A Chance to Dream

by Lynne Connolly

  He helped her into the passenger seat of an elegant but modest phaeton, drawn by a pair of bays, then went around to the other side, taking the reins from the groom who stood patiently waiting.

  The well-sprung vehicle sagged when he climbed into his place and then settled again. He glanced at her. “I’ll drive to the park and then we’ll see how you do. All right?”

  She smiled. “I’ll do my best. Which horses are these? The sprightly ones or the others?”

  He gave her a slow, wicked smile. “I’ll let you find out.”

  By the time they got to the park she was almost sure this was the more docile pair. Almost. They were well-bred, of course, but they responded beautifully to his touch and showed no signs of skittishness.

  They had left the groom behind, so they had to manoeuvre carefully to change places, for her to sit on the right. They managed it. He stood, and she slid along the seat behind him. It brought her too close to him, but the moment was over quickly. Before she could react he settled himself next to her and handed her the reins. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  As soon as she touched the reins Violetta felt them, as though strings of flesh connected them, and not inanimate strips of leather. These horses were the best. Prime, fresh and sprightly.

  She no longer felt uncomfortable, no longer felt aware of the man sitting silently next to her. She knew he watched her carefully, but it no longer mattered. She flicked the animals into a walk, marvelling at their matched steps. One, the lead horse on the left, pulled a little. Just a little. It was all it took. Its partner followed. Violetta knew if she hauled on the reins she could ruin their mouths, as well as precipitate a reaction she might not be able to cope with so she just pulled, very slightly. Then she remembered the fashionable way of holding the reins and she looped them up into one hand with a deft move.

  Orlando watched, leaning back, giving the impression that he was at his ease. He rested one hand on his knee, ready to take control if she needed it. So far it was not. He watched her carefully, not allowing his concentration to waver. These were tricky animals, but so blissfully responsive he was prepared to put up with their skittishness.

  Miss Lambert had a light hand with them. After she had negotiated the first few curves in the path successfully, Orlando knew he could trust her with the other team, the more docile ones. She could cope with them. Relaxing a little he studied her face with the heavy spectacles perched precariously at the end of her short nose. As if she realized he was staring, she wrinkled the nose, pushing up the spectacles. He found the unconscious gesture charming. Her eyes were a remarkable shade of violet, truly remarkable. The shade cast by her plain straw hat couldn’t hide their vivid intensity. He wondered how many men she had fought off in her short career, to want to make herself so dowdy. If she had managed to fight them all off.

  The surge of murderous anger took him by surprise. It had come with the mental picture of a man, any man, trying to force her into compliance. He’d seen it. Hell, he’d helped some of the unfortunates himself. Any halfway decent woman was in danger if she was alone and unprotected. He had never stooped to that kind of assault. He never would, but this young woman might not believe that. Which was a shame, because he liked her. She seemed to put all men into the same category, the way many spinsters did.

  He didn’t speak; it might have interrupted her concentration, and if he knew this pair she would need every ounce of it she could muster. She bit her lip once, the sharp white teeth sinking into the soft lower lip. Orlando felt a sudden urge to taste those lips. He grinned. After all his good intentions? No, he would not force her, but one day he might ask. She was no beauty, especially in the deliberately frumpy clothes she chose. She couldn’t hide what she had. Orlando had seen it before, and it must cause her no end of trouble. An appeal, right to the basic animal instincts inside every male, like a primeval call, a promise. Some women exuded it, some tried to, and some manufactured it. This was it, whatever “it” was, in all its glory.

  Orlando shifted when he felt a stirring far too urgent for the time of day and the public place they were in. He deliberately tried to move his mind away from inappropriate thoughts and back to the real reason they were here that day. He leaned forward and touched her gently on the arm. “I’m satisfied. Two circuits of the park is enough.”

  She didn’t argue but returned the reins to him. He didn’t bother to change seats, having only done it before out of a desire to give her the best chance possible. When he was back in control of the horses, she moved, but he stopped her. “I can manage them from here.” He shot a grin at her. “I should have asked you to urge them into a gallop, but somehow I think that might have led to talk. However early in the day it is there is always someone around to gossip.” Her little sigh surprised him, but he didn’t pursue its meaning. “If you can control this pair you can control the others. I’ll give orders they be available to you when you need them. Do you like this vehicle?”

  “Yes, but I could not possibly deprive you of your transport.”

  “You can if you persuade my sister to drive out with you. Besides, I have another, a curricle. I’ll inform Perdita you are quite capable of managing the grays. She won’t believe you took the bays out without mishap!”

  “This is the skittish pair, then, sir?”

  “Yes. I wanted to test you properly. I’m sorry for it, but my sister is precious to me, and I wanted to be absolutely sure you could manage.”

  She didn’t take offence. “It wasn’t easy.”

  He chuckled. “It never is with these two. They make up for it. Thoroughbreds generally do, but these are exceptional. You did well, Miss Lambert. Thank you for putting up with my skittishness as well as the horses’.”

  It was her turn to chuckle. “Are you ever skittish?”

  “Frequently.” He turned his head to smile at her. Her cheeks were flushed with the breeze that had sprung up, giving her an air of recklessness he’d never noticed before. “Something else comes to mind. They say this will be a warm summer, though I haven’t the faintest idea who they are or how they know. The point is, you would be a lot more comfortable without those extra layers of flannel, or whatever it is you’re winding around your middle.”

  They were sitting close. He felt the seat beneath them jerk when she reacted. “How did you know?”

  “You haven’t an ounce of extra fat on your face or your arms, my dear girl. It just doesn’t work. Have no fear, I won’t force my unwelcome attentions on you. Neither, while you are in my employ, will I allow anyone else to do so.”

  She bowed her head, letting the straw hat slip forward over her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for.” She sounded so vulnerable. He made his voice brisk when what he really wanted to do was haul her close and comfort her. “I suppose you’ve done it for the usual reasons?”

  “Yes.” The voice was a whisper.

  “I won’t ask further. I do know that governesses are considered fair game in the hunting set. Some of it, anyway. Not the set I run with.” He glanced at her to see her lift her head and put her hand to her hat to straighten it. “If you feel safer with your padding, by all means keep it, but I thought I ought to tell you it won’t do any good. A determined man doesn’t care for a bit of plumpness. Some prefer it. You’d do a lot better to hint at a physical injury. Walk with a limp, maybe, and spin some tale of a withered leg.”

  “Not in your house,” she commented, and he knew she was thinking of Perdita. As he was. As he had been for the past six months.

  “If you succeed where others have failed and persuade Perdita to walk,” he said lightly, “I will be exceedingly grateful. A substantial bonus and a glowing character at the very least.”

  She had recovered herself now, clasping her gloved hands tightly together in her brown clad lap. “Thank you, sir.”

  He cursed himself for reminding her of their relative status. He had been in a fair way to winning her friendship before he forgot h
imself in that remark. He would keep trying, he decided. There was something particularly interesting about Miss Charlotte Lambert, something he was not sure he knew about, but he wanted to find out.

  She was a fool. Violetta felt stupid. The man was an earl, he needed a well-born, well-dowered young lady, not her. The only thing he would ever consider her suitable for was the thing she had set her soul against having. She would not, she swore. Anyway, who would want her in this guise? She might not have fooled him with the stuffing, but she still had the spectacles, wig and the dowdy clothes.

  She turned the handle to her bedroom door, planning to remove her hat and see if Lady Perdita was awake yet but she stopped, the door open, staring inside. This was not the room she had left a scant hour or so before. This must be a different room. She stepped back. No, it was the right one.

  She heard his voice before she detected his presence. “Like it?”

  He stood outside his sister’s chamber, hands negligently thrust into his pockets, watching her with an amused smile.

  “I—I don’t know what to say. How did they do all this so quickly?” The room was transformed. The bed was replaced with a canopied one, light draperies tied back at the head. The rest of the furniture was now in a fashionable mahogany instead of the lumpy oak that had been bestowed on her at her arrival and there was more of it, a comfortable sofa at the base of the bed, a chest of drawers and a bookcase. Rugs covered the bare floorboards.

  “Oh, they can be quick, given the right incentive.” His smile was grimmer. “Perdita didn’t know you’d been offered such scanty comfort, either. The parties have been dealt with.”

  She must have betrayed her dismay, for he walked forward and took her hand. “What is it? Did we do something wrong?”

  “No, sir. Nothing.”

  “Tell me!”

  His gentle urging had its effect. “I’m resented in the servants’ hall. Governesses and the like often are. I’m afraid this will make it worse.” She tugged to recover her hand from his grasp.

  Instead, he turned it over, studying the palm as though he could read something there. “Then we’ll have to treat you as family, won’t we?” Before she guessed his intent he turned her hand again and lifted it to his lips, kissing the tips of her fingers. “I will not have anyone shown such discourtesy and spite in my household. I hope I made it clear. You must come to me if anyone makes matters difficult for you.” He released her hand and walked away. “Enjoy your room, my dear.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  The room was lovely, but Violetta suspected she would pay for it in other ways. She generally tried to create as little disturbance as possible in the well-ordered household. She could put up with the occasional black look such as the one she received from Lady Perdita’s maid when she knocked and entered Lady Perdita’s room. “Good morning, my lady.”

  She heard a chink from the bed as Lady Perdita put down her tea dish. “Good morning. I slept uncommonly well last night. Are we—” There was a significant pause. “Chivers, you may go. Come back when I ring to help me dress.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  The door closed softly behind the maid and Violetta tried not to care about the look she’d received from the woman on her way out. It was difficult, she had never been able to ignore servants, caring too much about everyone’s opinions of her. She went round to the front of the bed. The drapes were still partially closed, but were open around the bed head. Lady Perdita handed her the empty dish and Violetta replaced it on the tray standing on the nightstand. “I suggest we begin the exercises this morning. I’ve had some ideas, and I would like to research them later, if that is acceptable.”

  “Yes. Judith is to visit this afternoon, so you may go then. What had you in mind?”

  The haughty look would have daunted Violetta a week ago, but now she knew the lady a little better. It was not disapproval but fear she saw in the heavenly blue eyes. “Perhaps you would allow me to rub your calves, try to stimulate the muscles a little. Then if you feel up to it, a little pressure.”

  “Pressure?”

  “Yes, my lady. If you would roll onto your stomach, I’ll show you what I mean.” Violetta had come prepared. Dipping into her pocket she pulled out a small bottle of amber-coloured liquid.

  “What’s that?”

  “Oil, my lady. Rose-scented oil.” Violetta didn’t mention she had most of her ideas from the stables, where horse liniment was commonly used with the animals. The oil she’d brought would decrease the friction and help to increase the heat. It might be better if she kept Lady Perdita in ignorance of the origin of many of her ideas. She might work them out for herself, but if the methods proved effective, perhaps she would not mind.

  Violetta set to work. She had tucked her elbow ruffles out of the way, and continued to give her mistress a thorough massage. It seemed to meet with Lady Perdita’s approval. She popped a clean towel under the limbs and rubbed up and down her legs, trying to improve the circulation, to bring some sensation back to the withered limbs. Her hands smoothed over the scars caused by the accident. They were ugly. Lady Perdita was fortunate only her legs were involved. If she were careful, no one need see them, not even the man she married, but the man Violetta would like to marry, the mythical man she had dreamt about all her life, wouldn’t care for such superficialities.

  The massage took place mostly in silence. Violetta kept up the motions until half an hour had passed then asked her ladyship to sit up.

  “That was wonderfully stimulating,” Lady Perdita remarked. She did look better. Her cheeks held some colour and her smile seemed the most natural Violetta had seen on her to date.

  “I thought, my lady, you might be able to put increasing pressure on your feet.” Violetta brought a footstool over to the bed and lifted Lady Perdita’s feet onto it. She lifted the lady’s nightgown up over her knees. “If you put your feet flat on the stool and push, it will help to build up the muscles. If you do that several times a day, it might speed your recovery.”

  Lady Perdita sat and stared, making no effort. She gazed at her feet, then lifted her head. Violetta saw the terror behind the glazed look. She was trying to cover her fear up with her usual veneer of aristocratic disdain, but Violetta was determined not to allow her to push her away like that. She met the stare head on, when it was obvious Violetta was expected to drop her gaze in a submissive way. “Do it.”

  “How dare you speak to me in that way!”

  Violetta didn’t drop her gaze. “I dare because I want you to recover, and the only way you can do it is to work at it. If you don’t want this, say so and I shall leave.”

  “You should treat me with proper respect. What will happen to you if I dismiss you without a character?”

  Violetta knew just what would happen, and it wasn’t what Lady Perdita expected. Her thoughts shot, unbidden, to Lady Perdita’s brother. She felt a pang, and at that moment she knew who she would miss the most. Horror swept through her in a hot tide. How did that happen? How did the sight of him, his presence, give her so much pleasure she would miss it if it was no longer there? She must not allow that. She must not.

  She turned back to the task. By the end of the day she might well not be in this house. “I will treat you with respect, Lady Perdita. However, when we’re like this, when we’re private, it might be better to allow me to guide you. I will research this more, and see if I can find any way to help.”

  Lady Perdita looked at her legs again. “You have a point.” The words were grudging, but they were there. “Do you think Dr. Sewell should have told me of this?”

  “It’s not for me to say.”

  “Why stop there? Say it.”

  “Yes, I think he should. I’m not an expert in such matters, and the techniques I’m using are common knowledge, not secrets. I have never had any experience, which is why I’m only suggesting things to you I know can do no harm.”

  Lady Perdita continued to stare at her legs. Then Violetta saw Lady Perdita
press. Her heels whitened when she exerted pressure on them. She flattened her heels onto the stool and pushed. The strain was obvious. The lady took a rest and looked back at Violetta. “I will tell you something now. I do not expect this to go any further. Do I make myself clear?”

  Violetta knew when to back down. “Yes, my lady. Perfectly clear.”

  Lady Perdita swallowed, a sign of her nervousness. “I do not like Dr. Sewell’s examinations. I broke the long bones in my lower legs, but he prefers me to remove my petticoats and skirts. He doesn’t like a maid present when he examines me.”

  Violetta shuddered. It sounded appalling. “But your bones are mended now. Does he need to look?”

  “He says he does.”

  “I see.” Violetta bit her lip in thought. “If you wish, I will make sure I’m always there when he comes. Will that help?”

  “Yes!” The sound was so heartfelt Violetta knew Lady Perdita had been upset about this for some time.

  “Did you not tell your brother? Or even Lady Judith?”

  Lady Perdita shook her head, sending her loose, fair curls bouncing. “Orlando would have been very angry. He would cause a scandal and I can’t bear for it to be made public. Judith is a dear friend, and she knows something is wrong. Sometimes she soothes me, but sometimes—” she broke off, biting her lip, “—but she gossips. If I tell you and you spread it, it will be easier for me to deny your stories. Won’t it?” Her lips compressed into a firm line.

  “Yes, it will.” Violetta had no intention of telling anyone, but Lady Perdita was right. Her word would not be taken above her mistress’s. It was also true the gossip mongers and the anonymous writers of the scandal sheets would pounce on this particular morsel with the appetite of vultures. “I will not tell anyone, but you have that for extra security. No one would believe my word against yours.” She wondered what Lady Perdita was about to say about Lady Judith. It wasn’t the comment she finally made about gossiping, Violetta was sure.