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But even as he spoke of her, his eyes were all for Aphrodite.
Henry says he is rich, and he could teach me to be a lady. I would have to learn to speak, to walk, to dress, even to think properly. Everything! But he says I am a quick study and I can do it.
I amuse him; I make him laugh. He says that is what men like best, a woman to make them laugh. I think he is bored with his life and looking for diversion. That is what I am to him, his current diversion. But it will not last. His eye will stray and he will see something else.
If I am going to make my decision it must be soon.
He has a house in Mayfair.
Vivianna could read the temptation between the lines. Aphrodite wanted to go with Henry, but what would become of her, and what would become of Jemmy? Quickly she turned the page.
I have said yes. I have told him I will meet him tomorrow and I will go with him. He tells me he has friends, and I will never want for anything. Especially when I have learned to be a lady.
I have not told Elena, or my family, or Jemmy. I don’t know what I will say to them all, but especially to Jemmy. He will hate me, and yet I know I cannot do as he wants me to, I cannot be what he wants me to be.
This is best, for us all.
And then, at the bottom of the page:
Jemmy has joined the army and gone to fight Napoleon.
I do not suppose I will ever see him again.
Tears flooded Vivianna’s eyes.
Was this the love Aphrodite had spoken of, the man she had loved and left behind and now regretted beyond words? Strange, that a woman who had done so much, seen so much, lived such a rich and full life, should regret something that happened when she was a young girl, at the beginning of it all.
Beyond her room, Vivianna heard Helen’s voice, and then Toby’s deeper tones. He was home, then. After a moment Helen began to cry. Vivianna wanted to keep on reading Aphrodite’s diary, but she knew she could not. Helen would need her company and support when morning came. Fascinating as the beautiful courtesan’s life was, it had nothing to do with her.
She closed the diary and hid it away again, promising herself she would read more as soon as she was able.
After he had left Vivianna, Oliver wandered for a long while, undecided upon his destination. His body ached for hers, but he was glad it had come to nothing—could come to nothing. He had known all along that even if he had her, it would not be the end of his reluctant obsession with her. More likely it would be the beginning of something more.
She was not the woman he had wanted her to be.
Now he knew the truth.
It was Candlewood she thought of when she was kissing him and touching him. It was Candlewood making her gasp and cry out when he did the same to her. She had believed she could barter her body for his compliance.
Oliver had met too many women like that in the past year. He was jaded with them and their view of the world. He had thought Vivianna was different; he had wanted her so much to be different.
But beyond his disappointment, now there was something more to keep him awake at nights.
Lawson and Vivianna.
He had no doubt Vivianna would contact Lawson and take up his offer of help. She had said as much. And Lawson, his cold eyes smug and confident, knew he had found a lever to use on Oliver.
“Bastard,” Oliver muttered. “Murdering bastard.”
Lawson, through Vivianna, would try to stop Candlewood’s demolition—he would use her crusading spirit to buy himself time.
He looked up at the dark, cloud-strewn sky. Lawson was a dangerous man. A killer with powerful friends. On their way home from Candlewood, Oliver had let slip to Vivianna that he wanted to avenge his brother. She hadn’t forgotten it. She would repeat it to Lawson. Naturally she would, because Lawson would assure her that he and Anthony were the best of friends. She would tell him everything.
The game would be up—Lawson would know Oliver was on to him. A year of slowly reeling in Anthony’s killer would have been wasted. But, more than the destruction of all his hopes and plans, Vivianna would be in Lawson’s power. She would be in danger.
Oliver’s blood turned to ice.
He took a deep breath and looked around. The white columns of White’s were right in front of him and he didn’t even remember making the journey. Lawson was probably there now—the opera had long since finished. There was a chance Oliver could still salvage his plan. He could throw Lawson off the scent, make him believe Vivianna was of no importance. He had to try. With a tired shrug of acceptance, Oliver climbed the steps and made his way inside. The gaming rooms were as full as ever, and there were quite a few members deep in conversation, or partaking of a late supper in the dining room.
