A Chance to Dream

by Lynne Connolly

  As she fell into a profound slumber she thought she heard something else, but she couldn’t be sure and by that time had tumbled over the edge.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sound of a door slamming made Violetta sit bolt upright. For a moment she was disorientated, not recognizing her surroundings, then she remembered where she was. The candles were still burning, halfway down to the sockets, so she couldn’t have been asleep for too long.

  Beside her he stirred and then opened his eyes, staring up at her sleepily. Then he smiled. It was a full, warm smile, and she smiled back. “Come back.” He pulled her back down into his arms. She went willingly, turning her face up for his kiss, a gentle, closed mouth salute.

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  “An hour, perhaps. I lost track of time somewhat.”

  “What was the noise?”

  “Perdita’s home. I hope she doesn’t decide to check on you, but I don’t think she will. She sounded—tired. Her steps weren’t entirely steady.”

  Violetta could imagine. Before she had left, Lady Perdita had been imbibing more wine than she suspected her mistress was used to. “Yes. She’ll no doubt go straight to bed.”

  There was a short pause. “Violetta, I ought to be angry with you, but I’m more angry with myself. I’m sorry I hurt you so. I assumed too much, I thought the losing of your virginity at the house was some kind of public announcement, not a declaration of fact. I was too sunk into my own needs, my own desires.”

  “You were very angry earlier.”

  “That was foolish too. And more than half of it was frustration, I think.” He kissed her again. “I wanted to persuade you to make love with me when I discovered you were La Perla Perfetta. I thought—” He lifted himself up on one elbow. “How did you stay a virgin in that house?”

  “My mother insisted on it. She thinks you deflowered me that night at the house. She wasn’t happy about it, but she said it was my decision.”

  He caressed her cheek. “You should have told me. I assumed too much. I thought, in that house, you must have had an encounter or two. I thought—it doesn’t matter now. I’ve made you what I thought you to be.”

  “A whore?” Her voice hardened.

  “No.” His reply was just as firm. “An experienced woman. You’re so lovely, I didn’t think it was possible for you to live in that house without—shall we say testing the waters?”

  She swallowed. “You would take me anyway?”

  He smiled, so gently. “Of course. It’s you I want, Violetta, and all that goes with you, whatever that is.”

  “Would you have made love to me, if you’d known?”

  “No.”

  She smiled up at him. “I wanted you to. My virginity isn’t as precious as a society lady’s, or a respectable maiden’s. I’m not respectable.”

  His fingers stroked her cheek as though she was the most precious thing of all to him. Violetta knew she wasn’t, but she allowed herself to enjoy the cherishing touch. “Have you a little more time for me?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  He bent his head and kissed her, pushing his hand into her hair. Violetta was vaguely surprised to find it was still braided. His had lost his black ribbon sometime, and his dark hair now tumbled about his face. A strand fell over them, binding them in a fragile link, broken as soon as he lifted his head and flicked his hair back. “I took you tonight without any kind of prevention. You could be pregnant.”

  “I won’t be tomorrow.”

  “What?” He leaned back, startled.

  “My mother has given me a potion. She’s taken it herself for the last twenty years. It’s why she’s had no children.”

  He stared at her. “I didn’t know there was any such thing.”

  “She brought the recipe from Italy.”

  “What’s in it?” He wasn’t smiling.

  “I don’t know. Pennyroyal and some other things.”

  “Have you taken any so far?”

  “Not yet. There’s been no need.”

  He bit his lower lip. “Don’t.”

  “What?” She stared at him incredulously. “If I don’t take it, I could—”

  “Fall pregnant. Yes, I know. If you take it, it could harm you.”

  “I told you. My mother’s been taking it for twenty years.”

  He sighed, his hand moving to stroke her hair as though he couldn’t help himself. “There’s no guarantee it won’t stop children permanently, is there?” Dumbly she shook her head, feeling his fingers curl around her skull, almost protectively.

  “Please, don’t take it. I’ll do what I can to minimize the risk, but I don’t want you to ruin your chances of conception.”

  She moved suddenly, jerking her head back. “Why not? How will children fit into my life?”

  He reached for her. “You could find someone.” Someone? She would never want anyone else. Not like this. “If you take it,” he continued, his voice a soft purr. “I’ll never make love to you again. That’s a promise.”

  “Really!” It was almost as though he wanted her to bear his child! Although she knew he would not be so selfish, something besides her reasoning saw the hunger in his eyes. “Do you want a child?”

  It was his turn to stare at her. “Of course not. No, I couldn’t do that to you!” But something lingered in his eyes. “I don’t want you to be hurt in any way because of this.”

  She knew better than to question him further, guessing that he hadn’t worked it out himself yet. She wouldn’t take the potion. It was true, it had been remarkably effective for her mother. There was no telling but that it had made her sterile, especially considering the frequency she took it.

  Violetta had lingering hopes of a child, someone of her own, someone who belonged with her without question. Her mind raced ahead, planning a new disguise. She could pose as a widow instead of a debutante; respectable widows had children. It would just mean the deferment of her original plan for a while, that was all, while the child was born. It would leave her with something of his when he was lost to her. “All right then. I won’t take the potion. I promise. I can use a sponge, instead.”

  “Good. I know a few women who use that.” Unaware of his faux pas he reached for her, and his arm was around her when she flinched. He seemed to know what was wrong. “Are you sore?”

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “A little.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s normal for your first time. Will you let me make you more comfortable?”

  “What do you mean?”

  For answer he threw back the covers and got out of bed, going over to the washstand. A candle guttered; he leaned over and pinched it out. In a drawer underneath he drew out more candles, and took some time lighting some more to replace the ones that had almost flickered out. Violetta enjoyed watching him, absorbed in what he was doing, his long, lean form reminding her of the pleasure he had just given her.

  He busied himself at the washstand on the other side of the room, where the substantial bedposts blocked Violetta’s view. “This is a massive bed.” Like the rest of the bedroom furniture it was fashioned from glowing walnut, upholstered in dark green.

  “Yes. It’s from the old house. Too big for this house really, but I couldn’t bear to part with it.” He walked back to her and she enjoyed the sight of him all over again. His expression was softer than she could ever remember it. He held two damp cloths in his hand. Violetta watched him with misgiving.

  Flinging the bedclothes off her he took a moment to study her revealed form. “You’re very beautiful.” He sat down next to her and applied the cloth.

  “Oh! That’s cold!”

  He chuckled. “It will help, I promise.” He cleaned her first, then urged her legs open and placed the other cloth between them, holding it in place. “I hope this will soothe you a little.” He looked up at her face, expression sharp and warm. “After all, it’s for my own good, too. I hope this won’t be the only time you’ll allow me into your bed.”r />
  “I’m in your bed,” she pointed out.

  “Take it metaphorically,” he suggested. He returned to the washbasin and wrung out the spare cloth, coming back to reapply it. “I hope this makes up a little for my brutality. It’s the reason you’re hurt so much.”

  “Am I? It feels much better now.” She luxuriated, lying flat, being attended to.

  “Good.” He glanced at her, swiftly assessing, then removed both cloths and returned them to the washstand, wringing them out first. Very domestic, Violetta thought, and wondered how many domestic tasks an impoverished earl would have taken on for himself.

  A thought of him wielding a sweeping brush made her smile. She was still smiling when he came back to bed, sliding in beside her and drawing a sheet over them. “That was very thoughtful of you,” she murmured, slipping into his arms as though she belonged there.

  He smoothed a strand of hair back from her forehead. “Guilt. I should have known better.”

  “I’ll have to go back to my room, soon.”

  He sighed. “I know. I want you here all night and every night for the foreseeable future. Will you come away with me?”

  “What? How can I?”

  His arm tightened around her. “I want some time alone with you. I have a house at Richmond, very private. It’s usually rented out but it’s vacant at the moment. We could go there.”

  “Lady Perdita will need me.”

  He grunted. “Not as much as I do. She won’t need you for much longer. You’ve done miracles there, Violetta. Before you came she was listless, lifeless almost. You deserve a bonus for that.”

  She had hurt him with her refusal of his gift, she realized that now. Too late to go back. “Then give me a monetary bonus. If you truly think I’ve done some good there, do it that way. Not too much, or I’ll give it back to you.”

  “I know you will.” He turned, and brought his mouth to hers for another kiss. “If you don’t go soon I’ll be tempted. Think about it. When Perdita goes to Ripley Court, it’s likely you can get some time off. We could snatch a week to ourselves and I can join Perdita there later.”

  “You really want to do that?”

  “I really do.” His kiss was full of promise.

  “Are you a complete fool, child?”

  La Perla was agitated; even more than when Ripley had told her he would have to go into the country for a while to attend to business and greet his guests. “You refuse his generous offer then go to his bed anyway?” She got to her feet and strode around the room restlessly, her full apple green skirts foaming around her. “What were you thinking of?”

  “I wasn’t thinking,” Violetta confessed.

  “I thought you returned to the house to make it clear to him his advances were no longer welcome. You made up your mind, Violetta. What made you change it?”

  Violetta told her the only thing she thought might mollify her mama. It was the truth, in any case. “I wanted him. I was tired of resisting him.”

  “He has pestered you?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. He was perfectly behaved, apart from a kiss or two. I wanted him, mama and I thought this would get it out of my system.”

  La Perla regarded her daughter shrewdly. Even without powder on her face she was a strikingly lovely woman, one of the youngest looking fifty-year-olds Violetta had ever seen and a walking reproof to the moralists. Not every vice led to eventual degradation and death. “You haven’t, have you?”

  Violetta shrugged. “No. He wants me to go away with him.”

  “When? Will Lady Perdita excuse you?”

  “She doesn’t want me as much as she did. She dismisses me more. When she goes to stay at Ripley Court she won’t need me at all.”

  La Perla frowned. “Then go with your earl. Spend a week with him. Indulge yourself. Get him out of your system for good, and come home and spend the rest of your life as you wish.” In one of those sudden changes of mood that marked her, she swept her skirts aside and knelt at Violetta’s feet, taking both her hands, staring up into her daughter’s face. “Violetta, I did not do this so you could become what I am. I am despised, hated in some quarters. I do not repine; it was the only way we could survive. If I had done anything else, showed myself under my real name, your father would have come and taken me back.”

  “I know,” Violetta replied, touched by the anxious expression in her mother’s face, as she had not been by her reproaches. “I won’t, I promise. I will make you proud of me one day.”

  La Perla sighed heavily. “Because of me, if you find a man to love you will have to lie to him all your days.”

  Violetta snatched her hands back. “No! If I cannot find a man to love me, and accept you, I will not marry. I will not!”

  “You can hardly trumpet me to the world,” La Perla said softly. Her Italian accent became more pronounced, less a studied lilt than a flow back into the language of her girlhood. She usually spoke English, for protection and out of habit, but tended to return to her native tongue if upset or agitated. True enough, her next words were Italian. Violetta, almost as fluent in the tongue as her mother, had no difficulty following her. “I am a woman you must be ashamed of.”

  Violetta took her hands again, feeling the thinness under the rings. “I will never be ashamed of you. You did what you had to, and you were brave. I cannot be ashamed of that. The world does not know what I do. I will always be proud of you.”

  “Bless you!” Her mother leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on her daughter’s cheek. She stood and shook out her skirts in a brisk motion, returning to English. “So go and spend some time with your lover, but be discreet. Do not allow him to take you out in public, unless you are masked. Foolish to let your guard down now, when we are so close.”

  Violetta agreed. It would be the height of folly to let anything slip.

  Returning to the Blyth house felt almost like coming home. Lady Perdita greeted her with a casual smile, and returned to her embroidery. Without looking up she said, “I thought I would show Orlando how far I have come at dinner.”

  “Indeed, my lady. I’m sure he will be delighted when he sees you.”

  “I do not want to show him any more until I’m perfectly sure I can maintain it. I’ll show him what I can for sure, now.”

  Violetta stood on one side of Lady Perdita and helped her to her feet, only to be neatly manoeuvred out of the way by the ever-present Lady Judith. Her ladyship took Lady Perdita’s free arm. Violetta handed her cane to her, and smiled graciously. “Goodness, what a lot of work we’ve done to get this far!”

  Violetta reflected that she had not seen Lady Judith at one of the morning sessions when Lady Perdita had been massaged and tried, in painful increments, to stand and walk. Lady Perdita’s uncertain temper had made each morning a different voyage of discovery, but now they were there, and her ladyship was ready to show her brother.

  The door opened and Lord Blyth stood in the entrance, frozen in shock, or delight, or perhaps both.

  “Perdita!” Holding both hands out he came forward and embraced her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re standing! Oh how foolish of me, of course you are. It’s such a shock, my dear, when I think of the person you were six months ago! I’m so pleased!”

  “It took a lot of hard work,” Lady Judith pointed out. She moved, causing her skirts to rustle.

  Lord Blyth drew back. He had not looked Violetta’s way once. “Indeed, it must have done. Such a surprise, my dear!”

  “Lady Perdita has been very brave,” Lady Judith remarked. “I thought it a good idea for her to try gradually, and then surprise you when she had achieved it.”

  He frowned. “I think I would rather have helped. However, if that is what you wanted, you have succeeded. May I take you in to dinner?”

  “We must invite more people to dinner now I am well,” Perdita said.

  He looked at Violetta, then. A moment’s intimacy. Violetta was afraid Lady Judith would notice, but she didn’t seem to. S
he hardly seemed to notice her at all. Taking her place next to her with reluctance, Lady Judith kept all her attention on Lord Blyth. Violetta guessed she wouldn’t be happy at an increase in guests. She’d had Lord Blyth to herself for dinner at least twice a week and she got precisely nowhere with him.

  After dinner, blithely ignoring her presence, the ladies discussed strategy. “I’m determined to get you for Orlando,” Lady Perdita announced. “What could be more suitable? I know you want him. Do not even attempt to deny it!” Violetta stared at her curiously. Did she think to fob her friend off on her brother? How could she imagine that Lady Judith would be satisfied with that?

  “I don’t think he’s looking for a wife.” Lady Judith had allowed all her flirtatiousness to slip now there was no audience for it. She sat in her chair, tracing the pattern from her outspread fan with one finger. “He seems determined to enjoy his bachelorhood a while longer. Why, he as much as told me so last week!”

  “Does he indeed?” Lady Perdita tapped her own fan against her lips before spreading it and fanning herself in a graceful motion. “Well, he shall not. He has turned thirty this year, and it’s high time he settled down. I don’t think he appreciates his good fortune, Judith.”

  Lady Judith stared at her fan morosely, rosebud mouth turned down at the corners. “You will bring him to the Court? I have to go soon. My mother insists on it. She says I have been spending too much time here and unless my pursuit bears fruit soon she will take matters into her own hands.”

  “She’ll arrange your marriage for you?”

  Lady Judith grimaced. “I know who she has in mind. Lord Shapley.”

  Lady Perdita frowned. “It could be worse.”

  Lady Judith lifted her head and stared at her friend bitterly. “Would you marry him? He’s lost most of his back teeth, his breath is appalling, and I’m sure he’s lost most of his hair because no one has ever seen him without his wig! He’s thin, weedy, and not even old enough to die off conveniently after a few years.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind being a rich widow, but he’s no older than your brother, and I could be shackled to him until I die!”