No Role For A Gentleman. Gail Whitiker
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Think the only reason he had come up to her in the bookshop was to initiate a flirtation? A woman that beautiful must have numerous suitors for her hand, not to mention the fact she was the daughter of an earl and well beyond the reach of a man like him.
‘Let’s just say, I would rather not have her doubting my reasons for attending a lecture her father is giving at the Apollo Club tomorrow evening,’ Laurence said, neatly sidestepping the question. ‘She may not believe a playwright would have a genuine interest in ancient Egypt.’
‘I cannot think why. We are all entitled to more than one interest in our lives,’ Victoria said. ‘Why should someone who writes plays be any different?’
‘I don’t know, but Lady Joanna was noticeably more distant when I spoke to her this evening than she was when we met in the bookshop this afternoon,’ Laurence said. ‘Which is why I intend to do everything I can to convince her that I am an avid student of history and that my appreciation of all things Egyptian is genuine. And you can be sure I plan on doing it sooner rather than later!’
Acting on his convictions, Laurence did not wait until the lecture to settle matters between Lady Joanna and himself. He suspected he wouldn’t have much time to talk to her after the lecture, and that even if he did, it would not be with any degree of privacy, so he decided to pay a call on her at home the following afternoon and to use Volney’s book as an excuse for stopping by.
As such, he dressed carefully for the interview, choosing a well-cut jacket of dark-green kerseymere over a linen shirt and breeches. With it, he wore a pristine white cravat, a very pale-gold waistcoat and boots that, though polished to a high sheen, bore no fancy tassels or spurs. He was determined that when he saw Lady Joanna again, his appearance would in no way remind her of the man she had seen last night.
Unfortunately, when he was shown into the elegant drawing room of the house on Eaton Place, it was to find her in the company of an older woman; one whose wide-eyed expression upon hearing his name confirmed Laurence’s fears that the anonymity he had hoped for would not be forthcoming.
He advanced, somewhat hesitantly, into the room. ‘Good afternoon, Lady Joanna.’
‘Mr Bretton.’ She looked like a vision of spring in a white-muslin gown encircled by a band of pale-green silk, with a darker paisley shawl draped over her shoulders. Her hair, reflecting shades of copper and gold in a bright shaft of sunlight, was arranged in a loose cluster of curls around her face and she looked, in every way, the picture of feminine grace and refinement. But her brow was furrowed and her expression left Laurence in no doubt as to where he stood in her estimation. ‘I had not thought to see you until the lecture this evening.’
‘That was my intention,’ Laurence said, ‘but I had errands that brought me in this direction and I decided to take the opportunity to drop off Volney’s Travels on the way.’ He set the book on the table beside her chair. ‘I thought you might like to start reading it before the weekend.’
‘How thoughtful.’ Her eyes fell hungrily to the book, but Laurence knew good manners would prevent her from opening it. Instead, she looked up at him and said, ‘Are you acquainted with my aunt, Mrs Gavin?’
‘I have not had the pleasure, no.’
‘Ah, but I know you, Mr Bretton,’ said that lady with a smile. ‘Or rather, I know of you and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. Unlike my niece, I have seen all of your plays and enjoyed them very much.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Gavin,’ Laurence said, liking the rosy-cheeked lady and grateful for her recommendation. ‘It is always a pleasure to hear that my work is being appreciated.’
‘Of that there can be no doubt. I hear there are even rumours that your next play will be produced at Drury Lane.’
‘We are only in the opening stages of negotiation,’ Laurence said, not entirely surprised that word of his uncle’s discussions with the manager of the Theatre Royal should have reached the streets. In London, only the wind travelled faster than gossip. ‘The play is not yet finished and there is still much to be discussed.’
‘Ah, but I am sure satisfactory terms will be reached by all parties. Not that I see anything wrong with your work continuing to be shown at the Gryphon,’ Mrs Gavin said. ‘It is a superb theatre and the cast is exceptional. Your uncle is to be commended for his efforts at making the Gryphon the success it is, as are you for contributing so greatly to it.’
Guiltily aware that he had contributed nothing to his uncle’s success, that it was his sister’s plays that had taken London by storm, Laurence gruffly cleared his throat. ‘Thank you. I will be sure to pass your compliments along to my uncle. But now, I must be on my way. I look forward to seeing you at the lecture this evening, Lady Joanna, and hopefully, to speaking with you afterwards.’
‘I doubt there will be time.’ The lady’s words were clipped, her tone discouraging. ‘I expect to be fully occupied assisting my father, both before and after the lecture.’
The remark confirmed Laurence’s suspicions that the chances of his changing her mind were slim. Clearly, she had not appreciated his being less than honest with her upon the occasion of their first meeting and, having seen him as something of a performer last night, was not interested in furthering the acquaintance. It seemed that while the lady could keep secrets from him, he was not allowed to keep secrets from her.
‘I understand. Nevertheless, I look forward to the occasion.’ He turned to offer the other lady a smile. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs Gavin.’
‘And you, Mr Bretton. I look forward to seeing many more of your plays and wish you continued success with all of them.’
Grateful for having received at least one positive endorsement in Lady Joanna’s hearing, Laurence took his leave, keenly aware of two sets of eyes following him out of the room.
He had hoped to be able to explain to Lady Joanna why he hadn’t told her about his other life as Valentine Lawe, but clearly he was not to be given the opportunity. Whatever positive impression he might have made by offering to lend her Volney’s book had been overturned by his appearance at Lydia Blough-Upton’s soirée as Valentine Lawe. Lady Joanna was clearly not a fan of the theatre and had not been to see any of the plays. She was an academic and historian like her father and, despite Mrs Gavin’s glowing words of praise, Laurence knew her opinion of him was already formed.
It was going to take a lot more than an apology, however heartfelt, to change it.
Chapter Three
‘Well, it seems you have been keeping secrets from me, Joanna,’ Mrs Gavin said, breaking the silence that followed Mr Bretton’s departure. ‘You neglected to tell me you were such good friends with one of London’s most illustrious playwrights.’
‘We are not good friends, Aunt Florence,’ Joanna said, not quite sure how she was feeling in the wake of the gentleman’s unexpected appearance. ‘I had no idea he even was a playwright until I was informed of it at Mrs Blough-Upton’s reception last night. Mr Bretton and I simply met in a bookshop where he offered to lend me his copy of a book I happened to be looking for.’
Her aunt leaned over and peered at the title. ‘Travels through Syria and Egypt. Isn’t that more along your father’s line?’
‘It is.’
‘But Mr Bretton is a playwright.’
‘Yes, who professes an interest in ancient Egypt. He is coming to Papa’s lecture tonight.’
‘Is he indeed?’ Her aunt’s eyes twinkled. ‘Are you sure he isn’t using the book and the lecture as an excuse to further an acquaintance with you?’
‘I had no reason to think so at the time, but now I’m not so sure.’ Joanna nibbled on her bottom lip. ‘It does seem a little hard to believe after what I saw of him last night.’
‘Well, I have to believe all this attention