Gail Whitiker (19 page)

‘Thank you,’ she said, slipping the amulet back into its velvet pouch. ‘It is...exceedingly kind of you.’

‘Kindness has nothing to do with it,’ he muttered. ‘Call it a peace offering, if you like. We didn’t get off to the best of starts and it’s been more of a rocky road than a smooth passage ever since. Or...’ he said, his eyes back on the people around them, ‘you could consider it...an early wedding present.’

Joanna stared at him, shock causing her to draw a quick, sharp breath. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Come, Lady Joanna, there is no reason to blush. Captain Sterne made his intentions very clear the night of your aunt’s dinner party. Obviously he wanted to make sure I knew to stay well away from you and so said what he did when I was standing close enough to hear. Sadly, it comes as no surprise.’

‘It doesn’t?’

Laurence shook his head. ‘I have recently been made aware of your need to marry a wealthy man.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Her cheeks paled. ‘Where did you hear that?’

‘London is not so large that a gentleman’s circumstances can go too long unnoticed,’ Laurence said, avoiding her gaze. ‘You must marry a rich man and it is clear Captain Sterne is that man. You could do a lot worse. You could end up leg-shackled to someone like Mr Rowe.’

‘I would
never
marry Mr Rowe!’ Joanna said, knowing it for the truth. ‘Not even if not doing so meant my father and I would end up in the streets!’

‘Fortunately, such drastic measures will not be called for. Sterne is wealthy, well bred and shares your interest in Egyptian archaeology. What more could you ask for?’

I could ask for you!
Joanna cried silently.
I could tell you that I don’t care about all those other things. That I love you, and that all that matters is being with you....

‘Mr Bretton, you really don’t understand—’

‘Yes, Lady Joanna, I do. More than you can possibly know.’ His voice was soft, his eyes holding hers, the brilliant blue muted to cobalt. ‘You must do everything you can...whatever is necessary...to save your home and your father’s reputation. Indeed, your very way of life. Trust me, I know of what I speak. I could not stand by and see you throw it all away as a result of...a bad choice in husbands. Speaking of which,’ Laurence said, grabbing another glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, ‘Winifred has at long last received a proposal from Mr Fulton and they are to be married. Naturally, my parents are delighted and a celebration is being planned. You will be sent an invitation, but I thought I would mention it in advance. Next Thursday is the date I believe they’ve settled upon.’

Joanna nodded, her throat growing tighter by the minute. ‘Thank you.’ How could she make him understand how painful this was for her? How much she wanted to be with him... ‘If my aunt has not made other arrangements, I shall be...pleased to attend.’

‘Good.’ His smile, always attractive, seemed suddenly dazzling. ‘It will be a good way to finish off the year. At least for her—’

‘Ah, Mr Bretton, there you are,’ Lady Kingston said. ‘I wonder if you would be willing to lend your expertise to a discussion Lady Stanford and I are having about
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
. We have a difference of opinion as to the point Mr Shakespeare was really trying to make.’

‘I would be delighted, Lady Kingston.’ Laurence’s faint smile held a trace of sadness as he glanced at the velvet pouch in Joanna’s hand. ‘I have always had a particular fondness for Shakespeare’s romantic works.’

* * *

It wasn’t long before Laurence found out that Joanna was not the only one who harboured grave concerns about his going to Egypt.

The very next afternoon, Sir Michael Loftus called to see him.

‘My apologies for troubling you, Mr Bretton, but I heard a bizarre rumour at my club last night that you were planning to go to Egypt,’ the gentleman said. ‘I told the fellow it was nonsense, of course, but he would have it that you were bound and determined to go.’

‘It is not nonsense, Sir Michael,’ Laurence said. ‘I have agreed to accompany Lord Bonnington on his next expedition to Egypt and—’

‘Egypt! Are you mad? You cannot leave now, and certainly not to go off to some God-forsaken country for months at a time. You have a commitment to finish a play!’

‘Which I fully intend to honour,’ Laurence said without raising his voice. ‘But as I said, it will be on my schedule. This is the fulfilment of a dream—’

‘Excuse me, but I thought your
dream
was to see one of your plays performed at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane,’ Sir Michael snapped. ‘Damn it, man, you’re a playwright, not an archaeologist!’

Laurence forced a smile. ‘No one knows that better than I, Sir Michael, but I’ve told Lord Bonnington that I will accompany him to Egypt and I intend to stand by my word.’

‘And what about your word to me, sir?’ Sir Michael demanded. ‘Have you forgotten that you said you would deliver your next play to me before the end of the Season?’

‘I have not, but since we do not leave until the middle of February, I see no reason why the play will not be finished by then. I would also remind you that I did not promise that my next play
would
be written for Drury Lane. If my uncle and I feel the Gryphon is a more suitable venue, we must consider that as well.’

‘I see. Well, this is very interesting,’ Sir Michael said, rocking back and forth on his heels. ‘I thought we had reached an accord, Mr Bretton. You were to write a play and I was to assist you in seeing it staged at Drury Lane. It was to have been a step forwards in your career; an opportunity presented you might never otherwise have had. It would be a pity to see that opportunity withdrawn and your career to fall back. Or to have your audience slip away altogether.’

Laurence’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’

‘I think you do,’ Sir Michael said. ‘The theatre is a highly competitive business, Mr Bretton. You know how it is. Conflicting scheduling of plays. Actors and actresses defecting to other companies. Bad reviews. They can all have a disastrous effect on a playwright’s career. And on a theatre manager’s, I might add. Consider yourself...warned.’

Laurence said nothing as Loftus walked out of the room. So, the man would stoop to blackmail. Now there was
no
doubt in his mind as to why his uncle had fallen out with him. The two had entirely different values when it came to the theatre.

Sir Michael wanted Valentine Lawe’s next play to be staged at Drury Lane and if that didn’t happen he was quite prepared to do whatever was necessary to destroy not only Valentine Lawe’s career, but Theo Templeton’s as well. It had happened before. Jealous theatre owners scheduling the opening of new plays on the same nights, ambitious managers stealing actors and actresses from the other company and critics making sure bad reviews greeted the opening night’s performance. All guaranteed to bring about financial ruin and an early close to the play’s run.

Clearly, the gloves were off. If Laurence didn’t produce a play that stood up to Sir Michael’s expectations within the required time, he might as well go to Egypt and stay there—because he certainly wasn’t going to have a career when he came back.

* * *

The invitation to Winifred Bretton’s engagement celebration arrived the following morning.

Joanna prayed they were already engaged for the evening, but as it turned out, an unexpected cancellation had left them without any plans and Lady Cynthia said that of course they must go. If Mr Bretton was to become a member of her brother’s expedition, it was only right that they take the opportunity to become better acquainted with his family and what better opportunity than the betrothal celebration for his youngest sister?

Not at all convinced that it was, Joanna had got dressed on the appointed evening, weighted down by guilt and suffering with a blinding megrim. She had been afflicted with these debilitating pains ever since she was a child, but it was years since she’d had one this bad.

Considering everything that was going on around her, it really wasn’t all that surprising.

* * *

The engagement celebration was well underway by the time Joanna, her father and Lady Cynthia arrived. Guests crammed the hall and moved slowly through the receiving line, stopping to chat with the various family members as they passed. Mrs Devlin introduced Joanna and her family to her parents, both of whom were clearly delighted by their youngest daughter’s good fortune, and then to Winifred and Mr Fulton, the latter appearing proud as punch of his beautiful bride-to-be.

Laurence was noticeable by his absence and, after offering her heartfelt congratulations to the happy couple, Joanna moved on, hoping to find him in the crowded reception room. She had given a great deal of thought to what she intended to say to him tonight. First and foremost was the absolute need to clear up the misunderstanding between them with regard to Captain Sterne and his intentions towards her. Joanna intended to make it very clear that she was not in love with Sterne and that she had no intention of marrying him. Her father might approve of the idea and her aunt wholeheartedly endorse it, but Joanna was the only one who could say yes and she had absolutely no intention of doing that. There
had
to be some other way of saving the estate, a way that did not necessitate her scarifying her soul.

Her father had said it of his own situation. It wasn’t fair to go into a marriage when he had so little of his heart to give. Neither did Joanna. She had given her heart to Laurence. There was nothing left for anyone else—

‘I did suggest Mother stop at fifty,’ said the familiar voice close to her ear, ‘but she told me she could not possibly reduce the guest list to fewer than seventy-five, and as you can see, the house would have been crowded at thirty.’

Astonished by the pleasure she felt at hearing Laurence’s voice again, Joanna turned to see him standing a few feet behind her, his dark good looks literally taking her breath away. Within the space of a few seconds, her heart was racing—which, unfortunately, did nothing to ease the pounding in her head.

‘My aunt would not have done it any differently,’ Joanna said, trying not to wince. ‘A crush must have at least one poor lady fainting from the heat in order to be deemed a success.’

‘A regrettable truth made even more so by the fact my mother subscribes to it.’ He looked at her and, abruptly, his smile disappeared. ‘You’re in pain. What’s wrong?’

Joanna sighed. So much for putting on a good face. ‘I have a rather bad megrim,’ she admitted. ‘And as much as I want to be here celebrating your sister’s good news, I would be far better off in a dark room with a cold cloth pressed over my eyes.’

‘Poor thing, you shouldn’t have come at all,’ he said. ‘Would you like me to make your excuses? I’m sure no one would object.’

Joanna shook her head, not wishing to be deprived of a single moment of his company. ‘No, though if you could lead me to a quiet spot in the house, I would be most grateful.’

‘I’m not sure there
is
a quiet spot in the house tonight,’ Laurence said ruefully. ‘And even if there was, it would not be a good idea that I take you there.’

‘Why not?’

There was a long moment of waiting before he said, in a voice of quiet resignation, ‘Because I would be tempted to say things I should not and that I would no doubt come to regret later.’

His voice was calm, his eyes on the people moving around them, but when he turned to look at her, Joanna saw the fire smouldering in their depths and knew a moment of intense and passionate relief. He was
not
indifferent towards her. Despite what he’d said about Captain Sterne, Laurence
did
have feelings for her and if the situation presented itself, he would tell her how he felt.

Suddenly, Joanna knew how desperately she needed to hear those words. To know that he felt as passionately about her as she did about him. ‘What would you say to me, Mr Bretton, that you feel you should not?’

He closed his eyes, shutting the fire away. ‘Do not ask me to tell you what I have no right to say.’

‘You have as much right as any man here.’

‘No, I do not. I have neither wealth nor position, and even to be
considered
as a husband for you, a man must have both,’ Laurence said. ‘You would be damaging your reputation beyond repair for entering into what we both know would be a terrible
mésalliance
.’

‘I don’t care!’ Joanna whispered. ‘My heart is still my own, Mr Bretton, and I want very much to hear what you would say to me.’

‘Lady Joanna—’

‘Please!’ she said, her voice beseeching. ‘I do not know what the future holds, Mr Bretton, but if you would say only one thing to me tonight, I beg you say it now. What would you tell me if I was plain Joanna Northrup again, with no obligations to my name or responsibilities to my position?’

His eyes opened wide, his gaze returning to her face with a look of understanding mingled with hope, and just for a moment, Joanna caught a glimpse of something wonderful. Something she had only ever dreamt of finding before.

‘I would tell you,’ he said slowly, ‘that I am not myself when I am around you. That I am like...a starving man who sees in you all he needs to stay alive. I would tell you that I have never seen a woman’s complexion glow with such warmth that I wonder if I would burn were I to touch it. And I would tell you,’ he murmured, moving closer, ‘that you are, without question, the most beautiful and desirable woman I have ever known and that the thought of seeing you married to another man tears me apart.’

A hot ache grew in Joanna’s throat; a shiver of longing making her lean towards him. His eyes dropped to her mouth and Joanna knew that if they had been anywhere else, he would have kissed her. And God help her, she wanted him to. ‘Laurence—’

‘No, there is something else I
must
say,’ he interrupted. ‘God knows I have no right, but I cannot let you continue on this path without knowing what lies in wait for you at the end.’ He stopped and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as though trying to draw strength. ‘I know Sterne intends to offer for you and while I suspect I know how you will answer, I beg you to think carefully before you do. Because if you do not give his proposal the consideration it deserves, you will be making a terrible mistake.’