Violetta lowered her voice. “I think her interest is more in Lady Perdita.”
He shot her a startled look, and quickened his pace. “Tell me.”
“I have no proof, just suspicions.”
“I would like to hear your suspicions. If you’re right it won’t go any further.”
Violetta sighed and stared at the springing grass by her feet. Then she lifted her gaze to his face. His dear face. “Lady Judith is telling everyone she has hopes of you, but I’m not sure it’s you she’s really interested in. She is increasingly possessive of Lady Perdita, standing guard when we go out, not allowing people near her.” She paused, but didn’t drop her gaze. They were out of earshot now. “Lady Judith touches her too much, more than she needs to. I would say nothing, but I think Lady Perdita is uncomfortable with it.”
His lips firmed. “You mean if she was happy you wouldn’t have told me?”
“Precisely.”
He stared at her, but she didn’t look away. Eventually he sighed. “You have a point. I won’t argue with you about that, particularly because you say Perdita doesn’t like it.”
He turned and led the way further into the garden, deep in thought. Eventually he turned back to her, stopping her walking. “I need your help in this. For the time being, try not to leave her alone, solely in Lady Judith’s company. Perdita has spent some time on her own, and she may not be as confident as she once was. Tell me if it gets worse. Be her friend, Violetta.”
“Of course.”
“Violetta,” he murmured. “Violetta, Violetta.” His gaze softened, became for her alone. She saw the thrall fall over him, like a veil of intimacy and she knew he was remembering last night.
“Sir!” she hissed.
“There’s no one to hear. I want to ask another favour of you.” She turned back to him, one eyebrow raised. “I would appreciate it if you could act as a chaperon for me, too, when Lady Judith is present. I have the greatest fear she will try to trap me into marriage and I prefer to make my own choice.”
“Have you anyone in mind?” As soon as she said it she wished she had not.
He paused. “Not really.” They continued to stroll.
Violetta desperately searched for something to say. “This is a very large garden for a London house.”
“Some of them are deceptively large,” he answered her, “but I like gardens, so I made sure I had a large one.”
“How can you do that?”
He turned to her, smiling. “You haven’t guessed? You didn’t ask anyone?”
“Ask them what?” She was completely bewildered.
“No. You haven’t. My dear, you know that my father left me destitute. Haven’t you ever wondered how I brought us about so quickly?”
She smiled back. “Yes, I’ve wondered, but it’s none of my business.”
“Allow me to tell you.” They walked for a moment in silence, taking a few corners. Violetta realized they were now out of the sight of the ladies, past the rose garden and heading for a pretty summer house. She didn’t care. “When my father died he left me a hundred guineas in cash and a few run down and mortgaged estates.” Walking in this beautiful garden, so carefully maintained, Violetta found it hard to believe. “My stepfather took care of my education and living expenses, but there was little he could do to restore my estates because he had his own to look after. Besides, I didn’t want him to. The task was mine, as the holder of the title and the mortgaged lands. I asked for the hundred guineas to be invested for Perdita’s portion.” He smiled at her, his gaze remarkably serene when he discussed what must have been a distressing time for him.
“Deep down, Violetta, underneath all this folderol I have the heart of a farmer. It was always my ambition to bring the estates back to what they should be. But I needed money for that, to replenish livestock, bring in good breeders, invest in good seed.” He paused and gave a self-conscious laugh. “I had my title, and I used that for all it was worth. They can’t arrest peers for debt, you know. But I knew it wouldn’t do, to put myself so deeply into hock, and so I dreamed up a scheme.” He stopped and faced her, looking back at the neat house beyond. She kept her attention on him.
“There was once a very large house on this site, Garland House. It was one of the run-down properties I inherited, but it was the only one not in the entail. My father used it in preference to all the others, and kept it mercifully free of mortgages. I have no doubt that if he had lived longer he would have sold it or gambled it away. However, he did not and it came to me. I stripped it of all its assets and sold most of them. Then I went into partnership with a gentleman in the City. He provided the capital, I provided the land. We demolished the house and built several streets of smaller ones. Three in all.”
He grinned at her in sheer delight. She couldn’t help returning his joy. “You did it on your own.”
“Yes, I did!” He circled her waist with his hands and swung her into the air, before depositing her a few inches closer to him. “I have two rich brothers, but I didn’t want their help. With the money I bought more land, built more houses. People in London are clamouring for decent housing. Since the Fire there have never been enough, and more people are coming here to live all the time.”
“You’re a property speculator!” She gazed up at him in delight, proud of him for finding such a clever way out of his problems.
“I am.” Without warning he lifted his hand and framed her face before taking her mouth in a deep and passionate kiss.
Her arms went around him without thought. He drew her closer, caressing her through her stays, responding to her unspoken invitation. His tongue caressed her lips and he moved away to whisper, “Open for me, sweet,” his breath hot against her mouth. She obeyed, wanting him as much as he wanted her. He pressed himself to her, all the way down, and sealed his lips to hers once more, taking her with a thoroughness she had never dreamed of before.
It seemed to go on forever, but in reality it couldn’t have been so long. Only sheltered by an ornamental tree, they could have been seen by anyone coming that way. It was when her befuddled brain reminded her that Violetta pulled away. He did not let her go, but watched her face. “I wanted to do that last night, but I didn’t dare. You were so tempting, so sweet, but I couldn’t take advantage of you. I want you sober and willing, when I finally make love to you.”
She ignored the “when”. She didn’t want to break the mood. “You won the wager, fair and square.”
He smiled gently and lifted one hand to trace the shape of her mouth. “Not so fair. I’ve spent a month studying you. I know how you move, the shape of you and even how you smell.”
“How do I smell?”
“Absolutely wonderful.” Before she realized his intent he kissed her again.
If he continued like this she would never be able to resist him. His tongue plundered and caressed, holding a promise she knew he had every intention of fulfilling. If she allowed it. She responded eagerly, no longer able to hide her desire for him.
She wanted him. Oh yes, she wanted him and every moment they were entwined like this she wanted him more. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel so much. His hands on her, caressing her, holding her close, his tongue discovering her mouth in such intimate detail she felt naked.
This time it was Blyth who called a halt. He lifted his head and leaned against the trunk of the tree behind him, letting his head fall back so he was staring up into the green branches above. “This won’t do.” He gave a short laugh. “Anyone could see us.”
Carefully and with obvious reluctance he released her. Violetta stepped away, just as reluctantly.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I truly didn’t plan this.”
Violetta smoothed her shaking hands over her gown. “I should think not!”
“Last night I kept an iron control over myself. I longed to do more than sleep, but I knew I should not. Today, here, I let my baser nature slip.”
“Is it your baser nature?”
/> He laughed again and looked at her. She caught her breath; his eyes burned. “I don’t know. I know I want you and it rages at me sometimes, but I know you deserve more. Physical passion is a wonderful thing, but not enough. Not for you.”
She took a deep breath. “Is that all it is? Physical passion?”
“Truly?” He didn’t look away. “I have no idea. The physical side seems to be dominating at present.” He came away from the tree and shoved his hands in his breeches’ pockets. “I’ve never felt it quite so strongly before.”
“I feel it too.” Her voice came out hoarsely. She cleared her throat.
“We’ll see.” Abruptly he turned and began to walk back in the direction they had come.
Violetta followed, and soon caught him up. He shot her a sideways glance. “I needed a moment. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
They walked in silence and soon came upon the ladies who exclaimed at their absence, Lady Judith rapping him on the arm with her fan. “You should not abandon your sister in such a way, sir!” The roguish glance she threw him said something else.
Violetta avoided his gaze but picked up her glass and drank deeply of the cooling lemonade. She needed it.
The days passed. A new doctor arrived and congratulated Violetta on the exercises and massage, which had become a regular part of Lady Perdita’s day. “It’s just what she needs at this stage of her recovery,” he told her in a quick conference outside Lady Perdita’s room after his first visit. “Push her a little bit harder every day, but not so much that she fails. The canes are a good idea.”
Violetta thanked him and saw him out, afterwards returning to Lady Perdita’s room. She stood by the window, leaning heavily on two stout canes. “I crossed the room five times,” she said to Violetta, her note of triumph warming and rewarding. “What did the doctor say?”
“He said we’re doing the right things. You must exercise until your legs are strong. He says the bones have mended well, and you need not fear any further damage.” She crossed the room to her mistress, although she didn’t touch her. She knew now Lady Perdita’s fierce sense of independence, and could only guess how her recent helplessness had angered and frustrated her.
Tendrils of hair clung damply to Lady Perdita’s forehead, demonstrating how much effort that short walk had cost her. “I need to be back in my chair. Judith’s calling soon.”
Violetta watched Lady Perdita go to the chair and sink into it with a sigh of relief. She took the canes and put them in their usual place behind the curtains at the head of the draped bed. “Why don’t you tell Lady Judith about your exercises?”
Lady Perdita turned and gave her a wicked grin. “I want to surprise her. I want to surprise them all. Only you and the maid know, and now the doctor. Judith only knows that I can stand for a brief minute without help. When I can walk really well, I’ll shock them all silly!”
Violetta laughed with her, feeling like a schoolgirl sharing a guilty secret. Lady Perdita’s fear of walking had turned into this desire for secrecy, one Violetta was delighted to share with her. In private she was much less arrogant. Violetta suspected the hand of Lady Judith in this. Since Lady Perdita had not seen anyone else for the past year it was not surprising that some of Lady Judith’s superior air had rubbed off on her. Violetta guessed it had helped her, when her pride had been damaged. She would lose it as fast as she had gained it. “I’ll arrange some refreshments,” she said, and left the room.
She went downstairs and towards the kitchen door, meaning to call down the stairs, but before she reached it an arm snaked out from the open bookroom door, pulling her inside.
Hard against his lordship’s chest. “Got you!” he snarled, mock fierce, and bent his head to kiss her. Violetta relaxed into his embrace, but only for a moment. Pulling back, she stared up into his face. “We’ll be caught! It’s a wonder no servant has seen us before now!”
“Would it matter?” He kissed her again, softly this time.
“Not for you. We might have been seen already. Still, I am your servant.”
He frowned at her, brows beetling. “No. You’re not my servant, Violetta, though it puzzles me to know just what you are, and the moment you tell me to stop, I will.” He broke the aristocratic hauteur with an impish grin. “Though it would cost me much.”
It would cost her, too. She welcomed his kisses. Violetta had known many men in her short life, some of them her mother’s keepers, but never before had she found male advances so difficult to resist. He insisted he was her friend, and she knew he was but she wanted more. Was it so sinful? Couldn’t she have just a little taste of love? Something inside her knew this was her chance, this was the man. The only one who would touch her in quite this way. She had no idea if he felt the same way, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t for her. This was all she could ever have of him.
The doorbell rang and they broke apart when a maid came clattering up the backstairs to answer the door. With a quick pat to her head, to make sure her wig was still firmly in place Violetta stepped out and continued to the kitchen.
Lady Judith’s voice echoed through the hall, stridently jolly. “Lord Blyth, what a surprise to see you! Are you not heading for the clubs and coffee houses? I thought every man of fashion would be there at this time of day! Can it be—” She broke off, though Violetta didn’t need to see her to see the raised fan, the coy look.
Having issued her orders, Violetta turned round and waited at the foot of the stairs, knowing his lordship didn’t want to be left alone with this predatory female. Lady Judith cast her an exasperated look and then ignored her, turning back to Lord Blyth with a smile. “Will you join us for tea?”
“Not today, I regret. As you guessed, I do have an appointment.” Seizing his hat and gloves from the footman who had come up to the hall, Lord Blyth bowed to her and left. Lady Judith turned to Violetta with a frown and a sigh. “He’s in such a hurry these days! Has he a particular reason?” She made a sound between her teeth. “Why am I asking you? I must be going mad.” With a swirl of peach skirts, she swept up the stairs.
Violetta stared after her before following. She sincerely hoped that when Orlando did marry, as one day he must, it would not be to this proud, stupid woman. Her heart sank at the reminder, but she knew it must come. They would part soon, but try as she might she could not be anything but deeply unhappy at the prospect.
Chapter Eleven
Violetta grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. Dressing for the opera. She had been before, in her role as La Perla Perfetta, but never as Charlotte Lambert. This time her stays were deliberately loose, her gown that bilious green one she was so proud of discovering. The wig was fastened in its usual tight knot, no curls to soften the severe lines and her lace was but one ruffle at her elbow, cheap thin stuff instead of the gorgeous Brussels and Méchlin that adorned her white gowns, now laundered and resting in lavender at her mother’s house. She tucked a fichu into the neckline, covering any hint of a swelling breast. No elaborate jewels swung from her ears, nothing precious circled her throat. Her shoes were plain leather and worn. Just the effect she wanted to produce.
So why was she feeling miserable? Violetta picked up the spectacles from the dressing table and slid them onto her face. Because she wanted to be pretty for him, that was why. That one night he had seen her as La Perla Perfetta had remained with her. He had wanted her, and burned for her, as it was right he should, as she burned for him. When she looked like this she wondered why he bothered to give her a second glance.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror then laughed at herself and deliberately turned and left the room. Miss Lambert would remain in character this evening. At least, in this guise, she knew just who she was supposed to be.
Lord Blyth waited in the salon downstairs when Lady Perdita sent word she would join them at the dining table. When Charlotte would have gone up to her, Lord Blyth caught her hand in his and said, “No. She was always like this, primping to the las
t moment. It’s a good sign, not a bad one. Come and eat.”
Sure enough, Lady Perdita joined them shortly after they sat down, being carefully lowered to her place by a footman. Lady Judith was with her, but since this was a family affair (as she archly told them) the inequality of the sexes did not matter. “Unless,” she added, “we may count Miss Lambert as an honorary male.” The laughing look she sent to Lord Blyth invited his complicity in her conceit, but he merely gave her a cold smile and got on with his dinner.
The taunts hurt Violetta, much as she would have liked to deny it. For her pride’s sake, no one else need know that. She put her public mask of serenity firmly into place, as hard and rigid as any of the elegant confections she wore as La Perla Perfetta, and pushed another forkful of fricasseed chicken into her mouth. Lord Blyth had a good cook but the food tasted like ashes to Violetta. She wished Lady Perdita would support her against Lady Judith’s taunts, but it seemed not. The lady’s gratitude was obviously only to be expressed in private.
After dinner Lord Blyth, with an apologetic, secret smile to Violetta, escorted Lady Judith from the room and to the waiting carriage. Violetta had to wait until the others were seated before she could take her place next to Lady Perdita, and her green skirts were badly crushed under the pressure of Lady Perdita’s wide hoops and full, celestial blue skirts. Lady Perdita’s agonizing over her toilet had borne great results. She was elegant and poised; everything Charlotte was not.
The journey to the opera house was uncomfortable, at least for Violetta. The evenings were lengthening, so dusk had barely begun to dim the light when they entered the great opera house. Lady Perdita silently allowed a footman to lift her and carry her in, after Violetta had disposed her skirts so they had the least chance of creasing. They were patronizing the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden tonight, where a performance of one of Mr. Handel’s works was to take place. “Imeneo,” Lady Perdita said thoughtfully, tapping her closed fan against her lips. “Some pretty tunes in that.”
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