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He turned away from her and said nothing, but she could tell by the tension in his shoulders that there was much he was thinking.
“You want me,” he said quietly. “That won’t go away, Marietta. Believe me, it will only get worse.”
She shrugged as if she didn’t believe him, but there was a sinking feeling in her stomach. Because he was right, she did want him, and it was getting worse. But somehow she would have to learn to live with that, she would have to carry on with her life and forget Max. Depression sank over her like a London fog but she refused to acknowledge it. Instead she dredged up the memories of the pain she had suffered after her mistake with Gerard Jones, lingering over her misery and suffering, remembering how she had sworn she would never offer her heart up like a sacrifice again.
Max might seem the perfect choice but could she risk it? And in taking the risk, ruin all hope she might have of becoming a courtesan like her mother? She could end up alone and with no future. And yet…
Why is he tempting me like this!
Irritably she began to straighten her clothing, leaving her bodice undone and drawing her cloak around as protection against prying eyes. Her body was still throbbing and aching with the aftershocks of Max’s lovemaking, but she could not think of that now. She dared not imagine what it would be like to have him by her side always. What was the point in tormenting herself with romantic endings when her heart w
ould not survive being broken again?
Max was watching her as he rearranged his own clothing with a few sharp tugs and twists of buttons, and she suspected he was plotting her downfall. He held out his arm with an ironic, “Home, my lady?”
She tried a jaunty smile, and although he gave her a brief smile in return, there was something about the set of his lips that increased her suspicion that he had not given up. That he meant to have his way.
She opened her mouth to list again all the reasons it wouldn’t, couldn’t work, and then changed her mind. Max would just have to accept her decision, and if she stood firm then he would have no option but to give up. It was the “standing firm” part that was beginning to worry her.
Marietta could not sleep. She tossed and turned, remembering Max kissing her, holding her, and the hard strength of his body plundering hers.
I cannot go with him, she told herself.
Why not? If there’s a chance of finding the sort of happiness Vivianna has, then surely it’s worth the risk?
I promised myself I would never take such a risk again.
Promises can be broken. You’re a coward.
Maybe I am, but I cannot give in to him.
But still her body ached and tormented her, and her brain hurt with arguing against itself, until she gave up and lit the candle.
Aphrodite’s diary was there on the table, and she picked it up and began to read
I am alone, always alone. I do not want to be alone. Even though I cannot have Jemmy, I can have happiness. Can’t I? Am I growing so old that I long for the days I have left behind me? Perhaps I need a family—a family of my own—to love and care for.
F. is a gruff man, but I believe beneath that scratchy exterior there is a real warmth and longing to be loved. We have made a pact. He is without an heir and has no intention of marrying; I am alone and want a child and have no intention of marrying. So we will make a child together, he and I, and he will have his heir and I will have someone of my own to love.
A girl. I will call her Vivianna. F. is not so pleased, he had it in mind that I would give him a braw son, but I am content. We will keep her existence a secret until she is needed. I have been looking for a home in the country, somewhere she will be safe and happy and I can visit her very often.
Suddenly my life does not seem so bleak…
I have met A. He is sweet and gentle, and he tells me he worships me as the sun worships the moon. I do not quite know how that could be so, but still he makes me smile. I think I could have a child with A., if he is agreeable. We will see.
I saw Jemmy today.
It was as if my heart stopped, and started again with a cannon’s roar. It was Jemmy, I knew him, even though he is older. Now he is a man when I only knew him as a boy.
I was in my carriage, on my way to see A., when suddenly he was there, driving a wagon for a brewery. At first he looked as if his thoughts were weighty indeed, and then someone called out to him from the street, someone he knew, and he laughed. And then I knew him for Jemmy, my beloved Jemmy.
I could not go on to A.. I turned back for my home, and then I wept in my room for times gone and chances lost. Stupid, I know, but that is how I feel these days. A. will understand, he is always so sympathetic.
A. wants a child. He says there is no woman he loves more than me, and if he does not take this opportunity then he never will. And so I think, why not? Vivianna will have a playmate, and maybe this new child will ease the constant ache in my heart.
I have another daughter. A. wants to call her Marietta, after his grandmother, he says. She is beautiful, a delightfully happy child. And yes, she has eased my heart, how could she not? I will think of Jemmy no more; it does no good to grieve for something that cannot be changed.
It was I who left him, and I have no right to want him back again.
