‘By Lady Cynthia?’
‘My sister may have something to say about it if Joanna hasn’t made up her mind about marriage,’ Bonnington said, ‘but I suspect that decision will have been made by then, since Captain Sterne has already informed me of his desire to marry Joanna.’
Somehow, Laurence managed not to flinch. ‘And did you give him your permission?’
The earl shrugged. ‘I saw no reason not to. Sterne has much to recommend him, both as a husband and as a son-in-law,’ Bonnington said. ‘But he is well aware of what is and is not acceptable to society and allowing his wife to travel with him to Egypt will certainly fall into the latter category.’
‘So even knowing what it would mean—what Lady Joanna would be forced to give up—you would let her marry him?’ Laurence said.
‘Let her marry him?’ Bonnington said, frowning. ‘My dear Mr Bretton, it would be in everyone’s best interests for me to encourage her to do so. You must have heard the rumours about my...unfortunate circumstances.’
Laurence shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Really?’ Bonnington’s mouth twisted. ‘I thought it was the topic of conversation in society drawing rooms.’
‘Perhaps I do not frequent the right drawing rooms.’
‘No, perhaps not. Still, you will hear about it sooner or later. The fact is, the estate I inherited is falling down around my ears. My late brother and nephew did an excellent job of going through a great deal of money with the end result being that I am now poised on the brink of ruin,’ Bonnington said. ‘As such, I have no choice but to pin my hopes on Joanna marrying an exceedingly wealthy man. And Captain Sterne is that wealthy.’
The news was astonishing...and devastating, Laurence acknowledged. Not only did his position in society—or lack thereof—preclude him from pursuing a more intimate relationship with Joanna, but his lack of the necessary wherewithal to support not only her but a bankrupt estate put him completely out of the running for her hand. ‘I had...no idea.’
‘It is not the kind of thing a man wishes to spread around,’ the earl acknowledged in a heavy voice, ‘but neither can I deny the fact that I am in dire straits. And while I would rather see Joanna marry a man for whom she feels the deepest affection, one cannot always have what one wishes. She must do what it best for the good of the family.’
So you never stood a chance, Laurence thought, the confirmation of his suspicions none the easier for having heard them spoken aloud. Being the son of a country gentleman who owned no property at all was not in the least distinguished. The house on Green Street belonged to his uncle, who kindly allowed Laurence and his family to use it while they were in London, and the house in Kent was owned by the local peer. What chance was there that Lord Bonnington would ever have considered him a suitable husband for his only daughter?
‘It will be a bitter pill for Joanna to swallow, of course,’ her father was saying, ‘but she won’t have any choice. Sterne will keep her in a fine house, several if I’m not mistaken, and she will have everything a young woman could wish for. But her place will be in the home.’
‘Do you know that for a fact?’
‘As good as, Mr Bretton, as good as,’ Bonnington said with a sigh. ‘Sterne accompanied me on an expedition a few years ago. We spent many a long hour talking into the night. He has quite rigid social and moral beliefs. I suspect he will have Joanna with child before the year is out and I venture to say she will never leave England again, which is a great pity, for my daughter has an exceptional mind and a natural flair for drawing. However, that is the way of the world. But you didn’t come here to talk about Joanna,’ Bonnington said, sitting down in his chair. ‘Are you sure there is nothing I can say that will convince you to join us?’
Laurence glanced around the room, admiring the scrolls and the bits of jewellery the earl had collected during his travels, many of them thousands of years old, and realised that Bonnington was right. Everything in this room was what Laurence loved. He knew the language, he had studied the history, and it all came so easily to him...unlike writing plays, which until recently, had been an uphill battle.
Yes, he would be walking away from something that had brought him fame and turned his life around in a very short time, but he was convinced he could pick up the writing when he got back. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Besides, if what Bonnington said was true, Joanna wasn’t even going to be on the expedition. He wouldn’t have to see her, day after day, knowing that she went to Sterne’s bed every night. He wouldn’t have to watch her grow round with another man’s child and pretend to be happy for her sake.
He wasn’t that good an actor. The knowledge she wasn’t going to be there was the one thing—the only thing—that made his going possible.
‘I believe I’ve had a change of heart, my lord,’ Laurence said quietly. ‘In thinking over everything you’ve said, I realise I would very much like to be a part of your team.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure.’ Laurence glanced at Joanna’s sketch of Ramesses I on the wall behind the earl’s desk and knew she would be heartbroken at the thought of another artist taking her place. But that was not his concern. He had to think of her welfare and of her future.
Her father had accepted the fact that Joanna was going to marry Captain Sterne. The sooner Laurence did the same, the better off they would all be.
* * *
Joanna had heard the news that Laurence would be joining the expedition when she got home later that morning. She had suspected he would come early and had gone out so as to avoid being at home when he arrived to give her father the news. But when she had learned that he had accepted the offer, it was all she could do not to go down on her knees and beg her father to revoke his acceptance. With all her heart, she had prayed that Laurence would turn it down.
‘So, you’ve decided to give up your career as a playwright?’ Joanna said as the two of them stood sipping champagne at Lord and Lady Kingston’s soirée on the Monday evening following.
‘Not at all.’ Keeping his eyes on their hostess, Laurence raised an exquisite cut-crystal glass to his lips. ‘It will simply not be my focus during the time I am away.’
Joanna likewise raised her glass and pretended to study the very select group of people sharing the elegant drawing room with them. With the exception of Laurence, they were all titled and wealthy, many of them sporting ancient titles and equally ancient fortunes. Yet they had all welcomed Laurence with open arms—an honour seldom accorded to one so closely associated with the theatre.
Still, why would they not accept him? Joanna mused. Laurence was as handsome, as charming, and as agreeable as any man in the room. His smile was sincere, his interest in what they were saying genuine, and no matter what manner of conversation he was invited to take part in, he was able to hold his own, whether it be about politics or the finer points of shooting.
He really was a remarkable man—and Joanna was glad she’d had the weekend to come to terms with the news that he would be accompanying them to Egypt. It had given her time to gather her thoughts and to figure out how she was going to cope with the problem of seeing him every day—because it was going to be a problem.
He had worked his way into her heart. Little by little, he had charmed her with his humility and beguiled her with his wit. Was it any wonder she had fallen head over heels in love with him?
Regretfully, it was an awareness that brought with it no pleasure. It did nothing to assuage her fears over the prospect of the three of them spending almost a year together in Egypt. If anything, for the first time, it made the idea of going to Egypt far less appealing. It was the reason she had purposely played up the hardships of the journey to Laurence and made no mention of the pleasures. She had tried to put him off by exaggerating the quantity of work and the endless hours he would be required to put in, but she had done it for her sake, not his.
Yet he had still decided to join them. Now she would be forced
to work with him, day after day, to dine with him every night and to be amiable to both him and Sterne for as long as the expedition lasted. To pretend not to be in love with him.
How ever was she to bear it?
‘By the way, I came across this while I was out yesterday,’ Laurence said, taking a small velvet bag from his pocket and handing it to her. ‘I thought you might like it.’
Joanna put down her glass and, taking the bag, undid the cord and tipped the contents of the bag into the palm of her hand.
An amulet slipped out, a golden disk suspended on a metal chain, and on the disk a raised image of the winged goddess Isis. Joanna’s eyes widened in shock. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘From the same fellow who supplies me with books,’ Laurence said. ‘Apparently, he took it from a man who offered it in payment for an old manuscript. The shop owner thought it was a copy, but I believe it to be genuine.’
‘I think you’re right,’ Joanna said, turning the disk over in her palm. ‘But Papa would be the one to ask. The workmanship is incredible.’
‘Yes, it is. That’s why I want you to have it.’
‘Me?’ Joanna glanced at him in astonishment. ‘I cannot accept this.’
‘Why not? You said you liked it.’
‘I do, but I couldn’t possibly keep it. It would be highly inappropriate.’
‘This from a young lady who prefers digging in the desert to attending fashionable soirées in Mayfair? What is that if not inappropriate?’
‘That is a quirk of my nature,’ Joanna said ruefully. ‘But this...you know what society would say if I were to accept a gift from a man to whom I am neither related nor promised.’
‘Society already frowns on you, Lady Joanna,’ Laurence said, handing his empty glass to a passing waiter. ‘I don’t see that accepting a token like this from me is going to make it any worse. However, if it makes you feel better, you can say you found it on your father’s last expedition.’
Joanna looked down at the exquisitely wrought piece of jewellery and waged a silent and desperate battle with her conscience. It was a beautiful piece of Egyptian handiwork, but it was also a gift from a man who, no matter what her feelings for him, could never be more than a friend. ‘I am sorry, Mr Bretton, but I really cannot accept this. It wouldn’t be right.’
She went to give it back to him, but Laurence closed her fingers around it and gently pushed it back. ‘Please don’t. This is something I know you, more than any woman of my acquaintance, would appreciate and I really would like you to have it. Perhaps it will remind you of me in the future.’
Yes, it would, Joanna thought painfully, and that was precisely the reason she did not wish to have it.
She gazed down at the figure of Isis, inlaid with tiny pieces of lapis and gold filigree, and marvelled at the delicacy of the work. Thousands of years ago, a goldsmith had sat over his fire, forging this piece of jewellery, carefully cutting the lapis into exactly the right shapes and painstakingly perfecting his image of the goddess. He might have made it for his wife...or for a queen. Now it was in her hands. ‘I thought you did not approve of artefacts being taken from the tombs for personal use,’ Joanna said, her voice husky.
‘Perhaps I’m not as staunch in my beliefs as I thought.’ Laurence laughed, but there was an echo of sadness in the sound. ‘Or maybe, had I found it myself, I would have taken it to a museum, but because it came to me in the manner it did, I suffered no guilt about making a present of it to you.’
‘Could you not return it to the man who gave it to you?’
‘What would be the point? He would only sell it to the next customer who walked through the door. Someone who would never appreciate its value the way you would. That is why you are the one who should be wearing it.’
Joanna had no idea what else to say...and in truth, she didn’t want to give it back. She wanted to keep it, knowing it would always be a very special and personal gift from the man she loved and would never be with.
‘Thank you,’ she said, slipping the amulet back into its velvet pouch. ‘It is...exceedingly kind of you.’
‘Kindness has nothing to do with it,’ he muttered. ‘Call it a peace offering, if you like. We didn’t get off to the best of starts and it’s been more of a rocky road than a smooth passage ever since. Or...’ he said, his eyes back on the people around them, ‘you could consider it...an early wedding present.’
Joanna stared at him, shock causing her to draw a quick, sharp breath. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Come, Lady Joanna, there is no reason to blush. Captain Sterne made his intentions very clear the night of your aunt’s dinner party. Obviously he wanted to make sure I knew to stay well away from you and so said what he did when I was standing close enough to hear. Sadly, it comes as no surprise.’
‘It doesn’t?’
Laurence shook his head. ‘I have recently been made aware of your need to marry a wealthy man.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Her cheeks paled. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘London is not so large that a gentleman’s circumstances can go too long unnoticed,’ Laurence said, avoiding her gaze. ‘You must marry a rich man and it is clear Captain Sterne is that man. You could do a lot worse. You could end up leg-shackled to someone like Mr Rowe.’
‘I would never marry Mr Rowe!’ Joanna said, knowing it for the truth. ‘Not even if not doing so meant my father and I would end up in the streets!’
‘Fortunately, such drastic measures will not be called for. Sterne is wealthy, well bred and shares your interest in Egyptian archaeology. What more could you ask for?’
I could ask for you! Joanna cried silently. I could tell you that I don’t care about all those other things. That I love you, and that all that matters is being with you....
‘Mr Bretton, you really don’t understand—’
‘Yes, Lady Joanna, I do. More than you can possibly know.’ His voice was soft, his eyes holding hers, the brilliant blue muted to cobalt. ‘You must do everything you can...whatever is necessary...to save your home and your father’s reputation. Indeed, your very way of life. Trust me, I know of what I speak. I could not stand by and see you throw it all away as a result of...a bad choice in husbands. Speaking of which,’ Laurence said, grabbing another glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, ‘Winifred has at long last received a proposal from Mr Fulton and they are to be married. Naturally, my parents are delighted and a celebration is being planned. You will be sent an invitation, but I thought I would mention it in advance. Next Thursday is the date I believe they’ve settled upon.’
Joanna nodded, her throat growing tighter by the minute. ‘Thank you.’ How could she make him understand how painful this was for her? How much she wanted to be with him... ‘If my aunt has not made other arrangements, I shall be...pleased to attend.’
‘Good.’ His smile, always attractive, seemed suddenly dazzling. ‘It will be a good way to finish off the year. At least for her—’
‘Ah, Mr Bretton, there you are,’ Lady Kingston said. ‘I wonder if you would be willing to lend your expertise to a discussion Lady Stanford and I are having about A Midsummer Night’s Dream. We have a difference of opinion as to the point Mr Shakespeare was really trying to make.’
‘I would be delighted, Lady Kingston.’ Laurence’s faint smile held a trace of sadness as he glanced at the velvet pouch in Joanna’s hand. ‘I have always had a particular fondness for Shakespeare’s romantic works.’
* * *
It wasn’t long before Laurence found out that Joanna was not the only one who harboured grave concerns about his going to Egypt.
The very next afternoon, Sir Michael Loftus called to see him.
‘My apologies for troubling you, Mr Bretton, but I heard a bizarre rumour at my club last night that you were planning to go to Egypt,’ the gentleman said. ‘I told the fellow it was nonsense, of course, but he would have it that you were bound and determined to go.’
‘It is no
t nonsense, Sir Michael,’ Laurence said. ‘I have agreed to accompany Lord Bonnington on his next expedition to Egypt and—’
‘Egypt! Are you mad? You cannot leave now, and certainly not to go off to some God-forsaken country for months at a time. You have a commitment to finish a play!’
‘Which I fully intend to honour,’ Laurence said without raising his voice. ‘But as I said, it will be on my schedule. This is the fulfilment of a dream—’
‘Excuse me, but I thought your dream was to see one of your plays performed at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane,’ Sir Michael snapped. ‘Damn it, man, you’re a playwright, not an archaeologist!’
Laurence forced a smile. ‘No one knows that better than I, Sir Michael, but I’ve told Lord Bonnington that I will accompany him to Egypt and I intend to stand by my word.’
‘And what about your word to me, sir?’ Sir Michael demanded. ‘Have you forgotten that you said you would deliver your next play to me before the end of the Season?’
‘I have not, but since we do not leave until the middle of February, I see no reason why the play will not be finished by then. I would also remind you that I did not promise that my next play would be written for Drury Lane. If my uncle and I feel the Gryphon is a more suitable venue, we must consider that as well.’
‘I see. Well, this is very interesting,’ Sir Michael said, rocking back and forth on his heels. ‘I thought we had reached an accord, Mr Bretton. You were to write a play and I was to assist you in seeing it staged at Drury Lane. It was to have been a step forwards in your career; an opportunity presented you might never otherwise have had. It would be a pity to see that opportunity withdrawn and your career to fall back. Or to have your audience slip away altogether.’
Laurence’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘I think you do,’ Sir Michael said. ‘The theatre is a highly competitive business, Mr Bretton. You know how it is. Conflicting scheduling of plays. Actors and actresses defecting to other companies. Bad reviews. They can all have a disastrous effect on a playwright’s career. And on a theatre manager’s, I might add. Consider yourself...warned.’
Gail Whitiker Page 18
