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“You play the faithful friend excellently too, Arthur,” Delia said. “You were a wonderful Horatio. I never saw a performance so moving.” She dabbed at her eye with her handkerchief for effect.
Artie bowed his head in humble acknowledgment of her words, laying a hand on his heart. “That is a greatest of compliments, Delia, and I shall hold it close to my breast until my dying day,” he said.
“You always have such enthusiasm for whatever roles you play,” Lavinia said, interrupting their bout of mutual admiration. “However, a truthful approach is best, for all our sakes. To wit: Hannah has been my nurse since the loss of my mother, which is true. And you and Artie are longtime associates of my father and are my dear friends, which is also true. It is what we told Lucas, and it will suffice for his family, until we can make other arrangements for lodging.” She tried not to think of the cost involved in taking rooms for them all and wished she had a better idea of how long it would take to get the farmhouse habitable.
“What if they ask, Livvy?” Artie asked. “What then? What are we to say? Our characters need a history.”
“We aren’tcharacters, Artie. We are who we are,” Lavinia said.But who is the real Lavinia Fernley?she asked herself. She wished she knew. She was tired of playing roles, both on stage and in real life. “Turn the conversation away from the past, if possible. For example, I became acquainted with Lucas in London, and he invited us to his home for a visit. I won’t tell them it was barely three days ago when we met.”
“Ah, I see. I shall say you are a dear girl andlikea granddaughter to me, then,” Delia said with a nod. “That is the truth too, after all.”
“And I am here as a family friend and gentleman escort to you ladies, providing aid and protection,” Artie said, straightening in his seat. “That is true too.”
Lavinia looked over at Hannah, who rolled her eyes. Lavinia turned to look out the window and bit her lip so as not to insult Artie’s masculine pride.
From beyond the window, she could see Lucas on his horse, his face like granite. Studying faces came naturally to Lavinia—it had helped her hone her craft as an actress. She studied Lucas more closely. What would cause him to have such an implacable countenance, growing even more so the closer they got to Alderwood? He’d not hinted at bad relations with his family. He’d described them to her as hospitable and friendly.
What if they were anything but?
She looked away, her heart pounding as though it was an opening night at the theater. She tugged at her gloves and smoothed her burgundy skirt, then checked to make sure the ribbons of her bonnet were snug and arranged in a becoming style beneath her chin.
“You’re fidgeting, luv,” Hannah said.
Lavinia immediately folded her hands into her lap. It was ironic, really. She, The Darling of Drury Lane, who’d been hailed and applauded by London’s elite, was terrified to be presented to Lucas’s family—because they were anormalfamily.
And more than anything, she wanted to be normal.
Out the window, Lucas suddenly reined Hector to a halt and pointed. “There,” he called. “Just beyond the trees. Alderwood.”
Lavinia closed her eyes briefly to collect her wits before looking out the window to see his family seat.
“Oh,” she breathed. Alderwood was a solid, two-story structure built of stone with cultivated gardens Lavinia could just make out through the trees. She’d driven past many stately homes in her travels with the theater troupe, and she was always struck by their size, the magnificent grounds, and her smallness next to them by comparison.
The coach, with Lucas leading the way, turned off the road to head down Alderwood’s private avenue, bordered on either side by hedgerows. Long before she was ready, the coach slowed to a stop at the main entrance, and Lucas opened the door and set the steps in place. Lavinia descended first, her gloved hand in his. His face still looked like granite, but his lips were curved slightly at the corners in what might almost be considered a smile. It wasn’t the most promising of sights, and Lavinia’s pulse sped up again.
“Welcome to Alderwood,” he said as Garrick arrived to assist Delia and Hannah from the coach.
The front doors blew open, and a young female burst through and down the steps toward them. “Lucas! Is that you? Oh, itisyou! Finally,finallyyou are here!”
The girl, who looked to be about eighteen, flung herself into Lucas’s armsand buried her head against his broad chest. “Oh, Lucas, how I’ve missed you!” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Rebecca,” Lucas said simply, resting his head on hers and wrapping his arms around her, holding her close.
It was a sweet reunion between brother and sister, and Lavinia’s heart ached. How would it feel to have a brother or sister and share a love like that?
Three other people came through the front doors and approached them. Two of them, a tall, lanky man of middle years and a short, plump woman, Lavinia presumed correctly to be the Viscount and Viscountess Thurlby, Lucas’s parents.
“Mama, Father,” Lucas said, embracing his mother and shaking his father’s hand as Rebecca moved to the side and dabbed at her cheeks with her handkerchief. “It’s good to be home.”
The other individual was a lady Lavinia guessed to be about her own age or slightly older. She was slender and graceful in her movements and perfectly poised—the epitome of what a young lady of quality should be. Her blonde hair was elegantly coiffed, her face a perfect oval. She was truly the perfect English rose.
When the English rose’s eyes fell on Lucas, her expression changed to one of deep emotion. She moved closer and offered him her hand, which he bent over. “Lucas, dear brother,” she breathed. “It has been so long. Welcome home.”
“Thank you, Isobel,” he said.
The woman had called Lucas her dear brother, and yet her eyes had been luminous with something that clearly spoke of a relationship different from what Lavinia had just observed between Rebecca and him.
Lucas stepped back from Isobel, his face once again like granite.
