WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE

by When Dreams Come True(Lit)

Eden attempted to smile past the jealousy she felt. “Thank you. You are also.”

  Victoria almost flinched. “No, I’m not. I’m plain. Mother tells me that’s why I won’t be having a London season.”

  “A season?”

  Victoria’s eyes rounded. “You don’t know what a season is?”

  Eden shook her head, genuinely puzzled. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “Oh, yes,” Victoria reminded herself. “You’ve lost your memory. Is that true or nonsense like my mother says it is?”

  Eden didn’t answer.

  “A season is when a girl is introduced to Society,” Victoria said finally. “After a girl is finished with her education, her parents take her to London to be introduced into Society and there hopefully to contract a good marriage. I was supposed to have mine this year but Papa says it isn’t worth the money to take me to London. My parents want me to marry Lord Penhollow.”

  “And that isn’t what you want?” Eden asked.

  A small frown formed between Victoria’s eyes. “He’ll do, I suppose.”

  “He’ll do!” Eden couldn’t stop the words from leaving her lips. “He’s handsome, wealthy, respectable.”

  Victoria shrugged. “He’s not quite good ton and Mother thinks he’s far too Cornish.”

  “Good ton?”

  “His family background leaves a great deal to be desired. A beautiful girl of breeding could do much better than the countess of Penhollow. Mother says it is why he hasn’t married yet. No one wants him. I’m about the best he can expect. Mother says Lord Penhollow needs our family to give his respectability. Of course, we need him to give us looks. Mother says our children would be very handsome, just like their father.”

  “There’s more to a woman than her appearance, Victoria.”

  “Not according to my mother. She’s been in a frightful state all afternoon. She had me spend almost the whole day with her hairdresser and the like. She wants me to make a good impression but I knew the moment you walked in that I am no competition. If anything, I look worse in your presence. Mother knows it too. She just won’t admit it. You know she doesn’t like you, don’t you?”

  “I had that feeling,” Eden said dryly.

  Victoria shrugged. “She fears you will steal Lord Penhollow from me.”

  Eden was amazed at how just her mere presence in the community had raised so much fuss and excitement. She wondered how they’d all feel when she left tomorrow.

  “And what do you think, Victoria?”

  “I don’t think Lord Penhollow knows I’m alive whether you are here or not,” the girl said in her blunt manner. “He’s always kind to me but he isn’t really my intended—at least, he’s not offered for me, no matter what Mother wants to pretend. She insists I must think positive thoughts, but what I really think is that my life is going to be miserable because no man will notice me and my mother will hound me to death.”

  Tears overflowed from the girl’s eyes and Eden, jealousy forgotten, quickly crossed to her and enveloped her in an embrace. She knew the sort of inner strength it took to stay strong and whole in the face of constant criticism and unhappiness.

  “You are pretty,” Eden insisted. “Plus you have intelligence and courage.”

  “No, I’m a coward. I don’t want to marry Lord Penhollow. I want to go to London, but I’m afraid to tell my parents. I want to go to the opera. To meet exciting people and go to plays and museums. Anything but this boring life of being in the country. And I’m not intelligent. If I was, I would be able to say clever things and not disappoint my mother and father.”

  “Victoria, you are not a disappointment to your parents,” Eden said, standing back and taking the girl by her shoulders. “And you are pretty.”

  Victoria loudly sniffed her opinion.

  “Victoria, sit here.” She indicated the bench in front of the mirror.

  “Why?”

  “Because I have a talent for dressing hair.” She took Victoria’s hand and pulled her in front of the mirror. “If you’ll let me, I have a style in mind which you will like much better.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the latest fashion,” Eden assured her. “And I’m just from London so I should know.” She began pulling out the pins as she spoke. The frizzy curls were not natural but had been done with a curling iron. Using a brush set aside for the guests’ use, Eden brushed the curls out and then swept Victoria’s hair on top of her head and secured it with a few pins. She trimmed the curls in front with a pair of sewing scissors from a mending kit so that they lightly framed Victoria’s face.

  Eden studied her handiwork in the mirror.

  The extra height of the hairstyle counteracted the receding chin and made Victona appear a bit more sophisticated.

  Victoria stared at herself in the mirror. “Why, I’m almost pretty.”

  Eden laid her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “You have lovely eyes, especially when you smile. Every woman is more alluring when she smiles,” she said, reiterating words Madame Indrani said almost daily to her girls.

  Victoria’s gaze met hers in the mirror. “Why are you helping me? Aren’t you after Lord Penhollow for yourself like my mother says?”

  “Perhaps your mother is wrong.”

  Victoria mulled this over thoughtfully, as if she’d never considered the possibility before. “It is what Lady Penhollow told her… and you and Lord Penhollow do make a handsome couple.”

  Eden put the scissors back in the mending kit. “I have no claim on Lord Penhollow, other than he saved my life.”

  “I think he is old,” Victoria confided. “And I think my mother likes him more than I do.”

  “But he is attractive,” Eden reminded her, surprised that Victoria seemed immune to Lord Penhollow’s charm.

  “So is Mr. Whitacre.”

  Eden almost laughed at the hint of shyness in the girl’s voice.

  Victoria blushed, realizing what she’d just given away. “We’d best get back.” She took another glimpse of herself in the mirror, preening a bit. “Mother will be angry that my hair is changed, but I don’t care. I like it.”

  She started for the door, but then stopped. “There is something else I must tell you, Miss Eden. Mother and her friends plan to embarrass you this evening in hopes that Lord Penhollow will realize you are an unsuitable match.”

  “Victoria, I can have no claim on Lord Penhollow.”

  “Oh, but, Miss Eden, you already do,” the girl answered with a wisdom that belied her young years.

  “How are you so sure?”

  “You remind me of Lord Penhollow himself, in many ways. He’s never cared what anyone thinks of him. Mother believes he is far too eccentric.” She reached out and gave Eden’s hand a squeeze. “But don’t worry. I won’t let them treat you unkindly.” She slipped through the door and Eden followed.

  Downstairs, Mrs. Willis greeted them with a loud, “I was beginning to worry about the… two… of—Victoria, have you done something different to your hair?”

  “Yes,” Victoria said brightly. “I like it too.” Nor did she hunch her shoulders the way she had been earlier.

  “I don’t think—” Mrs. Willis started, but she was interrupted by Mr. Whitacre.

  “I like the style very much, Miss Willis,” he said. “Perhaps you will permit me to escort you in to dinner.”

  Victoria answered “Yes” before her mother could interject an excuse.

  “Well,” Mrs. Willis said, obviously a bit rattled by this demonstration of independence in her daughter. “Shall we go in to dinner now?”

  Dinner was as bad as Victoria had warned her it would be. Eden was placed far down the table away from Lord Penhollow. She had no sooner sat down than Mrs. Willis leaned toward her and said in a loud whisper, “You use this spoon for the soup.”

  Eden blinked in surprise. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Mrs. Willis smiled coldly. “I didn’t know if you remembered or not.”

 
; “Yes, I remember how to eat,” Eden answered levelly.

  “How nice for you,” Mrs. Willis said. She then turned to Mr. Whitacre and silently mouthed, “She was about to use the wrong fork.”

  Mr. Whitacre did not appear to care about Eden’s table manners. However, the two of them began a conversation, snubbing Eden completely.

  Several times Victoria or Lord Penhollow attempted to pull Eden into the discussion at the other end of the table but either Lady Baines, Lady Danbury, or even Lady Penhollow managed to interrupt her before she could speak. Not that Eden felt she had anything worth saying.

  No, she definitely felt out of place, even without Mrs. Willis’s help.

  “Miss Eden is from London,” Victoria said.

  “Ah! She remembers more,” Lord Baines said with a touch of sarcasm, spearing a piece of fish with his fork.

  Eden glanced at Lord Penhollow. He seemed more interested in his dinner than the revelation that she was from London.

  “Amnesia can happen that way,” Dr. Hargrave began, ready to hold forth on the subject when Lady Danbury interrupted him.

  “Did you hear that Lord and Lady Valen are leaving for London on Thursday? She’s sponsoring her niece’s come-out and has already secured vouchers to Almack’s.”

  “How fortunate for her!” Mrs. Willis said. She looked to Eden. “Tell me, Miss Eden, have you ever been to Almack’s, or would you be accepted there?”

  Before Eden could answer, Lord Penhollow said, “Not everyone gives Almack’s such vaulted status, Mrs. Willis. I, for one, have been refused vouchers, as was my father.”

  Lady Penhollow squirmed uncomfortably, and Eden felt a bit sorry for her now that the woman’s plans had once again turned on her. Meanwhile, Mrs. Willis changed the subject of the conversation to something inoffensive, the weather.

  Eden glanced in Lord Penhollow’s direction. The warm candlelight could not soften the rugged masculinity of his features. He was handsome, very handsome… but he was also noble and not afraid to stand for what he believed in. Here was a man she could admire. A worthy man.

  He could do so much better than a London prostitute, and this realization accomplished what Mrs. Willis and her petty friends could not. It made Eden recognize that he really was above her touch.

  His gaze met hers over the flickering candles. For the space of several heartbeats, it was as if they were the only two people in the room… and she knew that if she really cared for him, the best thing she could do would be to remove herself from his life.

  The clattering of a fork against china drew Eden’s attention. The maid was clearing the table. Mrs. Willis rose. The gentlemen came to their feet.

  “I believe it is time to leave the gentlemen to their port and conversation,” she said. “Will you ladies join me in the drawing room?”

  Eden started to rise but then Lord Penhollow spoke up. “I, for one, would be willing to forgo my port and brandy and join the ladies now. What do the rest of you gentlemen say?”

  Mr. Willis frowned. “I like my port.”

  “But we can have it in the drawing room with the ladies,” Lord Penhollow said reasonably.

  “I wouldn’t mind bypassing it,” Mr. Whitacre said. “I prefer feminine company.” He glanced at Victoria and she blushed prettily.

  “It’s not customary,” Mrs. Willis said abruptly.

  “Nonsense,” Lord Penhollow said. “We are all old friends here. What is the joy of friendship if we cannot relax our manners with each other?”

  Mr. Whitacre and, to Eden’s surprise, Dr. Hargrave agreed with him and against Mrs. Willis’s objections, the men adjourned with the women to the drawing room.

  Lord Penhollow matched his step with Eden’s. “I believe Mrs. Willis and her friends are being rude. Should I make our excuses and we’ll leave now?”

  Eden feigned shock. “What? And cry quarter before the evening is done? Never.”

  He laughed. “There’s fire in your eyes when you say those words.”

  She shook her head. “In truth, they have not been so bad.” Certainly, they hadn’t treated her worse than what she deserved.

  He was quiet a moment and then said, “It’s not your fault, you know. Their rudeness has nothing to do with you. Willis wants me to offer for his daughter, but there has never been an agreement or understanding between us.”

  “I know that.”

  “You do? I would have thought my mother would have said differently.”

  Eden smiled. “You mother believes Victoria is the perfect wife for you, but it was Victoria who told me there is no agreement between you. She claims you are too old to be her husband.”

  He paused in mid-stride. “Old?”

  Eden laughed and entered the drawing room. Inside, Mr. Willis was still grumbling about his port while his wife stood before a pianoforte. She clapped her hands for attention. “My daughter Victoria is going to entertain us this evening. She is so very accomplished,” she said, looking straight at Lord Penhollow.

  He nodded and slid a covert glance of annoyance in Eden’s direction. Eden covered her mouth with her hand to hide her laughter.

  Victoria was a passable player and had a sweet voice. Eden noticed Lord Penhollow’s foot kept time to the music and she felt a stab of jealousy. If he enjoyed Victoria’s playing, he would admire her own all the more. Then Eden glanced in Mr. Whitacre’s direction. The young man watched Victoria with rapt attention.

  A moment later, when the last chord was finished and they’d all clapped in appreciation, Mrs. Willis stood and looked to Eden. “Tell, Miss Eden, do you have any accomplishments that you would wish to share with us?”

  Eden started to say she could play, and then stopped.

  This was Victoria’s moment. Her chance to shine in front of Mr. Whitacre, to make her parents proud, and to reassert her own sense of self-worth.

  Eden was an impostor.

  She smiled. “No, Mrs. Willis, I do not. Victoria, your playing was most enjoyable.” Her compliment was quickly seconded by Mr. Whitacre and Victoria blossomed under his admiration.

  Eden’s admittance to a lack of talent pleased Mrs. Willis no end. She appeared ready to gloat except that Lord Penhollow stood and announced that the hour was late and they needed to leave.

  Eden had never heard sweeter words.

  In the coach, Lady Penhollow carried on a great deal about Victoria—her breeding, her talent, her gentility. “Of course, I am so fortunate to have friends like the Willises and Lord and Lady Baines. Oh, yes, and Lord and Lady Danbury. Good, good friends we are.”

  Both Eden and Lord Penhollow were quiet. His knee did not brush against her leg in the dark and Eden felt disappointed.

  She’d started this day full of wild, impossible dreams. Now it was over… and all her dreams had come to naught.

  Like Icarus who believed he could fly to the sun and was destroyed by it, she suddenly feared what would happen if she stayed too much longer at Penhollow Hall. She couldn’t have Lord Penhollow. Not without telling him the truth about her identity. Nor could she face him once he learned what a pretender she was. Her feelings for him were already too strong.

  She was happy when they pulled into the drive leading to Penhollow Hall. At the front door, Eden wished both of them a good night and started to escape to the solitude of her room.

  She’d not gone far when she heard him call her name.

  She paused. “Yes?” She didn’t turn but stood listening to the approach of his footsteps.

  “I’m sorry for the actions of my mother and her friends this evening.”

  “You’ve already said that, my lord. Furthermore, no apology is needed. They meant only to look after your interests.” The lump in her throat surprised her. It hurt to speak.

  “Eden.” His use of her name without the formal “Miss” caught her off guard.

  For a second, she hovered in indecision. How easy it would be to blow out the candle she held, shroud them in darkness, and beg him to keep her, t
o take her, right here, this moment.

  And if she did, what then?

  Would he turn from her in disgust? Or take what she offered without realizing its value?

  “It was a wonderful evening,” she whispered, and then ran from him without waiting for his response.

  Unfortunately, Betsy was waiting in her room.

  “Ah, Miss Eden, did Lord Penhollow notice how beautiful you looked? Did he say anything?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Of course he did,” Betsy continued as if she hadn’t heard Eden speak. She hung the pearl dress in the wardrobe. “He can’t help himself. He’s balmy over you. Everyone says so.”

  Dressed in the oversized nightdress, Eden sat down on the bed. She rubbed her temples, feeling the beginning of a headache. She had plans to make. She didn’t have time for nonsense. “He can’t fall in love with me at all.”

  Betsy drew back. “He can. He is. The Widow said so.”

  Eden rolled her eyes heavenward. “Betsy, all of that is just superstition.”

  The maid’s eyebrows snapped together as she drew back in surprise. “You don’t believe, do you? The whole village believes, and you don’t.”

  “Because I know it’s impossible. Betsy, he’s of a different class. I’m a nobody. He’s someone special, someone noble and honorable and…” And a man who must someday marry a woman of his own class, not a courtesan.

  Betsy quivered with outrage. “You must believe—deep in your soul you must. Every time the two of you are together, the air crackles with tension.”

  “That isn’t magic,” Eden replied bluntly. “It’s lust.”

  “It’s love.”

  A man like him could never love a woman like me. Eden came to her feet. “Betsy, there is no such thing as love. It’s a myth, a fiction.”

  Betsy glared at her, her hands doubled in fists at her sides. Her voice trembled with the force of pent-up emotion. “You just don’t want to believe, that’s all that’s the matter with you. And if you don’t believe, it can never happen.” She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Eden sat on the bed again. Why had she allowed herself to pick a fight with the maid? Why hadn’t she just nodded her head and agreed with all of that nonsense?