‘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—’
‘No, that’s all right, Mr Devlin,’ the lady said, blushing furiously. ‘It would be difficult not to bump into someone with so many people crammed together in one place.’
She smiled up at him in a manner that led Alistair to believe they had previously been introduced, but while her face was familiar, her name escaped him entirely. ‘Are you having a good time, Miss …?’
‘Bretton.’ She pouted prettily. ‘We met two weeks ago at the Roehamptons’ reception. I was hoping you might remember me.’
He didn’t remember her. He remembered her name. ‘You’re Victoria Bretton’s sister?’
Her smile faltered, as though he had said something distasteful. ‘Yes. Do you know my sister?’
‘We met last night at the Gryphon.’
‘You spoke to Victoria?’
‘Indeed. I had the pleasure of conversing with her at the conclusion of the play.’
‘A play, which, as I recall, you enjoyed very much.’
Alistair smiled. Oh yes, he knew that voice. Lower pitched and decidedly less breathless, it was not in the least anxious or in any way eager to please. ‘Good evening, Miss Bretton.’ He turned to find the elder Miss Bretton looking up at him. ‘What a pleasure to see you again.’
‘How nice of you to say so. Mr … Devlin, wasn’t it?’
Her deliberate hesitation made him smile. ‘I’m flattered you would remember.’
‘Why would I not? It was only last night.’
‘Yet how long the night seems to one kept awake by pain.’
She raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘I doubt you were in pain, Mr Devlin. Unlike Saurin’s Guiscard.’
‘Ah, but you do not know how I suffered in being so cruelly dismissed.’
The effect of this rejoinder was to make her laugh. ‘You were not dismissed. And even if you were, it was not with any degree of cruelty.’
‘Victoria, how nice of you to join us,’ her sister interrupted in a chilly voice. ‘When last I saw you, you were enjoying the pleasure of Mr Compton’s company.’
Alistair frowned. ‘Mr George Compton?’
‘Yes. Victoria was partaking in a most lively conversation with him.’
‘It was not a lively conversation, nor did I particularly enjoy it,’ Victoria said. ‘I made the effort because Mama asked me to, but having now fulfilled my social obligation, I am ready to go home. She sent me to ask if you would like to leave as well.’
‘I would rather not.’ Winifred sent Alistair a coquettish glance. ‘I am enjoying a conversation with Mr Devlin.’
‘So I see. Unfortunately, Mama said that if you were not ready to leave, she would like you to keep her company for a while. Papa is playing cards and you know she doesn’t like to be left alone at these large gatherings.’
‘But surely you can keep her company,’ Winifred said. ‘You don’t have to go home right away.’
‘In fact, I do. I promised Laurence I would help him with a project and