A Chance to Dream

by Lynne Connolly

  Chapter Eighteen

  Buoyed up by the enthusiasm and commitment her mother and Aunt Virginia lent to the scheme, Violetta allowed herself to enter fully in their plans for her. Only when the austere front of Ripley Court hove into view through the windows of Aunt Virginia’s travelling carriage did she have misgivings. They let Lord Taversall into the plot. It was a surprise to discover he knew all his wife’s activities, but when Violetta moved into the Taversall town house, in the guise of Violetta Palagio newly arriving from Italy, she witnessed true devotion and love. Aunt Virginia could have no more hidden her life from her husband than she could have flown.

  His lordship accepted the scheme with his usual good humour, saying it was about time his stepson considered settling down, and he couldn’t think of a better candidate than Violetta. It was more than reassuring that he knew her past and still accepted her. They kept nothing from him. Violetta had not expected that. Their eldest son, Corin, Lord Elston, was accompanying them briefly to Ripley Court, then going on to what he referred to as “a snug little bachelor party”. He accepted Violetta without question, although something sparked in the depths of his sleepy, surprisingly alert eyes that he didn’t divulge to anyone. He spoke to her briefly in excellent Italian and engaged in a little harmless flirting that she enjoyed very much. Usually, when a man flirted with La Perla Perfetta it was with one purpose. Now La Perla Perfetta’s gowns and elaborate masks were left behind, perhaps for good and the flirting was lighter, more playful. Violetta began to believe what Lady Taversall constantly said to her. “There is life beyond Orlando, my dear. You will find someone, if it does become impossible between you, you will find a place. I’m sure of it.”

  When the coach rounded the gentle curve at the top of the drive, the double doors at the top of the shallow flight of stairs were flung open, and a livery clad servant stood impassively in the light of day. Violetta allowed Elston to hand her down and place her hand on his sleeve. He waited for his mother and father, and then they followed them inside.

  Ripley waited in the hall, his wife by his side. While they were greeting Lord and Lady Taversall, Violetta studied Lady Ripley, who she had only seen before at a distance.

  The lady was aging. Her hair, a natural light blonde, was streaked with silver, the sunlight from the great windows at the front of the house catching it when she moved. The light powder dusting her face did not disguise the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and between her nose and mouth. When she looked up in Violetta’s direction her eyes were cold and dead.

  Violetta knew of the utter failure of Lord Ripley’s marriage, but she hadn’t fully understood it until that moment, when she saw the dead eyes light with speculation for a brief moment before the flame flickered and died. She sank into a curtsey before her hostess and felt a warm hand lift her to her feet. “Miss Palagio,” said Lord Ripley warmly. “Welcome to Ripley Court. Lady Taversall wrote to us of your arrival. It is our pleasure to welcome you here.” He meant it. Violetta smiled back, glad to be with him here. He was the only father she had ever known. She would be proud if he were really her father, but had never dared ask—in case the answer was no.

  Now she must use all her acting skills to…be herself. Even if Orlando didn’t want her, her course was now set. Lady Taversall would use all her skills to ensure Violetta’s success in society. It was a future she was only beginning to come to terms with. She had her dowry, the one her family had restored, plus the sum her mother had added, and an extra sum from her uncle so she was a substantial heiress. She would be sought after, if Orlando decided not to have her. She didn’t let her mind dwell on the possibility for long, determinedly facing her new life with all the courage she’d used to face the old one.

  Violetta was used to hiding her nervousness. In her new travelling gown, with her new wardrobe in the lumbering travelling coach sent a day ahead, with her French maid Lisette, she looked at her best. Inside she was a quivering ball of jelly. Outside she did her best to appear cool and cordial.

  It seemed she succeeded. Lord Ripley took her hand and placed it on his arm. “Allow me to show you around, my dear. Unless you’re tired and you wish to rest?”

  Violetta gave a small laugh. “It takes more than a small journey in a comfortable carriage to make me tired, sir!” Careful to maintain the slight lilt in her voice, the one she’d had when she returned from her visit to Italy, she allowed him to draw her away.

  They exchanged civilities within the hearing of the servants, but half way down the Long Gallery at the top of the house, out of earshot of anyone, Ripley stopped strolling and took her into his arms, giving her a hug before he released her. “I thought La Perla Perfetta was the most exquisite creature I had ever seen, next to her mother. I find I was wrong. Violetta Palagio is lovelier than La Perla Perfetta.”

  She laughed. “I’m not sure why I’m doing this now. Aunt Virginia and Mama didn’t give me a moment to think.”

  “Since we heard of your unmasking. Was it true what Virginia wrote me? Was it not you?”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “Mama had someone else do it, a bare hour before I planned to. After that, it would have appeared foolish for me to do so. I stayed in my room.”

  “I have to tell you something.” He paused, his gentle smile fading in his severe face. “Blyth has asked for my permission to address Lady Judith. I think he’s quite given you up.”

  Her face fell. “Does he love her?”

  He made a rough sound of rejection. “No, of course not! I wanted to tell him you were arriving, but Donata told me not to. I’ve been playing gooseberry. I’ve done my best, but he’s taken her walking in the park today and we might be too late.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes but she blinked them back. “It doesn’t matter. If it’s not meant to be, then it will not be. This is my life now, sir. Mama and Aunt Virginia are determined on it. I could have assumed my real identity in Italy, but I’m taking this chance. It could ruin everything, but Aunt Virginia is sure I can succeed.”

  “Will you turn your back on your mother?”

  “Of course not!” She was shocked he would even consider it. “We both know we have to face reality, but I can manage, visiting her clandestinely in London.” That had been the hardest part, but her mother gave her no choice, saying she’d cast her out if Violetta didn’t take the opportunity Aunt Virginia presented her with.

  He took her hands and squeezed them. “I know you are strong, Violetta. You’re not without friends, either.”

  “If this doesn’t…work, Aunt Virginia will introduce me to the ton in the autumn, formally.” She chuckled. “She’s even threatened to present me at court!” Though privately, she determined to travel to her family in Italy long before then, if Orlando wouldn’t have her. The news Lord Ripley had just given her came as a blow, but she still had a fighting chance.

  “Good.” He released her hands. “Don’t give up, Violetta. It’s not hopeless.” He turned, and placed her hand on his arm again. “It’s good to have you here. I get lonely without you or your mama.”

  “She misses you too.”

  “Hmm.” They walked in companionable silence to the end of the gallery, and turned to the stairs. “I’ll take you to the drawing room. They’ll be serving tea soon. Give him a run for his money, Violetta.”

  “What?” Violetta had not expected this.

  “Make it hard for him. If he’s committed himself to Judith, then so be it, but if he’s still free to woo you—” he paused and lowered his head, so his eyes were on a level with hers, “—make him woo!”

  Her laughter echoed down the long gallery.

  Orlando felt heavy hearted. A dozen times this last week he’d screwed himself to the sticking point, and a dozen times he’d failed. Lady Judith expected him to declare himself, but once he’d turned and faced her he found himself making an inane comment about the trees, or the lake, or the maze. In a way, if she entrapped him it would be a relief, but she’d given that up, confident o
f success.

  There was nothing else. At least he could make Perdita happy by marrying her friend. He turned to Judith, took her hand in his. She watched him expectantly, her large eyes wide.

  “Lady Judith would you do me the honour—the great honour—of becoming my wife?”

  There! He had said it. There was no going back.

  “Why, Lord Blyth!” Don’t say it, he begged her mentally, don’t say it’s an unexpected surprise.

  She didn’t. “I would be delighted to accept your offer.” She stared up at him once more and then turned, placing her hand on his arm. Orlando nearly collapsed in relief. He’d thought he would have to kiss her. Not yet, not while Violetta’s scent and flavour lingered with him. Just a little while longer and he would give it all up for good, lock it in his mind to be brought out only when he was strong enough to remember without heartbreak. If that time ever came. “It will be just the thing, you know,” she continued, as though he had asked her to accompany him on a picnic or something as trivial. “I can look after Perdita, and care for you.” It sounded as though she was taking on burdens, Orlando thought. He was regretting his decision already, but what choice had he got?

  Now it was time he took her back for tea. Before they went back inside he took her aside, in the shelter of a shrubbery. He steeled himself and held her firmly by the shoulders, lowering his mouth to hers, determined to lose Violetta’s kiss in Judith’s. She opened her mouth under his, but the moment she did, he withdrew. It wasn’t right. He supposed he would get used to it in time, but not now. Not today.

  He knew he was showing more cowardice at this than he had ever shown before and he knew why. He sighed. Walking in this park which was as near to pictorial Paradise as he had ever got he felt like hell.

  Lady Judith chattered by his side. “Dear Perdita is going on so well, isn’t she? I did my best, but she has surpassed everyone’s expectations!”

  “Miss Lambert had a lot to do with her recovery.”

  Her face twisted, and he knew Perdita had told him something of why Miss Lambert had left so suddenly. She looked disgusted. “That hussy! I cannot blame you, she was after you from the start! I trust you have cut off all communication with her?”

  Mildly surprised at her vehemence he nodded an affirmative. “What did Perdita tell you?”

  “That her importunate behaviour became too much. It does not surprise me, I always thought she was a forward creature!”

  Perdita had shown some discretion, then.

  They passed into the house. It was suddenly cool after the heat of full summer outside. He glanced at Judith. Sweat beaded on her nose and there were small, damp patches under the arms of the tight sleeves of her yellow gown. Yellow was not her colour, especially rich butter yellow. It warred with the pale gold of her hair and made her flushed complexion even ruddier. Violetta would have looked glorious in it.

  At least she wouldn’t remind him of the woman he’d lost. Judith was as unlike Violetta as she could be. And with any luck, if Violetta would take him as a protector, he wouldn’t be with Judith for long. He would tell her before they married. It wouldn’t be fair to do anything else, but he wanted more time than he had today. She could cry off without scandal, but he could not.

  A musical peal of laughter echoed around the walls as they approached the blue drawing room, where tea was customarily served in the afternoons. Feminine, sweet. For the first time in weeks Orlando felt alive.

  What was this? Who was this?

  He saw a swathe of black hair, coiled around the head of a woman sitting with her back to the door. Lord Ripley, at ease, sat next to the newcomer, holding a dish of tea for her. There were other people in the room. Lord and Lady Taversall, returned from town, several of the other guests, but the younger lady attracted all the attention.

  Lord Ripley saw him. “Ah, Blyth, have some tea and meet our charming visitor.”

  Numbly, Orlando stepped around to the front of the couch. The lady looked up at him, her violet eyes piercing straight through to his soul. “Miss Palagio, this is Orlando, Lord Blyth. Blyth, this is Violetta Palagio, the daughter of the late Conte d’Oro, and Lady Taversall’s goddaughter.”

  Orlando bowed.

  The world stopped. This was madness. Was this Violetta, notorious as La Perla Perfetta, sitting in a fashionable drawing room, surrounded by the cream of the ton, or was it her twin sister? With an effort he schooled his face to hide his shock before he rose from his bow.

  Violetta smiled politely at him, her eyes twin pools of—friendliness. She was a better actress than he was an actor. He had completely forgotten Judith until she spoke. “Good day, Miss Palagio, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Father, we have some news. May we speak, Orlando dear?”

  That last endearment broke the news better than he could have done. He saw the flash of reality in Violetta’s eyes—pain, hurt—before she regained her society mask. With an effort he lifted his gaze to confront Lord Ripley. Had he known? Ripley gave him a small shrug and a shake of his head. He had not known. Judith’s father forced a smile. “Congratulations, both of you! My wife has been expecting your news for some time, you know.” He didn’t sound happy. The company came forward and congratulated them both, all except for Violetta. He knew she would not. He handed Judith to a chair, but didn’t hover over her as a newly affianced man might be expected to. He went back to the sofa and sat down next to Violetta, accepting the dish of tea Ripley had been holding for her.

  What did he say? Daughter of the Conte d’Oro?

  He handed her the dish, careful not to allow their fingers to touch. To his vague amazement he found himself saying, “Have you come far?”

  “Today? No, only from London. It was very kind of Lord and Lady Ripley to receive me.” There was a charming lilt to her voice he couldn’t remember hearing before. Another masquerade for Violetta. He knew her well enough to know she felt happier behind disguises, masks and masquerades. But he knew the passionate, loving woman beneath. At least he thought he did.

  Was their idyll in the country another pretence, then? Had he ever seen the real Violetta? Slowly, he began to piece things together. Violetta was here, with his mother, engaged on another elaborate masquerade. The last time he’d seen her she refused him, because she was a whore’s daughter, she said. Nothing had changed. She was still a whore’s daughter, whatever she said, whatever she did.

  Anger, fuelled by shock, boiled up. He found his voice, his fury giving it ice. “Have you been in England long?” He wanted her to lie, so he could be sure of the other lies. Even while he was lashing his anger, trying to work himself into a rage, he knew it was useless. Whatever she said, whatever she called herself, she was still Violetta, the woman he loved.

  “I have spent some time in this country.” True enough. She smiled sweetly. “It is beautiful, is it not? I hope I can see more in my visit.”

  “Do you plan to return to Italy soon?”

  She shrugged. “That depends.” He raised an eyebrow. “On a number of things. Lady Ripley has offered to present me at court next season, and I would like that very much.”

  A ripple of interest filled the room. Orlando felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, fear replacing his anger. Not what he wanted to feel, but he was confident he was showing little but polite interest. He took in the rest of the occupants of this room and saw his brother, watching him with a cool smile on his lips. Orlando knew that look. Corin was amused, and under that sleepy exterior his mind was working at double time. He leaned back and nodded to Corin. “I take it you had a pleasant journey.”

  “Certainly. Miss Palagio is an excellent companion.”

  A spirit of mischief gripped Orlando. “Didn’t you say you were the daughter of an Italian count? In that case, shouldn’t we address you as Lady Violetta?”

  She frowned at him. “In this country I am usually known as Miss Palagio. Technically, I suppose you are right, but in Italy I am Violetta Palagio d’Oro. Miss Palagio will do.”

&
nbsp; “But Violetta is such a pretty name!” he protested. “Such a shame not to use it!”

  Her lips firmed. Her pretty, full lips. He remembered their taste and a bitter pang of regret shot through him. “We are, I think, more formal in Italy.”

  “Violetta,” he said caressingly, fully aware of the effect the word on his lips would have on her. She paled. Only slightly, her creamy skin lightening, but he saw it, and was savagely glad. She remembered, as he did, when he last used her name.

  “It sounds better than usual, on your lips.” Her voice had lifted slightly. With a prick of amusement he realized she was flirting with him. They had never flirted, not in the innocent, society way. There were so many things they hadn’t done. Would never do, now.

  “You’re too kind, ma’am. Dare I suppose your visit here will be of a reasonable duration?”

  She glanced at Lady Taversall. He saw a spark of uncertainty. “It depends on my godmother’s plans.”

  “We have no definite plans,” Orlando’s mother said smoothly. “We are delighted Violetta has decided to stay with us for a while, and we mean to make the most of her.”

  He shot Lady Taversall a baleful glance. She smiled blandly back. “I must try to help,” he said, in a desperate attempt to return to his own body. He felt totally exposed here, as though everyone knew what he had meant to her and she to him.

  Judith interrupted and he almost leapt in shock. He had completely forgotten her presence. “When Orlando and I are married we will be pleased to receive you.”

  Violetta smiled sweetly at her. “You are most kind, my lady.”

  What was wrong with him? Orlando prided himself on his discretion and his sang-froid. It was all leaving him. He wanted to take back the past hour, come to Violetta and court her. He had to think.

  Before it disappeared completely he rose and sketched a bow to the company. “Pray excuse me. We’ll be expected in the drawing room for dinner in an hour, and I mean to do my dinner justice. The countryside is so stimulating to the appetite, is it not?” With that final parting shot, aimed specifically at Violetta, he left.