Joanna closed her eyes as the memory of Laurence’s words washed over her.
...I would tell you that you are, without question, the most beautiful and desirable woman I have ever known and that the thought of seeing you married to another man tears me apart...
Beautiful words, Joanna reflected sadly, but meaningless. Laurence’s feelings for her had not persuaded him to tell her the truth. She still didn’t know who he really was or why he had entered into the lie. And the acceptance of that truth made her realise that she no longer had a choice. Whatever she had once felt for Laurence must now be put aside. He had shown himself for who he really was. A man without conscience. One who could pretend to be someone else in order to give meaning to his life.
A man like that had no place in her heart...or in her future. Life was about practical matters, like marrying and setting up a home. It was about having children and watching them grow up, because now more than ever Joanna needed something to give meaning to her life.
A heart grew old and tired with nothing but memories to sustain it...
‘Lady Joanna?’
Sterne’s voice brought her back...and Joanna knew what she had to do. What answer she had to give him. But she couldn’t do it tonight. She needed time to come to terms with what her future was going to be—and the fact that Laurence was never going to play a part in it.
‘I will not give you an answer here, Captain Sterne,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But I will answer you before the week is out.’
‘Have I your word on that?’
‘Yes.’ She looked up at him, praying that, in time, she might find something about him to love. ‘But there is something I need to ask you first.’
‘Of course.’
‘If I were to agree to become your wife, would you allow me to travel to Egypt with you in the spring?’ Joanna asked. ‘And to continue allowing me to travel with my father on any expeditions he might undertake in the future?’
She saw a slight arching of one eyebrow. ‘Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself? The trip is still months away. You may feel differently when the time comes. After all, you will be a married woman by then and may have developed other interests.’
‘I may have developed other interests, but being your wife will not lessen my desire to go to Egypt,’ Joanna said. ‘You know how much the work means to me.’
Nothing changed in Sterne’s expression; neither surprise nor disappointment registered on his face. But his voice was thoughtful when he said, ‘Yes, I do. Indeed, I have never known a woman so passionate about a field so far removed from those normally associated with female endeavours. However, since my only goal is to make you happy, I wouldn’t dream of standing in the way of you achieving your desires, or force you to remain here in London.’ He smiled at her with practised charm. ‘And on that, Lady Joanna, you have my word.’
* * *
If there was one thing Laurence learned over the next few weeks, it was that work was a great panacea for heartache. The morning after Winifred’s engagement celebration, he sat down to work on his new play and scarcely looked up until it was finished. In all of that time, he hardly slept, took most of his meals in his room and only went out to buy more paper.
And he steadfastly and resolutely refused to think about Joanna.
What was the point? She obviously wasn’t thinking about him. No letters had arrived, asking him to call upon her, nor had she come to see him with a view to clarifying the situation between them. Clearly, in her mind, he was a liar and a fraud. That was all she needed to know.
Besides, it was entirely possible that her own circumstances had changed. Though no news of an engagement had been made public, Laurence had no reason to assume she was not now betrothed to Captain Sterne. She would become his wife and even though she knew how much he cared for her, she hadn’t had the decency to send him a letter informing him of her status as a newly engaged woman.
By God, she must truly despise him.
Either that or she didn’t care, Laurence reflected as he sat with his uncle over lunch a week later. Maybe she hadn’t wasted a moment’s thought on him after they had parted company that night. To his knowledge, no questions about his being Valentine Lawe had been raised, nor had any rumours or gossip made its way back to anyone else in the family.
Did that mean the danger of exposure was past? Surely if Joanna had intended to strike back at him, she would have done so by now.
His uncle certainly seemed to think so.
‘After all, what would be the point in waiting?’ Theo asked. ‘Any woman that angry would naturally lash out before she had a chance to calm down and change her mind. But there has been no word to that effect. Indeed, Lady Joanna hasn’t been seen much in society at all.’
It should have made Laurence feel better, but if anything, it only exacerbated his feelings of guilt. She had not exposed him. Despite the disgust in which she must surely hold him, she had not said anything to threaten his reputation or to tarnish the good name of his family. She had simply slipped back into the shadows of his life...
‘So, the play is finished.’
Laurence looked up to see his uncle thumbing through the pages of his completed manuscript. ‘Yes, such as it is. I’ll be interested in hearing what you think.’
‘I like the opening scenes very much,’ Theo said. ‘But I have to say it’s not what I was expecting.’
‘Is that a kind way of saying it’s not worthy of being published?’
‘Good God, no! It’s off to a fine start and the writing is excellent. But if the story continues in this vein, I’m not sure Loftus is going to approve.’
‘I didn’t write it for Loftus,’ Laurence said quietly. ‘I wrote it because I was inspired to do so.’
Theo chuckled. ‘So the muse spoke to you, did she?’
Laurence thought about Joanna, remembering how she had advised him to combine his two great passions and write a story set in the distant past. If that made her his muse, so be it. ‘You could say that, yes.’
‘Well, I promise I’ll read it as soon as I can and let you know what I think. Then, I’ll either pass it on to Loftus or give it back to you. Either way, I’m proud of you, Laurence. I wasn’t sure you had it in you to finish a full-length work, but this more than proves that you can.’
‘I’ll wait to hear what you think about the entire piece before I let the compliment go to my head,’ Laurence said, not about to get his hopes up. ‘Just because I’m able to finish something doesn’t mean it’s worthy of being shown to anyone else. It may end up in the grate, where all bad manuscripts go to die.’
‘And what will you do then?’
‘Carry on with my life.’
‘What about your plans to go to Egypt?’
‘Uncertain.’
‘Why? Because of Valentine Lawe...or Lady Joanna Northrup?’
Laurence’s mouth tightened. ‘Lady Joanna has nothing to do with it.’
‘Rubbish! Lady Joanna has everything to do with it and if you want my advice—’
‘I don’t.’
‘—you will sit down with her and patch things up.’
‘That is not my decision to make. She was the one who walked out.’
‘Of course, because you were the one who told the lie.’
‘I told the lie?’ Laurence couldn’t believe his ears. ‘You were the one who said it was the right thing to do! The one who’s said all along that we have to perpetuate the myth.’
‘Yes, because it was the best way to avoid society’s scorn and the fallout that would naturally occur. But you have to decide to whom you tell the truth and who you leave in ignorance,’ Theo said. ‘Victoria told Devlin because she loved him. She didn’t know how he was going to react, but she took the risk because she felt he deserved to know.’
‘So now you’re questioning my love for Joanna?’
‘No. I’m questioning your faith in her.’
‘She’s going to marry someone else!’ Laurence all
but shouted. ‘How much faith am I supposed to have in her?’
‘I admit that does make things a little more difficult,’ Theo acknowledged, ‘but all is not lost. Until the minister pronounces them husband and wife, there is still hope.’
Laurence shook his head. ‘Your perception of faith and mine are very different, Uncle. I gave up all hope of Joanna choosing me when she accused me of playing Valentine Lawe in order to satisfy my need for public adoration. Any woman who believes that cannot have much faith or affection for me to begin with.’
* * *
It was a couple of weeks before Joanna saw Laurence again, and when she did, it was in the very shop where they first met. She was browsing through a selection of books when she heard the bell over the front door ring and looked up to see Laurence and his sister walk in. They were talking quietly and did not notice her. But when the young lady standing next to Joanna dropped a book that landed with a resounding thud, they both turned to glance in her direction.
Joanna held her breath, afraid to look, but unable to resist the temptation.
Laurence was staring at her, but he did not smile. He just stood there unmoving, his expression remote, his manner as cold as that of a marble statue.
Sick at heart, Joanna went back to her browsing. So, nothing had changed. He obviously still thought she was in the wrong and intended to continue his avoidance of her.
How far they had come over the past few weeks. It was impossible now to equate the distant, aloof man with the one who had gazed at her so warmly on the night of the theatre outing. His indifference lodged like a steel weight in her chest and her throat burned with the effort of holding back tears.
But she would not let him see her desolation. It could no longer be of any concern what Laurence Bretton thought of her. He had communicated very clearly his lack of feelings when he had made the decision not to tell her the truth about Valentine Lawe—
‘Lady Joanna.’
Her fingers froze on the spine of the book at hand. ‘Mr Bretton.’
‘Forgive me for having interrupted your browsing.’
‘You did not.’ Joanna pulled out the book and dropped it into her basket. ‘I found what I was looking for.’ She had no idea what the book was, nor did she care. All she wanted was for him to go away and leave her alone. She wasn’t ready to deal with this...with him...
‘I trust you are well?’ he asked in a polite, remote voice.
‘I am, thank you.’
‘And your father?’
‘Fine.’ Her face felt as stiff as a board, but she forced herself to continue the conversation. ‘He was wondering why you have not been around to see him. He thought perhaps you had...changed your mind about going on the expedition.’
‘I have been busy with other things.’
‘Writing a new play, perhaps?’
Joanna could have bitten her tongue. The words, sarcastic and judgemental, caused a blind to drop down over Laurence’s eyes. ‘As a matter of fact, I have, though I don’t expect you to believe that.’
‘If you say you are writing, it is not for me to question your word.’
‘You did before.’
Unwelcome heat burned and she glanced away. ‘That was in the past. I really don’t care what you do now, Mr Bretton.’
‘Yes, you made that perfectly clear when last we spoke,’ he said quietly. ‘But I had hoped that with time your thoughts might have taken a more forgiving turn.’
‘Forgiving?’ Surprised, Joanna looked back at him. ‘Why would you think that? Nothing has changed. You are still playing the part of the playwright and deceiving everyone you know. How am I to see that as an admirable quality or one deserving of my respect?’
His expression was briefly one of pain before his cheeks darkened and he said, ‘We all do things for a reason, Lady Joanna. The fact we do not choose to divulge those reasons should not be held against us. However, I did not come over here to rake up past grievances. I came to ask if I am to wish you happy.’
‘Happy?’ Joanna knew exactly what he was referring to, but if he could pretend ignorance, so could she. ‘In what regard?’
‘Your engagement to Captain Sterne. I thought a decision might have been reached.’
‘I see no reason why that should be of concern to you.’
‘Nevertheless, it is,’ Laurence said. ‘And I would ask, for the sake of a friendship I believe we once had, whether or not you have agreed to marry him.’
Part of her wanted to lie—that small spiteful part, desperate to inflict the same kind of pain he had inflicted on her. But what would be the point? She would feel no better walking away as a result of having been dishonest with him. Two wrongs did not make a right. ‘No, Mr Bretton, I have not,’ she said finally.
His brows flickered. ‘You turned him down?
‘No. I have not yet given him an answer.’
‘But he has asked.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then why have you not answered him?’
‘The reasons don’t matter.’
‘They do to me,’ Laurence said.
‘Unfortunately, as you said yourself, we all do things for a reason, but we do not always choose to make those reasons known.’
‘So because I have not been honest with you, you have no intention of being honest with me.’
Joanna raised her chin. She wasn’t about to tell him she hadn’t agreed to marry Captain Sterne because the sight of him failed to cause even the slightest quickening of her pulse. Or that she didn’t count the hours until they were together again, or wish that the hours they had together might last for ever, the way she did with Laurence. He didn’t deserve to know any of that. It was bad enough she couldn’t shake the awareness of it herself. ‘I think that only fair.’
Laurence glanced at the book in her basket, then at the young lady standing further along the row. Anywhere, it seemed, but at her. ‘I see.’
‘No, you don’t see,’ Joanna said, suddenly feeling as brittle as glass, knowing that if he touched her, she would shatter. ‘If I was with you, my life would become as much of a lie as yours is. I would be forced to listen to people talk about how talented you are, and about what a great man you are, all the while knowing that none of it was true. I would feel compelled to keep your secret from my father because I would not wish to see you humiliated in the eyes of someone who knew and respected you.’ And it would tear me apart in the process.
It was a wretched situation and as the tears spilled over, Joanna wondered how this could all have gone so terribly wrong—
‘Forgive me,’ Laurence said, his voice as tortured as her thoughts. ‘It was not my intention to hurt you. I only wanted to talk to you in the hopes...’
Joanna gazed up at him through her tears. ‘Yes?’
His eyes burned into hers, but in the end, he only shook his head. ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter any more. I’ve done too many things wrong to hope things could ever be right between us again and for that I am truly sorry. Good afternoon, Lady Joanna.’
Laurence bowed and returned to his sister’s side. Joanna saw Victoria cast a regretful look in her direction, then brother and sister left the shop together. As they did, she closed her eyes and let the tears fall unchecked.
Oh, why couldn’t she just get on with her life! Laurence didn’t deserve her tears. A woman needed to know that the man she loved was being open and honest with her. Otherwise, it was just a case of him telling her what she wanted to hear—or, worse, what he wanted her to hear.
But, what was the truth? She still didn’t know because Laurence wasn’t willing to tell her and she knew better than to ask his sister. The two were as thick as thieves and if Victoria was the famous playwright, there was no way on earth she would reveal that and risk exposing her brother to criticism and censure.
So who did that leave? Who else was there that might know the truth about Valentine Lawe—and not be afraid to tell her?
Chapter Twelve
The
disparaging article appeared in The Times two days later.
Joanna found the newspaper on the corner of her father’s desk. The fact it was open to the society pages was, in itself, unusual, but when the name Valentine Lawe jumped out at her, she couldn’t help but pick it up and read the article all the way through.
It was not kind. It set out the intention of one Famous Playwright, never mentioned by name, to accompany Lord Bonnington and his team on an expedition to Egypt. The lack of experience on the part of the Famous Playwright was mentioned, as was the fact that he was abandoning his highly successful profession in order to take part in an expedition that, in the writer’s opinion, could hardly be benefited by his presence.
‘After all...’ the author wrote, ‘...what can a man whose claim to fame is writing satirical plays hope to offer a man who has dedicated his life to uncovering the secrets of the past?’
Heavy at heart, Joanna put the paper down. For all her anger at Laurence, she hated to see him vilified like this. Clearly the author of the article didn’t agree with his plans to travel to Egypt and was not afraid to say so in a very public forum.
She picked up the paper and continued reading, only to discover that Laurence’s uncle had also been included in the attack.
‘One would think...’ the writer continued, ‘that the charismatic Mr Templeton, a man possessed of considerable knowledge and expertise in matters theatrical, would have advised his nephew to think twice before abandoning what can only be viewed as a wildly successful career to go and dig in the dirt like a common labourer...’
Again, Joanna put the paper down, but this time, her thoughts turned in an entirely different direction. Theo Templeton had produced all four of Valentine Lawe’s plays. As such, he had as much to win...or to lose...as Laurence did. So if, in fact, Laurence was not the author of those plays and Victoria Bretton was, surely it was in Mr Templeton’s best interests to see his niece revealed as the author so that Laurence’s actions would not impact negatively upon her success.
Surely he could be made to see that making the truth about Valentine Lawe known was the only right thing to do.
Gail Whitiker Page 21
