Chapter 14 #4
“The second.” Bathsheba tightened her gloves on her fingers. “I would advise you, Miss Evans, to stop pushing in where you are not wanted. You would not wish to shame your family with talk.”
Cerys sat still, her breath pinched in her chest. She never wanted to hurt her family.
She hadn’t wanted to hurt them with her leaving, and she wouldn’t hurt them by sinking her reputation beyond repair.
They were her lifeline, her life’s blood.
Did Bathsheba know something about her? Bad conduct on her own, she could explain, but if a spiteful enemy carried tales to her mother and her mother’s friends—
Diana lifted a languid hand in parting. “You will talk to his lordship, then, about making good on his vow to invest in Dorsey’s theater, since their play has proven a success? Good of you.”
“I will do my best. But you of all people, Lady Diana, know what it is to deal with a man who sees nothing in the world but his own pleasure.” On that bitter note, Bathsheba took her leave, a rose-colored smudge in the shadowed hallway as Buckle closed the door.
Diana watched her reflectively. “Steel in her backbone, I would say. Or is it spleen?”
Mame set the lady’s magazine on a small table.
“I’ve learned a bit about her ladyship’s history.
Bathsheba Baeccon was born of an Irish publican and made her way in London on her skill as a courtesan to titled and powerful men.
Lord Baeccon was the first she managed to wrangle an offer of marriage from.
The word at the time was that he greatly enjoyed depriving other men of her company, but it seems he has since come to question that choice. ”
And what woman wouldn’t descend into bitterness and spite, if she knew she no longer pleased a husband who was not known for his constancy or his virtue.
Seeing Dante making a success of his career, establishing his reputation, providing for his family, aspiring to the rank of gentleman—how this must rankle, knowing her gamble on the bigger prize had not paid off as she’d hoped.
But to try to keep him from his own happiness was pure spite. To discourage pursuit of him by women who would choose him with delight and conviction, who would be glad to make him happy—
Cerys hauled her thoughts up short. She fancied she could make Dante Manelli happy, did she? And when had she begun thinking of a future with him?
When she had decided she wanted his arms around her not once, but always.
She shook her head to brush off these dangerous thoughts. “When did you learn all this about her ladyship?”
Mame smiled. “Servants talk, especially when they are enjoying a pint at the Fleece. Her lady’s maid is from the north, acquired when they last visited his seat, and she has none too high an ideal of her mistress. She’ll peel off as soon as they reach London, hoping for a better position.”
Diana shuddered. “I tremble to think what Niblett could say about me. I shall have to terrify her into never leaving my service. Buckle, tell Niblett I need her.” She watched Cerys. “And what will you do with yourself this afternoon?”
Cerys smoothed her skirt over her knees, conscious of how rare and strange it felt to be seated with nothing to do with her hands, no clothing to mend, no food to prepare.
“I had told Mr. Manelli I would meet with him in the library to discuss designs, but I wonder if that is advisable. Surely others will have some ideas.”
Mame rose, shaking a crease out of her skirt. “Dorsey is meeting with some investors this afternoon. You might go with him in my place, and I’ll talk to your Mr. Manelli for you, shall I?”
“If you think I might have some input in investment decisions,” Cerys said.
Diana snorted. “You don’t need a head for numbers, girl. Just look lovely and graceful, say a sweet word or two, and the gentlemen will fall over themselves to give you what you want.”
Mame nodded her accord, and Cerys bristled. “And is that how you intend to conduct your discussion with Mr. Manelli?”
“Calm yourself, Cerys, I won’t poach on your gentleman. I’ll only give him a piece of advice or three.”
Cerys burned to ask what advice this would be, but Lady Diana was listening too avidly, and she had already given enough of herself away this morning. It was time to retreat and take stock.
Bathsheba Baeccon was watching her and set on laying thorns in Cerys’s path, if she could.
With all the interest being suddenly shown in her past, it was possible someone here would follow the threads back to Newport and discover Cerys’s connections.
She walked a fine enough line already, as an actress, and now an actress who had taken on a daring role.
She could not let anything in her behavior cause distress for her family and friends, nor reflect badly on them.
It was time to admit she had been silly in getting up a flirtation with Mr. Manelli, and the ruse had served its purpose. He had promised to build them a theater. Funding was imminent.
And she would be wise not to pursue him any further. Reputations could be remade with enough public penitence.
Far harder to mend a heart that had been broken over a man who didn’t want it.