“As for the other,” Lady Perdita continued. “I will require your presence when the doctor calls. I believe you are right and we won’t have to tolerate his presence much longer. I won’t tell him about these exercises, and I won’t expect you to, either.”
“No, my lady. I will not. Does this mean you will consent to continue?”
Lady Perdita shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Well, as you say, it can’t do any harm, can it?”
Chapter Five
Violetta’s days took on a pattern. She would dress and go to help Lady Perdita with her exercises. After a few days they took the maid into their confidence, and she took over the leg massages, morning and night. Violetta would then go with Lady Perdita to the salon, where she would spend most of the rest of the day. Her mistress’s afternoon nap gave Violetta an hour or two on her own. Then came dinner. There were rarely guests, and Lord Blyth was often absent, but it was noticeable that when he was present for dinner, Lady Judith often stayed, too.
Violetta was treated as a member of the family. Despite that, she never forgot her place in the household, never put herself forward, or drew attention to herself. It was a novel experience, to observe and remain in the background. She began to enjoy it, the observances and education. She took Lady Perdita out for an airing, but never at an hour when the fashionable world was out and about, and they never met anyone, never stopped to acknowledge a greeting.
When Lord Blyth’s elder brother the Earl of Rosington came for dinner with his wife, they were accompanied by Lord Elston, the Triple Countess’s third son. Violetta was interested to see Lady Rosington, who rarely appeared in public since her illness after the birth of her second son. Her ladyship was beautiful, a lovely golden vision and her manners were gracious, even to Violetta. Lady Judith was present, and monopolized Lord Blyth’s company. After dinner, Violetta ensured Lady Rosington had a seat out of any draughts, and was surprised to find her efforts met with a small scowl. “I’m quite all right, my dear, really I am. Please don’t fuss.”
“I would hate you to be uncomfortable,” Violetta ventured.
“So would I, so sit down and talk to me instead of fussing. Tell me about Perdita. She has confided some of her problems to me in the past and I would be glad to know how she is progressing.”
Violetta sat down on the sofa next to her and was the blinking recipient of a dazzling smile. Lady Rosington told her; “Dr. Sewell tells me to do all sorts of things, but I’ve started to ignore them.”
“Dr. Sewell is Lady Perdita’s doctor, too.” Violetta hesitated. There was no one within earshot. Lady Perdita and Lady Judith sat by the harpsichord, going through pieces to impress the gentlemen with when they arrived, heads close together, whispering and giggling.
Lady Rosington saw her hesitation. “If you tell me, it won’t go any further. If it makes you feel any easier, I have my doubts about the good doctor. He wants me to rest, constantly.” She paused and flushed, but didn’t vouchsafe why.
“He’s coming to examine Lady Perdita soon,” Violetta responded, gliding through the slight awkwardness caused by the blush. “He seems to be giving her some dubious advice. He doesn’t want her to exercise, although her legs are healed.”
Lady Rosington frowned. “That can’t be right. How can she learn to walk again if she doesn’t exercise?”
Violetta leaned forward, lowered her voice. “I have persuaded her to try. It’s going well, better than I could have hoped for. I don’t propose to tell Dr. Sewell.”
“Very wise, my dear. It makes me wonder if I really need him. I feel much better than I used to, almost back to my old self. He’s the most fashionable doctor in London. Will you let me know if you need any help?”
The door opened to admit the gentlemen. Violetta looked up and just for a moment met the clear gaze of Lord Blyth. The room melted away, and for that moment out of time there was only the two of them.
Violetta looked away hastily. A foolish notion, not to be thought of. She had found a friend in his lordship; it would be a shame to spoil that. It could not continue much longer, she knew, but she was determined to see Lady Perdita back on her feet before she left. What had begun as an adventure, a learning experience, had continued for other reasons. A desire to do something, anything, to benefit someone else, and a growing reluctance to leave. The reason had nothing to do with Lady Perdita.
It was something to fight with all her heart.
Instead of turning to the harpsichord, where his sister and her best friend sat waiting for him, Lord Blyth came across the room and bowed over Lady Rosington’s hand. “Miranda, you’re looking well.”
Miranda gave him her charming smile. “I feel much better, Orlando. I’ve been discussing health matters with your charming Miss Lambert.”
He glanced at her and smiled. It seemed too intimate to Violetta. “She isn’t my Miss Lambert, she’s Perdita’s.” Violetta smiled back, although she’d had no intention of doing so. “I merely found her.” His eyes seemed to tell her something else, something she must be imagining.
Violetta was annoyed with herself. How could she fall for such practised wiles? She had lived among rakes and Cyprians for a long time, she should be immune to such behaviour! Although she had given up the extra padding around her middle, she still wore the mousy wig and the spectacles, kept her clothes loose, and used no artificial enhancements on her face. Before she had come to this house she had been certain that was enough to pass muster as a dowdy companion, but Lord Blyth’s perceptive gaze seemed to slice through it all. She looked away, down to her cloth-covered lap, hoping the heat she felt in her face wasn’t showing in a blush.
“I am grateful for the position, my lord. I hope the results will be to your satisfaction. May I pour you some tea?”
“Yes please.”
While he settled himself in a chair opposite the sofa, Violetta could turn away and pour the tea. When she took it across to him he looked at her again, but his gaze this time was friendly, no more. Violetta retook her seat, with a small sigh of relief.
“You are looking so much better, Miranda, that I dare ask you something.”
Lady Rosington arched a delicate brown eyebrow. She was fortunate, Violetta reflected, that her golden hair was darker on her face and she did not have the fair eyebrows and lashes that could be almost invisible. If Lady Perdita did not employ a subtle stain her eyelashes would be almost invisible. Violetta saw no sign of paint on Lady Rosington.
“I have to have a new coat made. I would greatly appreciate your opinion on it. Would you care to go with me on a shopping expedition?”
“What’s this?” Lady Rosington’s intimidating lord came over to join them. He stood beside his wife’s chair in a protective gesture. “You’re enticing my wife? Really, Blyth!” If it weren’t for the slight smile in his gray eyes Violetta might have feared for Lord Blyth.
As it was, his lordship grinned at his brother, unintimidated. “Merely to ask her advice. I’ll return her to you unscathed.”
Seeing she was no longer needed, Violetta stood and went to the harpsichord, where she received a frosty glare from Lady Judith. “You may turn the pages for me,” she announced. There was no escape.
Violetta stood and turned the pages for what seemed like an eternity. Lady Judith played competently, but no more than that, and the pieces she chose were well within her capabilities. She received polite applause but the only applause she acknowledged was Lord Blyth’s, staring at him with a smile and a blush.
When Lady Judith rose from the instrument she did not recognize Violetta’s help by so much as a glance. She went straight across the room, and sat next to Lord Blyth. After years of watching the best in the business, Violetta winced at the tactic. Such a direct approach did not only deter the pursued, but made the intention so obvious that rejection would humiliate the pursuer.
She turned away, but was confronted by Lord Elston. “Come and sit with me,” he said, leading the way to a broad sofa. “We’ll leave
the would-be lovebirds in peace.”
Violetta frowned at him. “Are they lovebirds, my lord?”
He grinned, unabashed. “One of them is trying to be. They’re taking wagers in the clubs that she’ll snag him before the year is out.”
Before she could censor herself Violetta replied, “I’ll take a guinea against.”
Lord Elston tipped his head back and roared with laughter, effectively bringing all conversation to a halt. He immediately recalled himself and smiled apologetically. “Dreadfully sorry, everyone. Blyth, where did you discover this treasure? Are there any more?”
Lady Judith glared at Violetta when Lord Blyth smoothly got to his feet and crossed the room. “As far as I know there are no more. You’ll have to ask her. But Miss Lambert is too valuable to us for me to allow her to leave.” He bent and took Violetta’s hand, drawing her to her feet. “Do you play?”
“A little,” Violetta admitted. She did play. A little. She danced better than she played, but this was a family gathering and there would be no dancing. Still, the exercise kept her out of the conversation and allowed Lady Judith a free run at Lord Blyth. Violetta did not grudge her that, although from Lord Blyth’s reaction to her Violetta doubted anything would come of it. Polite but distant would describe his manner reasonably accurately, while Lady Judith made her efforts too clear. Violetta watched her lean towards him, positively pushing her décolletage at him, but while he spoke to Lady Judith, he kept his gaze on Violetta’s face. He leaned back and reached for his tea dish when Lady Judith wanted to move closer, ostensibly to whisper a secret in his ear. The lady could do with lessons from La Perla.
Violetta finished playing to a smattering of polite applause and then, tired of watching Lady Judith’s efforts with Lord Blyth, bowed to Lady Perdita and received a nod of dismissal. She left the room, sighing with relief.
Orlando watched her go with mixed feelings. He was thinking about her far too much for his own peace of mind these days, but he had promised to keep away, and he knew she was good for Perdita. His sister seemed much more confident these days, and he was sure that was all she needed to regain her strength. Lady Judith offered to take her place at the harpsichord, and crossed the room. Orlando knew she was planning to impress him with her superior musicianship. He turned when his older brother addressed him. “I’m sure I’ve seen your Miss Lambert before.”
Lord Elston leaned forward, speaking in a low tone so no one else would hear. “A good wig, but she missed something.”
“A wig?” Orlando was startled. “How can you be sure?”
“Because there was a small strand of dark hair on her shoulder. Careless of her.”
Orlando blinked at Elston and then turned back to Daniel. “Where have you seen her before?”
Rosington frowned. “Have you seen La Perla?”
“Who hasn’t?” Realizing the implication of this, Orlando turned fully to his brother. “You’ve been to her salon?”
Daniel shrugged. “Merely curious. Besides, La Perla is off the market these days. Her salons are more and more intellectual gatherings. Very decorous affairs.”
“With beautiful women for sale,” Elston said. He exchanged a glance with Orlando. “What would Miranda think?”
Daniel looked towards his lovely wife. Orlando thought he saw regret or something similar in his brother’s gray eyes. Daniel turned back. “She might be relieved.” Neither of his brothers said anything, but Orlando knew they both had the same opinion. Miranda had been an invalid for too long. Daniel refused to put her in peril again, for Dr. Sewell had told them another child could kill her, but Orlando knew how much his brother cared for his wife. He couldn’t imagine being in such a situation. He might not be as patient as Daniel had been. However, he had never been in love. He turned his mind back to the other subject of the conversation. “You think Miss Lambert looks like La Perla?”
“Yes. It’s the eyes, I think, and the shape of her face, that point to the chin.”
“Elfin,” said Lord Elston. “Charming. But why should she wear a wig?”
“She wore padding to make herself look bigger, but I thought that was because she was trying to make herself unattractive. She told me she was a target for all the young men in her previous position. It sounded reasonable to me.”
“Possibly.” Lord Elston reached for his wine glass, displaying the fine lace at the end of his sleeves. He studied the red liquid in his glass. “Why else would she do it?”
“To hide her true identity?” Daniel ventured. “La Perla has a daughter, the one she calls La Perla Perfetta. No one has seen the girl’s face. But why would she want to do that?”
“I don’t know,” said Orlando grimly, “but I intend to find out.”
Before Violetta had time to ready herself for her morning visit to Lady Perdita’s room, she had a summons to attend Lord Blyth downstairs in his study. Surprised, because his lordship rarely stirred from his chambers this early, she pinned her wig into place, gave her dowdy dark-green cloth gown a tug to settle its folds and hurried out of her room. Her heart beat a little faster as she approached the study, but she told herself it was merely the unexpectedness of the summons.
Deep inside her she knew it was not. She felt a lifting of her spirits every time she saw him, whether she welcomed it or not. It worried her.
She entered on her knock, and stood, hands folded together demurely before her, waiting for him to look up. He was dressed simply, dark hair tied back, pen in hand, seemingly concentrating on the papers laid before him on his desk. This was no bonheur du jour, a spindly elegant desk, but a heavy piece of furniture, containing a plethora of drawers and an expanse of leathered work surface. It was where, when his lordship was in London, necessary business was conducted.
He looked up and simply stared at Violetta. She stared back. His gaze was hard and deeply focused. He took his time. Not a word was spoken. Then he got to his feet.
Violetta could stand it no more. He came round the desk. She took a step back at the look on his face. She had never seen him so determined, so grim. All his usual humour was gone, replaced by something hard, something that made her afraid.
“Take it off.”
“What?” The word was a question and an expression of disbelief. What did he want?
“The wig. Take it off.”
He stopped a bare six inches away from her. She dared not disobey. Faced with this absolute determination, she knew he would rip it off rather than allow her to leave. Bending her head she took out the long, black-headed pins with shaking fingers. She didn’t know what to do with them, so she kept them in her hand. Lifting her head she met his hard gaze and lifted the offending article away from her head. She tilted her chin.
Something else entered his eyes. Appreciation. She had seen it too often before to deny it. “Why did you do this?”
Violetta decided suddenly she would go the whole hog. She removed her spectacles and met his gaze fearlessly. They stared at each other for a fraught minute. Violetta let him look. “Would you have employed me looking like this? How could I be sure? And once employed, how would I prevent men laying hands on me?” She trembled with anger and the frustration that she hadn’t seen this coming.
He swallowed, his throat moving soundlessly before he spoke. “Is that the only reason?”
She looked away, unable to lie to him at such close quarters. She felt ashamed of her actions. He had trusted her with his only sister, and she had entered his house under false pretences. She knew she was at fault.
He put his hand under her chin and turned her face back to his. The action was gentle, despite his agitation. “Tell me.”
There was no escape. At the end of the day she might find herself out, back at her mother’s house but this time with her reputation in shreds, but she had to tell him. She had come to like Lord Blyth and his sister, and hoped the service she was doing Lady Perdita was enough to make amends for her deception. It was not. She didn’t flinch, but met his gaze. It
was too close, too potent, but she could bear it. For now. After this he would turn away from her disgusted. Who would want her once they knew who she was, what she came from? “It’s my mother. She’s notorious, in her field.”
“La Perla?”
The two words almost struck Violetta dumb. She found a small breath, enough to say, “How could you know that?”
He reached out a hand, touched her hair, fastened in tight braids close to her head. “There is only one woman in London with hair and eyes like that, or so I thought. Only one woman with eyes so deep a violet that a man could drown in them, hair so black and glossy it reflects the sun. Now there’s you. Where else could you have come from?” He put his hand over her hair, smoothed, and then dropped it back by his side as though the touch burned him.
Violetta dropped her glance. She couldn’t meet that searing gaze any longer. She had wronged him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any harm or anxiety.”
“Then why in God’s name do it?”
Tears came to her eyes. She blinked them away. She couldn’t tell him of her mother’s friendship with his mother. It would break the trust between Aunt Virginia and her family. “I wanted to be of some use to somebody.”
His hand was still under her chin. He pushed it up when she would have turned away and he gazed at her. “What’s your name? Your real name?”
“Violetta.”
“Violetta.” He repeated the name, breathing it gently. She felt the hot breath on her face. The finger supporting her chin urged her closer. She felt herself dropping into a void, out of which she had no way of climbing. His lips met hers, and she let herself go.
Just once. Just this once.
When she swayed she felt his arms sweep around her in support, firm against her back. She didn’t fight him; she doubted she could. When she opened her mouth under the gentle pressure of his, his tongue tasted her lips, and then surged inside, taking possession with an urgency that made her tingle.
A Chance to Dream Page 6