The seamstresses, who turned out to be sisters from northern England, kept her busy the rest of the morning. They measured and draped and pinned until Maggie thought she’d faint if she weren’t allowed to sit down.

An unexpected visitor served to revive her. “Maggie!” Loretta Craig sang as though they were the oldest and best of friends as she swept into the dressing room without bothering to knock. She was a vision in emerald-green velvet trimmed in black braid, carrying a matching parasol and wearing an elegant little hat with a green feather affixed. “How nice to see you again!”

The sisters from the north of England fled, leaving a trail of measuring tapes and pincushions behind them.

Maggie drew a deep breath, preparing herself for what would undoubtedly be a difficult interview. “Hello, Miss Craig,” she said, stepping regally down from the stool on which she’d been standing. Keeping her dignity was no easy matter, since she was wearing only her camisole and drawers and petticoat.

Loretta sat down on the foot of the velvet-covered chaise with a pretty little sigh and began tugging off her dyed-kid gloves.

Maggie could bear it no longer. “What are you doing here?” she asked forthrightly.

Loretta smiled a charming smile. Maggie might even have gone so far as to describe it as dazzling. “Why, I’ve come to help you with your lines and such, child. Being by far the more experienced actress—”

“I don’t need any help with my lines,” Maggie interrupted firmly. “I can practically recite the entire play.”

Loretta arched one raven-black eyebrow. She really was beautiful, Maggie thought to herself, and far more sophisticated than a nineteen-year-old raised in a traveling circus could ever hope to be.

Apparently, Loretta had already spotted Maggie’s weakness. “You are very young for the part of Kate, I must say. I could see you as Bianca, but—”

There was a rap at the door, and Maggie snatched up her discarded woolen dress and dodged behind a changing screen, pulling the garment hastily over her head.

“Hello, Loretta,” Maggie heard Philip say. “To what do we owe this—pleasure?”

From the rustle of velvet Maggie discerned that Loretta had stood up. As she buttoned the front of her dress, she heard the older woman say wearily, “I had planned to offer the benefit of my training and experience. Apparently, Miss Chamberlin feels no need for the guidance of someone wiser.”

“And older,” Philip added wickedly.

Maggie peeped around the edge of the changing screen just in time to see Loretta level a killing look at Philip and then walk, with imperial grace, out of the dressing room.

“Do you think this is going to happen often?” Maggie asked, coming out from behind the screen.

Philip chuckled. “I doubt it—Loretta has a role of her own, at another theater.”

Maggie felt like throwing up again. “One that belongs to Mr. McKenna?”