No Role For A Gentleman. Gail Whitiker

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      ‘We are only in the opening stages of negotiation,’ Laurence said, not entirely surprised that word of his uncle’s discussions with the manager of the Theatre Royal should have reached the streets. In London, only the wind travelled faster than gossip. ‘The play is not yet finished and there is still much to be discussed.’

      ‘Ah, but I am sure satisfactory terms will be reached by all parties. Not that I see anything wrong with your work continuing to be shown at the Gryphon,’ Mrs Gavin said. ‘It is a superb theatre and the cast is exceptional. Your uncle is to be commended for his efforts at making the Gryphon the success it is, as are you for contributing so greatly to it.’

      Guiltily aware that he had contributed nothing to his uncle’s success, that it was his sister’s plays that had taken London by storm, Laurence gruffly cleared his throat. ‘Thank you. I will be sure to pass your compliments along to my uncle. But now, I must be on my way. I look forward to seeing you at the lecture this evening, Lady Joanna, and hopefully, to speaking with you afterwards.’

      ‘I doubt there will be time.’ The lady’s words were clipped, her tone discouraging. ‘I expect to be fully occupied assisting my father, both before and after the lecture.’

      The remark confirmed Laurence’s suspicions that the chances of his changing her mind were slim. Clearly, she had not appreciated his being less than honest with her upon the occasion of their first meeting and, having seen him as something of a performer last night, was not interested in furthering the acquaintance. It seemed that while the lady could keep secrets from him, he was not allowed to keep secrets from her.

      ‘I understand. Nevertheless, I look forward to the occasion.’ He turned to offer the other lady a smile. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs Gavin.’

      ‘And you, Mr Bretton. I look forward to seeing many more of your plays and wish you continued success with all of them.’

      Grateful for having received at least one positive endorsement in Lady Joanna’s hearing, Laurence took his leave, keenly aware of two sets of eyes following him out of the room.

      He had hoped to be able to explain to Lady Joanna why he hadn’t told her about his other life as Valentine Lawe, but clearly he was not to be given the opportunity. Whatever positive impression he might have made by offering to lend her Volney’s book had been overturned by his appearance at Lydia Blough-Upton’s soirée as Valentine Lawe. Lady Joanna was clearly not a fan of the theatre and had not been to see any of the plays. She was an academic and historian like her father and, despite Mrs Gavin’s glowing words of praise, Laurence knew her opinion of him was already formed.

      It was going to take a lot more than an apology, however heartfelt, to change it.

      Chapter Three

      ‘Well, it seems you have been keeping secrets from me, Joanna,’ Mrs Gavin said, breaking the silence that followed Mr Bretton’s departure. ‘You neglected to tell me you were such good friends with one of London’s most illustrious playwrights.’

      ‘We are not good friends, Aunt Florence,’ Joanna said, not quite sure how she was feeling in the wake of the gentleman’s unexpected appearance. ‘I had no idea he even was a playwright until I was informed of it at Mrs Blough-Upton’s reception last night. Mr Bretton and I simply met in a bookshop where he offered to lend me his copy of a book I happened to be looking for.’

      Her aunt leaned over and peered at the title. ‘Travels through Syria and Egypt. Isn’t that more along your father’s line?’

      ‘It is.’

      ‘But Mr Bretton is a playwright.’

      ‘Yes, who professes an interest in ancient Egypt. He is coming to Papa’s lecture tonight.’

      ‘Is he indeed?’ Her aunt’s eyes twinkled. ‘Are you sure he isn’t using the book and the lecture as an excuse to further an acquaintance with you?’

      ‘I had no reason to think so at the time, but now I’m not so sure.’ Joanna nibbled on her bottom lip. ‘It does seem a little hard to believe after what I saw of him last night.’

      ‘Well, I have to believe all this attention is a problem of a most pleasurable sort,’ Mrs Gavin said, reaching for her cup and saucer. ‘I understand Captain Sterne has been paying marked attention to you of late and that Mr Osborne is in the habit of sending you posies.’

      ‘Yes, which I have asked him to stop,’ Joanna said. ‘I know he is related in some way to Lady Cynthia, but I cannot bring myself to like him. As for Captain Sterne, he had no time for me when I was plain Joanna Northrup, so naturally I am suspect of his affections now.’

      ‘But at least you have something in common with Captain Sterne,’ Mrs Gavin pointed out. ‘If memory serves, he accompanied your father on one of his early expeditions to Egypt, so his interest in the subject must be genuine.’

      ‘I believe it to be,’ Joanna allowed, ‘but I have always found him to be a rather arrogant man. Perhaps that is what comes of inheriting such great wealth at such a young age.’

      Mrs Gavin smiled sympathetically. ‘I suspect it does change one’s circumstances. As does becoming the daughter of an earl. What about Mr Rowe? I hear you made his acquaintance last night.’

      ‘Yes, and I did not care for him in the least,’ Joanna said, remembering with distaste the objectionable way the man had leered at her. ‘He may be wealthy and heir to a viscountcy, but not even a king’s fortune would persuade me to marry him.’

      ‘Unfortunately, your aunt is using wealth as the criteria by which she determines your future husband’s suitability and, given the deplorable state of your father’s affairs, I suppose it must be a valid concern,’ Mrs Gavin said regretfully. ‘But I would not wish to see it be the only consideration when choosing the man you will marry.’

      ‘Neither would I, Aunt,’ Joanna acknowledged with a sigh. ‘I was far happier at the thought of marrying Mr Penscott,’ she said, referring to the young man who had worked as her father’s assistant for the past three years. ‘At least he liked me for who I was and we certainly shared an interest in Papa’s work. We could have travelled to Egypt together after we were married.’

      ‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ her aunt said. ‘Mr Penscott hales from Yorkshire and northern men are very old fashioned in their notions. But it matters not since he is no longer a suitable companion for you. And I am sorry. I know you cared for him.’

      ‘Yes, I did. However, I suppose it is better to use one’s head than one’s heart when it comes to choosing the man with whom one will spend the rest of one’s life,’ Joanna said in a pragmatic tone. ‘The heart is notoriously unreliable.’

      ‘You’re thinking about Mr Patterson again, aren’t you?’

      Joanna blushed, the unwelcome heat giving her away. ‘I wasn’t aware you knew about him.’

      ‘Of course I knew about him, child,’ her aunt said gently. ‘You were madly in love with the man, or believed yourself to be. And why would you not feel that way? He was as handsome as a young god and equally blessed when it came to the gift of oratory. I once heard him recite a poem at Lady Saxton’s summer fête and by the time he’d finished, I all but fancied myself in love with him,’ Mrs СКАЧАТЬ