This time, Victor was not swayed so easily.
“That would be improper,” he said, offering no reason why this should be the case.
“I think it’s entirely proper. Where better to congratulate an actress than in the very same theatre where she has performed?” Lydia asked.
“You cannot see her,” Victor said, this time more firmly. She could hear the strength thrumming in his words, and his eyes possessed a stern glare that might have been enough to make herturn away if she was younger and more naïve. But she was not his true wife, and he could not order her around like this.
Before she could offer a retort, Bartholemew and Tilda returned. This time Bartholemew seemed to be of a more genteel mindset.
“Your Grace, I hope that you enjoyed the show. I wondered if you might want to discuss some business yourself. There is obviously a… predicament, but to show, ah, your ability to rise above it might end up being good for you. Now, given this, the percentages will have to be in my favor,” Bartholemew said, and then Tilda leaned down to whisper something in his ear. Bartholemew spoke as though he had just been struck by inspiration.
Victor glared at him, and Lydia knew this would not end up with the result that Bartholemew wanted, but the distraction was timely. She quickly excused herself and darted away.
“Lydia,” Victor called after her, but she knew he would not race away. Even though he did not wish to speak to Bartholemew, his manners would not allow him to leave the conversation rudely. It meant that Lydia had some time to slip away and see Juliet Fane before Victor managed to extricate himself.
Lydia slipped between a throng of people and navigated her way through twisting corridors. She found a servant and asked where she could find Juliet Fane to offer congratulations. The servant directed her to a dressing room that seemed too small for such a magnificent star. Lydia knocked on the door and entered, only to find Juliet weeping.
“I’m sorry, the role takes it out of me,” Juliet said, wiping her eyes. There was a great swell of sorrow. Juliet had long dark hair and eyes that were wide and expressive. Her cheekbones were high and her lips full. Her voice was rich and mellifluous, and in this close proximity, the magnetism she possessed was even more palpable. It was difficult for Lydia to maintain concentration, and she imagined that there had been countless men who had fallen in love with her over the years.
But had Victor been one of them?
“I wanted to say congratulations to you. It was a wonderful performance. I am familiar with the story, but it came to life in a way I have never experienced before, and that is all down to you. It is something I shall never forget.”
Juliet smiled. Her eyes were still stained with tears, but she had stopped weeping for the time being. Her dressing room was in a state of disarray with various costumes draped over chairs and hanging limply out of a chest. There were pots of makeup on the table in front of her and some scripts stacked in a corner.
“That is so kind of you to say…” She allowed her words to hang in the air and adopted a questioning look.
“I am Lydia Valemont, Duchess of Nightford,” she said. She watched Juliet carefully and could not fail to notice the widening of the eyes and the tightening of her jaw. She recognized the name. Lydia’s heart sank, but she was not content to shrink and let this get the better of her. She was closer to the truth than she had ever been before, and now, she was going to seize it.
“How do you know my husband?” Lydia asked.
“I… I do not think this is the time or place,” Juliet gasped, turning away from Lydia. She began breathing heavily, and her shoulders shuddered, as though the emotion was too much for her to bear. Lydia closed the distance between them.
Lydia struck another hammer blow.
“Did you have an affair with him? Did… did it result in a child?” Lydia asked. Despite her determination, her voice hitched on emotion. Fear clung to the back of her throat because she dreaded the answer. Her whole world might have been about to come crumbling down.
The strength left Juliet’s knees. She slumped against the back of her hair, and a pitiful groan emerged from her throat.
“No, I didn’t. I would never have… not with him.” She ran her hand across her head, pushing lank locks of hair back. Anger, resentment, and pain filled her eyes. “No offence, but your husband is not a good man.”
“He has his faults, but I am still getting to know him. It seems as though you are already acquainted. Perhaps you could tell me how, because at the moment, it seems as though there is some secret between you, and I do not like it.”
“There is no secret between us. There is nothing between us apart from hatred. It’s Lord Harry who I loved. Lord Harry…”
Lydia furrowed her brow, putting the pieces together. “Wait… Lord Harry? Are you the one he loved? The one Victor?—”
“Sent away. Yes. The one who wasn’t deemed good enough for the family. The one who would have tainted everything, even though I loved Lord Harry dearly, and he loved me, and we would have been happy if it wasn’t for Victor.” Her face took on a dark countenance every time she spoke about him. Lydia’s skin crawled, and she couldn’t help but feel some responsibility for the situation, even though such a thought made no sense at all.
“What happened?”
Juliet looked guarded. She turned away from Lydia. “I… cannot say. I have already told you too much.”
Lydia closed the distance between them. She reached out with a tentative hand, lightly touching Juliet’s arm.
“You can trust me. It seems we have both found ourselves entangled in a situation because of Victor’s decisions. I do not seek to punish you or bring you before him, only to learn the truth.”
Juliet softened, but still she gnawed her lip. Lydia wore a reassuring smile and led Juliet to a chair, gesturing for her to sit down.
