Mr. Jardine released her hand. “Well, I’d better get on, then, Lil, and leave you to your work. Miss Vivianna,” he said with a small bow. And he strode off toward his room on business of his own. Lil gazed after him, and the look in her eyes was certainly not daughterly.
“Perhaps I should marry Jacob,” Lil said miserably. “No other man’ll have me. Not the man I want, anyway.”
Mr. Jardine and Lil? Vivianna thought. Surely not. Not on Mr. Jardine’s part anyway, even if Lil did nurture hopes. The chasm between them was great indeed, too great to breach.
“Lil, you will find someone,” she said gently. “Just wait and see. If not Jacob, then another young man will come along, a handsome stranger who will sweep you off your feet!”
“You sound as if you’ve already been swept off yours, miss,” Lil replied tartly.
Vivianna frowned. “Not at all, Lil. Quite the opposite, in fact.” And she made her way down to the dining room for breakfast with her family.
“Helen has told me that things are not going very well with Lord Montegomery and the Shelter for Poor Orphans,” Lady Greentree said, sipping her coffee.
Vivianna glanced sideways at Helen, but her aunt was busily spreading toast with marmalade.
“Unfortunately, he does not seem to be as easily persuadable as I had hoped, Mama. The Beatty sisters and I have decided we will have to take advantage of his offer of the lodging house in Bethnal Green—until something better comes along.”
“Is he unpleasant? This Montegomery?”
“N-no, not unpleasant, not really. Just…stubborn.” And for some reason she smiled; she couldn’t help it.
Lady Greentree’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? Then he’s just like you, my dear.”
Marietta giggled and, jumping up from her chair, took a turn about the room. “Can we go to the shops, Mama? I want to buy a new bonnet and a gown and new shoes and—”
“For heaven’s sake, Marietta, sit down! I am exhausted and I am not going anywhere for at least a day. You will have time enough to go looking at the shops tomorrow. I am sure Vivianna will be happy to accompany you.”
Then Lady Greentree turned to her sister, taking advantage of a private chat while Toby was not there. Marietta came and sat closer to Vivianna, her bright blue eyes shining with mischief.
“I know you haven’t told us everything,” she whispered, so that the others could not hear her. “You have fallen violently in love with Lord Montegomery, haven’t you? Mama heard from one of her London friends that he is very handsome and a terrible rake. She was so worried you might fall under his spell that she came to keep guard on you. Like one of the beefeaters at the Tower of London. I would like to fall under the spell of a rake. Have you? What is it like?”
“Marietta, will you be quiet!” Vivianna gasped. “You are talking nonsense. I have not fallen under anyone’s spell, and he is not a…well, maybe he is, but I came here to try to persuade him not to demolish the shelter. It is just that it is taking longer than I had hoped.”
“But he is handsome? I know he is. Your mouth is all primed up, like it always is when you’re telling fibs.”
Vivianna didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Yes, Marietta, he is good-looking, but it is of no consequence. I don’t notice that when I am with him. I am too busy thinking of more important things.”
Marietta frowned, looked doubtful, and then sighed. “Well, I think that is very dull of you, Vivianna. If I met a rake I would make the most of it, and I wouldn’t be talking about any old shelters!”
Later, Lady Greentree had some time alone with Vivianna. “I was worried,” she admitted, her pale eyes, so like Helen’s, searching her elder daughter’s. “And besides, Marietta was driving me to madness with her pestering. I thought we should come to London for a little while, just to see all was well with you, and to give her a chance to work it out of her system.”
“There was no need to worry,” Vivianna assured her, while knowing in her heart there were plenty of reasons. If her mother knew half of what she had done, she would be appalled and insist she return to Yorkshire with them immediately.
That was why she had decided not to tell her.
“Maybe not, but I must admit I feel better having seen so for myself. Oh, I forgot, Francesca has sent you her latest watercolor.” She fetched out a small bleak picture of the moor, with a single stunted tree as its centerpiece, flattened against the gales.
Vivianna looked at it in dismay. “I think she is getting worse,” she said.
Lady Greentree smiled. “I am sure she is. But I think she has a real talent all the same. Remember, she is but fifteen; in a few years’ time, she will be just like any other girl, painting pretty cottages and…and kittens.”
Vivianna laughed. “I think you are being optimistic, Mama, but I hope you are right. I do not think I could bear to have any more of her watercolors—they bring down my spirits.”
Lady Greentree sighed. “They do, rather, don’t they?”
“We are all of us different, aren’t we?” Vivianna went on thoughtfully. “Marietta is vivacious and lively and full of mischief, whereas Francesca is solitary and dramatic and intense, and I…well, I am headstrong and difficult and…”
Lady Greentree took her hand and held it tightly. “You are passionate and caring and determined, my dear, and it does you credit. Believe me, I would not change any of you.”
For a moment Vivianna was tempted to tell her mother everything, but she stilled her tongue. What was the use of upsetting her? Comforting as it would be to unburden herself of her secrets, it would only lead to more trouble. Vivianna told herself that she had created this situation, and she must extricate herself from it.
After Oliver had left Vivianna he had gone to one of his clubs, and then another. He had thought of calling upon her again in Queen’s Square despite the late hour, but she would refuse to see him.
So he had gone on to play cards at White’s, and then to watch some fistfighting at the Bucket of Blood. Both occupations bored him, though, and he was home again long before midnight. He ignored Hodge’s long-suffering look and sat morosely in the library, trying to get drunk. And that was where he went to sleep.
And dreamed.
Strangely, in the dream he was running through Candlewood. His feet were slapping against the wooden floors on the upper story, bare feet, as though he had just risen from his bed and forgotten to put on his slippers. There was someone behind him. Someone following him, relentless in pursuit.
He knew then that he was running for his life.
There was something in his hand. Some papers. Letters? Thick paper and black ink, clutched in his fingers. Instinctively he knew it was the letters that whoever was behind him was seeking.
Down the uncarpeted servants’ stairs, dark and narrow. In front of him was the door to the unfinished wing of the house, and he wrenched it open and went through.
He ran on.
There was a huge mural on the ceiling with gods in battle armor and nymphs in not very much at all. He heard the sounds of pursuit, and knew in his heart that soon he was going to die. But, he told himself desperately, if he hid the letters, if he left a clue, then his brother would find them and avenge his death.
His brother, whom only hours before he had felt betrayed him. But now, in his moment of great peril, his feelings were redefined, made simple. He knew his brother loved him. Just as he loved his brother.
He turned again. There was a huge mirror on the wall, tarnished and cracked, but he could see into it. He could see himself.
Anthony. It was Anthony who stared back at him. Anthony, in the last moments of his life.
The dream began to fade.
Oliver struggled to retain it, to keep himself within it, but he was spinning away, the room revolving, his brother’s face growing pale and distant below him.
“No!”
Oliver sat up in the library, his heart pounding, his breath heaving, the sweat dripping from him. He was alone, he thought, glanc
ing to the dying fire and the smoking candles. All alone. He should be reassured by the fact, but he wasn’t.
He wanted someone to turn to and hold. He wanted a warm body beside him in bed at night. He wanted someone to smile when he smiled, and show concern when he was sad.
He wanted Vivianna.
He might not trust her, but he could not seem to stifle the feelings he had for her. Whatever she felt for him, he wanted her, and yet for her own sake he must stay away from her.
I’ll tell her the truth first. I must. I have to warn her about Lawson. And after that I won’t see her again, ever…
Vivianna was late retiring, but despite her confused thoughts, or perhaps because of them, she sought out the diary given to her by Aphrodite, and settled down to read.
Aphrodite was older now, and Jemmy had gone off to be a soldier and fight the French. She found it strange and difficult at first, learning to be all that she had admired. Because there were so many French émigrés about, it had been decided that she should play at being one.
The gentlemen like French ladies in distress.
In time, I moved on to other lovers. There were always gentlemen willing to share my life, for the sake of a moment of kindness or passion. And it was interesting and exciting, and I had many beautiful things. Once I returned to Seven Dials to visit my mother, but the rotting houses seemed worse than ever, and I could tell she did not want to see me. I never returned, but out of that visit something good came.
I saw Elena again, my friend from the days in the slop-shop.
She was pleased and happy to see me, and asked to hear my stories. I wanted to help her, and though at first she was uncertain whether to trust me, in time we grew close again. I bought her a place in which to sell her clothing, and she began to make my dresses. When I wore them to the theater or the opera, others would admire them, and I would give them her name.
In such a way are fortunes and reputations made and lost.
At first I did not miss Jemmy. I cannot pretend that I wanted that life back, when the new one was so full of color and excitement. Only sometimes, in the dark of the night, I would dream of Jemmy and his smiling face, and wake suddenly, wondering where he was. Dead, I thought. And if his voice called out to me from the throat of some man in the street, or I caught a glimpse of him in the face of a groom, then I would think, “Ah, it is the ghost of Jemmy.”
Because despite my many friends and lovers, and my jewelry and pretty things, I am alone. I am always alone.
Vivianna closed the diary. There was no more to read—Aphrodite had not written any more—and her tale’s moral was one Vivianna already knew. It was not jewels or pretty things that made one happy; it was the people with whom one shared one’s life.
Oliver would make her happy.
His voice was the one that called to her in the darkness, just as Jemmy’s had called to Aphrodite. It was his ghost she saw, his smile that made her smile. She lay in her bed and felt her body tingle and ache for his, and knew that there would never come a time when she did not miss him. Even when she was an old lady, she would be thinking of him, dreaming of him, and wanting him beside her.
So what on earth was she going to do about it?
But in her secret heart Vivianna already knew.
Vivianna was just setting out with her sister for the promised assault upon the London shops when Oliver called to see her. Unfortunately, they were standing in the hall awaiting the coach, or Vivianna might have managed to put him off or receive him alone. As it was, Marietta’s eyes lit up like blue beacons when the maid showed him in. Fortunately, he seemed to have regained his senses.
Vivianna kept her voice cool and polite as she introduced him, despite the fact that the sight of him made her tremble. Marietta shot her a look that said: Now I know you were fibbing!
“I am pleased to meet you, Miss Marietta,” Oliver said, taking Marietta’s hand and bowing over it. His smile held its usual charm, his attire and person was immaculately turned out—apart from a savage red waistcoat—but Vivianna thought he looked fraught. Perhaps she looked the same.
He had attuned her body to his touch, and now she found she could not do without him.
“Vivianna and I are about to go shopping,” Marietta was bubbling on, as he bent his head attentively toward her. “Perhaps you could escort us, Lord Montegomery?”
“It would be my pleasure, Miss Marietta, but I fear I have a prior engagement.”
“Oh no. Can you not cancel it?”
“Marietta!” Vivianna admonished, her face fiery. “Remember your manners. Lord Montegomery is not interested in ladies’ clothing!”
Oliver glanced at her, and something in the depths of his blue eyes made her breath catch in her breast. It was as if the heat of their passion was replaying in her head. His mouth on hers, his hands and his body. She could not look away….
“Mama! It is Lord Montegomery.” Marietta’s voice broke the spell between them, and Vivianna turned shakily toward her mother, feeling as if she might fall over.
“Mama, this is Lord Montegomery,” Vivianna said dutifully. “My lord, this is Lady Greentree, my mother.” She did not look at him again, not directly. She did not dare.
Oliver smiled his charming smile and bowed over her mother’s hand. Vivianna saw the uncertain look on her mother’s face, the quick glance to her, the fear that her daughter had become entangled with this elegant rake. Vivianna understood her mother’s concern. Toby was rake enough for any family—they did not need another.
“You have business in London, Lady Greentree?” Oliver asked her, polite, interested, the perfect gentleman. Only Vivianna felt his lapse of attention, saw the tension in his shoulders and his jaw, sensed the urgency in him to be alone with her. She did not know whether to be sorry or glad.
“I have come to support my daughter, Lord Montegomery.”
“Of course.”
“I believe you will not give in to her pleas regarding the orphans’ shelter?”
“I’m afraid that is impossible.”
They sized each other up, and then Lady Greentree sighed. “I see.”
“I…that is, the Beatty sisters ask that you make all ready for them at Bethnal Green,” Vivianna said stiffly. “We will have to avail ourselves of your generosity until we find somewhere else more suitable.”
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “I think you will find the house at Bethnal Green more than suitable, Miss Greentree.”
Vivianna’s eyes narrowed at him, and she forgot her longing for him in a spurt of righteous anger. “Miss Greta has been to visit and she does not believe that to be the case. Children should not be made to live in such squalid surroundings.”
Oliver looked blank. “When did she visit the house in Bethnal Green?”
“I do not know. Some weeks ago, I think.”
“Ah.” He gave her a little smile.
“What do you mean, ah?” Vivianna demanded.
Lady Greentree hissed her name in displeasure, and Marietta giggled with excitement. But Vivianna ignored them, and Oliver took her lead.
“I mean she has not visited since I made the repairs. I think you will find the lodging house is now more than suitable for your children, Miss Greentree.”
“More than—”
“No, no, don’t thank me.”
Vivianna’s eyes shot fire. “Thank you!”
“You must forgive my daughter, Lord Montegomery,” Lady Greentree said quietly. “When it comes to her children she can be formidable, and sometimes she forgets her manners.”
“That’s because she was an abandoned child herself,” Marietta announced. “Francesca and I were, too, but we were too young to remember it. Vivianna looked after us. She’s been looking after abandoned children ever since.”
“Please, Marietta, Lord Montegomery isn’t interested in ancient history.”
Oliver was looking at her. She could feel his eyes on her profile. “I wonder,” he said, “if I might have a word with
you alone, Miss Greentree?”
“Oh.” Vivianna looked at her mother. “We were just going out.”
Lady Greentree raised her brows. “Perhaps a very brief word, my lord. As my daughter says, we were just about to go out.”
“Of course, I will be as brief as possible.”
Stiff-backed, Vivianna led the way into a small parlor that was rarely used. Vivianna had chosen it, not for its lack of comfort, but for its distance from her mother’s listening ears. However, she did not shut the door.
“Vivianna,” he said gently, “why didn’t you tell me about your childhood?”
“It wasn’t important. Besides, would it have made you change your mind?”
He gave an elegant shrug.
“Then I was wise not to discuss my past with you.”
He touched her shoulder, then tried to draw her closer, but she remained rigid and unbending.
“I want to ask you something,” Vivianna said, and heard her own voice like a stranger’s. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to suggest Oliver use his expertise upon her? No, she wasn’t, Vivianna reminded herself. She was going to take what Oliver offered and enjoy herself, totally, for one night. And then…she would say goodbye to him, and mean it.
“You can ask me anything you wish.”
So reasonable! “I find I—I cannot sleep,” she said evenly, although her heart was thudding. She turned her face away. “No doubt you have performed some spell upon me that makes it so. I want to sleep peacefully again. I need you to…”
His eyes flared, and he bent his head, his breath warm on her lips. “Meet me.”
“Yes, I will meet you,” she said a little desperately. His mouth brushed hers, the kiss so light, so teasing, it was barely there. “But it will be difficult. Mama will be watching.”
As if to give credence to her concerns, Lady Greentree called out, “Vivianna! We are waiting.”
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