“Will you get out of my way,” Victor blustered as he pushed through a cluster of people. They wore offended looks and gasped, shaking their heads with disapproval as Victor swept through them like a battering ram splintering the entrance to a castle.
Damn them. Damn their chatter; damn their judgment.
Nothing mattered to Victor in that moment aside from finding Lydia before she could do something foolish. She was such a romantic person she would probably try to reunite Harry and Juliet, bringing yet more scorn onto the family.
Everything was falling apart piece by piece, and it seemed impossible to hold everything together. Perhaps they would have to retreat up north or to Ireland, or, and he shuddered at this thought, to France.
Even though the show had finished, there were plenty of people still in his way. Instead of throttling them all, Victor decided to take a more direct route. He marched between the seats and stomped up the stage, his heavy footsteps thudding against the wide floor. He stopped suddenly as he saw a ghost of movement in the wings.
“Lydia,” the word cut sharply through the air.
She stopped.
She turned.
She walked across the stage gracefully. Her hands were clasped; her head was held high. He could see in her face that his worst fears had come true.
“What have you done?” he snarled as she came to join him in the middle of the stage. She took a moment to gaze out at the seats, perhaps never having imagined herself standing on a stage like this. The curtain had fallen and offered a scarlet wall beside them.
“I know the truth, Victor. I know everything,” she said.
Victor’s fear gnawed at his heart. “You think you do, but you don’t. I know what you must think of me. You have cast me as a monster in this romantic little fantasy, and you must think me an ogre for separating them, but you must understand what would have happened had Harry pursued this dalliance with that kind of woman. I mean an actress…” he spat.
Victor had another hundred words loaded, ready to fire, but Lydia took all the energy away from his storm.
“John is Lord Harry’s child, Victor,” Lydia said. The words were simple and bare although they were difficult for Victor to comprehend at first. For a few moments, he stood there, staring blankly at Lydia. She offered no other words but let them settle between herself and Victor. Victor blinked eventually.
“What?” he gasped. He was overcome by a feeling of bewilderment.
“I had a most illuminating conversation with Juliet. She stayed away from Lord Harry as you wished. I think that the two of you had more in common than you might have believed,” Lydia said although Victor certainly baulked at this declaration, feelingunease crawl beneath his skin. “You were both concerned with his wellbeing. Juliet did not wish to bring him into disrepute, so she stayed away and made the best of it. However, when it came time to bring John into the world, she thought that he would stand a better chance of happiness raised in the world that Lord Harry could offer, rather than the one she could. So, with the help of a maid, she arranged for John to be left in the house. She intended him to be left in Lord Harry’s room, but there must have been some misunderstanding.”
Victor listened to the words, but they didn’t quite sink in. He put his hand on his chin and looked from side to side. He sputtered before he spoke, as though for a moment he had quite forgotten the fundamental skill of speech.
“She… she wanted to leave the child with Harry? You say she thought of his wellbeing, but to me, it seems as though she wanted to shirk her responsibility and place it all at my brother’s feet,” Victor said, growing ever more incensed. He was trembling all over now, and his cheeks were flushed crimson.
“No,” Lydia said. The word was blunt and strong. She wielded it like a hammer, and for a moment it stunned him. Lydia had been forthright with him on a few occasions when it suited her. At first, he thought this quality was disagreeable, but now, he saw the determination shining in her eyes and the bold quality of her body, angled towards him as though willing to stand before an onrushing tide. A strange sense of arousal and attraction passed through him.
It was quite inexplicable because on an intellectual level he would have disregarded this kind of attitude as obstinate and unbecoming of a lady, yet deep inside, where intellect held no sway, he felt liable to fall at her feet as though she were a goddess.
“This was no selfish act, Victor. When she left John behind, she cut out her own heart. I was ready to resent her too, but there was no malice in her actions. And if you are looking for anyone to blame, then you should find a mirror.”
“How dare you speak to me like that,” he thundered, his words rolling off the stage. He noticed movement near the wings with an ardent stagehand making savage gestures with his arm, urging them to get off the stage. In the distant shadows, he could see all of the people who had blocked his way turning, their attention drawn by what they must have thought was a second performance of the night, one that was far more real and visceral than the rehearsed play.
“We must leave. I do not wish to make a public display again,” he said and grabbed Lydia’s wrist. He marched off the stage, dragging her away. Lydia protested, trying to wrench her hand free, but in this matter, he was determined. There had been too much humiliation already, and he would not brook more.
In his mind he saw flashes of history repeating itself—all the whispers, the glances, the toll the rumors had taken on his father. The damage to the family name. Victor’s heart palpitated and sweat beaded on his temples.
“Let go of me you brute!” Lydia cried out as he ushered her into a carriage and ordered the driver to take them home immediately. Lydia’s arms were pressed wide against the seat. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were wide, looking at him with complete hatred. The intensity was unreal, and again there was something about it, something that touched the innermost reaches of his heart.
“How dare you treat me like that!” Lydia said, the words rushing out of her in an angry exhalation, her breath so hot that it warmed the air. Victor could feel the temperature rising.
“Did you want to create a scene so that everyone could mock us again?”
“That does not give you the excuse to treat me like this, nor to lie to me.”
“I have not lied.”
“You knew that Juliet was here. You knew that you could have ended Lord Harry’s unhappiness.”
