Louis clapped as Eliza moved towards the stage and settled herself at the pianoforte. He had no fears for this performance, at least. He had heard Eliza play before. She was exceptionally good. He glanced down at his program to see what she was to perform and found himself surprised to discover she was going to sing as well as play. Not only that, but the song was a sentimental, romantic piece of nonsense he would have thought Eliza would detest. In the short time he’d been at Holbrook, before her accident, she had always blushed prettily and refused when anyone asked her to sing, despite her family protesting that she had a lovely voice. He wondered what had persuaded her to do so tonight. Louis looked around the room, searching for his brother who had disappeared halfway through the first act, much to the disapproval of those sitting around them. He put the program down on the empty seat and craned his neck. Ah, there he was.
Louis glowered at his brother, hoping to catch his attention. He was leaning against the wall on the far side of the room, his arms crossed and a fierce expression on his face. Nic was watching someone intently. Louis followed his gaze… back to Eliza.
Louis frowned. Eliza was watching Nic in return and had a glint in her eyes that was somewhat… challenging.
What the devil?
The audience hushed as the first bright notes of the piano rang out, and Louis was certain he could feel the room relax as they discovered they were in the presence of a talented young woman. Then she began to sing. Her voice was sweet, not seductive like Miss Anson’s, nor with the crystal clarity of Miss Hunt, but there was emotion behind the words, truth, something that captured the heart, that made one listen to the rather maudlin words and… and made them something more.
Louis felt his heart give a kick as the words of the song reached him, and he swivelled his head to stare at his brother.
Near the lake where droop'd the willow, long time ago.
Where the rock threw back the billow, brighter than snow
Dwelt a maid, belov'd and cherish'd, by high and low
But, with an autumn's leaf she perish'd, long time ago.
Nic had gone very still, and even in the dim light of the room, his Mediterranean complexion seemed to pale. Eliza had almost died last year and Nic had been beside himself. Louis had believed what he’d been told, that Nic was anxious that all their plans would come to nought. Though it had been clear that Nic admired Eliza, Louis had never believed… never considered…. Not when Nic was so adamant that Louis should marry her.
Rock and tree and flowing water, long time ago.
Bird and bee and blossom taught her, love's spell to know.
While to my fond words she listen'd, murmuring low
Tenderly her dove eyes glisten'd, long time ago.
Louis turned back to Eliza, and whilst her gaze never dwelt on Nic for a moment longer than it did anyone else, Louis was in no doubt she was giving him a message. It seemed clear enough to him. The girl in the song had been in love, had been loved, but she had died and left her lover alone. Eliza was not dead. Eliza was alive, and she wanted Nic.
Mingled were our hearts forever. Long time ago.
Can I now forget her? Never! No, lost one, no.
To her grave these tears are given, ever to flow.
She's the star I miss'd from heaven, long time ago.
The question was, did Nic want Eliza? Was she his star?
Louis turned back to watch his brother, carefully this time for fear anyone should notice. His breath caught. The look on Nic’s face was unguarded, that in itself a revelation for Nic rarely gave his thoughts away. His expression was one of longing, and hunger of the kind Louis had never known. He’d known every other kind of hunger: the kind where your belly gnawed upon itself until you could think of nothing else; the hungry desperation for an end to misery; for anything resembling hope, even a straw to cling to. This though, this emotion, this need for a woman that was far more complicated than simple lust, that was a foreign land. Yet it was clearly one Nic had inhabited for some time, and Louis hadn’t known it. Nic hadn’t told him, the bloody, damned fool. What the devil had he been thinking? He’d still been trying to set Louis up with… with the woman he was in love with? Was he quite insane? Or was this some kind of martyr complex? Louis had long since known Nic would do anything for him, but this… this was beyond anything.
Eliza brought the song to a close and Louis realised half the audience was sobbing and reaching for handkerchiefs. He felt a little choked himself in the circumstances. Nic had fallen in love. He’d fallen in love with the woman he’d chosen for Louis to marry and… and what? He would walk away from her for his brother’s sake when Louis didn’t even want her? There was a glint of satisfaction in Eliza’s eyes that Nic ought to take a careful note of, too. It was not the look of a woman who was going to let the man she wanted walk away from her.
Dieu Sainte et tous ses anges.
What a ridiculous mess his brother had made.
Louis was going to bloody kill him.
The moment they were through the door to their rooms, Nic headed towards the brandy decanter. He needed a drink. Tonight had been sheer torture of the worst kind. How he’d forced himself to endure it he did not know, and then Eliza had sung that bloody song, damn her. He could still hear it too, circling his brain, the tenderness in her voice as she’d sung the words of his worst nightmare so sweetly. The impotent horror of those weeks came back to him full force, the terror that she would die and the only thing in his life that was truly pure and good would be gone. The light that she had brought into his world might hurt as much as bring pleasure, but he would endure any amount of pain if only she was still there, still out there in the world, smiling and laughing and bringing happiness to those around her.
He had prayed for that, prayed that it was not too much to ask and, for once in his life, his prayers had been answered.
“Give me one of those,” Louis demanded.
Nic poured another large measure and handed it to his brother. Louis was in an odd mood tonight, too. Getting conversation out of Louis could be akin to pulling teeth at time, yet tonight he had been chatty as hell and it was getting on Nic’s nerves. Especially as his favourite topic of conversation seemed to be Eliza.
“So what do you think, then?”
“What?” Nic asked, realising he must have missed something. He’d been doing his damndest to miss the entire discussion.
“An April wedding, assuming Eliza can wait that long. I got the distinct impression from the breathless way she sang that song that she is… well, shall we say, a tad frustrated. There’s a virgin in need of a bedding if ever I saw one. I suppose that is one thing to look forward to if I must marry the chit.”
Nic very carefully set down his empty glass and refilled it. His hand was shaking. He told himself not to think about it, not to picture it, but the image filled his mind all the same. His handsome brother and Eliza, the two of them wrapped about each other, Eliza’s dark hair loose and tumbling about her shoulders, Louis’s hands on her.
He couldn’t breathe. His heart was beating too hard, and he wanted to throw up, wanted to smash the glass in his hand, and the decanter too.
“I wonder if she’ll be shy or eager for me to bed her,” Louis mused.
Nic tried to breathe through the jealousy that was threatening to choke him.
“Eager, I’d wager. It’s like Lottie said that time: Eliza is clever enough to act the sweet little innocent ninny, but underneath she is quite different. I admit I am intrigued to see just what is beneath all those pretty layers. I suspect, if properly schooled, she could be quite the vixen. I will of course put all my energy into schooling her properly too, you may rest assured.”
“You ought not speak of her so. She’s to be your wife, not your mistress.”
The words were too angry, growled rather than spoken, but Nic couldn’t do any better. That he didn’t have his hands about Louis’s throat was impressive enough.
Nic felt rather than saw Louis
shrug, for he could not look at him right now. He wished to god the devil would shut his mouth, or at least change the subject before Nic was tempted to shut it for him.
“It makes no odds. If she fails to amuse me, I shall have mistresses a-plenty to keep me busy. I suppose I may allow her to take a lover too… eventually. Not until she has provided the requisite heir and a spare, naturally. You wouldn’t want the bloodline compromised after all your hard work now, would you, Nic?”
Nic couldn’t say anything. It was taking all his energy and concentration to keep himself still, to just breathe through the exquisite pain that was lancing through his heart. Images of Louis and Eliza together danced behind his eyes and he wanted to tear down the bloody world before he let it happen, but this was the way it was supposed to be. He’d chosen Eliza for Louis.
She doesn’t want Louis, said the voice in his head. She wants you.
That was impossible. He knew that. They could never be together, but he need not see her marry Louis. Not if she didn’t want him.
Nic downed the brandy he’d poured and spoke as he refilled his glass, forcing the words to sound something close to steady and not like he wanted to commit murder. “I thought she had shown no signs of encouraging your interest.”
“What of it?” Louis said, sounding bored now. “If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well it were done quickly.”
“You’re quoting bloody Macbeth at me?” Nic said, his voice dangerously quiet. “You equate marrying Eliza to committing murder?”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Of course not. Only if I must do it, let the thing be done. You know as well as I do it is easy enough to compromise a girl when there are all these ridiculous rules. Between us, it will be child’s play to manoeuvre her into doing something indiscreet. Then her father will get her married off quick to avoid a scandal.”
Nic wondered if he would have a heart attack before or after he killed his brother. Louis could be ice cold and calculating at times, but he never thought him capable of… this, of using Eliza so badly.
“What’s wrong, Nic? You are looking a little piqued. Are you unwell?”
Nic couldn’t speak.
“What is it? Something I said, mon frère? This is what you wanted, was it not? Or… have your plans changed?”
“Eliza doesn’t want you.”
“What was that, Nic? Speak up, old man. I didn’t quite—”
“I said, Eliza doesn’t want you!” Nic said, the words loud and angry now. Too late, he realised he was breathing hard, that his control was slipping.
“So what?” Louis asked. There was a glimmer of something dangerous in those blue eyes that Nic would have taken more notice of if he’d not been so overwrought. “She’s a means to an end, is she not? A brood mare, nothing more. What do her feelings matter?”
Nic lunged at his brother, who dodged easily. The bastard had always been quicker than Nic.
“Or is it your feelings we’re really talking about, Nic?” Louis demanded and there was anger behind his words too now. “Because you’re in love with her, you stupid devil.”
Nic ground to a halt, staring at Louis, too shocked to speak. Louis knew?
Louis César threw up his hands and launched into a volley of rapid and filthy French that betrayed his less than noble upbringing. Once he had vented his feelings, he stood with his hands on his hips and staring at the floor, clearly needing a moment to gather himself. Nic felt the same way.
“How could you, Nic?” Louis said, and Nic heard the reproach there with no problem whatsoever. “How could you keep that from me? No secrets, we promised each other that. A long time ago, I grant you, but I remember. I’ve kept to it, but you….”
Louis’ eyes glittered with emotion and he turned his back on Nic.
“I’m sorry,” Nic said, more wretched than ever. “I… Oh, Louis, what is the point? I can’t have her. I thought… I thought I could bear it. If anyone was to have her, I thought, perhaps it would not be so bad if it were you, but….”
“But you’re an idiot.”
“Yes.”
Louis drew in a deep breath and let it out again, rubbed one hand over his face and turned back to Nic.
“No more lies, Nic.”
“I didn’t—”
Louis sent him a glacial look, and Nic subsided. A lie of omission clearly counted in his brother’s eyes.
Nic had to ask, though. “So you didn’t mean…?”
“Shut up, or I may kill you with my bare hands,” Louis said, his expression taut.
Nic nodded and shut up. Of course, his brother hadn’t meant the things he’d said. If he’d not been in such a lather, Nic would have realised that himself.
“So, Eliza does not want me, and I do not want her… no matter how lovely and beautiful and admirable etcetera, etcetera.” Louis waved a hand and sent Nic a warning look. “Eliza does, however, want you.”
Nic opened his mouth to protest that Eliza wasn’t in her right mind, but Louis silenced him with another arctic glare.
“And don’t you dare deny that you want her with your heart and soul, for I saw the way you looked at her tonight, Nic. I saw. Good God, you might as well have written it in letters ten feet high, the look in your eyes was so eloquent. I’ve never seen such naked longing.”
Nic groaned and buried his head in his hands, appalled. “Must you?”
“Yes, I must. Consider it punishment for acting the bloody fool all these weeks. My God, Nic, you must have been going out of your mind when she was injured, and you never told me, you never said a word.” The hurt in Louis’s voice was too obvious to ignore.
“She wasn’t mine. She can never be mine,” Nic said, utterly wretched now. “What did it matter?”
“It mattered that your heart was breaking, and you didn’t think I deserved to know that, didn’t think to unburden yourself or share your troubles with me. Why, Nic? Did you think I would be angry, or ridicule you?”
“No! Of course not,” Nic said at once, horrified that Louis should think such a thing. He’d been miserable enough before, but seeing how deeply he’d hurt Louis was an added burden. “I… Oh, I don’t know, Louis. It’s just so damned impossible.”
“Why is it? You’re a rich man, brother to the Comte de Villen. That’s nothing to turn your nose up at. She’d be lucky to have you.”
Nic snorted and reached an arm out to Louis, pulling him into a rough hug. He ruffled his hair as he’d done when Louis was just a skinny boy. Louis huffed and protested being manhandled, but hugged Nic back, then made a show of smoothing his hair back down.
“You’re a tad biased, Louis, and I appreciate it, I do, truly. You’ll never know how much, but Eliza is the jewel of the ton and I… I’m a bastard, a nobody born into the circus. I’ve spent a deal of my life performing tricks for money, and as for the rest….”
Louis waved a dismissive hand. “So did I. So what? Nobody knows about that.”
“You’re still the Comte de Villen, and yes, they do know,” Nic said.
“No one here.”
“That’s not true either. I know Ducrow would never give us away, or the few who knew me at Astley’s, they’re too decent for that, but did you conveniently forget our little problem?”
Louis glowered.
“Give me another,” he said, handing Nic his glass. Nic dutifully poured him another measure. His brother took it and sat down, sipping thoughtfully. “Whatever your plans, Eliza will not give you up, Nic. I saw the look in her eyes.”
“She will. Eliza is stubborn, but even she will realise the impossibility of it in the end.”
Nic met Louis’s eyes and was a little surprised by the amusement there. “Nic, you are my brother and, though I have never before said as much, I do love you, but you have never understood women… and you’re a damned idiot if you believe that.”
Chapter 7
Lady Elizabeth,
I hope you will excuse the impropriety of writing to you in this ma
nner and do not blame the young man in your father’s employ whom I bribed to bring this letter to you. I offered such inducement as he would have been foolish to refuse.
Please rest assured that I am not about to make some unwelcome declaration of love and admiration. It has recently come to my attention that your heart is engaged elsewhere, and I believe I know the object of your devotion quite intimately. I thought it might be of interest to you to know that my brother and I will be attending the Henley Regatta on the 26th March.
If you are in need of an ally in your battle for the stubbornest of hearts, have no fear, my dear friend. I am at your disposal. It should please me more than I can tell you to one day call you, sister.
―Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to Lady Elizabeth Adolphus.
26th March 1839, The Henley Regatta, Henley-on-Thames.
“Viv! Vivien!” Eliza waved frantically, hurrying over to her friend.
She held her skirts free of the wet grass as best she could. The day was remarkably sunny and bright for the new event they were attending today, but it was still early in the year and the ground was soft.
Vivien’s smile was wide as she saw Eliza. “Aha! Lady Elizabeth, you have the look of a woman with mischief in mind.”
“I do?” Eliza said, taken aback. “Drat it. How do I get rid of it? I don’t want everyone to know.”
Vivien laughed, a throaty, decadent sound that had men turning their heads in her direction.
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