‘I would have thought that was his business,’ Alistair said drily. ‘If I choose to become a recluse, it’s no one’s business but my own.’
‘But think, Dev. No one’s ever seen Lawe. And he’s been writing for...how many years? Don’t you think it’s a little strange that no one has any information about where he lives, where he dines, who his servants are, or what he does when he’s not writing?’
Alistair hadn’t thought it strange because until that moment, he hadn’t given it a passing thought. But faced with the question now, he had to admit that Collins had a point. Not one of his acquaintances had ever claimed to have seen the famous playwright, and there wasn’t so much as a whisper of substantiated gossip about the man, even from servants. It was almost as though he didn’t exist.
Was he wrong to believe so completely in Victoria’s innocence?
Alistair had trusted women before, only to find out they had deceived him. Lady Frances Shaftsbury.
Celeste Fontaine. Both had led him to believe something that wasn’t true...which likely explained why he’d wanted so desperately to believe that Victoria was telling him the truth. After all, she was the one who’d run from him; the one who’d said right from the beginning that they would not suit. Had she said that because she’d known there was something she couldn’t tell him and didn’t want to risk being found out?
The very idea left a bad taste in his mouth.
‘Nevertheless, it doesn’t give you the right to spread a rumour about Miss Bretton when you have no way of knowing whether it’s true or not,’ Alistair said, not about to express doubts within Collins’s hearing. ‘She is a lady in every sense of the word. This could do irreparable harm to her reputation.’
‘I venture to say her reputation was already tarnished when you met her, my friend,’ Collins said. ‘I told you as much that first night. Take my advice, marry the Millingham chit. She’s a pretty little filly and once she bears you an heir, you can look for compatibility elsewhere. It’s what gentlemen like us do.’
Alistair took his leave shortly thereafter. Having heard all he needed to from Bertie—and not liking any of it—he headed for the Gryphon, determined to uncover the truth. It was not yet midnight. With luck, Signy would still be there and he would deal with her personally. If not, he would speak to Templeton and find out what that gentleman knew.
He was in luck. Templeton was just walking down the front steps as Alistair drew his carriage to a halt. ‘Templeton, a word, if you don’t mind.’
‘Mr Devlin,’ Templeton said. ‘I’m surprised to see you at this hour.’
‘I have business with Miss Chermonde. Is she still here?’
‘Good God, no, she left over two hours ago.’
‘Fine. Then I’ll deal with you. I was made aware of a very disturbing rumour earlier this evening and I was informed that one of your cast members started it.’
Templeton frowned. ‘I don’t like the sound of that. You’d best tell me what this is all about.’
‘Are you saying you haven’t heard the rumour that your niece, Victoria Bretton, is Valentine Lawe?’
‘The playwright?’ Templeton started to laugh. ‘Good Lord, how intriguing.’
‘Forgive me if I don’t share your amusement. I find it anything but.’
‘Yes, of course, but surely you don’t believe the rumour?’
‘No, but I have it on good authority that a member of your cast started it in the hopes of embarrassing, and perhaps even of disgracing, Miss Bretton. That person is Signy Chermonde.’
‘Signy?’ Templeton’s look of amusement abruptly vanished. ‘Why would she do such a thing?’
‘Because Miss Bretton and I came upon her and Lord Collins at Lady Drake’s masquerade, and though we both told them to leave, I believe Miss Chermonde took exception to Miss Bretton’s telling her to do so and this is her way of seeking revenge.’
‘You make a serious accusation, Devlin,’ Templeton said, all traces of good humour vanishing.
‘And I do not make it lightly. But I will not see Miss Bretton’s reputation tarnished by the irresponsible behaviour of a spiteful actress.’
‘If that is true, I can assure you that Miss Chermonde will be reprimanded,’ Templeton said. ‘It does no one any good to have these scurrilous rumours spread around. Imagine anyone thinking that Victoria could be Valentine Lawe.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Alistair said, starting to feel a measure of relief that Templeton, who was perhaps the only person who knew Valentine Lawe and was willing to state that he was not Victoria Bretton. ‘Unfortunately, given that no one but you has ever seen Lawe, there are many who are willing to believe it. Sometimes I wonder if he truly does exist.’
‘Oh, he exists. Someone had to write those plays,’ Templeton said. ‘I certainly didn’t.’
‘Then set the record straight and tell people who Valentine Lawe is! For your niece’s sake, if not for yours or mine.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr Devlin,’ Templeton said regretfully. ‘I gave my word I would never reveal his identity and I must hold true to that promise. But it is a travesty that Victoria should be made to suffer in order to appease Signy’s petty need for revenge. I will speak to her first thing in the morning.’
Alistair was happy to settle for that, his concerns about Victoria having been laid to rest. He should have known better than to doubt her. She was a lady and had been raised with a lady’s sensibilities. She knew the difference between right and wrong, and Alistair would not allow a pretty actress to blacken her name, no matter what his father, his brother-in-law or society thought. He would show them all what he thought of their ridiculous charge.
He loved Victoria and he believed in her. And he would prove it by doing the one thing that would leave no room for doubt in anyone’s mind.
* * *
Despite the family’s concerted efforts, the rumour about Victoria being Valentine Lawe did not go away. It went without saying that her mother and sister were furious. It seemed Mr Fulton had suddenly directed his interest elsewhere, and that even Lord Valbourg was nowhere to be found.
‘This is all your fault, Victoria!’ Winifred cried waspishly at breakfast the next morning. ‘Had you not engaged in such scandalous behaviour, I might even now be engaged to Mr Fulton! But he has heard the rumours and is paying court to Miss Daversham. How could you do this to me? How could you!’
‘I didn’t do anything to you, Winifred,’ Victoria said wearily. ‘It was never my intention that you or any other member of this family should suffer.’
‘But we are suffering and if you cared for us, you would stop it at once and try to make everything right,’ Winifred said.
Quince entered the room with a letter and handed it to her father. Her father, upon seeing that it was addressed to Victoria, duly passed it down the table.
‘Victoria is receiving mail?’ Winifred said between mouthfuls of toast. ‘From whom?’
‘I’m sure if your sister wishes you to know, she will tell you,’ her father said, returning his attention to the newspaper.
‘Well, who sent it?’ Winifred demanded as soon as it was in her sister’s hands.
Victoria broke the seal and blanched when she saw the signature. ‘It is from...Mr Devlin.’
‘Devlin?’ Her father put down his paper. ‘I wasn’t aware you knew the gentleman well enough to be receiving letters from him, Victoria.’
‘What does he want?’ Laurence asked, looking up from his book.
Victoria scanned the contents of the letter. They were brief and to the point. ‘He wishes to call upon me at two o’clock this afternoon,’ she said. ‘On a matter of...considerable importance.’
‘Considerable importance?’ Her mother gasped. ‘Oh, dear Lord! He is coming to propose!’
‘He is n
ot coming to do anything of the sort!’ Victoria said, quickly refolding the letter. ‘I suspect he is coming to talk to me about the rumour. What shall I tell him...if he asks?’
‘You must tell him what you think best,’ her father said.
‘Except the truth!’ Laurence added. ‘Remember what Uncle Theo said. We must continue to deny the rumour whenever we hear it. Present a united front. I, in fact, was questioned about it just yesterday and denied it most vehemently.’
‘But how can I lie to him, of all people?’ Victoria asked. ‘When he has been nothing but honest with me?’
‘How would Mr Devlin react if you were to tell him the truth and ask him not to say anything?’ Winifred enquired.
‘I can’t do that! It is bad enough I have to lie to him. I could never ask him to keep silent about it as well.’
Victoria glanced at the clock. Alistair was coming at two o’clock—and it was half past ten now. She had three and a half hours in which to make up her mind. Three and a half hours to decide whether to be honest with the man she loved and risk losing his good opinion—or to perpetuate the myth and lose hers.
Chapter Twelve
As always, when anticipating the arrival of an unsettling event, the hours flew all too quickly by. Before she knew it, Victoria heard the sound of the clock on the mantel chime the quarter hour. Fifteen minutes to go.
Thankfully, her mother and sister were not at home. Contrary to Winifred’s fears, Lord Valbourg had not taken her in disgust over the rumours about Victoria being Valentine Lawe. He had simply been preoccupied with his mother’s illness and had had no time to spare on the redecoration of his new house. Once Lady Alderbury turned the corner, however, he had written to ask if they might arrange the shopping expedition, and today he had collected them to do just that. They expected to be gone for a few hours.
That, at least, gave Victoria some breathing room. The thought of her mother being present as she tried to explain herself to Alistair was decidedly offputting. However, given that someone had to be in the room when he came to call, Victoria decided it should be Laurence. The presence of her father might definitely indicate hopes of a proposal.
For that reason, at ten minutes to two, brother and sister walked into the drawing room and took up their respective positions. Victoria sat down on the loveseat to the left of the fireplace and Laurence set up an easel in one corner of the room. He thought it would be easier for all of them if he was actively engaged in doing something, and so positioned the easel in such a way that the focus was away from the seating area. So it was that when Alistair was shown into the room at precisely two o’clock, he found Laurence at his painting and Victoria with her head bent over her stitching. He acknowledged Laurence’s presence with a brief nod, then turned to bestow a warm smile on Victoria. ‘Miss Bretton, thank you for agreeing to see me.’
‘Not at all, Mr Devlin. Won’t you sit down?’
He chose the high-back chair across from her, effectively putting his back to Laurence. ‘I think you must know why I’ve come,’ he said after a moment.
Victoria bit her lip, her gaze falling before his. ‘Yes, I rather think I do.’
‘Good. Given what passed between us at the masquerade, I hoped you would be anticipating my visit.’
Victoria’s eyes shot up. ‘What happened...at the masquerade?’
‘Yes.’ Alistair leaned forwards and lowered his voice. ‘Surely you haven’t forgotten?’
A rush of warmth suffused Victoria’s face as memories of that intimate and most pleasurable encounter returned. Of course she hadn’t forgotten. If she lived to be a hundred she would never forget. But not for a moment had she thought it might be the reason he had come today. ‘I haven’t forgotten, but I thought we were...indulging in an impossible fantasy.’
‘I didn’t think of it as impossible,’ he said. ‘I was entirely serious.’
‘But how can you wish to pursue this in light of some of the...other things you must have heard about me?’
‘You mean the ridiculous rumour that you are Valentine Lawe?’
A crash from the corner—the sound of breaking glass—was followed by a muffled oath and a hasty apology. ‘Sorry! Terribly clumsy of me,’ Laurence said. ‘Knocked the water jar clean off the ledge.’
‘That’s...all right,’ Victoria said, forcing a smile. ‘These things happen.’ But when she saw her brother heading towards the door, she added quickly, ‘Where are you going?’
‘To fetch a rag. I doubt Mama would appreciate me using the edge of her tablecloth to wipe up the mess. I’ll be back in a moment.’
Victoria chewed on her bottom lip, but Alistair only smiled as the door closed. ‘Convenient, your brother knocking the jar over just then. I think he must have guessed at my reason for coming.’
Then he was the only one, Victoria thought anxiously. The way Alistair was looking at her...the gravity of his expression...surely he wasn’t about to—
‘Victoria, I know you’re not expecting this,’ Alistair said quietly. ‘But over the past few weeks, I’ve come to feel something for you that I’ve never felt for anyone else in my life. I can’t stop thinking about you and I want you to know what is in my heart.’
No, this couldn’t be happening, Victoria thought, alternating between delight and despair. It was clear now that he hadn’t come to discuss the rumour that she was Valentine Lawe. He had come to propose! And with Laurence’s timely exit, that’s exactly what he was about to do.
But he mustn’t! Not when he wasn’t acquainted with all of the facts. If he knew what she was up to, he would not be coming to her with his heart in his hands. He would be coming to her with words of condemnation and blame. For his sake as well as her own, she had to stop him before the words were uttered. ‘Mr Devlin—’
‘Alistair.’
‘No, there can be no intimacy between us. Not without you knowing the truth.’
‘The truth?’
‘Yes. About me. About...the rumours that I am Valentine Lawe.’
‘Dearest girl, I already know they aren’t true. I am aware of how honest and straightforward you are. You warned me right from the start that you and I would not suit,’ Alistair said. ‘You told me you were outspoken and opinionated and that I would damage my reputation by being seen with you. But I have since come to know you so much better than that. Nothing in your behaviour has led me to believe you would be anything but honest in your dealings with me and with others.’
‘But...what Signy said about me—’
‘Stemmed from petty jealousy and resentment,’ Alistair said flatly. ‘She didn’t like you telling her to leave the masquerade and thought to settle the score by starting this ridiculous rumour. But I refused to believe it. I told Collins as much when he tried to convince me it was true.’
Victoria gasped. ‘You’ve spoken to Lord Collins about this?’
‘Of course. The moment I heard he was the one responsible for spreading the rumour. I tracked him down and told him exactly what I thought of him.’
‘Oh, please say you did not!’
‘I did, and in no uncertain terms. I said that no gentleman, and certainly no friend of mine, would ever allow a lady to be so insulted. As far as I’m concerned the same goes for Miss Chermonde. She should be dismissed for spreading such lies and I told your uncle as much.’
‘You spoke to my uncle as well?’ Victoria blanched. ‘What did he say?’
‘That he was very disappointed and that he would take care of it at the first opportunity.’
Victoria began to feel physically ill. It was even worse than she had feared. Not only had Alistair defended her to his best friend and called an honest woman a liar, he had asked her uncle to act accordingly. Truly, she had to bring this to an end. ‘Mr Devlin, I beg you will listen to what I am about to say and try t
o understand.’ Needing to distance herself from those hypnotic eyes, she abruptly got to her feet. ‘It was never my intention to deceive anyone—’
‘No one has been deceived.’
‘Yes, Mr Devlin, I fear they have,’ Victoria said quickly. ‘Particularly you. Because as much as I hate to tell you this, the truth is, I am...Valentine Lawe.’
There was a short, tense, silence. ‘You are...Valentine Lawe.’
‘Yes.’
‘Impossible.’ He stared at her, unsmiling. ‘You never said a word to me—’
‘Because I could not say anything to you. I promised Mama I would not,’ Victoria said unhappily. ‘It was bad enough when she found out I had written a play. She was horrified when she found out my uncle was going to put it on the stage. She was so upset she became ill. So, I made her a promise. I told her I would never tell anyone what I do and that I would write under a
pseudonym so no one would know it was me.’
There was another silence, longer and more ominous than the first. ‘So you lied to me,’ Alistair said in a cold, flat voice.
‘No! I never said I was not Valentine Lawe—’
‘But you never said you were either and I seem to recall any number of occasions where you might have done so,’ Alistair said. ‘The night we first met, when I told you how much I enjoyed the play. That evening at the Holcombes, when we talked about your love of the theatre. Even that morning in the park, when Isabelle told you how desperate she was to meet Valentine Lawe. You never let on. Never so much as a whisper that you were the person she was describing and admired so much. How could you do that to her? How could you tell such barefaced lies?’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Victoria said desperately. ‘I couldn’t say anything, don’t you understand? I had given a promise to my family. To my mother. But I didn’t lie.’
‘Unfortunately, I’ve never been overly fond of truth by omission,’ he said distantly. ‘I stood up for you, Miss Bretton. I called a good friend’s integrity into question and defended you to my family. But it seems they all knew better than I who you really were.’
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