By now, Victoria’s heart was beating so hard she was finding it difficult to breathe. She had to say something—but what? What could she possibly say that wouldn’t make matters worse?
‘Sir Michael,’ she began slowly, ‘I...regret that Miss Chermonde felt the need to talk about me in such a way. I am aware that she is...one of the actresses in my uncle’s troupe and that she is an extremely talented young woman. I think I can safely say we have always enjoyed an amicable association—’
‘Until a few weeks ago,’ Alistair spoke up unexpectedly, ‘when Miss Bretton and I chanced to meet Miss Chermonde at a society gathering. I believe that particular incident prompted Miss Chermonde to make this claim.’
‘Why?’ Sir Michael frowned. ‘What precisely was the nature of the incident?’
‘Suffice it to say that Miss Chermonde was discovered at an event to which she had not been invited,’ Alistair said. ‘Fearing for the reaction of the hostess, Miss Bretton and I advised her to leave. Unfortunately, Miss Chermonde took exception to Miss Bretton’s asking her to do so and I believe she started this rumour in the hopes of humiliating her. A rumour which, as you’ve just heard, has absolutely no basis in fact.’
Victoria froze. Alistair was lying for her? Why on earth would he do such a thing? He knew the truth about her. Why would he compromise himself by saying something he knew to be utterly false?
‘Well, I must admit this is all very disappointing,’ Sir Michael said, considerably put out. ‘Here I thought I had discovered the identity of Valentine Lawe, only to find out now that it has all been a hoax.’ He levelled a blistering gaze at Victoria. ‘Are you telling me, Miss Bretton, that there is absolutely no truth to the rumour that you are Valentine Lawe?’
The room went so silent that Victoria could hear people talking outside on the street—and wished with all her heart that she might be one of them. Anything, rather than be here in this room facing Sir Michael’s interrogation. If she lied, the whole affair would continue to spin out of control until they were all so deeply mired in the deceit they wouldn’t have a hope of emerging unscathed. But if she told the truth, their reputations would be destroyed—every last one of them.
Her father had just told an out-and-out lie. Her brother had pleaded ignorance of events he knew to be true. Even Alistair had perjured himself by ignoring her guilt even as he condemned Signy for hers. How would it look if she suddenly admitted to Sir Michael that Signy was the one telling the truth and everyone else the lies?
On the other hand, how could she maintain a shred of self-respect if she did not speak up now and clear the air once and for all?
Every person in the room was waiting for her to answer. Her father was watching her with an expression of loving concern, Sir Michael with one of avid curiosity. Her brother’s face was harder to read and she could make nothing of Alistair’s at all, but she could certainly guess at the direction of his thoughts. He must detest her for having put him in this distasteful position. How would she feel, if she ever found herself forced into such a situation?
‘Sir Michael,’ she began slowly, ‘I’m sorry you had to go through all this. It was never my intention that anyone should be deceived, and had I not believed that my reasons for doing what I did were entirely justified, I would never have done it. But at the time, I truly believed I had no choice.’
‘Miss Bretton, I don’t have all day,’ Sir Michael said irritably. ‘What exactly are you trying to say?’
‘Well, it’s just that—’
‘What my poor sister is trying to say,’ Laurence cut in unexpectedly, ‘is that she cannot tell you she’s Valentine Lawe because that would indeed be telling a lie.’
‘It would?’
‘Yes.’ Laurence moved away from the fireplace and went to stand directly in front of Sir Michael. ‘My sister did not write Penelope’s Swain, Genevieve, A Winter’s Escapade, or A Lady’s Choice.’
‘Fine,’ Sir Michael snapped. ‘Then who did?’
‘I did,’ Laurence said without hesitation. ‘I wrote those four plays and gave them to my uncle to produce. Because the truth is, I am Valentine Lawe.’
Chapter Fourteen
His words fell into a stunned silence broken only by the measured ticking of the mantel clock—and by the sound of blood rushing through Victoria’s ears.
Her brother was claiming to be Valentine Lawe? Had he lost his mind?
‘You’re Valentine Lawe?’ Sir Michael said, sounding equally sceptical.
‘That’s right.’
‘But I thought your sister was the one who wrote the plays.’
‘That is what the rumours would have you believe,’ Laurence said. ‘But they are not true. I am Valentine Lawe. Would you like me to recite a selection from one of my plays? I can do so without difficulty.’
‘That won’t be necessary, anyone can memorise lines,’ Alistair said, his voice like granite. ‘The question is why did you wait until now to make this claim?’
‘The reasons are many and varied. Mainly, I suppose, to protect my privacy,’ Laurence said. ‘I’ve never sought the spotlight, nor do I crave the adulation of an audience.’
‘Then why do you write?’ Sir Michael asked.
‘Because I must. The ideas flow like water from a well and cannot be stopped by wish or inclination.’ Laurence smiled, a rather fatalistic smile to Victoria’s way of thinking. ‘It is difficult for anyone not of a creative nature to understand, but that is the way it is.’
‘And your reason for employing a pseudonym?’ Alistair drawled.
Victoria couldn’t look at him. She heard the derision in his voice and knew he didn’t believe Laurence’s claim. Why would he when she had done everything she could to convince him that she was Valentine Lawe?
‘I took the name to protect my family,’ Laurence said. ‘My plays are, by nature, controversial, and I had no wish to see anyone in my family suffer for the association. People tend to think that opinions expressed by one member of a family are shared by everyone else, but that simply isn’t true. It would have been unfair to expose my mother and younger sister, who though aware of my passion, have never been fully supportive of it, to that type of censure. It is the reason I have kept my identity secret even from them.’
‘Are you telling me your own family don’t know you’re Valentine Lawe?’ Sir Michael asked incredulously.
‘Some of them do. Victoria and my father knew of my hopes in that direction, as did my uncle, who kindly undertook to produce the plays at his own expense.’
Sir Michael gave a snort. ‘And why would he not? Templeton’s no fool. He knows good material when he sees it. He knew those plays would make him—and you—a lot of money.’
‘Not at the outset,’ Laurence said. ‘I was an untried commodity. Just another aspiring playwright trying to sell his work. My uncle only read my play because I was his nephew. And though he liked the material, he couldn’t guarantee that an audience would, too. He simply took a chance and it paid off.’
‘An understatement if ever I heard one,’ Sir Michael muttered.
‘A theatre doesn’t run itself, Sir Michael,’ Laurence said quietly. ‘Salaries have to be paid. Maintenance and repairs carried out. It behoves a theatre owner to seek out the best material he can in order to achieve the highest return. If my plays are able to do that for him, so much the better.’ For the first time, Laurence glanced at his father, and this time, his smile was almost apologetic. ‘Forgive me, Father. We knew we couldn’t keep this a secret for ever. You were right to believe that as the popularity of my plays increased, so would the risk of exposure. But I think we’ve had a good run, don’t you?’
Mr Bretton looked shaken, as it was expected he must by his son’s unanticipated disclosure. ‘Yes, I suppose we have.’
‘Laurence, why are you doing this?’
Victoria whispered finally. ‘There is no need—’
‘Yes, dearest, there is. You have been my most valiant supporter and you have done everything you could to ensure my anonymity. Even to compromising your own reputation. But I was wrong to let it carry on as long as I did and I apologise for having done so,’ Laurence said, giving as fine a performance as Victoria had ever seen. ‘I should have said something as soon as the rumours began, but even then I was reluctant to expose my identity. I regret that deeply. When I think of all you’ve had to endure, of the abominable way you have been treated, I am ashamed of myself. However, that is all at an end now. The truth is out in the open and I for one am glad of it.’
‘Then you do not mind if I make this information public,’ Sir Michael said.
‘Not at all. The sooner, the better as far as I’m concerned,’ Laurence said. ‘I am tired of hearing my family whispered about in society. I want my sister’s reputation restored. I want her to be able to lead a normal life again.’
Victoria sank weakly into the chair. It was too late. There was nothing she could do. Nothing, short of calling her brother a liar, would change the situation. Sir Michael believed Laurence was Valentine Lawe—and he intended to make sure everyone in London knew it.
‘Well, I must say this has been a most enlightening interview,’ the gentleman said, looking considerably happier than he had a few minutes earlier. ‘While I don’t understand your reluctance to admit to your talent, I respect your reasons for having done so and I commend you for your honesty in having finally lifted the burden of responsibility from your sister’s shoulders. I hope, Miss Bretton,’ Sir Michael said, turning to offer Victoria an apologetic smile, ‘that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. And to appreciate how such a misunderstanding came to pass. Now that the truth has been made clear, I see how foolish I was to have believed the rumours. A lady of your genteel manners would never think to enact such a hoax, except, as your brother said, in your valiant defence of him. You are to be applauded for your unselfish support. I’m sure you are equally relieved to have everything out in the open.’
‘Truly, I am...without words,’ Victoria said weakly.
‘As we all are. Your brother is a gifted writer and the public is anxious for more of his plays. I dare say his life is going to be very different from now on. Travelling on the Continent, indeed!’ Sir Michael said, starting for the door. ‘I shall have words with your uncle when I get back!’
‘You’re going away?’ Laurence asked quickly.
‘For a few weeks. I’ll contact you as soon as I return. We have a lot to talk about, young man, and I am anxious to get started. Well, good afternoon, Miss Bretton. Gentlemen.’
In the moments that followed, no one said a word. It was almost as though no one knew what to say. They could all have been actors in one of Victoria’s plays, each waiting for the other to recite his or her lines, without having any idea what those lines were or whose turn it was to speak. Victoria certainly didn’t. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that her quiet, unassuming brother would stand up in public and claim to be Valentine Lawe. Why would he? There had never been any need.
‘Well, that was...enlightening,’ her father said, a deep line furrowing his brow.
‘Enlightening, but not entirely unexpected,’ Laurence said. ‘We knew it was only a matter of time before the truth came out. Perhaps you should send Uncle Templeton a note, Father, warning him of Sir Michael’s intention to call. I don’t think the gentleman was very pleased at the manner in which Uncle Theo put him off.’
A glance passed between the two men and Victoria knew exactly what they were thinking. It wasn’t a warning letter her father intended to send Uncle Theo; it was a call to arms.
‘Yes, I think you’re right, I shall do that at once,’ he said. ‘Mr Devlin, pray excuse my having to leave you. I hope you will stay and take some refreshments.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’ Alistair’s tone was brusque. ‘I must be on my way as well.’
‘In that case...’ Mr Bretton turned to regard his son ‘...perhaps you would care to join me in the study, Laurence? There are one or two things we need to discuss before your mother and sister get home.’
His words held a wealth of meaning and Victoria knew the upcoming meeting would not be easy. Nevertheless, Laurence’s smile remained cheerfully optimistic. ‘Of course. I shall return directly, Victoria. Good afternoon, Mr Devlin.’
Alistair did not look up as he pulled on his gloves. ‘Bretton.’
And then he and Victoria were alone, the few feet between them feeling like miles.
‘Alistair, I am so sorry,’ Victoria said, glad to have a few minutes of privacy. ‘I had no idea my brother was going to say what he did, but I think I can explain—’
‘I’m sure you can, but there really is no need,’ Alistair interrupted curtly. ‘I have seen and heard all I need to and I must say it was a superb performance.’
Victoria faltered. ‘Performance?’
‘Indeed. What I just witnessed could have graced the stage at Drury Lane. I tip my hat to you, Miss Bretton. I had no idea you came from such a theatrical family, or that you yourself were such a talented actress.’
‘Actress?’ Shocked, Victoria took a step backwards. ‘I don’t understand—’
‘I think you do. That day, in the drawing room when you told me you were Valentine Lawe, I must say you were convincing. You had me believing every word.’
‘Because I was telling you the truth! I am Valentine Lawe!’
‘Really? Then how do you explain your brother having just made exactly the same claim in front of a man who could ruin your family if he ever found out he had been lied to and made a fool of?’
‘I can’t explain it,’ Victoria said. ‘That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I had no idea Laurence was going to say what he did, and I don’t know why he— Alistair, wait! Where are you going?’
‘It is not appropriate that we be alone here together,’ he said, making for the door. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, coming from the type of family you do, but—’
‘The type of family I come from?’ Victoria stopped dead. ‘What exactly do you mean by that?’
‘A family of actors and storytellers who have no qualms about making up roles to suit themselves,’ he threw back at her. ‘In your case, a fictitious playwright by the name of Valentine Lawe. But it really wasn’t necessary, you know. If you’d wanted to discourage me, you could simply have told me the truth.’
‘Discourage you?’ Victoria’s eyes opened wide. ‘Is that why you think I told you I was Valentine Lawe? To discourage you?’
‘Well, what else am I to think? You said from the beginning that we should not suit,’ Alistair said. ‘I don’t go to the theatre. I don’t care for masquerades, and I don’t have to work because of the circumstances of my birth. You made it quite clear you thought me no different than men like Lord Collins or Mr Bentley-Hyde, but fool that I was, I was determined to change your mind. So I took you to the orphanage so that you could see we did have something in common. A mutual concern for those less fortunate than ourselves and a genuine wish to make life better for the people we care about. But more than that, I wanted to be honest with you. I wanted to share a part of my life with you I’ve felt compelled to keep from others, only to find out now that you haven’t been honest with me at all!’
Victoria recoiled. ‘How can you say that! I told you the truth—’
‘Your truth, Miss Bretton. Not your father’s or your uncle’s, or even your brother’s. They all defended you in public. They all stated that you were not Valentine Lawe. Even today, when your brother stepped forwards to make his claim, your father made no move to contradict it. When the question was put to him, he stated very clearly that you were not Valentine Lawe. So what, I asked myself, am I to make of that
? That your father is not an honourable man?’
‘Of course he is honourable—’
‘Then why would he lie? Why would your brother and your uncle lie? And how, in light of everything I’ve heard, am I to believe that the only one not telling a lie...is you!’
Victoria closed her eyes, her stomach knotting against a black wall of despair. She didn’t say a word as Alistair walked out of the house. She was fighting not to break down, desperate to hang on to the last vestiges of self-control. She was bleeding; every bitter word he’d flung at her had torn a gaping hole in her heart.
He couldn’t have hurt her more had he picked up a knife and stabbed her with it.
‘Was he very angry?’
Victoria turned to see her brother standing at the bottom of the stairs, and suddenly, she was livid. ‘How could you, Laurence! Have you any idea what you’ve just done?’
‘Yes.’ His voice, unlike hers, was dispassionate. ‘I have saved your reputation.’
‘Saved it? Thanks to you, Mr Devlin now thinks I lied to him and wishes to have nothing more to do with me!’
‘I am sorry to hear that, but there is more at stake than just your relationship with Mr Devlin,’ Laurence said quietly. ‘Had I let you stand there and proclaim yourself to be Valentine Lawe only moments after Father had said exactly the opposite, our family would have been ruined. We would have lost all credibility in the eyes of society and Loftus would have had a field day with it. He doesn’t like Uncle Theo to begin with. Can you imagine what he would have done had he been handed the ammunition to humiliate our uncle in public?’
‘You don’t know that he would have done that,’ Victoria muttered.
‘Yes, I do. What little I know of Loftus doesn’t induce me to think he would take kindly to being made a fool of. I did what I had to do, Victoria, and I had no time to think about it beforehand.’ Laurence glanced at the front door. ‘What did Mr Devlin say?’
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