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Marietta sighed and put the book down. It hardly had the cheering effect she had hoped for. Aphrodite was unhappy, longing for the one man she could not have. But despite that longing she had accepted her lot and made herself content; she had found another reason to live.
The balloon was on the ground, perfectly still—there was not a breath of air as Mr. Keith made preparations for the approaching fireworks evening. Lil watched Ian hurry about, checking this and that, then double-checking. He was working out the logistics of setting off the fireworks. They were to be placed underneath the wicker basket and everything must be just so. If one should go astray and strike the envelope that held the gas…well, to put it bluntly, they would fall to earth and die.
“I trust you,” Lil had said, when he expressed concern for her. “I wouldn’t be ’ere if I didn’t, would I?”
Ian smiled. “Thank you, Lil.” His smile wavered. “But you don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth, do you?”
She looked away, shrugged. “There’s nothin’ to tell,” she said.
Ian sighed. “I know that’s not true. I am very fond of you, Lil, and it hurts me that you can’t tell me about yourself without worrying that I might somehow think less of you. I couldn’t.”
It was very sweet of him, thought Lil, but the truth was she was terrified. If she told him that once she had walked the streets—well, huddled miserably in the streets would be a better description, selling her scrawny body to pay her Ma’s rent—he would…what? She tried to imagine it now. The worst scenario would be if he was so repelled that he never spoke to her again. The second worst would be if he looked upon her with gentle pity, as if she were dying of some dreadful disease. Yes, that would be bad.
She couldn’t risk it.
For the first time in her life Lil had found a man to love and admire—not a servant like Jacob or a gentleman who loved someone else, like Mr. Jardine. A man who loved her! Lil didn’t want to take the chance she might lose him.
And yet she was beginning to think that if she didn’t she might lose him anyway.
“Max, you must know you can’t possibly have anything to do with this girl! She is beyond redemption.”
Max cast his cousin so angry a look that Harold was taken aback. Good, it was time someone showed Harold he could not run the world to his liking. If Harold had his way, then everyone with an aristocratic pedigree would be on one side of the fence, and those without one on the other, and as for women like Marietta…they would probably be cast into the Thames. Well, if necessary, Max would be quite prepared to join her there!
“I can do what I like, Harold,” he said softly. “That’s the thing about being disinherited, you see. I no longer have to please my father, or my family. It’s quite liberating, actually.”
Harold clicked his tongue angrily, but Susannah reached to place a soothing hand upon his arm. “Please, stop it, both of you. Max, you are in a state. This girl has worked her way under your skin and now you cannot think clearly. You are not yourself. Won’t you please stop and consider what you’re doing?”
“But I am myself,” he said with a smile. “That’s the whole point. I am more myself than I have ever been.”
Harold straightened his sleeves and brushed a speck off his trousers. “Susannah, my love, would you mind leaving Max and I alone for a moment?”
She looked as if she would rather not, but then she gave an irritable sigh and rose elegantly to her feet. “I’ll leave you then, shall I? To speak of manly things?”
“Susannah,” Harold began.
But she waved a languid hand as she opened the door. “No, never mind. I will amuse myself by asking Mrs. Pomeroy for a list of the townhouse contents, for when we come to live—” She caught Max’s glance and gave a helpless shrug. “I’m sorry, but life moves on, Max. We must be practical about these matters. I love you dearly, you know, but I have always been a practical sort of woman.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I understand.”
She hesitated a moment more, but there was nothing further to say and they both knew it.
“She does her best,” Harold said quietly, when the doo
r had shut behind her. “She’s feeling a little low, and she’s never been strong. Sometimes she remembers the past, when she was a girl in Jamaica, and it upsets her. She dreams of going home. More than you think, Max.”
“I thought that was all behind her. She’s lived in England most of her life, this is her home now. Her real father died, didn’t he?”
“You don’t understand, and she doesn’t speak of it. Susannah is still a Creole at heart. I have promised myself that one day I will take her back to see the old plantation house where she grew up.”
“I thought Father pulled it down. He was never very sentimental about things like that. He never talks about those days, you know. I’ve asked him and he always avoids the subject. It’s as if he feels…guilty about it.”
Harold shrugged. “Maybe he does, maybe what he did in Jamaica wasn’t strictly legal, but he was only thinking of saving Valland House for his family.”
“Hardly comfort for Susannah though, was it?”
“She is very fond of you, Max. It’s not her fault that this has happened to you.”
“I know that, I’m not saying it is!”
