No Mistress of Mine

Chapter 21

Denys knew he’d be sailing close to the wind with this moment, but she was silent so long, he feared he’d just crashed on the rocks.

Still, there was no drawing back. “My opinion is we should marry,” he said, striving to seem matter-of-fact about it all when he was actually nervous as hell. He rolled to his side, propped his weight on his elbow and his cheek in his hand. “It’s the usual thing when people love each other.”

Instead of answering, she sat up, pulling bed linens up from the side of the bed and wrapping them around her, covering herself. It seemed an odd thing for her to do after the passionate lovemaking in which they’d just engaged, and he felt his nervousness deepening.

“Do you remember my first day of rehearsal?” she asked. “That night when you came by with sandwiches and I told you about the sort of dancing I used to do?”

“Of course.”

“You asked me how I ended up in that situation. I didn’t tell you everything.”

“No?”

“No.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “There was a man I met there. He saw me dance. He wasn’t the usual sort who came to the dockside taverns, so I noticed him right away. He was very elegant, very handsome, and very rich. His name was Robert Delacourt. A few nights later, he came back, and he asked me to have a drink with him. As you might guess, I did. I mean, he wasn’t at all the sort of male attention I’d been accustomed to. I fell for him like a ton of bricks. We became lovers.”

Denys had the feeling this was the man who’d been her only other lover, and he really wanted to stop this conversation, but he couldn’t.

“I thought it was all very romantic. He was a railway tycoon. New money, you call it. I didn’t care. I thought he was wonderful. He bought me gifts, flowers, dinners.”

This was sounding far too familiar, far too much like his own seduction of her, and to the man he was now, it all seemed so shallow, and so unsavory. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Go on.”

“We were together for several weeks, and then, one night, Robert told me he was having dinner with a very important man. A senator visiting from Washington. Robert wanted me to come to dinner with them, explaining that he’d told the senator about me, and the senator very much wanted to meet me.”

Denys frowned. It sounded innocuous enough, and yet he felt uneasy. Perhaps he just had a suspicious mind, but when he looked into her eyes, the awful suspicion he’d begun to harbor was confirmed, for though Lola was looking directly at him, he knew she wasn’t seeing him.

“The senator was a very powerful man in Washington, Robert said, a man who could help him put a railroad deal through out west. We were to have dinner with him at the Oak Room. The Oak Room! I was so excited, I was giddy. I was so stupid.”

She laughed a little, laughing at herself, and Denys’s heart constricted in his chest.

“I thought he wanted me there to be the woman on his arm when he made this important deal. His helpmate, you know, or maybe even his future wife. But that wasn’t it at all. He introduced me to the senator in a private dining room, and then, he just . . . left. I asked the senator when Robert would be coming back, and he said Robert wouldn’t be back. I was his now, he said, and that he would be taking care of me from now on. It was as if I had just been traded.”

As he had the night she’d told him about her days in burlesque and what had happened to her as a girl, he felt anger rising on her behalf, but again, he kept it in check. “What did you do?” he asked, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Did you bash him with an Erie?”

Her lips twitched just a little. “They don’t have cast-iron skillets in the Oak Room. At least not on the tables.”

“Ah. Champagne bottle, then?”

She frowned, looking confounded by his reaction. “You seem quite sure I rejected him.”

“I am sure.”

“But how can you be?”

“Because of what you said that day in my office. Don’t you remember?” he went on as she continued to stare at him in bewilderment. “After I kissed you, and you became so angry with me—”

“Justifiably so,” she cut in. “Given what you said.”

He nodded, conceding that point. “Granted, but when you lost your temper, and fired off your guns at me, you told me you’d only been with two men in your life.”

“I said that?”

“Yes. Don’t you remember?”

She shook her head. “I was so angry with you that day, I don’t remember what I said, to be honest. But given I did say that, how do you know I was telling the truth?”

“Because I just . . . do. I trust you. I believe you.” He kissed her nose. “I love you. And,” he rushed on before she could speak again, “I definitely know that one of those two men is me, quite obviously. The other, I now know, is this Delacourt bastard. Hence my conclusion regarding the senator. So, are you going to tell me what your response actually was to this odious man?”

“I tossed my wine in his face. Then I got up and left.”

He laughed. “Perfect. Ripping perfect.”

“It’s not funny.”

“You’re right.” He sobered at once, giving her a level, steady gaze. “I’m sorry, and don’t think for one moment that I don’t want to find this Robert Delacourt and call him to account, because I do. In fact, what I’d really take great pleasure in doing is thrashing him within an inch of his life. And the same applies to the man who tried to assault you when you were fifteen. And to that senator for thinking for one moment you were the sort of girl who would—”

“But that’s just it, Denys,” she interrupted. “I was that sort of girl. I told you, I used to take my clothes off in those taverns in Brooklyn. Robert saw me do it. The cowboys back in Kansas City used to come into the saloon just so they could watch me pull up the hem of my skirt and give them a peek at my ankles while I sang. I can’t blame any of those men for thinking my virtue was for sale, and neither can you. You seduced me, too, if you recall. You made me your mistress. I’m—” She stopped, and bit her lip. “That’s the sort of woman people think I am.”

Given his own culpability, he couldn’t really take issue with most of what she’d said, but he could take up the last bit. “You talk as if you’re fated for that. You’re not.”

She looked down, her hair falling over her face. “Sometimes, I think I am,” she whispered. “Men have wanted me since I was old enough to wear a corset, Denys. I’ve always known it, and I’ve never had any compunction about using it when I had to.”

“Women have been doing that since Eve, my darling.”

“Most women don’t do it on a stage, but I did. Hell, I made a whole show out of it.” She shrugged, plucking at the counterpane. “After that episode with the senator, I knew I had to leave New York. If I stayed, I was afraid of what Robert, or the senator, for that matter, might do. So I took what money I had, bought a steamship ticket, and went to Paris.”

She gave a deep sigh. “Another ticket out of town and another fresh start. I’d read about the dancers in Paris, and I thought I could do that. French cabaret was an enormous step up for a girl like me. The only thing was, I’d never danced the cancan in my life.” She shook her head, laughing a little as if in disbelief at her own brass.

“But it turned out you were right. You’re good at it.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I thought if this is the sort of woman that men think I am, well, then, why not exploit it? So I did. I changed my name to something I thought sounded deliberately seductive. I made a dance routine, I learned to sing in French, and do the cancan, and how to kick off a man’s hat with my foot. I learned how to make anything I did—a crook of my finger or a wink of my eye or a shrug of my shoulders—seem like a promise to every man in that audience, but I knew it was a promise I’d never have to keep. And it worked. Men went wild over my act.”

He cupped her face, tipped her head up. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”

“But that’s just it, Denys. You told me you loved me, but you didn’t. You were infatuated with an illusion, something I created, a fantasy. It wasn’t me.”

“At first, perhaps.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “But I knew the first time we ever made love that what you did on stage was pure fiction.”

“How did you know?”

He smiled. “Because until I showed you, you had no idea that a man could make you come with his mouth.”

She blushed, her pale skin flooding with color from her face down to her throat and across her shoulders, down to the white sheet she was holding over her breasts. “Oh.”

She was silent a moment, taking that in, then she said, “Your father knows about the senator.”

“What?”

She nodded. “He came to my dressing room before the show last night and told me. Evidently, he’s had Pinkerton men investigating me since I came back to London. He also told me he sold his half of the Imperial.”

“Yes, I know about the Imperial. He sold it to the Earl of Barringer. They signed the papers yesterday.”

“You know? But if you haven’t seen your father, how did you find out?”

“I stayed at White’s last night, and Barringer was there when I arrived. He told me the news. It wasn’t really a surprise that my father would take that step.”

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Denys.”

“Don’t be sorry on my account. And Barringer’s not a bad chap. He won’t approve of you, mind, for he’s quite a stuffed shirt, but he can’t out you.”

“Forget about the Earl of Barringer. Denys . . .” She paused and gave a deep sigh. “I’ve quit the play. I’m leaving London, as soon as my maid has made the arrangements with Cook’s.”

Any step forward might have just been obliterated. He took a deep breath. “Why?”

“Denys, I told you, your father knows about my days in burlesque, about Robert, the senator . . . everything.”

“I suppose he threw it in your face?” As he spoke, he felt a flash of anger, and he worked to force it down, reminding himself that no matter what happened today, he and the old man were headed for a reckoning. It was inevitable. “None of that matters, Lola. Not to me. Not at all.”

“I wasn’t the first girl Robert had used to put through a deal,” she said as if she hadn’t heard him. “He did it all the time, I found out afterward. I was just too infatuated to see what he was.” She waved a hand impatiently. “I was a fool. The point is, your father assumed I had taken the senator up on his offer. If he tells anyone the story—”

Denys shook his head. “He won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because he knows full well you could become his daughter-in-law, and he’s not about to let that sort of story get about.”

“But I’m not going to be his daughter-in-law, and we both know it, and so does he—and damn it, Denys, why are you smiling?”

“Because I’m glad.”

“Glad?” She stared at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head. “Glad about what, for heaven’s sake?”

“I’m glad you told me about all this. You’ve spiked the old boy’s guns. Now, when he tells me all about your oh-so-sordid past, I shall take great delight in informing him that I already know all about it. But first, is there anything you haven’t told me? Any other chaps out there I need to know about? Any other men you’ve coshed on the head, or run off with to New York?”

“No, Denys,” she said meekly, but he knew she wasn’t going to meekly march into a church with him. Her next words proved it. “Will you please stop ignoring the vital point? Robert thought that I was something to be used, something to be passed around and ultimately tossed aside, like so much trash. In a less crude sort of way, your people think the same about me. They think I’m trash.”

“But I don’t think you’re trash. Do you think you are?”

“No, and we both know I don’t much care what other people think of me, but to your family, to the society you want me to live in, I will always be trash. Marrying you won’t change their opinion of me.”

“I’m not at all sure about that, but even if you’re right, do you really think your alternative is any better?” he asked her. “Another name, another ticket out of town, another fresh start . . . what’s the point? How long and how far can you run from yourself?”

Her face twisted. “What else is there for a girl like me and a man like you?”

Abruptly, he rolled off the bed. “I have presented you with an alternative,” he said as he began to dress. “Twice now, as a matter of fact. But you don’t seem to fancy it.”

“Because it isn’t a viable alternative.”

“Yes, it is. It’s just not a perfect one, wrapped up with a ribbon and a bow.”

“You think I care about that? Denys, here in England, marriage is permanent, until death do us part. My mother was able to change her mind, get her marriage annulled. But here, it’s different. Your sort gets married, there’s no hushing it up.”

“True.” He donned his shirt and tucked it into his trousers, then he reached for his socks and pulled them on.

“Marrying me would be forever. No way you could annul it later, even given my notorious past.”

“That is also true.” He slipped on his shoes and glanced around. “Where the devil is my collar?”

“Your father has already sold the Imperial. He’ll do more than that if you marry me. He’ll disinherit you.”

“Ah,” he said, spying his collar at the foot of the bed. He scooped it up, along with his cuff links, collar studs, and necktie, then he moved to stand in front of the mirror above her dressing table and continued to dress.

“What if he does, Denys?” she asked after a few moments.

He paused in the act of tying his tie and met her gaze in the mirror, pretending not to understand her question. “Worried I can’t support you?”

“That’s not it. I could support us if it came to it.”

“I’d prefer that you didn’t. The ton rather frowns on that sort of thing.” He finished tying his tie and began fastening his collar studs. “Is that your real concern? Giving up acting? Because if it is, feel free to keep doing it. I shan’t care.”

“That’s not it either!” she cried. “I love acting, I do, but if I married you, of course I’d have to give it up. I may not know much about viscountesses, but I’m fully aware they can’t be actresses, too!”

He smiled to himself, noting the shift in her words, the use of the word “if.” Another step forward, he thought, pleased and also a bit relieved she might be willing to give up the stage at some point. He was proud of what she’d accomplished for herself, especially last night, and if she wanted to continue to act, he’d support her decision, but though he was willing to fight that particular battle with the ton on her behalf, he couldn’t say he’d relish the prospect. There would be plenty of other battles for them to fight as it was. “Then what is the problem?” he asked, turning toward her. “I love you. You say you love me. Are you really refusing me because you’re afraid society won’t accept us?”

She didn’t answer, and he went on, “At Covent Garden, the things you told me indicated that you were concerned about what they’d think of me, and you were concerned about my future happiness, and while I think all of that is true, I also think that’s not the whole story. Why don’t you tell me the rest? Why are you really so afraid?”

She still didn’t answer, and he decided to let it go. He had a plan, and he had a great deal more to do in order to carry it out. He picked up his waistcoat, buttoned it, and reached for his jacket.

“I have to go,” he said gently. She nodded, but she didn’t reply and she didn’t look up, and he wondered if perhaps he ought to hold off, give her more time. But then, her voice came to him from across the room, soft and hushed. “Don’t you know the reason?”

His hand tightened around the jacket in his hand. “I could hazard a guess,” he murmured, studying her bent head and her tumbled hair. “I could say it’s because everyone you’ve ever loved has abandoned or discarded you.”

A faint sob told him he was on the right track. “I could go a bit further,” he went on as he crossed to the bed, “and say that you’re terrified I’ll do the same.” He cupped her cheek and lifted her face. “That I’ll grow tired of you, and fall out of love with you, and take a mistress.”

A tear fell down her cheek, and he brushed it away with his thumb. “I shan’t,” he said, and let her go. “You’ll have to take my word for that, of course, but . . .” He shrugged and slipped on his jacket. “There it is. I’m asking you to trust me.”

“It’s not about trust. It’s about the way the world works.”

“You really think my family won’t accept you if we marry?”

“I know they won’t. Your father . . .” She swallowed hard, and Denys braced himself for more obstacles. “Denys, he called me a whore.”

Rage exploded inside him even though he didn’t move, and it was several moments before he could control it enough to speak. “He never will again. That I promise you. I will make certain he understands that if he utters one more derogatory word about you, he will have crossed the Rubicon.”

“Oh, no,” she moaned. “I never should have told you. I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you choose me over your family.”

“I already did. I made my choice that afternoon in St. John’s Wood, when I walked across that sidewalk and stepped into that cab. I chose you.”

She shook her head, refusing to believe, and he decided it was time to roll the dice and let the chips fall where they would. “Let’s put your lack of faith in my family to the test, shall we? I’m having a private dinner with them this evening, here at the Savoy. Consider this your formal invitation to join us.”

She stared at him, eyes widening in panic. “I can’t do that!”

“Yes, you can. It’s very simple. You put on a pretty gown, you come downstairs, and you tell the maître d’hôtel you are with Lord Somerton’s party. I’ll be sure he knows to expect you. He will escort you to the door, he’ll announce you, and you’ll walk in. All very simple.”

“And then all hell breaks loose,” she mumbled. “Your father will never allow me to sit at your table.”

“It’s not up to him to allow it or not. I am the host, so his only choice is to stay or go. If he doesn’t wish for our company, he’s free to stand up and walk out.”

“Denys—”

He sank down on the edge of the bed, and when she tried to turn away, he grabbed her arms. “You said you love me. Did you mean it? If you did, then prove it. Come down and face them. Run that gauntlet.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can, because you are braver than you think.”

“I’m not brave at all.”

“But you are. Good God, you are, and you don’t even see it. You fought off a man who wanted to assault you. You threw wine in a senator’s face. You went halfway around the world to become a French cancan dancer when you didn’t know French or the cancan. You decided to become an actress when you didn’t know how to act. And after a humiliating failure, you walked out on stage last night to face an audience that fully expected you to fail again, and you proved all of them wrong about you. And you don’t think you’re brave enough to take on my family? Darling, give yourself a little credit.”

“But it wouldn’t just be your family. It would be the world. Your world, Denys.”

“That’s true, and it won’t be all beer and skittles for you if you marry me, I grant you, even if we manage to win over my family. It will take courage and fortitude and a very strong will to face down the ton. Many of them will be cold, hostile, even vicious. They will say unbelievably cruel things about you and to you.”

“And to you!”

“Yes,” he admitted. “And it may very well last the rest of our lives. But I’m asking you to do it anyway. And you won’t be alone, for I will be by your side every step of the way. On the other hand . . .” He paused and stood up. “You could take the easy way out. You could buy a steamship ticket and go somewhere else and change your name and repeat the pattern of your life. It’s your choice, my love.”

He raked a hand through her hair, pulled her head back, and bent down to kiss her. “Dinner is at quarter past eight,” he said. Then he let her go, turned away, and walked to the door. Opening it, he paused and looked back at her over one shoulder. “If you’re coming, don’t be late. Among my set, being late for dinner is just not done. If you’re not coming . . .” He took a deep breath. “Then God help me.”

With that, he walked out and closed the door behind him, but before heading down the corridor to the lift, he paused to say a little prayer, for he knew that right now, he needed all the help he could get.

Lola sat on the bed, staring at the doorway. He’d barely departed, but already, she knew Denys was right.

She had a very clear choice to make: another ticket out of town and another fresh start, or a whole new life that would be unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

Being Denys’s viscountess would be the hardest thing she’d ever taken on, much harder than learning the cancan or training as an actress—harder, even, than taking off her clothes for randy sailors. She’d be facing an audience harsher than any London critics had ever been, and she’d be more exposed than she’d ever been in any dockside tavern. And she’d never, ever, be able to run away.

And with that thought, as quick as the flare of a match or the snap of one’s fingers, her choice was made.

She didn’t want to run. She wanted to stay. Because she wanted to believe that happy endings did exist. And because she hated walking away from a challenge just because it scared her. But most of all, she wanted to stay because Denys loved her, and she loved him. She’d always loved him. And she was not going to run away from that. Not this time. Hell, no.

She’d go to this dinner party, and she’d walk the ton’s gauntlet, and she’d live with him and be his wife, and if his family didn’t accept them, and society scorned them, that would have to be their loss.

She shoved aside the sheets and stood up, but she’d barely taken one step before a whole new question ran through her mind, a question that was of such importance, it stopped her in her tracks. Tonight might very well be the most important night of her life, and that forced her to face the same awful, agonizing question that had plagued women in this sort of situation throughout history.

What, in heaven’s name, was she going to wear?

The crucial question of Lola’s ensemble for the evening was decided at last, due mainly to the excellent taste and critical honesty of her lady’s maid, and at precisely ten minutes past eight, Lola was presenting herself to the Savoy’s maître d’hôtel dressed in a brilliant, head-turning Worth gown of shimmering, moss green silk. White gloves sheathed her from her fingertips to her elbows, and peridot and diamond jewels sparkled in her hair, at her ears, and around her neck.

The maître d’hôtel, however, was not particularly impressed by Worth, or by jewels, or by any actress who might be wearing them.

“Good evening, Miss Valentine.” The maître d’hôtel greeted her. His tone was polite enough, and he bowed his head a fraction, but contrary to what Denys had led her to expect, the man didn’t move to escort her anywhere.

She tried again. “I am with Lord Somerton’s party.”

“Quite so.” There was now a distinct hint of distaste in the man’s voice, and he still didn’t move. Lola waited, wondering what she was supposed to do now, and as the silence lengthened, she began to see a definite smirk lift the corners of the man’s mouth, reminding her that if she continued to take this path, this daring attempt to rise above her station, she would face many more smirking faces, high and low. This, she appreciated, was just the beginning.

But Lola had no intention of being cowed by a mere maître d’hôtel. The best way to proceed, she decided, was to pretend she was on a stage, and she was playing the part of a viscountess. What would a viscountess do when faced with this sort of behavior from a mere servant?

Despite the nervous apprehension in her stomach, she managed to lift her brows just enough to seem intrigued by this lack of cooperation rather than threatened. “Shall I arrange for Lord Somerton to escort me in to dinner?” she asked, smiling a little. “Or shall I allow you the honor of doing so?”

Reminded that the viscount was on her side, the maître d’hôtel’s manner became slightly less superior. “This way, madam.”

He led her down a long corridor of private reception and dining rooms to one at the very end of the corridor. It was an opulent room of gold and white, where candlelight from crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over perhaps two dozen elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen, while footmen in Savoy livery moved among them with trays of sherry. On the far wall, a set of tall doors had been flung back, revealing a long dining table of white linen, gleaming silver, and sparkling crystal.

She’d been in surroundings like this before, attended parties every bit as elegant as this, but never had she been among the aristocracy in such a setting. Suddenly, she wasn’t just nervous and apprehensive. She was terrified.

“Miss Lola Valentine.”

The maître d’hôtel’s voice seemed to thunder through the room, and all the elegant ladies and gentlemen milling about seemed to go still. Conversation faded to silence, and Lola began to scan the room in a desperate search for Denys’s face, but she got as far as Conyers and stopped, frozen in place by his cold, hostile gaze.

You are braver than you think.

Lola squared her shoulders, jutted up her chin, and returned his cold look with one of completely feigned indifference. He started toward her, but then, another man came into her line of vision, blocking the earl from her view.

Denys.

Despite all her pretenses, Lola couldn’t help a sigh of relief, but it ended in a gulp of dismay, because instead of coming toward her, he held out his hand.

Panicked, she didn’t move, for she could feel every eye in the room on her, and she was sure that with one exception, the scrutiny was not welcoming. This wasn’t like that day at the flower show, for this time, she could easily escape. All she had to do was turn and walk out. There was nothing to stop her, nothing but Denys, waiting for her at the other end of the room.

Keeping her gaze on his face, on the tender smile that curved his mouth and the steady warmth in his brown eyes, she took a breath and started forward, one step, then another, walking society’s gauntlet.

Even with her gaze fixed on Denys, it was a long journey to that side of the room, and with every step, she could feel society’s disapproving scrutiny. But at last she reached Denys’s side.

“You came,” he said, and laughed a little. “I’m glad.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“I can never predict what you’re going to do, Lola,” he confessed as he took her hand and bowed over it. “I do believe that’s part of your charm.”

She smiled at that, but when she moved to pull her hand away, he didn’t let her go. Instead, he gripped her fingers hard in his and dropped to one knee.

“What are you doing?” She cast a frantic sideways glance at the earl, noted the purple flush of his face, and looked at Denys again, dismayed. Proposing to her in front of his entire family was like waving a flag in the face of a bull. “Stand up,” she whispered. “For God’s sake, stand up.”

He ignored her plea. “Miss Charlotte Valinsky,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, “will you marry me?”

There were several shocked gasps, and somewhere behind her, a wail was heard. Lola could only assume that was Denys’s mother.

Heat flooded her face, and she took another quick glance around, but though all the faces seemed a blur, the hot breath of hostility seemed palpable. “Oh, Denys,” she berated him softly. “What have you done?”

He gazed up at her, that tender smile still curving his mouth. “Do you intend to give me an answer, or do you intend to keep me in suspense?”

She opened her mouth, but before she could reply, another voice entered the conversation.

“I have had enough of this!” The earl’s voice was low, but in the quiet room, its icy disdain seemed as loud as a dynamite explosion. He set his sherry on a footman’s tray and strode over to them. “Denys, stand up, for God’s sake, and stop making a fool out of yourself.”

Denys ignored him. He kept his gaze on her. “Answer my question, Lola.”

“If you marry this woman, I’ll disown you,” Conyers told him. “You will be dead to me.”

Denys turned his head to look at his father, but he didn’t rise. “If that’s so, I’m sorry for it, for your opinion and your affection are very dear to me. But some things—” He broke off and looked at Lola again, squeezing her hand tight. “Some things are even more important than the esteem and affection of my family. This is one of those things. Well, Lola?” he prompted, holding her gaze with his. “Will you?”

“Without my support for this marriage, you’ll be cast out of good society,” his father went on. “Beyond the pale, shunned by everyone.”

“He’s right, Denys,” she choked. “You know he’s right. Maybe you should think it over. Everyone will forsake you if you marry me. Your family, all your friends—”

“I won’t,” another male voice rang out, and Lola turned to find Jack coming toward them through the crowd. He paused beside Denys and looked at her. “I never forsake my friends, Lola. I won’t forsake either of you.”

“Neither will I.” Another male voice had Lola looking past Jack’s shoulder to find James also coming forward. “Miss Valentine,” he greeted her with a bow before moving to stand on Denys’s other side. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Lovely?” Jack echoed with a scoffing sound. “It’s more than that. It’s absolutely ripping.” He grabbed her hand out of Denys’s grip and bent to kiss it. “Shocking the aristocracy all out of countenance again, aren’t we, Lola?” he added with a wink. “That’s twice in less than a month. What will people say?”

She glanced from one man to the other, so stunned by their stalwart support that she didn’t know what to reply. She supposed she ought to assume a dignified, ladylike demeanor, just to demonstrate to Denys’s family that she wasn’t the guttersnipe they thought her to be.

“Gentlemen,” she began, but her voice wavered at once, her throat clogged up, and any pretense of dignity was lost when she gave a most unladylike sob.

Jack, thankfully, stepped into the breach. He looked down at Denys, who was still on one knee and waiting for an answer. “Do you need a bit of help with this proposal, old chap? You don’t seem to be getting on very well on your own.”

“I have the situation well in hand, Jack. Thank you.” He once again grasped Lola’s hand, but before he could continue, Jack spoke again.

“Of course, of course, but in cases such as this, a man needs all the help he can get. Speaking of help,” he added, glancing left and right, “where the devil are Nick and Stuart? They were milling about beside me a few minutes ago.”

“I don’t know about Stuart, but I’m right behind you.”

Lola looked past Jack’s shoulder, and when she saw Nick coming forward, she wasn’t quite so shocked as she’d been to see Jack and James. But what did shock her was the beautiful, black-haired woman on Nick’s arm, the same woman Lola had seen with Denys at the opera. Nick’s wife.

They eased between Conyers and his son, and given Nick’s higher rank, the earl was forced to give way. He stepped back, leaving Nick and his wife to become part of Lola’s growing circle of support, and her shock began to fade, replaced by something deeper and far more profound.

Hope.

“Miss Valentine,” Nick said with a bow, “you must forgive me for interrupting this romantic moment, but I simply cannot wait a moment longer before I introduce you to my wife, Lady Trubridge.”

Of all Denys’s acquaintances, Lady Trubridge would be the most damaged if scandal of any sort were attached to her name, for she was one of the powerful ladies in British society. But Lady Trubridge didn’t seem to care about the risk to her social position. “Miss Valentine,” she said gravely, and Lola watched in amazement as one of the most influential women in London bowed to her.

“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” she went on, her voice cutting through the hushed room like the elegant slice of a duelist’s sword. “And I should like you to know that I would never forsake Denys.” She met Lola’s gaze. “Or any other friend.”

“None of us would.”

By now, Lola was beyond being surprised, so the Duke of Margrave’s entrance into the conversation did not rattle her. She looked up, laughing a little as she watched Stuart come forward, moving past Conyers. On Stuart’s arm was a tall, slim redhead Lola knew must be his duchess, and together, they moved to her other side, joining the growing, protective wall that surrounded Denys and her.

But the circle was evidently not complete, for Jack glanced around, and when she followed his gaze, Lola spied the stunning blonde who had been on Jack’s arm at the flower show. She was standing beside Lady Conyers, but she wasn’t moving forward, and Lola’s rising hopes stilled, caught in the scrutiny of a pair of stunning blue eyes.

“Linnet?” Jack said. “You’re the last, my love.”

The woman glanced around, noting the faces looking at her, and then she heaved a sigh. “All right, all right,” she said in the unmistakable accent of Knickerbocker New York as she came toward their group. “You win, all of you. I’ll accept her. But—”

She halted beside her husband, those magnificent cornflower blue eyes giving Lola a look of unmistakable warning as she took Jack’s arm. “But if you so much as wink at my husband, Miss Valentine,” she murmured in a low voice, “I’ll claw your eyes out.”

Jack laughed, flashing Lola a grin. “My lioness,” he explained, “is the jealous type.”

“Lady Featherstone,” Lola said, feeling horribly awkward as she proffered a bow, for it was painfully obvious the other woman knew Jack had once held a torch for her.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” the countess grumbled, and thrust out her hand in the uniquely American fashion. “You’d better get used to calling me Linnet, or we’ll never become friends.”

Lola looked down at Lady Featherstone’s gloved hand, held out to her in friendship, and the countess’s slim, bejeweled fingers began to blur before her eyes. Blinking hard, she took that hand in her own and shook it with heartfelt gratitude.

“Linnet,” she managed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. All of you,” she added. “I’m . . . I’m overwhelmed. I truly am. I—” Her voice broke as she glanced around, looking into the faces of the people who had just put their own social position in jeopardy, and though she wanted to say more, she just couldn’t manage it.

Denys came to her rescue. “Now that the introductions have been made,” he said, his fingers again capturing hers, “can we return to the matter at hand? I am still down on one knee here, Lola, in case you’ve forgotten.”

She studied him, down on his knee, proposing to her in front of some of the most influential people of British society, and joy rose within her, so much joy, she thought her heart would burst in her chest. “You did this,” she choked. “All of this.”

“I did.”

“Oh, Denys,” Lady Conyers wailed from across the room. “How could you?”

She burst into tears, but Denys ignored her.

“I had to show you that you are not alone in this, my darling. Others may cast us out or refuse to receive us, but my friends—our friends—won’t.”

But Lola could hear his mother sobbing quietly nearby. “Are you sure?” she choked. “Are you absolutely sure? I couldn’t bear it if you ever came to regret marrying me.”

“I’ll never regret it.” He paused, taking her other hand. “I love you, Charlotte Valinsky. So, are you going to marry me, or not?”

There it went, the last shred of her control. Tears welled up, and to her mortification, she started to cry.

Denys’s brows drew together in a little frown of doubt. “Was that a yes?” he asked. “I’m not quite sure—”

“Yes!” she sobbed. “Yes. I’ll marry you, Denys. I’ll marry you.”

“Finally,” he said with relief, and rose. “You made me wait long enough, Lola, really.”

“This cannot stand,” the earl said. “I’ll disinherit you. You’ll no longer be involved in any investments of our family. You won’t have a farthing to support this woman.”

“But I will, Father.” His fingers entwined with hers as he turned to look at his father. “I have the brewery with Nick, and I have Arcady. You’ve no stake in either of those. They are solely mine. Oh, yes, and the Imperial, of course.”

“I sold my share of the Imperial to Lord Barringer yesterday.”

“So you did. But Barringer sold his share to me this afternoon.”

“To you?”

“Yes. I made the purchase out of my private funds. For his part, Barringer was quite pleased to make a profit of two thousand pounds and walk away, especially when I told him Lola would never sell him her share, no matter how much he offered. I hope you don’t mind that I spoke for you, darling,” he added to her, “but I decided to take the chance that as partners go, you’d prefer me to Barringer.”

“I don’t mind,” she murmured. “So we’ll still manage it together?”

“Of course.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her glove. “We’re partners, remember?”

Conyers muttered an oath. “You are determined to do this, then?” he asked.

“I am, Father.”

“I cannot talk you out of it?”

“No.”

The earl turned to her, his eyes raking over her. “And you, young woman, have no intention of making him see sense?”

“No, my lord,” she answered, and felt Denys squeeze her hand tight.

“I give it up,” the earl muttered, lifting his hands in a gesture of exasperated defeat. “Do as you will, both of you, and on your heads be it.”

“Do you accept us, then, Father?” Denys asked, as his father turned away. “Will you give us your blessing?”

“Blessing?” The earl stopped. Squaring his shoulders, he turned and looked at them.

“No,” he said. “I cannot do so, for I see no blessing in this union. But—” he added, and Lola caught her breath. “I know when I’ve lost. And if I don’t accept this woman, society never will, and if that happens, heaven only knows what the fate of your children will be. Your sons might not be admitted to Oxford.” He shuddered as if that was a fate worse than death. “Your daughters might have to marry commoners.”

The earl looked at Lola, and though his gaze was still filled with resentment, it did not seem to hold quite the same degree of contempt that it had in her dressing room last night. “God knows you’re not the woman I would have chosen for my son, and despite what’s happened here tonight, the rest of society will not be welcoming you with open arms.”

“Quite right, Conyers,” Lady Trubridge said, walking around her husband to take the earl’s arm. “But I assure you, I shall be giving the girl a proper and gradual introduction to society once she and Somerton are married, and though it won’t be easy, we shall all do what we can. Now,” she added, delicately pulling the earl away, “I believe they will begin serving dinner in a moment, so perhaps we should adjourn to the other room?”

She began leading the earl toward the door, beckoning others to follow, but the earl didn’t seem quite ready to depart. He paused, giving Lola one last belligerent glare over his shoulder. “You’ll give up the acting, miss,” he told her. “And do try and produce at least one son so that my imbecile of a nephew doesn’t end up with my title.”

With that, he walked into the dining room, Lady Trubridge on his arm. The others followed in their wake—Denys’s mother with Nick, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief, Denys’s friends and their wives, and ten or twelve other people Lola didn’t know at all. But as they went, each person gave her a nod of acknowledgment, telling her that among those in this room at least, she and Denys had support.

Denys’s sister came last. “Welcome to the family,” she said, giving Lola a smacking kiss on the cheek. “You’ve no idea what you’ve let yourself in for.”

Lola smiled, liking the girl’s sass. “Oh, but I think I do. I’ve already gone three rounds with your father.”

“Papa?” She made a sound of derision. “He’s nothing. Wait until you meet Grandmamma.”

“Susan,” Denys said warningly.

The girl laughed, stood up on her toes, and kissed her brother’s cheek. “Taking on the whole ton, Denys? My God, you’re brave. Do you have any single friends like you?”

“I’m still single,” James pointed out.

“Dearest Pongo,” the girl said with obvious affection as she put her arm through his. “You know I adore you,” she added as they turned away and started toward the dining room, “but I could never marry you. You’re like a brother to me.”

“Right,” he answered hastily. “Of course.”

Denys and Lola both laughed, watching them go.

“Poor James,” she murmured. “Will he ever find love?”

“Don’t worry about Pongo,” Denys told her. “He’s in love every week.”

“Your sister is right about you, you know,” Lola murmured as she turned toward him, still feeling rather stunned by all that had just occurred. “You are the bravest man I have ever known.”

“My darling,” he said, and pulled her into his arms. “I told you before, you’re the brave one. And you proved me right, by God. Coming down to face them the way you did.”

“I had to do it. You see . . .” She paused to take a deep breath. “When you left this morning, I took a long, hard look at my life, and I knew leaving wasn’t the answer. Because I love you.”

“And I love you. And love,” he told her, bending his head, “is always enough.”

He started to kiss her, but then he stopped, his lips an inch from hers. “By the way, I now expect you to fully admit that I was right and you were wrong.”

“About what?”

His arms tightened around her. “Happy endings do sometimes happen.”

“I can’t deny it.” She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “After all, you are definitely my knight in shining armor.”

“Damned straight,” he murmured, and bent his head toward hers. “And you shall be my viscountess, my wife, the mother of my children, and the love of my life until the end of my days.”

“And society?”

“If society doesn’t like it, society can lump it.”

“Now that,” she said, and kissed him, “is the best happy ending I’ve ever heard.”