A Chance to Dream

by Lynne Connolly

  It felt right. It felt as though this was what should happen, this was the natural conclusion to everything she had done so far. Letting herself go, just this once, she felt bliss, joy she would never allow herself to feel again, but it didn’t matter, because at the end of this day she would be back in her mother’s house. Back where she started.

  He didn’t try to move his hands, held them still, supporting her while he plundered her mouth, took her soul. This was Violetta’s first real kiss, the first she had let herself feel. Men had tried before, but either she had endured or had got away. This time she responded, lifting one arm to rest her hand at his waist, heavy with his plain cloth coat.

  He took his time, once she made it clear she wouldn’t fight him off. Drawing her closer so her head rested on his shoulder, he continued his exploration. Violetta felt herself drowning in his spell, sinking into sensuality. He lifted his head only to drop a series of small kisses on her face and return to her mouth. She submitted, and responded as he seemed to wish, touching her tongue to his, eventually accepting his invitation and entering his mouth, to explore it in her turn.

  It seemed forever before he lifted away and regarded her through lids slumberous with desire. “Is this what you wanted? Is this all an attempt to trap me?”

  The jolt in the vicinity of her heart was almost painful. Violetta wrenched herself away from his arms, strode to the door then turned back, her face set in a blank mask. She would leave this room with some dignity. She bent to pick up the hated wig. Only to meet his hand, also on the offending article. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “In answer to your question, sir,” she spat out the last word, making it an insult. “No, it isn’t what I wanted. No, it’s not an attempt to trap you. I have no need of that.”

  Swiftly he moved to bar her exit, standing before the door. “Then why?”

  “Perhaps I saw someone who needed help.”

  “You came here from Thompsons. You didn’t know where you were going before you came here.”

  She stood before him, patently demanding to be let out, but he would not let her. “I knew. If Mrs. Thompson had offered me any other position I would have refused it.”

  “I want you.”

  “Why? Because you think I’m available?”

  He shook his head. “When you came through that door on the first day I felt something. I was worried, considering how you looked that day. The padding, the wig, the spectacles. I believed them all, but something told me it wasn’t right, it wasn’t you. I was right, wasn’t I? You’re lovely, Violetta, every man’s dream.” He reached out a hand, then dropped it back to his side.

  “Which is why I wear the disguise,” she pointed out, not impressed by his compliments. She’d heard too many of the same in her mother’s salon to have her head turned that way. “I have chosen my path, and I intend to take it.”

  “Governess companion? When you could have so much more?”

  Her ire rose within her like a living thing. “Are you offering?”

  His smile was slow and sensuous. “I would love to. Would you accept?”

  Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, anything. Something else rose within her, knowledge that such an arrangement could never be enough. Secure financially she did not need such inducements, but she knew, when the day of parting came, it would cause unimaginable heartbreak. For her. “I cannot.” Reminding herself of her purpose here, she added, “I’ve promised to help Lady Perdita. She needs my help, you know that.”

  That seemed to move him. He frowned, and stood up straight, taking his back off the door. “In that you’re right. I thought Perdita lost to me until you came, but even if she never walks again I think she will consent to take her place in society.” He moved forward, and put his hands on her upper arms. She wanted to pull away, overwhelmed by his proximity to her, but stayed where she was, looking up into his face. “I owe you a great deal for that. But I won’t give up. I can’t remember feeling so strongly about any woman before. Desire, Violetta. I desire you. Your appearance makes no difference at all. Is that the only reason you dress in such a way? When I realized just how different you could look, I thought there must be something else, another reason for your disguise. I still think it.”

  Unable to bear it any more, unsure of her answer, Violetta pulled out of his arms and went to stand before the mirror, resettling the wig. She still held some of the pins in her hand, so she stuck them in, and accepted the ones he silently picked up off the carpet and gave to her. “I don’t need the wig, the spectacles or the padding, but it helps immeasurably to fend off unwanted advances. I am what I am, a governess companion, and I have no wish to be anything else. Not yet.”

  He came up behind her, but did not touch her, just gazed at them both in the mirror. Violetta put the spectacles back on her nose. “Now I know what an exquisite creature lives behind the disguise, I won’t give up.”

  She turned round, giving no ground, but her hooped skirts swung, forcing him to step back. “You mean to follow me and hound me? You mean to make me do what I have no wish to do?”

  He smiled, sending waves of heat curling through her treacherous body. “No. I want you to desire it, too. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. Neither will I betray your secret. I have seen enough of your work to trust you with my sister, although…” he frowned and glanced at her face, “…you are right in one respect. Had I known who your mother was when I interviewed you, I would not have engaged you.”

  Violetta felt vindicated. “You see? You know the demi-monde and you would have thought of me immediately. My colouring is more common in Italy, but not here. It is harder for me to hide in society here.”

  “You will have to hide your vitality as well, then.” He moved to the door and put his hand on the knob. “It’s what attracted me. Your vitality and your quick mind.” He turned back, a new light in his eyes. “Are you ashamed of your mother?”

  She shot pure blue fire at him from beneath her dark lashes. “No! Never that!”

  She strode through the door when he opened it and went straight up to Lady Perdita’s room.

  Orlando watched her go, walking up the stairs with the unconscious grace that had first attracted him to her. He returned to his study, and closed the door quietly behind him. He could no longer concentrate on the estate work that had brought him to the study so early. He was deeply perturbed.

  When she had taken off that wig, when he had seen her hair, and then her eyes without those dreadful spectacles, something inside him had clicked into place. At first it was a relief to find she was La Perla’s daughter. That meant she could be had. And he wanted her, with a yearning he found almost shocking, something that threatened to overcome his senses, even his reason.

  While not precisely a rake, Orlando had not been celibate either. He knew what he liked in a woman, and it wasn’t generally Violetta’s type. He preferred a generously built blonde for his dalliances. Elegant, unearthly beauty had never attracted him before, but in Violetta it was explosive, detonating a desire over which he had little control. Perhaps there was something about the family, something extra that made them special.

  Going back to his desk, Orlando sighed and turned over the top sheet of paper, intending to concentrate on his work. Since this was an account of his investment portfolio, it needed all his attention, but he was unable to give it. Instead he sat staring into space, remembering the feel of her under his hands, the soft mouth under his, responding so sweetly to his kisses. He had always been blessed with the gift of concentration but this time when he tried all he could see was a pair of violet eyes he could get lost in for all time.

  He had to have her. If he didn’t he might go mad.

  Chapter Six

  When Dr. Sewell called to see his patient, the day after Violetta’s confrontation with Lord Blyth in his study, Violetta was firmly in place, standing by the bed in Lady Perdita’s room. The red-rimmed eyes and dark shadows caused by her sleepless night didn’t show
so much behind the tinted spectacles. She couldn’t let Lady Perdita down now.

  The doctor was a man in his early fifties, well-groomed as befitted one of London’s most fashionable physicians, with a gleam in his pale blue eyes Violetta did not trust. It looked too feral to her. Her mother patronized a different doctor, but rarely needed one, so Violetta had never met this one before. Her instinctive reaction was dislike, though there was no ostensible reason she should feel so.

  He greeted Lady Perdita with an avuncular smile, his gaze passing over the delicate lace confection she wore over her shift. Then he turned to Violetta, his expression frosty. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure?”

  Violetta had expected antipathy. “Miss Lambert, my new companion,” Lady Perdita said, her voice tight and hard. “She has asked to remain during the examination.”

  The bewigged head turned from cold scrutiny of Violetta to Lady Perdita, the expression changing into warmth. “I don’t think we need that, do we? You may leave, Miss Lambert.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I have my orders from his lordship. I must remain.” Violetta did her best to sound humble. The small falsehood came from a certainty Lord Blyth would want someone there and endorse her claim.

  “I will explain to his lordship. You may go.”

  Violetta said nothing, but did not move. Not one fold of her full skirts twitched. The doctor swung to face her, his eyes blazing, his mouth set in a hard line. “Did you hear me?”

  “I cannot. His lordship’s orders were most specific. You must speak to him now if you don’t wish me to be present.” She did not meet that steely glare, not wishing to give him the advantage, but she didn’t drop her head in any kind of submissive gesture either.

  She felt his eyes pass over her, taking in the shapeless gown, the mousy hair, before he shrugged in a semblance of carelessness. “Very well.” Despite the words and the gesture Violetta knew he cared very much, and wondered why it mattered.

  When Lady Perdita nodded, Violetta came forward and helped her out of the lacy wrapper. She stood silently behind the chair and watched the gaze of the doctor. He was unable to hide the lasciviousness, a slavering greediness, a look Violetta had seen before in her mother’s salon, but one he had no right turning on Lady Perdita. She was not for sale.

  Dr. Sewell knelt at her feet and pushed up the shift, so it lay on her thighs. From that angle his view would be interesting, if he cared to look up. Violetta leaned forward and disposed the thin folds so they covered Lady Perdita better. As though it didn’t matter, as though there wasn’t some kind of duel going on, the doctor ignored Violetta’s action, lifted one of her ladyship’s feet and took the calf in his hand. It was noticeably better shaped than it had been before they had begun the exercises and massage. “What’s this?” He probed and squeezed until Lady Perdita winced and took a sharp breath. “Have you been overtaxing your strength, my lady?”

  He lifted his head to glare at Violetta, who steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. “Lady Perdita has been taking some mild exercise. It has not overtaxed her.”

  “Indeed,” Lady Perdita put in, “I have found it stimulating. You told me the bones were healed, doctor. What harm can there be to try their strength?” Violetta saw her hand move, as though Lady Perdita would reach up to take her hand, but she waited, and saw the hand go back to rest in her lap.

  Dr. Sewell kept hold of her leg, probing and kneading much harder than either Violetta or her maid had ever done. It must be hurting, but Violetta, from her vantage point behind the chair, saw Lady Perdita’s jaw twitch as she set her face against showing any pain. She must have endured a great deal of pain. Setting the bones, Violetta had heard, was an agonizing process. Her admiration for her mistress rose an extra notch.

  “If you put your weight on the legs before you are ready, if you overtax yourself, the bones will shatter like twigs!” The doctor’s voice lifted in anger.

  Violetta gasped. Surely that could not be true! Legs had been broken before. She knew of a girl at school with her who had a similar but not so serious injury. She had been back on her feet inside three months. There was something seriously wrong here.

  The tears sprang to Lady Perdita’s eyes. “I had hoped to walk again soon.”

  “Impossible!” The doctor got to his feet and dusted his hands off. Immediately, Violetta brought the lacy wrapper up and over her mistress, covering her from the predatory stare. “You must not continue my lady. It is important you rest and get your strength back.”

  “Of course.” Lady Perdita sounded docile. Violetta could only hope she was not.

  The doctor left without refreshment or what he termed his “delightful chat” with his patient, claiming another engagement. Violetta had the strong suspicion he left because of her. His lecture had been long and exhausting, even to Violetta. Lady Perdita was in no mood for her usual exercises or for anything but to return to bed.

  Violetta rang for the maid, and helped to settle the largely silent lady back in bed. It was as well she was not called on to make much comment. She was too angry to speak.

  Not waiting for her temper to dissipate Violetta hurried downstairs, to his lordship’s study. She knocked and received the summons to enter. It was only after she closed the door she remembered, with a sharp sense of danger, what had happened here before.

  It was of no account. This was far more important.

  Lord Blyth looked up with a mild enquiry, his expression changing quickly to deep concern. He got to his feet. “Why whatever has happened? You look ready to explode! Come and sit down.”

  He helped her to a chair and Violetta took a seat gratefully. Now she was here she must order her thoughts. She took a few deep breaths. “I’m fine. Just very angry.”

  He turned from the sideboard, two glasses in his hand. He poured a small amount of brandy into each, and brought one to her before taking his customary seat behind his desk. Violetta took the glass with a small smile of thanks, but did not drink. She swirled the liquid around the glass, watching the facets reflect the amber liquid, watching it trickle in viscous trails down to the bottom again, readying her thoughts.

  She looked up to see him watching her, a question in his eyes. She shook her head and emptied her glass, shuddering a little as the brandy left its trail of fire down her throat. Carefully she placed the glass on the desk before her and folded her hands in her lap. “Thank you. I needed a restorative.” She tried to choose her words carefully, but she could think of very few ways to express what she had just witnessed. “Dr. Sewell is prurient.”

  He frowned, and leaned forward from his seat behind the desk, giving her all his attention. “Explain.”

  Violetta felt none of the thrill she usually felt when he moved close to her. Fury suffused her, leaving room for nothing else. “He wanted Lady Perdita in her shift, and he wanted her alone. He lifted the garment up far too high for his essential needs. He looked. I saw him look.” Her mouth turned down in distaste. “You know I must have seen more in my life than most women my age.” He nodded, not bothering to equivocate. “This was more like a voyeur, the sort of person who prefers to watch than participate. You understand?”

  His mouth firmed. “Only too well.”

  “He told her not to continue with her exercises, said it’s too soon to think of trying to walk again. He wants her docile and needing him.” She paused, and the only sound in the room was low breathing. Hers, as she fought to control her temper and his, rising in anger. “I think you need to consult another physician, my lord. It’s taking away all her confidence.” She kept her sentences terse. She needed to, otherwise the tirade might lose her any advantage she had in getting to him first.

  He tapped his teeth with the rim of his glass, took a sip. “I’ll certainly do so. I’ll inform Dr. Sewell his services are no longer required.” He looked at Violetta sharply. “He will no doubt blame you for the change. Is that a problem?”

  She shook her head. “No. My…family doesn’t use him.” She wan
ted to avoid any reference to her mother, not to remind him of her, but it was in vain.

  She saw the understanding spark in his eyes. “Ah yes, your family. Have you a father?”

  “Not any more.” It was all of the truth she wanted to tell him at present.

  “Which doctor does your mother use? Or is he a specialist?”

  “In what way?” Realizing his meaning Violetta felt the hot blood surge under her skin. “No. There has never been any need for that. My mother might be notorious but she is neither a madam nor a prostitute.”

  “What would you call her, then?”

  How had the conversation taken such a disastrous turn? Violetta couldn’t remember. She sat straight and stiff in her chair. “I call her my mother. She has by necessity undertaken…things she wouldn’t normally have considered, but she has made a success of it.”

  “Indeed she has.” His voice was grim.

  There was that edge of anger again. Violetta found it difficult to understand. Her anger had dissipated, once she had found a sympathetic audience, but now she was bewildered by his annoyance. “Why should my mother make you angry?”

  He looked away. “I should say nothing.”

  “You’ve said too much already.”

  He shot a sharp glance at her. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  He stood up from behind the desk and walked slowly to where she sat. She sat still, refusing to give ground. “Does my opinion mean that much to you?”

  She met his gaze fearlessly. “You are my employer. It means something.”

  “I see.” Without moving he watched her. His gaze passed over her face with a yearning she was afraid to interpret. She wanted him, but there was too much at stake. The kiss they had shared was nothing to a man like him, it may have been a way of controlling her. He sighed, a gentle outbreath she felt as a soft breeze on her cheek. “I have found you an exemplary employee, a bright, intelligent woman and even one I would like to call friend.” There was a small, telling hesitation. “Perhaps more than that. I cannot imagine why anyone would thrust you into the world of the demi-monde. I can’t see you there.”