Violet had already stayed in bed one day more than was necessary, using every actor skill in her arsenal to appear unable to function outside the confines of her room.
But even Rosie, who wasn’t a professional actor but in fact a professional maid, had noticed that Violet had nearly completely recovered. Although she never would’ve told anyone.
“Another day and you’ll be back at Lady Patience’s side,” Rosie had said last evening when she’d brought up a tray for Violet.
Violet looked past her, at the doorway, and Rosie understood immediately.
“The marquess has been forbidden to come into the servants’ quarters, Vi,” Rosie said. “Mrs. Allman said it was inappropriate in the extreme.”
“I wasn’t looking for him,” Violet said. Somehow it didn’t bother her that Rosie called her Vi. It didn’t remind her of Booker, who’d been the only other person to use that nickname. But on Rosie it sounded—and was—sweet and caring.
“Rosie, you’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Violet said.
“Vi, you know we’re not allowed to speak of it,” Rosie said, looking over her shoulder toward the part-open doorway. She pushed a loose strand of her thick, strawberry blond hair back into place under her cap.
“But we’re alone in this room,” Violet said.
“Must think of other things,” Rosie said in a whisper. “I’ve seen people fired for much less. I need this job.”
“So do I,” Violet said. In fact, all the money she’d earn at this majestic was spent already, stopping up the sinkhole of Booker’s negative-balance estate. She’d probably have to do another majestic after this one and maybe another after that.
Unless Mirage came through. There was always that. She’d been made for a role in Mirage. If only Booker hadn’t died. Although . . .
“That lord is something to look at,” Rosie said.
“I hadn’t noticed,” said Violet.
“The Prince Regent’s uncle, you haven’t!” Rosie said. “The two of you are practically . . .”
“Practically what?” said Violet.
“Churning up the hay, Vi. Intimate in the extreme,” Rosie said. “Everyone’s noticed.”
“Oh God,” said Violet. She’d hoped that no one had noticed. That she herself hadn’t noticed. And that Lord Lake Path Sprint himself hadn’t noticed.
“Indeed,” said Rosie. “Mrs. Allman will have none of it. Lord Trevelton is who Mrs. Allman has in mind for Lady Patience, you know. She said the contrast would be compelling. The one so pale and dark haired, the other so rosy and blond.”
“I agree,” said Violet. Lord Trevelton could have LP, and Jewel Allman could have idyllic images of the photogenic couple for her publicity machine.
That would be just fine with Violet. She’d be done with him and could concentrate on her duties. And on keeping her mouth shut, which was requiring more and more concentration. Yes, my lady. No, my lord.
Yes, my lord.
Violet gave half her sandwich to Rosie, and the two of them ate and talked between bites. Violet really wanted to eat everything on the tray herself, but Rosie was just sitting there, and she didn’t want her to leave.
Having outworld sickness was a lonely business, Violet had had it with being by herself, and Rosie was turning out to be a good friend.
“You should see them all at dinner,” said Rosie. “The table’s nearly full now and Cook’s been making the most astounding meals and there are at least three new romances. And a few new arguments already.”
“What about you, Rosie?” said Violet.
“Oh no, Vi. I could never.” She looked away.
“I thought Johnny was interested,” said Violet. He was always looking proprietarily at Rosie.
“He’s my brother, Vi,” said Rosie. “But it’s not supposed to be known.”
“I’m sorry,” said Violet.
“He’s a great brother,” Rosie said. “The best. He could be interested in you, Vi. If you’d give him a chance.”
“I can’t be interested in anyone,” Violet said.
“The ball’s this weekend,” Rosie said.
“I’ll have to create a special hairdo for LP,” said Violet.
“Harriette will be happy when you’re back at work,” Rosie said. “So will Lady Patience.”
“So will I,” Violet said, and meant it.
Something about lying in bed, sweating, freezing, yearning for the very man who’d caused her illness and being deprived of his presence had made being LP’s lady’s maid seem like a fine job indeed.
Being well and being LP’s lady’s maid. That was the optimum combination.
Being well, being LP’s lady’s maid, and never seeing Rafe Blackstone, Lord Trevelton, ever again. That was the optimum combination.
Chapter 25
Sumner Dobbs was avoiding Trevelton. They sat at the dinner table at opposite ends. They took different riding paths in the mornings. Rafe never saw him at breakfast, and he never encountered him on the eleven circuits of the lake path that he’d made into part of his daily routine.
Sometimes twice daily, with the second time being late at night when he couldn’t sleep. Although eleven circuits were often insufficient and turned into twenty or sometimes thirty circuits. Alone. With no enticing lady’s maid to try to keep pace with him.
Trevelton had been barred from going back to the servants’ quarters. Both Jewel Allman and Cook had assured him that Violet was recovering nicely and that there was no need at all for his presence in the most inappropriate of places.
He’d tried to change his seat at dinner. Being stuck between the insufferable North and the ultratalkative Vernie Dalston was turning into some kind of a test of Trevelton’s fortitude.
When he’d finally been able to plan this trip, and his revenge, he’d congratulated himself for having been so strong willed and patient. It had been nothing short of miraculous that Wyatt had signed up for this majestic and that Ephraim had found out about it in time to arrange everything so that he could also attend.
Because back home he couldn’t do what he needed to do. The penalty on Earth would be permanent exile. But on Outworld 5730, his intended actions might be seen as merely part of the majestic. If all went off as he’d envisioned.
Saybrook couldn’t avoid him forever, Trevelton thought. And the ball would be the perfect opportunity to really set things in motion.
“Oh, the most marvelous thing,” Lady Patience had said at breakfast. Her plate had been piled with one and in some cases, two, of everything on offer. Trevelton had a slight admiration for Lady Patience’s voracious, undisguised appetite, possibly because it was so wrong for the period. Wasn’t she supposed to nibble on a few crumbs and leave the rest on her plate?
He and Lady Patience were the only two at the breakfast table this morning, the others all already out and about.
Lady Patience smeared a generous portion of marmalade onto her toast and took a bite, then said, “Yes, my lord. The most marvelous thing. Lettie is back, all cured, and she does work wonders with my hair.”
Trevelton bit into his own buttered toast rather than reminding Lady Patience not to call Violet “Lettie,” since he’d discovered his efforts in that quest were useless.
“Listen,” Lady Patience said, leaning close to Lord Trevelton even though there was no one else present to overhear her words. “Do you know Saybrook well?”
“Whyever do you ask?” Rafe put down his toast and sat back in his chair, eyeing Lady Patience with his best haughtily curious glare.
“He seems so . . . available,” she said, “yet I’m not really sure. I can’t exactly tell.”
“He’s a man about town,” Trevelton said.
“Why would you say that?” Lady Patience ate her toast and cut into a hard-boiled egg with the edge of her fork. “And what does that mean?”
“Are you interested in the man?” Trevelton was pleased with himself, since he hadn’t said the scoundrel or the seducer instead
. Although Lady Patience seemed like a nice-enough person, and perhaps she should be protected from Wyatt’s most dubious attributes.
Calvert came into the room just then, checking the food, rearranging anything that was even slightly out of place, doing a little busing, and making sure all was in order.
Something about his tall, imposing presence stopped Trevelton and Lady Patience from talking, and Rafe noticed that Lady Patience was more than a little interested in every small thing that Calvert was doing. And that perhaps Lady Patience hadn’t just stopped talking, but had stopped breathing.
After Calvert left, Lady Patience exhaled and turned back to Trevelton.
“Hollyhock has such a grand butler,” she said.
“It does indeed, Lady Patience,” Trevelton said. How far would Jewel Allman allow that to progress?
“Far grander than Saybrook,” Trevelton added. “Far grander.” Although he hadn’t meant to insult Calvert, who he’d had very little contact with.
Lady Patience tore apart the roll that was lying on her nearly empty plate and put raspberry jam on it.
“Saybrook doesn’t like you either, my lord,” said Lady Patience as she bit into her roll. “There’s no denying it.” The jam left a mark at the corner of her mouth, but Rafe didn’t tell her.
“I wouldn’t think so,” said Trevelton, wishing someone else would show up and end this conversation. If Lady Patience Barrington wanted to throw herself at Saybrook, she’d find out soon enough the stuff he was made of. Or rather, wasn’t made of.
“Why wouldn’t you think so?” Lady Patience said.
“I have my reasons,” Trevelton said. “And they needn’t concern you.”
“But they do concern me,” said Lady Patience. The woman wouldn’t let go. Trevelton buttered another piece of toast but didn’t eat it. The room remained empty except for Lady Patience, Trevelton, and the remains of the breakfast spread.
“Well, my lord?” Lady Patience said. She wiped the corner of her mouth and the raspberry jam stain disappeared.
“I’d watch your step around Saybrook if I were you,” Trevelton finally said. “The man can’t be trusted.”
“Can you?” Lady Patience looked directly at Trevelton, and his stomach lurched.
“Perhaps not,” Trevelton said. “Perhaps not.”
Chapter 26
Saybrook was sprawled out on an iron bench in the solarium, reading, when Lady Patience found him. After everything that Trevelton had said—and not said—she was more intrigued than ever.
She’d come to this majestic with the purpose of finding a suitable mate for herself foremost in her mind. The men on Outworld 75 were not to her liking. At all. The lot of them were interested only in accumulating wealth, and used their wives, husbands, mistresses, girlfriends, boyfriends, and children as business properties, pawns necessary only for their ability to attract new wealth and decorate their immediate surround.
Even though Pamela’s father had been that kind of man and had accumulated enough wealth that she, an only child of two now-dead parents, was able to live however she wanted, she had no desire to partner with anyone anything like him.
Her father had been a severe and cold man, although not half so severe or cold as Clive Idrest, Marguerite’s husband, who was possibly the coldest, most severe human being Pamela had had the displeasure of meeting. Why the gorgeous, brilliant Marguerite stayed with him was a mystery not just to Pamela but to all her acquaintances as well.
“Ah, Lady Patience,” Saybrook said as he gathered himself up to his full six-foot-four height and gave her a short bow.
“Lord Saybrook,” Lady Patience said with a small curtsy. Things were so civilized here in Regency England, and Lady Patience truly appreciated that. At home, people could be rude and brusque, and often were.
“Care for a walk in the garden?” he said, offering her his arm. Yet he hardly looked at her.
“That would be lovely,” she said, taking the proffered arm. Saybrook was quite tall. Taller even than Trevelton, she thought.
Did Calvert go for walks in the garden? He was not as tall as either Trevelton or Saybrook, but he was, by far, the most handsome, magnetically attractive man on Outworld 3750, and why he was a mere butler . . .
Lady Patience and Lord Saybrook walked slowly through the rose garden, hardly speaking and often stopping to admire a particular bloom. The roses were really spectacular, much better than anything on Outworld 75, despite the legions of professional horticulturists employed there and the nourishment from the planet’s two suns.
Lady Patience could hardly feel Saybrook’s physical presence, even though she was holding on to his arm. Calvert was much sturdier-seeming than this flyaway earl. More grounded. More substantial. Saybrook could float off without notice, she thought. Was that what Trevelton had meant?
“What was that, my lord?” she said, convinced Saybrook had said something. Maybe he had.
“I said it was good of you to tolerate the intolerable Lord Trevelton, my lady,” said Saybrook as they walked past the garden gate and started on the path down to the lakeside.
“Intolerable? I hadn’t noticed,” she said.
“You don’t know him,” said Saybrook.
“Do you?” she said. This was her chance to find out what was going on between these two men who obviously had known each other before the majestic, since nothing at all had happened at Hollyhock that would’ve promoted such mutual distaste. At least she didn’t think it had.
“I do indeed, my lady,” said Saybrook. “Please don’t waste your time with him.”
“That’s fascinating,” Lady Patience said. “He said nearly the selfsame thing about you.”
By then the couple had made it to the lake and were about to start a circuit around it when Lady Patience said, “Isn’t this the very path where Lettie got so sick?”
“Lettie?” The gravel crunched under their feet.
“My lady’s maid,” Lady Patience said. “Violet Aldrich.” In case he didn’t realize who she meant.
“You see? The first night he’s here he seduces a lady’s maid, forces her to walk around in the rain and cold with him, and causes her to become deathly ill. Just as I said.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”
“Don’t be,” said Saybrook. “He means everything he does.”
“He told me you were a man about town,” she said. “But he didn’t explain it.”
“Well, there’s no town to be about here, is there?” said Saybrook. “I came here to relax, my lady, not to find myself in the company of the likes of Trevelton.”
Saybrook’s pace had quickened as he spoke, and Lady Patience found she was having some difficulty keeping up with him. Was it impolite to ask him to slow down? Fortunately for Lady Patience, a bench presented itself, and she said, “I’d like to have a seat for a moment, please, my lord.”
“Ah, of course,” said Saybrook as he paced back and forth in front of the bench.
After she’d caught her breath, she decided to be bold. Especially since this walk had convinced her that she and Saybrook had nothing at all in common, she wasn’t attracted to him in the least despite his classically handsome face, toned physique, and mane of dark blond hair, and she’d have to search elsewhere in the majestic for her future mate. If one could even be found here.
This was her first majestic with this purpose in mind, and she expected the search could take longer than she’d hoped, than the fantasy she’d had of meeting someone on the very first day, maybe the very first minute. That would’ve been grand.
“What did happen between the two of you?” she said. If Trevelton wouldn’t tell her, perhaps Saybrook would.
“His fiancée chose me,” Saybrook immediately answered. He stopped pacing for a moment, then started again.
“I see,” said Lady Patience. No wonder Trevelton was so furious with the man. But why was Saybrook so angry?
“And then Charlotte turned around and chose someone e
lse,” he said. “On our wedding day.”
Chapter 27
The time was passing too quickly, Sophia thought. Much too quickly. A thousand or a million times faster than the days she spent on Outworld 75, waiting out the endless minutes and hours until the next majestic.
She sat at her dressing table and watched in the mirror as Allene Dickens, her lady’s maid, worked wonders with her hair. Allene herself was so ordinary-looking—unremarkable brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, no distinguishing features—that Sophia thought she’d make an excellent spy. Allene could fit in everywhere and anywhere and never be noticed.
Sophia was paying extra close attention to everything Allene was doing with her mass of auburn tresses, but finally gave up when she realized that she had no idea what was going on with the hair at the back of her head. Maybe later she could surreptitiously record Allene’s ministrations so she’d be able to duplicate the hairdo when she got back home.
But she mustn’t think of home. While she was here, it didn’t exist.
They’d been at Hollyhock Manor only ten days and already Edgar had called her Marguerite. He usually didn’t do that until several weeks had passed. Yet he’d come to the majestic three days after he was supposed to have shown up, and he seemed restless and maybe even angry.
When he’d swept the unbroken glass-globed lamp off the desk and onto the floor she’d been surprised. But when he took the bronze sea goddess off the windowsill and hurled it at the opposite corner of the room, where it crashed into a crystal vase of pale pink tulips, sending the tulips flying and pulverizing the vase in the process, she was shocked.
Then he’d done up his shirt, expertly tied his cravat, shrugged into his jacket, and held out his hand to her. Without saying a word. Afterward they’d gone for a walk through Hollyhock’s beautiful woods, and stayed exploring until darkness threatened, like two children on an after-school adventure.
Before he threw the sea goddess, she’d never seen Edgar more than mildly perturbed, and certainly never violent or so wildly demonstrating his darker feelings. But, she reminded herself, he was a passionate man, and the terms of their relationship were clearly starting to wear on him.
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