“I do not want Vivien Leigh. My heart is set on you. You’re the only thing that can make dealing with Mrs. Wyvern for the next month at all bearable. And you were born to play the part. Viola, dressed as a boy. What could be more perfect?”

Nothing, Polly thought. Being with Sir Godfrey again and acting with the troupe would be heaven. But it was too dangerous. Even having him here …

“I can’t,” she said. “ENSA—”

“Can easily spare you for four weeks. I’ll gladly arrange for someone to take your place. I know a number of actresses who would jump at the chance to show their knickers to an enthusiastic audience,” he said. “Or to anyone, for that matter.”

And he would clearly be able to persuade Mr. Tabbitt to go along with the plan. The fact that he’d allowed Sir Godfrey backstage proved that.

“If you refuse, there will be no one there to avert the inevitable disaster I foresee,” he said. “Say yes. You would be saving my life.”

No, Polly thought bitterly. I would be sealing your doom. And I have no intention of letting you be part of the correction if I can help it.

“I’m sorry, Sir Godfrey. I can’t.”

“The head of ENSA’s an old friend of mine. We acted in Henry the Fifth together. I’m certain he’d be willing to release you from your National Service duty for the duration of the rehearsals and performances.”

Polly looked at him in despair. He did not intend to take no for an answer. He would come back tomorrow and the next night. He would send Mrs. Wyvern to convince her. Or worse, Miss Laburnum—or Trot—exposing them all to danger. And I can’t bear that, to see any of them made to pay the price for my sins. Especially not you. I couldn’t have survived without you.

And knew what she had to do. There was only one sure way to send him away for good, to make certain he wouldn’t come back. “It’s not my being in the show,” she said. “It’s … I didn’t want to tell you this, because I was afraid you might … but I’ve met a young man. We’ve been seeing a good deal of each other, and—”

“A young man,” he said slowly. “Exactly how young?”

“Much younger than—” She stopped and bit her lip as if she had only just realized how cruel that sounded, and then rushed on. “I only met him a few weeks ago, here, and his regiment’s due to be shipped out any week now, so we haven’t much time left.”

And that at least was true. There was almost no time left at all. “You do understand, don’t you? You’ve been in love, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I have.”

He sat there for a long minute, looking at her, his face unreadable. I did it, she thought. I’ve succeeded in sending him away for good.

And in hurting him cruelly. I am so sorry, Sir Godfrey, but it’s for your own good.