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Victoria had not spent many hours in sleep that night. How could she have slept when everything within her was shouting with joy! She had wanted to dance across the rooftops, to shout her happiness from the top of St Paul’s.
A Lady’s Choice had been a success! The cast had recited their lines to perfection, the scene changes had gone without a hitch and the musicians had timed their crescendos and pianissimos exquisitely. If she died this very instant, she would go to heaven with the most contented smile on her face.
The fact she had spent time talking to one of London’s most eligible bachelors really had nothing to do with it. It had been pleasant to bandy words with the gentleman and flattering to know that he was interested in calling upon her, but at the moment, there was no room for romance in Victoria’s life. And certainly not with a man like that!
‘Alors, you are finally awake!’ her maid said, appearing at Victoria’s bedside with a cup of warm chocolate. ‘And looking very ‘appy.’
‘That’s because I am happy, Angelique.’ Victoria sat up and stretched her arms over her head. ‘It was a very good night.’
‘Zey liked your play?’
‘They loved my play! The applause went on for ever and the cast was called back three times to take their bows!’
‘Bon! Did I not tell you it would be so?’
‘Oh, yes, you can say that now when you know everything turned out well. That isn’t what we were saying this time yesterday. At least,’ Victoria added with a frown, ‘it wasn’t what I was saying.’
‘Zat is because you do not ‘ave enough confidence in yourself.’
‘That’s not true! I do have confidence in myself, but I write plays that suit me. I don’t always know if they will suit my audience.’
‘Of course zey will suit your audience,’ the feisty little maid said. ‘You are very good at what you do! Your uncle tells you so all ze time.’
Yes, because Uncle Theo had always been one of her most staunch supporters, Victoria reflected. He was the one who had encouraged her to write, impressing upon her the importance of allowing her artistic side to flourish, no matter what her mother or the rest of society thought.
Speaking of her mother … ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mama yet this morning?’ Victoria enquired.
When Angelique didn’t answer, Victoria turned her head—and saw the answer written all over the maid’s face. ‘Ah. I see that you have.’
‘Do not take it to ‘eart, mademoiselle,’ Angelique said quickly. ‘Madame Bretton does not love le théâtre as you do. She would prefer zat you find a nice man and get married.’
‘Yes, I know, but a nice man won’t let me write plays,’ Victoria pointed out. ‘He will expect me to sit at home and knit tea cosies.’
‘Tea … cosies?’
‘Hats for teapots.’
‘Your teapots wear ‘ats?’ Angelique frowned. ‘You English are very strange.’
Victoria just laughed and sent the maid on her way. She sometimes forgot that while Angelique knew everything there was to know about taking care of a lady, she was far less adept when it came to making conversation with one. Still, it came as no surprise to Victoria that her mother wasn’t pleased about her success at the theatre last night. Having been raised in a rigidly moralistic house where the only occupations deemed acceptable for a woman were those of wife and mother, Mrs Bretton decried the idea of her eldest daughter doing anything else.
A lady did not involve herself with the world of the theatre. A lady did not write plays that poked fun at members of society. And a lady did not discourage gentlemen who came up to them and made polite conversation, the way the dashing Mr Alistair Devlin had last night.
Oh, yes, she’d known who he was. Between her mother pointing him out to her at society events and listening to Winifred go on about him until she was tired of hearing his name, Victoria knew all about Alistair Devlin. The man owned a string of high-priced race horses, kept a mistress in Kensington and a hunting box in Berkshire, and was equally skilled in the use of pistol or foil. He patronized Weston’s for his finery, Hobbs’s for his boots and Rundell and Bridge for his trinkets.
He was also a viscount’s son—a man who moved in elevated circles and who possessed the type of wealth and breeding that would naturally preclude her from being viewed as a potential marriage partner. Her mother had been right in that regard. Refined ladies did not direct plays or go backstage to mingle with actors and actresses. And no one but a refined lady would do for Lord Kempton’s heir. As it was, Devlin’s sister was married to an archdeacon, and for all Victoria’s being the granddaughter of a minister, it would not be good enough for Devlin’s family, so why bother to pretend the two of them stood any chance of finding happiness together?
Victoria was almost at the bottom of the stairs when she heard raised voices coming from the drawing room. But when she recognised two of them as belonging to her Aunt and Uncle Templeton, she quickly changed course and headed in that direction. Given the lack of warmth between her mother and her father’s brother and wife, Victoria had to wonder what had brought them to the house so early in the day. She opened the drawing-room door to see her mother standing ramrod straight by the window and her father, looking far from relaxed, sitting in his favourite chair. Her uncle stood in the middle of the room and her aunt, flamboyant as ever in an emerald-green gown and a glorious bonnet crowned with a sweeping peacock feather, lounged on the red velvet chaise.
It looked for all the world like a convivial family gathering—until Victoria realised that no one was smiling and that the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, looking to her father for an explanation.
It was her uncle who answered. ‘Victoria, my dear, I have just informed your parents of your stunning success at the Gryphon last night.’
‘And I have been trying to tell your uncle it is not a success!’ Mrs Bretton snapped. ‘It is an abomination.’
‘Come now, my dear,’ her husband said. ‘I think abomination is doing it up a little strong.’
‘Do you, Mr Bretton? Well, let me tell you what I think is doing it up a little strong. Your brother, trying to make us believe that Victoria has done something wonderful when anyone in their right mind would tell you she is making a fool of herself!’
‘Oh, Susan, you are completely overreacting,’ Aunt Tandy said with a long-suffering sigh. ‘Victoria did not make a fool of herself last night. Her work was applauded long and loud by every person in that theatre. Your daughter is a brilliant playwright—’
‘My daughter is a lady! And ladies do not write plays!’ Mrs Bretton said, enunciating every word. ‘They do not produce plays. And they certainly do not tell other people how to act in plays. Ladies embroider linens. They paint pictures. And they get married and have children. They do not spend their days at theatres with the most disreputable people imaginable!’
‘Here now, sister-in-law, I’ll have you know that not all actors are disreputable!’ Uncle Theo objected.
‘Indeed, I had a sterling reputation when I met Theo,’ Aunt Tandy said. ‘And contrary to popular opinion, I was a virgin at the time.’
‘Oh, dear Lord, must we be subjected to this?’ Mrs Bretton complained. ‘Will you not say something, Mr Bretton?’
Victoria looked at her father and wished with all her heart that she could have spared him this inquisition. He was a gentle man who disliked confrontation and who had spent most of his life trying to avoid it. Pity that his only brother and sister-in-law, both of whom he adored, should be the two people his wife resented more than anyone else in the world.
‘I’m not sure there is anything to be said, my dear,’ he said. ‘I cannot help but be proud of what Victoria has accomplished—’
‘Proud? You are proud that our eldest daughter has to pretend to be a man because if anyone found out what she really did, we would be cut by good society?’ Mrs Bretton demanded. ‘You are proud that she spends her days with actors and actresses and avoids the company of fine, upstanding people?’
‘I do not avoid their company, Mama,’ Victoria said. ‘In truth, they have become the source of some of my most amusing and successful characters. Nor do I think my conduct is putting anyone in this family at risk. I have been very careful, both about what I say and about how I behave when in society because I know there is Winifred’s future to consider and I am very cognisant of that. But to suggest we would be cut is, I think, going a little far. Other ladies write plays—’
‘I do not care what other ladies do!’ her mother snapped. ‘I care about what you do and how it affects your future. Something you seem not to care about at all! Spending all that time at the theatre and consorting with people like that is not good for your reputation.’
‘I am well aware that certain people think Laurie and I spend too much time at the theatre,’ Victoria allowed, ‘but surely the fact that Uncle Theo owns the Gryphon excuses us to some degree.’
‘It does not excuse you, and in truth, I blame him for everything that’s happened!’ Mrs Bretton said coldly. ‘If he had not encouraged you when you first went to him with your stories, we would not be having this conversation now. You would be doing the kinds of things a lady of good birth should be doing.’
‘What, like taking a lover thirteen months after she married and produced the requisite heir?’ Uncle Theo said laconically.
Mrs Bretton’s face flushed crimson. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Haven’t you heard? Lady Tavistocke went to Venice and took up with a gondolier,’ Uncle Theo said. ‘Shocking scandal. Poor old Reggie Tavistocke doesn’t know what to make of it.’
‘Mind, you can’t blame the poor girl, darling,’ Aunt Tandy said. ‘Reggie is getting on for sixty, after all, and you know how dashing Italian men can be. And gondolas are very comfortable. I’ve always thought the movement of the water very conducive to—’
‘Enough!’ Mrs Bretton shrieked. ‘Get out of my house! Both of you!’
‘In point of fact, this is my house, Susan,’ Uncle Theo said amiably. ‘And one I am very pleased to have you and my brother staying in. However, perhaps it is best we leave you to your discussions. Just don’t be too hard on Victoria. She is not in the least deserving of it. Speaking of which, there is something I would like to say to her before we go.’
‘Something we wish to say,’ Aunt Tandy corrected him with a smile.
‘Of course, my darling, something we wish to say. And that is, how very proud we were of you last night, Victoria. After you left, I had a visit from Sir Michael Loftus—’
Victoria gasped. ‘Sir Michael!’
‘Yes, and he was very impressed with your latest play. Or rather, with Valentine Lawe’s latest play. He thought it was … now, how did he phrase it exactly? “A comedy of stunning brilliance exquisitely characterised and plotted with a deft hand.”’
Victoria gazed at him in wonder. ‘Sir Michael Loftus said I had a deft hand?’
‘Those were his very words.’
She was floating on air. Euphoric. To have received such praise from one of the foremost critics in the theatre. She must surely be dreaming …
‘And you looked absolutely beautiful,’ Aunt Tandy said, giving Victoria an affectionate hug. ‘I noticed several gentlemen watching you throughout the evening, Lord Vale and Mr Chesterton amongst them, and I hear even the top-lofty Mr Devlin stopped to speak to you.’
‘Mr Devlin?’ Mrs Bretton said with a gasp. ‘Lord Kempton’s heir spoke to you and you did not think to tell me?’
Victoria blushed, uncomfortably aware that her mother was staring at her with a mixture of astonishment and reproach. ‘There really wasn’t any point, Mama. We were not formally introduced and spoke only about the play.’
‘But he engaged you in conversation,’ Mrs Bretton persisted. ‘Without benefit of introduction. He must have had a reason for doing so.’
‘He thought I was in need of assistance,’ Victoria said, her cheeks warming at the memory of his long, slender fingers undoing the knots in her ribbons … and of her turning down his request that he be allowed to call upon her. ‘I’m sure it was nothing more than that.’
‘Unfortunately, I tend to agree with Victoria,’ Uncle Theo said, starting for the door. ‘Women have been chasing Devlin since he was a boy, but no one’s been able to catch him. I thought Lady Frances Shaftsbury was close to doing so earlier in the year, but even that appears to have cooled. And given Lord Kempton’s resentment towards the theatrical world, I’d venture to say there’s absolutely no chance of him allowing his eldest son and heir to pursue a relationship with Victoria.’
‘But you just said no one knows Victoria is Valentine Lawe,’ Mrs Bretton remarked. ‘Why should that have any bearing on Mr Devlin’s interest in her?’
‘Because he will find out in the end, and I don’t want to see Victoria left with a broken heart because the man cannot return her love,’ Theo said. ‘And I know that’s how it will end. But come, Tandy, my dear, we must be getting back. Rehearsals start in less than two hours.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Aunt Tandy said. ‘Will you be coming tonight, Victoria?’
‘No, she will not be coming!’ Mrs Bretton snapped in vexation. ‘We are expected at Lord and Lady Holcombe’s musicale this evening. All of us.’
‘Pity,’ Uncle Theo said. ‘As it happens, we’re sold out again. But then I expect we’ll be sold out most nights from now on and I don’t suppose you will be able to attend every performance.’
‘She most certainly will not.’
‘But I will be there as often as I can,’ Victoria said firmly. Her sister might have come to London to find a husband, but her main purpose in being here was to see her play, and as many times as she could! ‘Thank you both for coming. I can’t imagine a nicer way to begin my day.’
‘Our pleasure, my dear.’
They departed noisily, shouting goodbyes and congratulations as the drawing-room door closed behind them. Left alone with her parents, Victoria didn’t know what to say. The joy she’d felt earlier was gone, trampled into the dust by her mother’s patent displeasure.
Unfortunately, silence was not a problem from which her mother suffered. ‘Really, Mr Bretton, if it weren’t for the fact that you and your brother are so close, I would not allow him or that woman in my house,’ she said huffily.
‘That woman happens to be your sister-in-law,’ her husband reminded her. ‘And denying them entrance would be difficult given that, as Theo pointed out, he does own this lovely house and several others in the area.’
‘A fact he throws at us at every opportunity,’ Mrs Bretton said bitterly. ‘Oh, how I wish we had the wherewithal to do without him.’
‘But we do not, so there is no point in wishing it true. Personally, I am very grateful to my brother for all he’s done for us. You might find it in your heart to show him a little more gratitude.’
‘Gratitude? You expect me to show gratitude to a man who earns his living from the stage and who left his first wife to marry that wretched actress?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do. You may not approve of Theo and Tandy, but I will not hear you denigrate them,’ her husband said quietly. ‘If you cannot bring yourself to say anything kind, I suggest you say nothing at all.’
The gentle reprimand was clearly too much for Victoria’s mother. Stamping her foot, she turned and flounced out of the room, prompting Victoria to offer her father a sad smile. ‘I’m so sorry, Papa. I never meant to bring all of this down on your head.’
‘You’ve not brought anything down on my head, Victoria, so don’t even think to malign yourself in such a way. Though I know it is best not to say so in your mother’s hearing, I am very proud of you. Writing a play is no small feat, and to have written four that have received such critical acclaim is worthy of commendation. I certainly couldn’t have done it, but I’m as proud as punch that you have.’
‘Oh, Papa, you are so good.’ Victoria put her arms around his neck and hugged him. ‘I don’t know what I would do if both you and Mama despised the theatre.’
‘I dare say it would be an impossible situation for all of us,’ her father agreed. ‘But, like it or not, your aunt and uncle’s success in the theatre is what allows us to stay in this fine house. They have certainly been good to you, reading your work and producing your plays while making sure no one finds out who Valentine Lawe really is. We owe them a great deal, yet they ask for nothing in return and seem willing to turn a deaf ear to your mother’s criticisms.’
‘Indeed, they are exceedingly generous and forgiving,’ Victoria agreed. ‘I like to think my adding to the success of the Gryphon is in some small way a repayment for everything they’ve done for me. I only wish Mama could find it in her heart to be kinder to them … and to be happier about my own success. I don’t like knowing I am the cause of so much grief within the family.’
‘I know that, child, but your mother will be fine. She is just afraid you will be found out. You cannot disagree that the nature of what you write would make you unpopular in certain drawing rooms if your identity were to become known,’ her father said. ‘And given that a large part of the reason for coming to London was to try to settle you and your sister in marriage, we must do whatever we can to present you in the best light possible. Personally, I think you’ve done an admirable job of keeping the identity of Valentine Lawe a secret.’
‘I gave Mama my promise I would.’
‘Just so. As to your spending more time at the theatre than other young ladies, I suppose it isn’t a good idea, but Laurence is with you and no one could ever accuse him of moral misconduct.’
‘No, though I wish he would make more of an effort socially,’ Victoria said with a sigh. ‘He is so quiet and reserved most women tend to overlook him.’
‘He is a scholar, my dear, and scholars are not, by nature, outgoing fellows. But I have no doubt that when the right woman comes along, Laurence will sit up and take notice. And I fully expect to see a very different side to your brother when that happens.’
‘Well, all I can say is that I hope she loves the theatre as much as he does. I’ve often wondered if he didn’t have a secret longing to tread the boards himself.’
‘Perish the thought! That would put your poor mother into Bedlam,’ her father said drily. ‘Now, off you go and talk to her about this evening’s event.’
‘Yes, I suppose I must.’ Victoria’s face twisted. ‘I don’t mind the Holcombes so much, but they really do invite the stuffiest people to their soirées.’
‘I know, but it will be good for you to be seen in society for a change. It’s time you gave some thought to settling down. Lord knows it’s all your mother thinks about, and now that Winifred is out, it behoves you to marry well in order that she can do the same. I believe Henry Fulton was rather taken with her last night.’
‘And why would he not be taken with her? Winifred is beautiful and accomplished and she will make some man an excellent wife,’ Victoria said generously. ‘But what man is going to want me, Papa? A woman who writes plays and even takes a hand in producing them? I am destined to become an ape-leader.’
Her father chuckled. ‘Nevertheless, you must make an effort. Marriage will give you a home and children of your own, and who knows? If you have enough, you might be able to form your own troupe!’
Victoria burst out laughing. Only her father would say something like that—and only when her mother wasn’t in the room. ‘Dearest Papa. I hate to think what Mama would say if she heard you trying to persuade me in such a manner.’
‘No more than I, Victoria,’ her father replied with a smile. ‘No more than I.’
Chapter Three
Lord and Lady Holcombe lived in a magnificent house filled with more exquisite artwork than many of London’s finest museums. The walls were covered with paintings by every famous painter, living and dead, and entire rooms had been given over to showcase the hundreds of sculptures and historical relics Holcombe had collected during his travels around the world.
Meandering through one such room filled with ancient Roman artefacts, Alistair stopped to admire a jewel-encrusted dagger and wondered if anyone would notice if he slipped out through the French doors. As much as he liked the marquess and his wife, they really did invite the most boring people to their gatherings. If he heard one more lurid tale about Lady Tavistocke taking up with a gondolier, he would go mad! Surely there were more interesting topics to discuss? The deplorable conditions in the East End. The bodies found floating in the Thames. Riots and child labour and conditions in the mills. Anything but this mindless prattle …
‘—think Shakespeare was intent on pointing out the frailty of the human mind,’ he heard a woman say. ‘Lady Macbeth was clearly mad, but was it due to the guilt she felt over the murder she convinced her husband to commit, or as a result of her own unending quest for power?’
Alistair frowned. A bluestocking at the Holcombes’?
He turned to see who was speaking—and promptly bumped into another young lady who had clearly been waiting to speak to him. ‘I beg your pardon—’
