British theatre. It was initiated by Robert Walpole, one of the period’s most influential and powerful men, and its main purpose was to prevent satirists of the day from lampooning politicians—Walpole in particular—and from presenting anything felt to be subversive or distasteful to the British public. As such, it required that a Lord Chamberlain and his ‘Examiners of Plays’ approve every play prior to its first public performance. Any content deemed to be insulting, derogatory, inflammatory or controversial was removed.

      The Act also restricted the production of serious dramatic works to Drury Lane and Covent Garden, two theatres already in possession of royal sanctions. Theatres that did not hold this distinction—like the fictitious Gryphon—resorted to producing melodramas, ballad operas and burlesques, which relied heavily on musical interludes, facial gestures and body movements, and either eliminated or restricted the use of spoken dialogue altogether.

      The scope of the Licensing Act caused a resurgence in the works of William Shakespeare, given that plays written before 1737 were not subject to censorship and could be performed without permission from authority, but it also fostered a deep distrust of government officials by both playwrights and the public alike. As a result, many successful playwrights turned their hand to writing novels, which were not affected by the same strict rules. Surprisingly, the Act remained in effect until 1968, when it came up against mounting pressure from influential anti-censorship groups.

      I have taken a certain amount of artistic licence with regard to the content of Victoria Bretton’s plays. I tend to think her remarks about members of society and the clergy would probably have been ‘red lined’ by the Examiners, but for the sake of the story, I wanted there to be some ‘controversial elements’ in her work. And while it is true that a number of women were successful in writing plays in and around the Regency, it was still not a recommended occupation for young ladies. Oh, how far we’ve come!

      No Occupation

      for a Lady

       Gail Whitiker

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

       Chapter One

      It was important that one dressed appropriately for the theatre, if for no other reason than to spare oneself the embarrassment of being under-dressed should someone of consequence happen to be seated in the box next to you. After all, one never knew when a marriageable viscount or an eligible earl might wander in for an evening’s performance, and with so many single young women looking to find husbands, a girl couldn’t afford to miss a single opportunity.

      That, at least, was the justification Mrs Bretton had always given her two daughters for looking their best, and as Victoria Bretton studied her reflection in the cheval glass, she supposed it was not a bad way for an ambitious mother to think. The importance of presenting unwed daughters in the most favourable light possible could not be understated, whether it be at a musicale evening, a grand ball, or at the début of a new play at the elegant Gryphon Theatre, even if only Victoria thought the latter an occasion worthy of attending.

      Fortunately, what she saw in the glass was enough to reassure her that it would not be her appearance that fell short of expectation that evening. Her gown of imported ivory silk was in the first state of fashion, and the exquisite pearl-and-ruby necklace lent to her by her aunt served as the perfect accessory. The flashing crimson stones nestled sweetly in the décolletage of her gown, which, as Aunt Tandy had pointed out, was neither too demure nor too daring, and her hair, once likened to the colour of clover honey, had been swept up and arranged in a most sophisticated style by the skilled hands of her aunt’s French

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