Regency Disguise: No Occupation for a Lady / No Role for a Gentleman

There were few enough reasons for a gentleman to be in the vicinity of the Gryphon Theatre at half past ten on a Tuesday morning. There were even less for a lady, and Alistair had to admit to a moment of surprise when he saw Victoria Bretton emerge from the building unaccompanied by either her brother or a maid. ‘Miss Bretton,’ he said, drawing his phaeton to a halt. ‘Good morning.’

She had been looking to the left, but turned upon hearing his voice. ‘Mr Devlin!’ Her dismay, momentarily obvious, was quickly concealed. ‘This is a surprise.’

‘It is indeed,’ Alistair said, aware that while her appearance was as correct as that of any lady strolling on Bond Street, the fact that they were nowhere near Bond Street was bound to raise questions. ‘Might I ask where you are bound?’

‘Home. I was about to hail a hackney.’

‘Then perhaps you would allow me to convey you in that direction.’

‘I would not wish to inconvenience you.’

‘It is no inconvenience,’ Alistair said truthfully. ‘I have a stop to make on the way, but if you do not mind waiting, I would be happy to see you home immediately thereafter.’

She hesitated for a moment, but obviously seeing no reason to hire a public carriage when a private one was offered, walked down the steps towards him. ‘Thank you. That would be most kind.’

He climbed down to assist her and within moments they set off again. Alistair kept his attention on the road, though he was conscious of the warmth of her thigh brushing against his, and the scent of her perfume sweetening the air around him. Something innocent, yet unknowingly provocative. ‘I was surprised to see you coming out of the Gryphon at this time of the day,’ he said, forcing his mind to more practical matters. ‘Have you been to see your uncle?’

‘Yes. I needed to speak to him.’ She glanced down at her hands. ‘About … a costume.’

‘A costume?’

‘Yes. For Lord and Lady Drake’s masquerade.’ Her eyes finally lifted to his. ‘You must have been invited.’

‘Of course. As was the rest of my family.’

‘You sound as though you would rather not go.’

‘In all honesty, I don’t enjoy dressing up and pretending to be someone else,’ Alistair admitted. ‘I have none of the actor’s spirit in me. However, as it is Isabelle’s first masked ball, I have agreed to take her along. More to the point, I have been asked to effect an introduction to Lord Drake’s youngest son, Lord Robert.’

‘I’ve heard Winifred speak of him,’ Victoria said, remembering her sister’s one-time hopes in that direction. ‘Do you think Miss Wright will like him?’

‘I have no idea. I don’t usually get involved in matchmaking, but I believe they have much in common and Isabelle could certainly do worse.’

‘She is a delightful young woman,’ Victoria said.

‘She is lively and spontaneous and my family doesn’t know what to make of her,’ Alistair said baldly. ‘They find her lacking in decorum when it comes to talking about the things she doesn’t like, and far too open in her enthusiasm of the things she does.’

‘Like Valentine Lawe?’

He slanted her a sidelong glance. ‘Indeed. Why women swoon over men like that is completely beyond me. Look what it did for Lady Caroline Lamb,’ he murmured. Then, breathing deeply, said, ‘What is that fragrance you’re wearing?’

He saw colour bloom in her cheeks. ‘It is … a special blend from a perfumer on Clifford Street. My aunt took me there when I first arrived in London.’

‘If it is the store with which I am familiar, the proprietor charges a hefty fee for his custom blends.’

‘Yes, but he also guarantees that no other woman in London will ever wear that same fragrance,’ Victoria said. ‘The exclusivity of the product appealed to my aunt.’

Her sudden burst of defiance made Alistair smile. ‘Your aunt is, I believe, something of an original.’

‘I have always admired her flair for the dramatic and her gift for plain speaking.’

‘Qualities shared by her niece, I am discovering.’

He didn’t turn his head, but he felt the weight of her gaze on him. ‘How is it, Mr Devlin,’ she said, ‘that on such short acquaintance, you feel you know me well enough to offer such opinions?’

‘There are certain women whose manners make them easy to identify, Miss Bretton. You and I have not spent a great deal of time in conversation, but what time we have has allowed me to form an opinion of your character. You spoke plainly at the Holcombes’ musicale and, by doing so, revealed much of yourself.’

‘Then I must remember to guard my tongue when I am around you.’

‘I’m glad to hear you say that.’ Finally, Alistair did turn to look at her. ‘At least you have given me hope that I am likely to see you again.’

He watched colour run hot and quick over her face, but he also saw a flicker of pain darken the brilliance of her gaze. ‘I told you the night we met that you would do well to avoid me, Mr Devlin,’ she said, ‘and nothing that’s happened since has induced me to change my mind. You were given proof of that at the Holcombes’ musicale, just as you were by your sister and brother-in-law’s reception of me at the King’s Theatre.’

‘Fortunately, I care little for my brother-in-law’s opinions and I am used to the pettiness of society,’ Alistair said. ‘Assumptions about other people’s characters are all too often made without the information necessary for such opinions. People see a beggar in the street and believing him to be without, see no reason to ask him what manner of man he is. He might be able to quote Plato and Aristotle, but he is assumed to be ignorant because of his appearance. The Archdeacon suffers from the same misconceptions. For all his being a man of the cloth, he is quick to dismiss based on what his eyes tell him. Your uncle owns a theatre and both he and your aunt have spent time upon the stage, but that doesn’t make you an actress or entitle people to treat you like one.’

‘No, but I am despaired of for reasons other than just my family connections, Mr Devlin.’ Victoria’s smile appeared briefly, but he saw what looked like resignation in her eyes. ‘I speak too plainly for most people’s liking and while I do some of the things I am expected to, for the most part, I derive little pleasure from them. I suspect many of the ladies with whom I socialise would be horrified to know that their behaviour only gives me more fodder for—’ She broke off abruptly, her blush deepening. ‘That is … they would not like to think I was being cynical of what they said, or of how they said it. Their goal is to be married and they see nothing more important than that.’

‘And you do.’

‘My goal is to lead a happy and fulfilled life.’

‘You do not think marriage would give you that?’

‘I believe marriage to the right man might make me happy,’ Victoria said carefully, ‘but there are things that would give me greater pleasure and I fear they are not the type of things any man would willingly smile upon.’

‘Like what?’

‘Independence. The freedom to pursue the activities I wish, as I wish to pursue them.’

‘You intrigue me, Miss Bretton,’ Alistair said quietly. ‘You have from the moment we met.’

‘Only because I am not like the ladies with whom you normally associate. It is human nature to be curious about that with which we are not familiar.’ Her smile appeared, but there was a pensive shimmer in her eyes. ‘But I think we have spoken quite enough about me for one day, Mr Devlin. I should like to know something of you and how a gentleman like you passes his time.’

Alistair shrugged, reluctant to talk about himself when he was so much more interested in her. ‘I am heir to my father’s title and am, therefore, involved in the business of the estate.’

‘Does your father not employ his own man of business?’

‘He did, but they parted company last year. When my father discovered my skills in that area, he encouraged me to make use of them and to develop them further.’

‘Still, you cannot spend all of your time poring over account books and journals,’ Victoria said. ‘You must have time to enjoy the kind of activities so often indulged in by young men of your class.’

‘My class,’ he repeated in amusement. ‘What does that mean exactly? That I while away my hours in idleness and debauchery?’

Alistair made the remark in a light-hearted manner. He was surprised when she did not respond in kind. ‘I cannot speak to the latter, Mr Devlin, but my knowledge of the type of men with whom you associate would lead me to believe the former.’

‘The type of men with whom I associate?’

‘Mr Bentley-Hyde and Lord Shufton. Your good friend, Lord Collins.’

‘You do not like Lord Collins?’

‘I neither like nor dislike him,’ Victoria said, though the tone in which she said it led Alistair to believe she was not being entirely truthful with him. ‘From what I understand, he is not engaged in any worthwhile activity and wastes much of his time in hells and brothels.’

‘And in the company of women like Signy Chermonde,’ Alistair said, wondering if Collins’s association with the actress had anything to do with Victoria’s sudden reserve.

‘At present. No doubt he will have a different mistress by the end of the Season. I’ve heard that he is fickle.’

‘And you see me as being no different?’

‘I do not know you well enough to say.’

‘But based on what little you do know of me, you are willing to say that I am no better than Collins, whom you acknowledge to be a rake and a wastrel.’

‘I did not say that,’ Victoria said quickly. ‘Pray do not put words in my mouth, Mr Devlin. It is simply that I have seen you on several occasions with nothing more pressing to do than to enjoy every minute of your life.’

‘I see,’ Alistair said. ‘So apart from minding my father’s books and occasionally checking in on the welfare of his estates, I have little else of value to occupy my time, is that what you’re saying?’

‘If you have, I would be happy to hear about it.’

If you have … Alistair’s mouth tightened. So, that was what she thought of him. That he was an indolent gentleman with nothing better to do than while away his spare time in brothels and hells. How lowering to see himself through her eyes. To think he had been about to tell her about Mrs Hutchins and the children. Perhaps even to take her there and explain what he hoped to do with the new orphanage. To try to make her understand how important the work was to him. He could only think now how fortunate was the timing of her remarks. He had no intention of proving himself to her—or to anyone else. ‘I regret, Miss Bretton, that your opinion of me is so low,’ he said at length. ‘Clearly I am no different to you than the beggar in the street.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘Isn’t it? You see me as being rich and indolent, with nothing more important to do than while away my time in idle pursuits. But you know nothing of my life or of the type of man I am,’ he said, turning the carriage left at the next street. ‘Which is your house?’

He saw her look around in surprise, as if only now becoming aware of where they were. ‘I thought you had a call to make first.’

‘I did, but the nature of my business would have prevented me from including you in it and I had no wish to leave you standing in the street.’

Alistair knew he was being vague, just as he knew from the expression on Victoria’s face that she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Even so, he was totally unprepared for her next remark. ‘Is it a gambling hell or a brothel from which I have kept you, Mr Devlin?’

The question stung; the casual assumption that he must be bound for one or the other an unexpected blow to his pride and his self-esteem. But he would not let her see how hard the blow had landed. ‘In my experience, there is little difference between the two. Both offer pleasure without obligation. The type a gentleman like myself enjoys above all.’

He heard a soft exhalation of air. ‘Then you do not deny that you were en route to one or the other?’ she whispered.

‘You have obviously made up your mind about who and what I am,’ Alistair said with a feigned lack of concern. ‘Far be it from me to disappoint you.’

‘Stop the carriage here,’ she said tersely. ‘I will walk the rest of the way. I only hope I did not keep you too long from your … intended purpose.’

‘You did not. The lady will wait all day for me if she has to.’

He saw her stiffen and knew she had taken his statement exactly as he’d intended.

‘How fortunate for you. No, thank you, I can get down myself.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Alistair said, jumping down and holding his hand out to her. ‘A lady is not meant to disembark a phaeton without assistance.’

It was true, she did need his help, but the moment her feet touched the ground, she pulled away. ‘Thank you, Mr Devlin. It has been a most enlightening morning.’

‘In more ways than you know, Miss Bretton,’ Alistair said, touching the brim of his hat. ‘In more ways than you know.’

Alistair was not in a good mood by the time he reached his second stop of the morning, one located in a far more humble part of town than the one he had just left. There were no fancy wrought-iron railings here. No brass number plates affixed to freshly painted doors. Just grey stone houses that fronted on to narrow streets populated by people whose priority it was simply to get by.

He drew the carriage to a halt in front of one such house and glanced at the boy of sixteen leaning negligently against the wall. ‘Mr Tanner,’ he called, ‘be so good as to make sure no harm comes to my property.’ He tossed a shiny silver coin in the boy’s direction. ‘You may have this for your trouble.’

The lad snatched it out of the air. ‘I’ll pay it good mind, Mr Devlin.’

Alistair jumped down and headed for the front door. He was glad now that he had not brought Victoria here. Though he had toyed with the idea of showing her what he was involved with, it was clear to him now that her opinion of him was already formed. If she wished to think him a hell-born babe, so be it. It was no concern of his.

As expected, Mrs Hutchins was waiting for him. A compassionate woman of middling years, she had a round face and rosy cheeks, a generous figure and the energy of six. She still wore a plain-gold wedding band, even though she had been a widow these last five years, and the room into which she welcomed him was bright and cheerful—a reflection of the woman and all she brought to the job. ‘Morning, Mr Devlin. If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll put on some fresh tea. I wasn’t sure what time to expect you.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Hutchins, but that won’t be necessary. You have more than enough to do. How fare the twins this morning?’

The housekeeper’s smile faded. ‘Not as well as I’d hoped, sir. I had the doctor in as you instructed, but I don’t know that he holds out much hope. It’s their lungs, sir, and they’re not going to get better.’

No, Alistair reflected grimly, they weren’t. Too many years spent working in the mills for that. Barely eleven, the girls had gone in at six years of age and had toiled alongside their parents and their older brother until the mill had burned down and taken both parents and brother with it. After the funeral, they had been brought to London by a well-meaning uncle, only to be turned out by an aunt who wanted nothing to do with them. They had ended up on the streets until their ill health had brought them to the attention of the people Alistair paid to make sure such things were noticed.

Sadly, for girls like Margaret and Molly, there was only so much money and care could do.

‘What about Teddy?’ Alistair said, hoping for better news.

‘I don’t think he’s in as much pain, but he’s a brave little soul and doesn’t say much,’ Mrs Hutchins said. ‘The doctor left some salve for his burns.’

Alistair nodded. Teddy Erskine was a climbing boy. Not the worst he’d seen, but bad enough. The lad had been skin and bones when he’d come to Mrs Hutchins, with a fear of almost everyone he met. Not only had he been forced up narrow chimneys alive with rats, he had been beaten by a cruel master. A sorry state for a boy of eight, Alistair thought grimly.

He stood up, tempted to pace, but the confines of the office gave him precious little room to do so. ‘How many are left?’

‘Ten,’ Mrs Hutchins said. ‘I sent twelve away with Mr Scott, as you instructed.’

‘And you made sure families were kept together.’

‘I did, sir. I hope you don’t mind, but I sent young Edward White along with the Dawkins pair. I thought it would be easier for the three of them to stay together, being as they came in that way.’

Her concern moved Alistair to a smile. ‘You know the children better than anyone, Mrs Hutchins. I have every confidence you would have done what was best for them.’ His smile faded. ‘How’s Jenny?’

The matron’s face clouded over with concern. ‘I do worry about her, sir. She hasn’t said a word since she arrived and she still cries every night. I try to spend as much time with her as I can, but I don’t know how much good it’s doing.’

‘If nothing else, it’s making her feel safe,’ Alistair said. ‘A trauma like that doesn’t clear up overnight. Have they caught the man who did it?’

‘Aye.’ Alistair saw despair darken the woman’s eyes. ‘Her father turned himself in two days ago.’

‘Dear God! Her father?’

‘He’d been drinking hard, like he did most nights. But apparently, this night he was much worse. One of the fellows saw him stagger out of the tavern. When he got home, he took it out on his wife. Jenny’s mother probably told her to run, fearing he’d go after her next.’

It was a harsh story, but one Alistair had heard many times over. Poverty brought out the worst in some men. Men who were decent when they were sober, but whose personalities changed under the influence of drink. The best thing that could have happened to Jenny was to escape such an environment, even though it might be years before she realised the extent of her good fortune.

‘As soon as the new house is habitable, we’ll move them all over,’ Alistair said. ‘Hopefully the fresh air and sunshine will help.’

‘Fresh air will help Molly and Margaret’s spirits,’ Mrs Hutchins said, ‘but it won’t do much for their lungs. And Jenny’s recovery is going to take time. But at least it will be better than being here. For all this being a safe haven, we’re bursting at the seams. Do you have any idea when we’ll be moving, sir?’

‘The arrangements to purchase are finalised and I expect renovations to get underway soon, but there is still much that needs to be done,’ Alistair said. ‘I’ll let you know more as we proceed.’

‘Am I to tell the children anything?’

Alistair thought about that for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Best not to just yet. While I’d like them to have something to look forward to, every day stretches long when you’re waiting for something good to happen, and you’re the one they’ll keep coming to with questions.’

‘Aye, but I’ll never tire of telling them their lives are going to get better.’ She managed a smile. ‘You’re a good man, Mr Devlin. I’ve met none better!’

Alistair smiled as he walked up the narrow staircase to visit the children. Now that the house in the country had been purchased, he couldn’t wait to get the ten remaining orphans out of this building and into their new home. Children needed room to run and fields in which to play. As a boy, he’d craved such things. And though he had grown up in a mansion and Teddy Erskine a hovel, their basic needs were no different. The circumstances of Teddy’s birth had simply denied him that right.

Fortunately, the circumstances of Alistair’s would make sure Teddy and the others benefited from it.

As for Victoria Bretton, she could believe what she liked. He knew he was nothing like Collins or Shufton or Bentley-Hyde. He wasn’t concerned solely with his own pleasures and he didn’t spend his time getting drunk in the hells or whoring his nights away in high-priced brothels. He had the wherewithal to do something about the lives of those less fortunate than himself and he wasn’t afraid to get involved.

He had his brother, Hugh, to thank for that.

The hardest part was choosing which children he helped and which he did not. The need was so great; the number of children orphaned or abandoned so high he could have spent his entire fortune and still not saved them all. But with Mrs Hutchins’s help, and that of the two men who worked for him, he did the best he could. He intervened in the lives of those he could make better, or, in the case of Molly and Margaret, in those whose remaining years could be lived out with some degree of comfort.

As much as it irked him, Victoria Bretton could think what she liked, Alistair decided as he walked into the children’s playroom. He knew how he spent his days and that was good enough for him.

Chapter Six

It was Mrs Bretton’s habit to pay calls between the hours of eleven and one, so it came as no surprise to Victoria that it would be the time of day Uncle Theo stopped by to pay a call.

‘I thought the house might be quieter,’ he said as Victoria welcomed him into her writing room. ‘I don’t like to disturb the routine.’

Aware that it was her mother and not the routine he had no wish to disturb, Victoria just smiled. She wasn’t about to tell him that his timing couldn’t have been better, that she needed an escape from the gloominess of her thoughts because the memory of the harsh words she had exchanged with Alistair was making her miserable. ‘I’ve just rung for tea. Will you join me?’

‘Delighted, my dear.’ He sat down in the chair across from the desk and crossed one elegantly clad leg over the other. ‘So, how goes the battle of words?’

‘Not well. I have been tossing around a few ideas, but when I sit down to write, my mind goes blank, which leads me to believe the ideas were not all that compelling to begin with.’

‘Well, perhaps this will help stir your creative juices,’ Uncle Theo said. ‘I’ve had a letter from Sir Michael Loftus.’

Victoria’s breath caught. ‘A letter?’

‘It was delivered this morning.’ He reached into his jacket and withdrew the letter. ‘I thought you might like to read it for yourself.’

Victoria’s hands were shaking as she unfolded the heavy sheet of parchment.

Templeton,

It will likely not have escaped your notice that I am a great fan of Valentine Lawe’s work. However, given the gentleman’s penchant for privacy and his strange preference for your company, the opportunity to speak with him in person is difficult at best, so I write to you with my offer.

I have been approached by a certain Esteemed Gentleman who has much to do with the running of Drury Lane, and he has expressed an interest in talking to Mr Lawe about his next work. I realise you have served in the capacity of producer for each of his four plays and perhaps you are both happy to continue with that arrangement. But the brilliance of the man cannot be denied and it would give me great pleasure to see one of his works staged at a theatre licensed for the production of more serious works. I do not know if Mr Lawe has any interest in writing plays of that nature, but I thought it worth the time and trouble to ask.

It will, of course, be necessary that you, Mr Lawe, and myself meet in person to discuss how best to proceed, but I believe Mr Lawe will find much in this offer to interest him. I trust you will communicate my desires to him. In anticipation of a response, I remain,

Yours most sincerely …

‘“Sir Michael Loftus,”’ Victoria finished aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘He wishes to see one of my plays staged at Drury Lane?’

‘That seems to be the gist of the message,’ Uncle Theo said with a smile. ‘The question is, how do you feel about it?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Victoria sank down into the nearest chair. ‘To be accorded such an honour … to have caught the eye of a man like that, and possibly of Mr Elliston … how can one feel but overwhelmed?’