Читать книгу Regency Disguise - Gail Whitiker - Страница 13

It was Mrs Bretton’s habit to pay calls between the hours of eleven and one, so it came as no surprise to Victoria that it would be the time of day Uncle Theo stopped by to pay a call.

‘I thought the house might be quieter,’ he said as Victoria welcomed him into her writing room. ‘I don’t like to disturb the routine.’

Aware that it was her mother and not the routine he had no wish to disturb, Victoria just smiled. She wasn’t about to tell him that his timing couldn’t have been better, that she needed an escape from the gloominess of her thoughts because the memory of the harsh words she had exchanged with Alistair was making her miserable. ‘I’ve just rung for tea. Will you join me?’

‘Delighted, my dear.’ He sat down in the chair across from the desk and crossed one elegantly clad leg over the other. ‘So, how goes the battle of words?’

‘Not well. I have been tossing around a few ideas, but when I sit down to write, my mind goes blank, which leads me to believe the ideas were not all that compelling to begin with.’

‘Well, perhaps this will help stir your creative juices,’ Uncle Theo said. ‘I’ve had a letter from Sir Michael Loftus.’

Victoria’s breath caught. ‘A letter?’

‘It was delivered this morning.’ He reached into his jacket and withdrew the letter. ‘I thought you might like to read it for yourself.’

Victoria’s hands were shaking as she unfolded the heavy sheet of parchment.

Templeton,

It will likely not have escaped your notice that I am a great fan of Valentine Lawe’s work. However, given the gentleman’s penchant for privacy and his strange preference for your company, the opportunity to speak with him in person is difficult at best, so I write to you with my offer.

I have been approached by a certain Esteemed Gentleman who has much to do with the running of Drury Lane, and he has expressed an interest in talking to Mr Lawe about his next work. I realise you have served in the capacity of producer for each of his four plays and perhaps you are both happy to continue with that arrangement. But the brilliance of the man cannot be denied and it would give me great pleasure to see one of his works staged at a theatre licensed for the production of more serious works. I do not know if Mr Lawe has any interest in writing plays of that nature, but I thought it worth the time and trouble to ask.

It will, of course, be necessary that you, Mr Lawe, and myself meet in person to discuss how best to proceed, but I believe Mr Lawe will find much in this offer to interest him. I trust you will communicate my desires to him. In anticipation of a response, I remain,

Yours most sincerely …

‘“Sir Michael Loftus,”’ Victoria finished aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘He wishes to see one of my plays staged at Drury Lane?’

‘That seems to be the gist of the message,’ Uncle Theo said with a smile. ‘The question is, how do you feel about it?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Victoria sank down into the nearest chair. ‘To be accorded such an honour … to have caught the eye of a man like that, and possibly of Mr Elliston … how can one feel but overwhelmed?’

‘But with joy or trepidation? You know what this means, of course.’

Victoria did. It meant she was to be granted a face-to-face interview with one of the most influential men in the theatre. A man who believed Valentine Lawe was a man.

It could be the beginning of a whole new stage in her career … or the end of everything.

A light knock signalled the arrival of the maid with tea and, being closest to the door, her uncle opened it and took the tray from the girl’s hands. Only after he set it down and closed the door again did Victoria say, ‘I am cognisant of the difficulties, Uncle, but I cannot help but be gratified by the intent.’

‘As you should be. If you were to write a play for Drury Lane, you would be able to do the kind of work you have been longing to do: a work of serious drama. I’m sure the ideas would begin to flow again. And Sir Michael’s enthusiasm is nothing to be made light of. Any playwright would give his right arm to be so honoured.’

Victoria nodded as she picked up the teapot. What her uncle said was true, but while the opportunity was enormous, the consequences were equally staggering. ‘What do you think he will say when he finds out that Valentine Lawe is really a woman?’

‘I honestly don’t know. Loftus and I have never been close so I’ve no idea how his mind works. But if he believes, as I do, that the play is the most important thing, it likely won’t matter. Here, let me pour,’ Uncle Theo said when he saw how badly her hand was shaking. ‘You’re going to end up with more tea in the saucer and that is a tragic waste of a good bohea.’

Aware that her uncle was right, Victoria switched chairs and let him pour. But it did not slow down the workings of her mind. ‘What if he doesn’t care about giving me away, Uncle? If he is willing to acknowledge me as the playwright and to work with me in the production of my next play, he may not be as inclined to keep my secret as you and Aunt Tandy have. Indeed, as my entire family has.’

‘We could appeal to him to keep silent,’ Uncle Theo said thoughtfully, ‘but he may have no wish to do so. He may see nothing wrong with revealing the true identity of Valentine Lawe. Women have been writing for the stage for years, many without the need of a false identity.’

‘But I have invited a certain amount of criticism of my plays by mocking those in society I feel deserving of it, and while I sometimes chafe at Mama’s insistence upon keeping my real name concealed, there have been times when I have been glad of it,’ Victoria admitted. ‘If it was discovered that I am the author of those plays, I would be looked upon differently.’

‘By some people, yes,’ her uncle agreed. ‘But it will be your decision whether or not you wish to face them. As I said, you would not be the first woman to be revealed as a writer of material for the stage.’

‘No, but I would be the first of my mother’s children to be so revealed,’ Victoria said wryly. ‘And we both know how she would react if that were to happen. She lives in fear now of the truth being made known, especially given Mr Fulton’s ongoing interest in Winifred.’

‘Well, these are all things that must be considered prior to your accepting Sir Michael’s offer,’ Uncle Theo said. ‘While there is much to be gained, there is also a downside, and if you feel the negatives outweigh the positives, you must refuse.’

‘But if I do, what might he have to say about any future plays I write?’ Victoria asked. ‘He may feel like a lover spurned, his praise turning to condemnation because I refused to work with him. He may feel I have slighted him professionally when there was never any intention of doing so, or that I have offended him personally when that was the furthest thing from my mind.’

‘Or, he may accept that you are content to let me continue producing your plays at the Gryphon and that will be an end of it. Beyond that, I cannot speak to the direction of his response.’

Victoria sat back in her chair. Why did life have to keep taking these troubling turns? First her friendship with Alistair had gone awry, and now what seemed wonderful a moment ago had suddenly become an unwelcome weight hanging over her head. If she agreed to Sir Michael’s offer, she risked exposing herself and her family for the deception they had played. If she refused, she might hopelessly damage her career.

And then there was Alistair. What would he say if the truth about her was revealed in such a manner? What would he think if he found out she had been lying to him all along? She knew that if her lies were exposed it would be the end of any semblance of a friendship with him. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Then for the moment, say nothing,’ her uncle advised. ‘I shall write back to Sir Michael and tell him I have no answer to give because Valentine Lawe is travelling on the Continent.’

‘Will he not find that strange given that my newest play has just opened?’

‘I think not. You are a creative soul. Why should he not believe that, having seen at least one performance of your play and knowing it to be a success, you would wish to escape for some much-needed rest? That is what I shall put to him and that your return is, at present, uncertain.’

‘Will he expect you to forward the letter on to me?’

‘He may, but I shall inform him that in my studied opinion, being away from everything to do with the theatre will be far more beneficial to your creative well-being than having to worry about coming up with a new play to satisfy him.’ Her uncle finished his tea and stood up. ‘I shall tell him that a mind as imaginative as yours needs time to restore itself. And I think I shall tell him in person. You know how persuasive I can be when I set my mind to it.’

‘You were not acknowledged as one of the finest actors of your time for nothing.’ Victoria likewise rose and put her arms around him. ‘Thank you. Uncle Theo. I don’t know what I would do if you were not looking out for my best interests.’

‘My dear girl, do not forget that your best interests are also my best interests. If Valentine Lawe stops writing, I shall be forced to look for a new source of material, and if you think good writers are easy to come by, think again!’

Victoria laughed, as her uncle intended she should, and when she sat down at her desk after he’d left, she found her gaze not going to her work but to the bust of Shakespeare that stood on a pedestal by the window—a Christmas present from her aunt and uncle. ‘How much simpler it would have been had I been born a man,’ she whispered to the chiselled face. ‘Then I would not have to pretend to be Valentine Lawe. I could proclaim to all the world that I am him!’

But in doing so, she would also never be anything more than a friend to Alistair Devlin and that troubled Victoria a great deal more than not being able to tell the world who she was. She hated the thought of losing whatever good opinion he might still have of her. He had already indicated that she risked damaging her reputation by spending too much time at the theatre, but her involvement did not stop at the printed page.

Sitting unnoticed in the back of her uncle’s box during rehearsals for A Lady’s Choice, Victoria had watched each of the actors perform, after which she had given her uncle her opinion of their portrayal of the part. Her uncle had then approached the actor in question and suggested any changes that were necessary. Not once had he led anyone to believe that the opinions expressed were any but his own, and, apart from the few occasions where Victoria had appeared at rehearsals, no one knew she was there. If, by chance, someone did happen to see her, her presence was accepted by the cast because she was Theo Templeton’s niece.

But Alistair Devlin was not related to her, nor was he a member of the cast. Would he be as willing to accept the role she had played as she was to rationalise her need for playing it?

It was a few days before Victoria saw Alistair again, though he was never far from her thoughts. The memory of their last encounter, combined with the knowledge that she might have to tell him the truth, served to keep him uppermost in her mind. As such, it was hardly surprising that she would have little inclination to attend a garden party to which she was quite sure he would have been invited.

‘Is this not the most beautiful place, Victoria?’ her sister asked as they strolled through the picturesque grounds of Lord and Lady Hincham’s magnificent estate. Winifred, radiant in a pale-blue gown with a lacy white shawl arranged attractively over her shoulders, all but purred with pleasure. ‘I would have loved to call this my home.’

‘I’m sure you would,’ Victoria said, ‘but, given that Lord and Lady Hincham no longer have an eligible son, the possibility is remote.’

‘Impossible, more like.’ Winifred’s pretty mouth turned down at the corners. ‘Had I come out a year earlier, I might have been able to catch Lord Clarkson’s eye, but by the time I did, he had already announced his engagement to Miss Shutters.’

‘Never mind, there are plenty of other eligible gentlemen out there,’ Victoria said, of a mood to be conciliatory. ‘Mama said Mr Fulton is quite taken with you, and there are bound to be other gentlemen anxious to secure your favour.’

‘I wish Mr Devlin was one of them.’ Winifred gazed longingly in the direction of that gentleman, who was strolling with his cousin on the lawn close to the house. ‘Unfortunately, he seems more interested in you than he ever was in me.’

Victoria felt her cheeks burn. ‘That might have been the case at one time, but I doubt it is now.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I told him he would do better to look elsewhere.’

‘Look elsewhere?’ Winifred gasped in disbelief. ‘Why on earth would you say something so foolish?’

‘Because it is the truth. Neither he nor his family would ever approve of my outspoken nature,’ Victoria said. ‘Or of what I do.’

‘Then stop doing it,’ Winifred said, as though the solution was just that simple. ‘What woman in her right mind would not wish to marry a man like that? He is handsome and charming and—’

‘Heir to his father’s title, yes, I know,’ Victoria said, pausing to admire the picturesque scene of a stone bridge crossing a meandering stream. ‘But that doesn’t mean he is the right man for me.’

‘Well, all I know is that if I were in your position, I would be doing all I could to encourage him. Mama would be thrilled to see you married to a man like that. She might even forgive you your involvement with theatre.’

Victoria kept her eyes on the path ahead. There didn’t seem to be much point in telling her sister that even if her mother forgave her, Alistair’s father never would.

‘Oh, look, I think he’s seen us,’ Winifred said suddenly. ‘The young lady seems to be pulling him in this direction.’ She frowned as she squinted into the sun. ‘Isn’t that Miss Wright?’

‘I think so.’

‘He seems to be spending a great deal of time in her company. Do you think they are romantically involved?’

Victoria laughed. ‘Not at all. I chanced to meet them in the Park the other morning and I can assure you, their relationship is purely platonic.’

Winifred sighed. ‘How is it you keep running into Mr Devlin, whereas I, who diligently attend society events, have encountered him only twice?’

‘There is far more to London than ballrooms and breakfasts, Winnie,’ Victoria said. ‘I’ve told you more than once to brush up on your equestrian skills. Gentlemen like Mr Devlin enjoy riding.’

‘But I don’t like horses.’ Winifred made a moue of distaste. ‘They’re large and smelly and they bite.’

‘It was a pony that nipped you and they are notorious for being short tempered. But a sweet little mare would be just the thing,’ Victoria said. ‘You would look lovely in a dark-blue riding habit. Quite striking with your hair and complexion. You should give it some thought.’ She turned towards Isabelle. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Wright.’

‘Miss Bretton, hallo! I thought it was you. Haven’t we a perfect day for an alfresco gathering?’

‘We have indeed,’ Victoria replied. Reluctantly, she glanced at the man standing beside Isabelle. ‘Mr Devlin.’

‘Good afternoon, Miss Bretton. Miss Winifred. How nice to see you both again.’

The words were polite, but Victoria heard an edge of restraint and wondered if he was finding this as difficult as she was. Fortunately, Miss Wright was her usual ebullient self. ‘Miss Bretton, I simply had to come across and tell you the exciting news. Alistair has agreed to take me to see A Lady’s Choice tomorrow evening.’

‘But you’ve already seen it.’

‘I know, but this is to be the seventh performance and my friends and I believe Valentine Lawe will be in attendance.’

‘Really?’ Victoria hoped she didn’t look too surprised. ‘What makes you think so?’

‘We believe the number seven to be significant. Mr Lawe makes reference to it several times in the opening scenes. Elliot Black tells Elizabeth Turcott he will wait seven days for her answer, and that he will call at the seventh hour of the seventh day.’

‘So you believe it to be … a code of sorts,’ Victoria said. ‘To let people know he would be there at the seventh performance.’

‘Exactly! And Alistair has agreed to take me, even though I know he is less than thrilled by the idea. But I cannot go alone, and since we are making up a party, I suggested that you should come as well,’ Miss Wright said. ‘Surely if there is a chance Valentine Lawe is going to be present, you would wish to meet him. Perhaps you would like to come too, Miss Winifred?’

Winifred blanched. ‘Thank you. That would be … most delightful, of course,’ she stammered, ‘but I am already committed to dinner at the Roarkes’ tomorrow evening.’

‘Oh, what a shame.’

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Winifred said, surprising Victoria with a credible appearance of regret. ‘But I’m sure Victoria and Laurence would be happy to join you.’

It was an exceedingly awkward moment for Victoria. Though she understood Miss Wright’s excitement, how could she spend an evening in the company of a man to whom she was barely speaking? Surely he would wish to have nothing more to do with her?

‘Thank you. It is very kind of you to offer,’ she said, ‘but under the circumstances, I think it best I refuse. I hate to think that word of our association might get back to your cousin and her husband.’

‘Oh, but you mustn’t worry about them! ‘ Miss Wright said. ‘I don’t care what they think and neither does Cousin Alistair. He told them as much in the carriage after we saw you at the opera.’

Victoria blinked. ‘He did?’

‘Isabelle,’ Alistair cautioned, but Miss Wright ignored him.

‘He certainly did. He told them they had no business saying what they did about you and that he would speak to whomever he pleased—’

‘Isabelle, you really do talk too much,’ Alistair said with a weighted sigh. ‘Remind me to take your former governess to task over the matter. But I think you probably should come with us, Miss Bretton. As Cousin Isabelle said, if there is any chance of meeting the esteemed Mr Lawe, surely it is an occasion not to be missed.’

Victoria hardly knew what to say. She could detect no echo of resentment in his voice, and she doubted Miss Wright’s words had been provoking enough to incite any feelings of guilt on his part. But even if the invitation had been motivated by guilt, was she willing to walk away without making any effort to apologise? ‘Thank you, Mr Devlin,’ she said. ‘I shall ask my brother if he is free, and, if so, we would be pleased to join you. Perhaps you would allow me to offer you seats in my uncle’s box.’

‘That would be most kind. But I hope you will come even if your brother does not.’

His eyes were shuttered and there was nothing in his voice to suggest intimacy, yet Victoria felt it keenly and her pulse accelerated. Before she had a chance to reply, however, Winifred interjected, ‘Excuse me, Mr Devlin, but I do believe that gentleman is trying to catch your eye.’

Victoria looked up and saw a man staring in their direction. He was standing on the terrace and, when they all turned to look, he raised his arm to wave.

Alistair just smiled. ‘Excellent. I was hoping he would come.’

‘Do you know the gentleman?’ Victoria asked.

‘Oh, yes. Lord Valbourg and I went to Oxford together, but he’s been in America these past six years, amassing a small fortune,’ Alistair told them. ‘We chanced to meet up at my club last week, after which I asked Lady Hincham to invite him to today’s event.’

‘Poor Lord Valbourg,’ Miss Wright said. ‘His mother, Lady Alderbury, hasn’t been at all well. Mrs Shepherd mentioned it over cards last week. She said it was the reason he came back to England. And to find a wife, of course.’

‘He’s not married?’ Winifred said quickly.

‘He’s been far too busy amassing his fortune,’ Alistair said. ‘But he was also travelling a great deal and that doesn’t leave much time for courting. Valbourg,’ he said as the other man joined them. ‘Glad you could make it.’

‘Sorry I’m late,’ the newcomer said. ‘I’d forgotten how crowded London streets could be.’

‘I doubt Lady Hincham noticed. Miss Bretton, Miss Winifred, allow me to make known to you my good friend, Lord Valbourg.’

Lord Valbourg was a handsome man, slightly heavier in build than Alistair, and perhaps an inch or two taller. He had dark-brown hair cut in a fashionable crop and a thoroughly warm and engaging smile. Victoria liked him at once. ‘Good afternoon, Lord Valbourg.’

‘Miss Bretton, Miss Winifred, pray forgive my intrusion into your conversation.’

‘No apologies are necessary. Mr Devlin tells us the two of you are old friends.’

‘Indeed, from our days together at Oxford.’

‘And you are recently back from America,’ Winifred said, green eyes sparkling. ‘Are you planning to return there in the near future?’

‘I am not. My time in the country served its purpose, but I am looking forward to settling down to the life of an English gentleman again.’

‘And he’s made a good start by taking a house in Berkeley Square,’ Alistair informed them.

‘Berkeley Square,’ Victoria said with a glance at her sister. ‘How nice.’

‘Yes, though it is in desperate need of redecorating,’ Lord Valbourg said. ‘I was going to ask my sister for help, but with our mother being so ill, Mary’s time is fully occupied looking after her.’

‘Perhaps we could lend some assistance in that regard,’ Victoria offered. ‘Mama is likely to know where the best fabrics are to be found and Winifred has exceptional taste when it comes to colours and styles.’

Winifred blinked her surprise. ‘I do?’

‘Indeed. She helped Mama redecorate several rooms in our house in Kent last year,’ Victoria informed the gentleman. ‘She has a superb eye for that sort of thing.’

‘Has she indeed?’ Lord Valbourg turned an admiring gaze on a blushing Winifred. ‘That would be delightful, of course, though I would hate to impose—’

‘Oh, it would be no imposition,’ Winifred assured him quickly. ‘I would be happy to assist in whatever way I could.’

‘Then I shall call upon you in the near future to make arrangements for a shopping expedition. Dev, will I see you at Jackson’s tomorrow morning?’

‘I’ll be there.’

‘Splendid. Then we can talk more about this project of yours and how I might be of assistance. Good afternoon Miss Bretton, Miss Wright, Miss Winifred.’

‘Lord Valbourg,’ Winifred said, a coquettish twinkle back in her eyes. When she turned to Victoria, her face was flushed and glowing. ‘Well, perhaps I should go and see if Mama is in need of anything.’

Aware that the only reason Winifred was anxious to find their mother was to tell her about the handsome Lord Valbourg, Victoria made no demur. Given what an enviable match it could be for her sister, she really couldn’t blame her.

‘And we should probably go too, Cousin Alistair,’ Miss Wright said, sounding less than enthused. ‘Your sister has been glaring at us these past ten minutes.’

Victoria gazed across the garden to where the Archdeacon and his wife were seated under the shade of a large tree and saw that Mrs Baltham was indeed looking daggers in their direction. No doubt due, Victoria thought wryly, to the company her beloved brother was keeping. ‘Then I shall bid you both a good afternoon.’

Alistair bowed. ‘Miss Bretton. Thank you for your offer of assistance. I’m sure Lord Valbourg will be most grateful for the help.’

Their eyes met briefly, and though it did not last long, Victoria was startled by the intensity of his gaze. She couldn’t tell if it was anger, or regret, or a combination of the two, but it left her wondering what thoughts really had been going through his mind.

The rest of the afternoon seemed strangely anticlimactic. Victoria wanted to put it down to a restlessness to get back to work, but she knew it had more to do with Alistair’s leaving the gathering than it did with her own desire to be anywhere else. She wasn’t sure when the nature of her feelings for him had begun to change, but she knew without question that they had and she was alarmed by the pace at which they were growing. Now the world seemed a far less interesting place when Alistair wasn’t in it.

And rather than avoid society events, Victoria found herself seeking them out, especially ones to which she thought he might be invited. She enjoyed being in his company. She liked listening to him talk and she loved watching his face when he expressed an opinion about something in which he was interested—like this unknown project Lord Valbourg had referred to.

Nothing more had been said about it, but Victoria had seen the glint in Alistair’s eye when the topic was raised. She might have asked him about it had he not been forced to rejoin his sister and brother-in-law, and, given that she didn’t see Lord Valbourg again, she was not provided an opportunity to ask that gentleman about it either. Nevertheless, Valbourg’s name did come up frequently during dinner that evening, so much so that Victoria’s father finally had to beg his wife and younger daughter to cease and desist.

‘But this was a highly fortuitous meeting, Mr Bretton,’ his wife said. ‘Lord Valbourg is the Marquess of Alderbury’s son. He would make a wonderful husband for Winifred, far better than Mr Fulton. Surely you realise that.’

‘I do, and I have heard Lord Valbourg praised in more ways than any one gentleman has a right to be praised,’ Mr Bretton said. ‘But for pity’s sake, can we speak of nothing else? He and Winifred are but once met and a long way from standing before the altar reciting their vows.’

So chastised, Mrs Bretton refrained from comment and the conversation moved on to other subjects. But a few minutes later, Victoria sincerely wished it had remained on Lord Valbourg.

‘By the by, Lady Hincham told me this afternoon that Lady Kempton is hopeful of a match between her son and Lord Geldon’s daughter,’ Mrs Bretton said.

‘Lady Sarah Millingham?’ Laurence frowned. ‘Isn’t she a bit young for Devlin?’

‘She is young, and flighty by all accounts, which is why Lord Geldon approached Lord Kempton about the match,’ Mrs Bretton said. ‘He feels Mr Devlin would be a steadying influence on his daughter, and apparently she is quite taken with him. It would be an excellent match for her.’

‘But considerably less so for him,’ Laurence observed. ‘Devlin doesn’t strike me as the sort of man who would be led willingly into his future, or who would enjoy the company of such a young girl.’

Victoria shared her brother’s opinion. The idea that Alistair might actually contemplate marriage to Lady Sarah Millingham caused her heart to wrench in the most painful manner. She might be guilty of discouraging him, but that was only because she knew there was no possibility of a relationship between them. Her uncle’s startling revelations about Hugh Devlin had reinforced that. Nevertheless, if she had been of a mind to choose an aristocratic husband, Alistair would have been the only one she would have set her heart on and she would have done everything she could to attract him. If she felt that way about him, why would every other woman not feel the same?

‘Well, all I know is that we must do everything we can to further this association between Winifred and Lord Valbourg,’ Mrs Bretton said. ‘And that means you must be more mindful than ever about what you say and where you are seen, Victoria. If things do not go well for Winifred with Mr Fulton, I don’t want you jeopardising her chances with this other gentleman.’

‘Rest assured I will not.’ Victoria wearily got to her feet. ‘Believe it or not, Mama, I am as anxious to see Winifred settled as you are. And I intend to do everything in my power to make sure nothing happens to put that at risk.’