‘I will tell you anything you wish,’ he said. ‘You have only to ask.’
He waited as she opened her eyes, watched her stare for a moment at the floor before slowly lifting her head and then raising her eyes to look at him.
‘Are you or are you not Valentine Lawe?’
* * *
So, this was how it began. With a simple question that had a far from simple answer. Laurence heard the drumming of his heart as everything else faded into the background. ‘Why would you ask me that?’
‘Because I heard someone say it. They claimed that...your sister didn’t tell the truth about Valentine Lawe,’ Joanna said. ‘That you...stepped forward to claim the role. Is it true?’
Thoughts raced wildly through Laurence’s mind: the ease of telling a lie versus the difficulty of telling the truth. The safety in keeping quiet versus the danger of revealing all. The consequences of what would happen—of what he stood to lose—either way.
‘I once told you that Valentine Lawe was a character in name only,’ he said.
‘You told me Valentine Lawe was your pseudonym,’ Joanna replied. ‘You led me to believe you were the author of those plays. But are you really or is your sister the one to whom all the credit should be going?’
The silence stretched long as Laurence waged a silent battle with his conscience.
Tell her the truth! whispered the voice of his heart.
No! Don’t tell her anything! argued the one in his head. The welfare of your family depends on you keeping silent. Besides, she is going to marry someone else. Why should she be the one in whom you confide?
It was a persuasive argument. Joanna owed him nothing. Not loyalty, not a promise of confidentiality, not even her trust—
‘Oh, God, you’re not him, are you?’ Joanna said, her eyes growing wide in horror. ‘You didn’t write any of those plays.’
‘You would take my silence as consent?’
‘I think I must. If the accusation were false, you would tell me, but you cannot.’ She slowly backed away from him, shock and disillusionment written all over her face. ‘Why did you do it, Laurence? Why did you pretend to be someone you were not?’
He felt as though the weight of the world had suddenly dropped on to his shoulders. How did he respond to a question like that? What words did he use when there were no easy or straightforward answers?
He tried putting himself in her place. Tried to imagine what it would be like to hear a revelation like that from someone about whom he cared so deeply. Would he feel betrayed the way she so obviously did? Feel as though everything he believed in had been blown apart by a lie?
She would never have cause to trust or believe him again.
And yet, what were his alternatives? How could he put Winifred’s happiness at risk and Victoria’s reputation in jeopardy? How could he humiliate his mother, and hold his father and uncle up to ridicule? How could he do any of those things, when telling a small untruth prevented it all?
‘There are things I cannot tell you,’ he said finally. ‘Things that, were they to be made public, would be damaging to others.’
‘But surely you can be honest with me? I thought we were friends,’ Joanna whispered, her eyes begging him to tell her what she wanted to hear. ‘Indeed, given what you told me tonight, I hoped we were...more than that. Or was that just a lie too?’
‘No!’ Laurence snapped, his voice raw with emotion. ‘I would never lie about my feelings for you.’
‘Yet you would lie to me, and to all who know you, about being Valentine Lawe,’ she said. ‘You would accept our adoration and not feel guilty about deceiving us—’
‘Joanna, it wasn’t like that!’
‘No? Then what was it like?’ she flung at him. ‘It obviously isn’t enough that you are a gentleman and a scholar. You had to lie to your friends...to me...in order to make yourself look better in the eyes of the world. Is your ego so inflated that you need set yourself up as someone you’re not? Does the public’s adulation really mean so much?’
Laurence reeled as accusation after accusation slammed into him, cutting him to the bone and laying bare his soul. She didn’t understand anything about him—yet she was judging him regardless. ‘You believe I would do something like that just to gain notoriety?’
‘What other reason could there be? I have seen the evidence of your popularity with my own eyes,’ Joanna said. ‘Marriageable young girls follow you wherever you go. You mingle with the best in society and dine at the homes of viscounts and earls. It must be a heady feeling for a man who actually has so little to his name.’
Her disgust was evident—and it tore a hole in Laurence’s heart. ‘If that is what you believe, perhaps it is just as well we are having this conversation now. It has allowed me to see what you really think of me and to learn what your feelings towards me truly are. Because if you believe in your heart that I need the validation of others to make me feel better about myself,’ Laurence said, ‘you really don’t know me at all.’
‘No, Mr Bretton, I do not...and I am sorry to say that because I have come to like you very much. Indeed, far more than I should,’ Joanna said as tears pooled in her eyes. ‘But you have corrected my misconceptions and I shall not make the mistake again. I know now what you are and it is not a man to be admired.’ She turned to go, pausing only long enough to say, ‘For all your criticism of Captain Sterne, at least he hasn’t lied to me.’
Laurence made no move to stop her. Furious with himself and the situation, he walked back to the drawing room where he stayed only long enough to hear the speeches given by Mr Fulton and his father, before escaping to the privacy of his study and reaching for the decanter of brandy. He was in no mood for company and no one was likely to want his. Not after what had happened tonight.
He had fought for Joanna’s love, but not won it, and had won her respect, only to lose it.
It was a greater tragedy than even the Bard himself could have written.
* * *
He was on his fourth glass of brandy when Victoria found him.
‘There you are, Laurence!’ she said, walking into the room. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere. The Northrups are ready to leave, but they cannot find Joanna.’
‘She left.’ Laurence raised the glass to his lips, surprised at how steady his hand was. ‘Hours ago.’
‘On her own?’ Victoria frowned. ‘Why would she do that?’
‘Because she found out something that made it impossible for her to stay.’
‘Found out? What could she have found out that would—’ Victoria looked more closely at his face, and then glanced at the empty decanter. ‘Oh, no! Please don’t tell me she knows about—’
‘My not really being Valentine Lawe?’ Laurence said. ‘Yes, I’m afraid she does. And she was none too pleased about it, I can tell you.’
‘But how on earth did she find out? Surely you didn’t tell her?’
‘Do you think me mad?’ Laurence snapped. ‘Apparently, she overheard a conversation.’
‘Between whom?’
‘Who knows, though it had to be someone in the family. No one else knows.’
Victoria abruptly sat down. ‘Mama and Aunt Tandy went upstairs for a while. It’s possible they may have said something that Lady Joanna overheard. But...what did you say to her when she confronted you with it?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’
‘She asked me if I was the author of those plays and I refused to answer,’ Laurence said. ‘She drew her own conclusions.’
‘Oh, Laurence. Was she very angry?’
‘Let’s just say that whatever hopes I might have had in the lady’s direction no longer exist.’
‘Oh, my dear, I am so very sorry. Why didn’t you tell her the truth?’
‘Because telling her the truth would have put everyone else’s happiness at risk and I wasn’t in a position to do that,’ Laurence said. ‘Winifred told me the other night that the only reason Fulton
had proposed to her was because I had stepped forwards to claim the role of Valentine Lawe. Had I not done that, we would not now be celebrating their engagement. What do you think Fulton would do if he were to find out the truth now?’
‘I don’t know. But surely it will not come to that? You cannot be certain Lady Joanna will tell anyone.’
‘No, but neither can I be certain that she will not and therein lies the problem. She doesn’t owe me her loyalty. She’s going to marry Captain Sterne.’
Victoria’s eyes widened. ‘Did she tell you that?’
‘No, but I know he intends to ask and circumstances demand that she marry a wealthy man. Sterne fits the bill.’
‘Oh, Laurie, I don’t know what to say,’ Victoria said. ‘I was much more inclined to go along with the story when it was only my own happiness that was at stake, but now to see the lie become the source of so much heartache for you—’
‘Don’t, Tory,’ Laurence said, though his voice was gentle. ‘None of this is your fault and recriminations won’t do us any good. We knew the risks when we made the choice to continue with the charade.’
‘So what are we going to do?’
‘We aren’t going to do anything,’ Laurence said, putting his empty glass on the table. ‘Winifred is going to marry Mr Fulton, you are going to carry on exactly as you are and I am going to continue playing the role of Valentine Lawe. That is what we, as a family, decided to do. I do not intend that everyone should be called together again for a change in direction.’
‘But what if Lady Joanna says something?’
Laurence felt a stabbing pain in the middle of his chest, as though his heart was being cut out by a dull knife. ‘I would call her story false. As much as I would hate to do it, I would stand by the story we have been telling all along and let society make up its own mind.’
‘Oh, Laurence, I cannot bear to think that this might all fall down around us,’ Victoria whispered. ‘Everything was going along so well.’
‘Everything still is. We just have to carry on.’
‘Do you really think Lady Joanna would be so vengeful?’
‘I have no idea,’ Laurence said in a voice of deep regret. ‘Before tonight, I thought I knew the lady. As it turns out, I really didn’t know her at all.’
* * *
The megrim did not go away. Joanna stayed to her room and suffered with it through two more days before the throbbing finally began to subside. But even as the pain in her head eased, the crushing ache in her heart took over.
How could this have happened to her? How could she have fallen in love with a man who had to lie in order to make himself look better in the eyes of the world? A man who would pretend to be someone he was not?
It was hard to believe she had let herself be so thoroughly taken in.
Laurence was not Valentine Lawe. He had lied to her outright and hadn’t even had the decency to admit it. Maybe he did have a good reason for claiming to be someone he was not, but if he cared about her the way he said he did, surely he would have found some way of telling her what she needed to know. By refusing to answer, all he had done was make it painfully obvious that he didn’t trust her with the truth.
Then he had turned everything back on her by trying to blame her for not having enough faith in him! What kind of a man did that?
Clearly, one with no conscience. One who didn’t care that he destroyed other people’s lives in the pursuit of his own happiness.
A man she did not wish to know.
Unfortunately, the situation with Laurence was not the only bleak spot in Joanna’s life. While she had been shut away in the dark cocoon of her room, her father and aunt had been having conversations and the results, made known to her over breakfast that morning, had done nothing to raise her spirits.
She was not allowed to go to Egypt. It seemed that with the addition of Laurence to the expedition, the potential for scandal was simply too great. Her aunt had informed her that she had to consider Joanna’s reputation in light of the altered circumstances, and that unless she was married to Captain Sterne by the date the expedition set sail, she would not be allowed to go and there would be no more trips for her in the foreseeable future.
Was it any wonder there was no joy in her heart as she stood beside Mrs Gavin at the Barker-Howards’ musicale that evening?
‘You need to get out in the fresh air, Joanna,’ Mrs Gavin said. ‘You are looking decidedly pale and unbecomingly drawn.’
Dragged from the murkiness of her thoughts, Joanna managed a cynical smile. ‘Thank you, Aunt Florence. It is always nice to know that one looks as dreadful as one feels.’
‘I’m sorry, my dear, but you know I have always been one for speaking the truth, and if it is of any consolation, I do know what you are going through. I have suffered with megrims for most of my life and know how debilitating they can be. No doubt you inherited them from our side of the family.’
‘Yes, no doubt,’ Joanna said listlessly
Her aunt cast a worried glance in her direction, and then said after a sigh, ‘Lady Cynthia told me about the conversation the two of you had this morning, about your going to Egypt in the spring.’
‘You mean about my not going to Egypt,’ Joanna muttered, the knowledge twisting inside her like so many snakes.
‘Well, I cannot say I am all that surprised. You cannot expect her to be happy at the thought of her unmarried niece living under the same roof, so to speak, as two single gentlemen. I certainly wouldn’t allow Jane to do such a thing.’
‘Jane and I are entirely different people.’
‘On the contrary, you are both unmarried females in need of husbands,’ Mrs Gavin said. ‘The similarities need be no greater than that.’
‘I still don’t see what all the fuss is about,’ Joanna said. ‘It is not as though I would be alone with Captain Sterne or with Mr Bretton. Papa would be there the entire time.’
‘Yes, but men don’t look at these things the same way we do. Everyone knows how distracted your father gets when he is working. I dare say you could be having a torrid affair with both gentlemen and he wouldn’t even notice.’
‘Aunt Florence!’
‘Now, now, child, I’m not saying you would,’ her aunt said. ‘But there is a reason why chaperons are usually women. And you really must try to see the situation from your aunt’s point of view. It was bad enough when only Captain Sterne was going. He, at least, has an interest in archaeological explorations and a pre-established connection with your father. But Mr Bretton is a handsome and eligible bachelor who has made his interest in you plain, but who cannot be viewed as a potential husband because of who and what he is. It was only to be expected that when word of his accompanying you and your father got out, eyebrows would be raised.’
The knowledge that people were whispering about them did not make for welcome news, but Joanna knew better than to doubt it. Society lived for gossip—even the possibility of a scandal was music to its ears.
‘Still, I really do not see why you are so downcast,’ Mrs Gavin continued more briskly. ‘You have said all along that you are not interested in Mr Bretton, and if you marry Captain Sterne, you will be able to go on the expedition as his wife. Plus he has the wherewithal to pay off your father’s debts and, from what I understand, has expressed a willingness to do so. So why should you not marry him when doing so will take care of everyone’s problems?’
Because I don’t love him, Joanna raged silently. Because I cannot think of any man when I am still so desperately in love with Laurence—
‘Good evening, Lady Joanna, Mrs Gavin.’
The arrival of Captain Sterne did not come as a surprise. Joanna had noticed him talking to Mrs Barker-Howard shortly after her arrival, but had not sought him out, even though he had smiled warmly in her direction. She was not in the frame of mind to see him, especially when she knew how matters stood between them. ‘Captain Sterne.’
‘I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Lady Joan
na,’ the gentleman said. ‘You have not been at home the last three times I called.’
‘Only because there has been much to keep me occupied elsewhere,’ Joanna said, guiltily aware that on two of the three occasions, she had stayed upstairs in her room.
‘Indeed, but it is a pleasure to see you here at last.’
‘Well, I think I shall go and have a word with Mrs Taylor,’ Mrs Gavin said. ‘I am finding her to be quite delightful company. Your father would do well to spend some time with the lady.’
‘I hope you do not think to promote a match, Aunt,’ Joanna said. ‘You know how Papa feels about the subject.’
‘I do, but it will not hurt him to spend a little time in conversation with her. If he does not, he will forget the art altogether and end up a dried-up recluse with whom no one wishes to associate.’ Having made that dire prognostication, Mrs Gavin left them to seek out the lovely and very wealthy young widow.
‘I take it your father has no wish to remarry?’ Sterne commented.
‘He is resistant to the idea,’ Joanna said.
‘Then you cannot afford to be.’ His glance moved in her direction. ‘Have you given any more thought to what we talked about?’
Joanna’s lips compressed. She didn’t want to think about this right now, let alone to talk about it in a room filled with hundreds of people. ‘No, but neither am I in a hurry to marry.’
‘You should be.’ Sterne lifted the glass to his lips. ‘From what I hear, your father’s creditors are growing anxious and money lenders can become very unfriendly in such cases. The sooner you marry me, the sooner I can start taking care of things.’
‘Why me?’ Joanna asked in confusion. ‘Why marry someone as penniless as me? You could have your pick of any woman here. Any woman you desire.’
‘Yes, but I desire you,’ Sterne said, his eyes darkening as he stared down at her. ‘Does that come as such a surprise? You must know how beautiful you are.’
Gail Whitiker Page 20
