chapter IV

L UCIUS PERRY’S LOVER APPEARED TO HAVE GONE mad. We stared, fascinated, from the bushes, as Teresa Grey paced up and down the length of her studio, waving her hands in the air and shouting. We couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it was clearly pretty awful. She lunged into space, twisted, fell down, and then jumped up again and dashed to the table where she dipped a pen in ink and started scribbling furiously.

Marcus poked me with his elbow and grinned. Her hair was a mess, and there was an inkblot on her nose where she’d rubbed it without thinking.

“Love letter?” I mouthed, but he shook his head: “Watch.”

I watched. She got up and did it all over again, and then went back to her pen, and then she rose and turned her back to us and shouted something.

She must have been calling for Lucius Perry, because he came in then, looking fresh as a daisy and very glad to be summoned. She moved him into place, and did the same movements again, only this time he was talking and gesturing back at her so she didn’t look so crazy, and then it all started making sense. They were acting out a scene together, a fight of some kind: first an argument, and then a struggle that ended with Teresa Grey falling to the floor. Lucius helped her up, and then he hung over her shoulder while she wrote. He pointed at the paper, and she changed something and laughed. Our Lucius looked very young; he wasn’t trying to be anything, he was just enjoying himself.

Then she shook sand onto the wet ink, and blew it off and lifted up her page and read. She pitched her voice loud enough that we could hear just the sound of it, but not any of the words. In the bushes, we writhed quietly in frustration—if only we could get close enough to the window to hear! Seeing them through the long double windows, with curtains on either side…it was like being at the theatre with wax stuffed in our ears.

“A novel?” Marcus murmured. “One of those things girls like to read?”

Teresa Grey bowed, and Lucius Perry applauded. But I already knew. “It’s a play,” I said. “She writes plays.”

Lucius put his arms around her, and the paper dropped to the ground. This time, she returned his embrace eagerly, warmly. Oh, the way he held her, the way he touched her hair! The way she smiled and stretched out her throat for his kiss…. I dug my nails into my palms. The way her fingers clenched in the small of his back, the way he moved to be closer to her.

I snuck a look at Marcus. Did he see what I saw? A way for two people to be together, to touch each other and be happy and be friends without fear? What if he laughed at them, or was disgusted? What if he saw something entirely different?

He was watching them with enormous concentration, as if he were trying to figure something out for the first time: a math problem, maybe, or a series of moves in shesh, and not at all sure he’d got it right.

“If it’s a play,” he said, “I hope it has a happy ending.”

I’d moved a little closer to him without realizing it, but now I moved away. “Come on,” I said, “we’d better not be late.”

We didn’t even bother to be quiet going over the wall; they weren’t going to hear us.

A RTEMISIA FITZ-LEVI WAS NOW FREE TO MARRY ANYONE who would have her. She was not, however, free to leave the house.

She had taken up fancywork. It gave her something to do with her hands, so that she didn’t tear her mother’s eyes out, or better yet, her tongue. She plied her tiny hook with a vengeance, creating yards of tatted lace of varying sizes.

“At least Lord Ferris is behaving like a gentleman,” Lady Fitz-Levi said again.

Artemisia jabbed the shuttle through another hole. It made a change from yesterday’s refrain of There, miss, are you satisfied? or the day before, with its shrieks of Ruined, ruined, this friend of yours has ruined you!

“A real gentleman would have permitted me to break the engagement myself.”

“And make you look like a jilt? Oh, no. Lord Ferris is behaving as he should—though I could wish he had waited just a little longer after that odious challenge so people would not be tempted to connect the two. As long as he continues to comport himself with discretion and not let anyone suggest the fault was yours…”

“But Mother, I won the duel! That proves it wasn’t my fault!”

“Shh, darling. We know that, but you understand that no one else must, now must they? Or they could find out about that—other thing, and we don’t want that, now, do we? Oh, Artemisia, we must do what we can to get you back on your feet! Perhaps a companion, someone sedate…My cousin Lettice married a drunkard, she never had any sense, and now that she’s widowed she’s short of funds; perhaps she’d be willing to come chaperone you.”

“I don’t care.”

Her mother considered her. “No, Lettice could never handle you. There’s only one thing for it. You need a new lover, and quickly.”

“What?”

“Yes, indeed, my darling. It’s the only way to allay suspicion: to make it look as though you fell for someone else and Ferris kindly released you. Now, who among all your beaux did you like second-best?”

“No one.” Artemisia twisted her shuttle with a sure hand. “I will never marry.”

“Is that what you want to be, a disgraced old maid? It’s not a life for you, my dear, indeed it’s not.” Now her mother softened and seemed to look at her directly. Even sulky and resentful, Artemisia was a pretty picture in the low chair by the window, her dark curls gleaming, her slender neck bent over her work. “You like lively people and nice things. You love Society—and Society will love you once again, once we have you settled. The question is, who is still available who’s worth having? Someone nearer your own age, I think, dearest, so you can enjoy a long life together.” Artemisia shuddered. “It’s a pity Terence Monteith is taken—he was just mad about you, wasn’t he?”

“He was a bore.”

“Yes, a bit. Still, he is such a safe young man. So unexceptionable.”

“He wouldn’t want me now.”

“Do you think so?” Her mother looked archly at her. “I happen to know he’d snap you up in an instant. But he would have to break with Lady Eugenia first, and that would cause scandal, and I think we’ve had enough of that for one season. What about Gregory Talbert, then?”

“You said he was unsuitable.”

“His mother has come to town. She is spending a great deal on clothes for herself and furnishings for their country house. He is not as unsuitable as he once was. And he is still free.”

“Dream on, Mama. The fact is, I’m damaged goods.”

“Don’t be a fool, girl. Nobody knows about that unfortunate incident, and as long as Lord Ferris keeps on being a gentleman, nobody has to, since fortunately there was no…untoward result. It is simply a matter of discretion. Discretion, breeding, and…well, a reasonable offer on our part, which of course we will make. Your marriage portion will be the same as it was for Lord Ferris; better, even. He can see that and regret it ’til his dying day.”

“May it be soon,” Artemisia muttered.

Her mother ignored her. “Many of the finest families are overburdened with second, third, even fourth sons whose inheritance is nothing to speak of. Any one of them would be delighted with the match. In fact—Oh!” Her mother smiled. “Why did I not think of this before? It seems so obvious, and you’ve been such good friends for years, now.”

“I can’t marry my brother,” Artemisia said waspishly.

“No! I was thinking of your cousin Lucius.”

“Lucius Perry,” Artemisia said softly. Well, of course. He already knew of her condition; he’d brought her home from the Rogues’ Ball, after all, and never told a soul. “I thought he’d disgraced himself, somehow.”

“Well, dear…” Her mother weighed the situation and decided it was time to be frank. “The truth is, when dear Lucius first came to town he was very young, and he fell in with the wrong crowd. He made a bit of a spectacle of himself, and your aunt and uncle were very upset.”

Artemisia remembered Lucius sitting in her window seat saying, “It’s the old story: boy comes to city, boy disobliges family, family hears about it, ructions ensue.” Is this what he’d meant?

“But he’s a good boy, you see. As soon as he learned how much harm he might be doing his family and himself, he promised them he’d stop. And I think you’ll agree he’s behaved admirably ever since. There’s not a breath of scandal anyone can attach to Lucius Perry.”

“No,” Artemisia said thoughtfully, “he’s never around for people to notice. He’s sleepy, and quiet, and he’s always late for things.”

“But there’s no harm in that. He’s a handsome boy with nice manners, very fond of you. I really think I shall write to my sister and see what we can arrange.”

Then may I go to the play?” She said it just to annoy, knowing the answer already.

Predictably, her mother launched into: “And don’t think I don’t know what kind of nonsense That Book’s put into your head. ‘Fabian,’ indeed. When we read it, my friends and I knew that he was a monster, a seducer and a cheat—we all agreed Tyrian was worth two of him—Helena Nevilleson was even planning to name her firstborn Tyrian, but her husband wouldn’t permit it. To put such a thing on the stage, and with the Black Rose, of all people…”

“All the girls have seen it,” she wheedled.

“Well, now,” her mother said. “Maybe you should go, at that. We don’t want you to disappear, do we? Why don’t we all go next week, and invite your cousin Lucius to join us?”

T HE DUKE TREMONTAINE HAD RETURNED TO RIVERSIDE. The Black Rose did not like visiting him there as well as she liked his house on the Hill, but now that she had accepted a substantial gift from him and severed her ties with her last protector, she hardly felt that she could be too choosy about where to consummate their new arrangement.

“Points to you,” she said; “points to you and your little niece.”

“What in hell are you talking about?” He sucked a deep breath in on his pipe. “You must forgive me, but I’ve been enmeshed in family matters. I’m not up on the talk of the town.”

“The talk of the town, as you very well know, is that Katherine challenged and defeated Anthony Deverin, though it didn’t faze Ferris one little bit. No one is claiming the challenge, so it’s anyone’s guess what the offense was, and to whom—but all the safe money’s on you, of course, on behalf of someone he’d insulted…. Oh, Alec,” she wrapped herself sinuously around him, “dare I think that it was on my behalf?”

“Think what you like,” he said; “it wasn’t.”

She laughed. “If you weren’t so completely useless, I’d be in love with you already. You’re the only one who tells me the truth.”

“It was Katherine’s idea, really. Ask her, if you like. She’s around. I thought it best to keep her in Riverside for a while. The Hill is such a…busy place right now.”

“Yes, you’re right. Much safer for her here, if dear Tony tries anything. He’s not a forgiving sort, as I know.” He offered her the pipe, but she shook her head. “I don’t. You shouldn’t, either.”

“Why not? It relaxes me.”

“You want to be on your guard,” she said. “You’ve made a real enemy of Lord Ferris.”

“I did that before you were born.” He laid a warm hand on her thigh, and she did not contradict his arithmetic. “Kiss me,” he drawled, “I can’t feel my knees.”