'I don't want a new situation,' Vivien said matter-of-factly. 'I like being a courtesan. It's pleasant, easy, and profitable. Why shouldn't I continue in a profession at which I happen to excel? And please spare me the remarks about decency and honor...I think there's a certain kind of honor in doing something to the best of one's ability.'
Victoria shook her head sorrowfully. 'Oh, Vivien...'
'Enough,' her sister said in a brisk voice. 'I don't care to discuss it further. I'm going to Italy, and that's that.' 'You must promise me something,' Victoria persisted. 'If you eventually decide you don't want the child, don't give it to servants or strangers to raise. Please. I can't stand the thought that a member of our family might...well, just send it to me.'
Vivien stared at her with a skeptical frown. 'How odd. Why would you want anything to do with Lord Gerard's bastard?'
'Because it's your child too...and my niece. Or nephew. Give me your promise, Vivien.' As her sister continued to hesitate, Victoria added, 'You owe it to me.'
'Oh, all right...I promise.' Stretching out her slippered feet, Vivien motioned for her to bring a cushioned stool covered in petit point flowers. As Victoria removed her sister's shoes and arranged her feet on the stool, she was aware of Vivien's speculative stare. 'You haven't mentioned a word about your relationship with Mr. Morgan,' Vivien remarked with deceptive idleness.
Victoria glanced up at her twin's keen blue eyes. 'What did he tell you when he came here?'
Vivien laughed and coiled a stray lock of glinting cinnamon hair around her finger. 'What little he didn't tell me, I was able to guess. Now, fess up, Victoria...Has he come up to scratch yet?'
Blushing, Victoria gave a slight nod. 'He has proposed to me, yes.'
'And have you accepted?'
Victoria shook her head reluctantly. 'I have a few doubts about the suitability of the match.'
'Oh, good God,' Vivien murmured, looking at her with a touch of loving exasperation. 'You've been thinking too much again. Well, let me hear your worries.'
It was a pleasure for Victoria to unburden herself to the only person in the world who truly understood the way her life had been until now. 'I don't know if this is what Father would have wanted for me,' she said. 'I don't know if a woman like me is meant for such a life. Oh, Vivien, Mr. Morgan is such a remarkable man--I can't help fearing that he'll need more than I can provide. We're not similar in character, background, or temperament...I don't think anyone would consider us a suitable match--'
'Then why didn't you refuse him?'
'Because I love him. It's just that I'm afraid we're not truly right for one another.'
Vivien made a scoffing sound. 'Let's dispense with the nonsense, Victoria. This isn't a question of suitability, yours or his. You're perfectly capable of accustoming yourself to new circumstances...and marrying a man of good fortune, though untitled, is not exactly a hardship.' Vivien rolled her eyes and sighed. 'It is so like you to analyze a situation until you've made it ten times more complicated that it really is! Just as Father used to do.'
'Father was a wonderful man,' Victoria said, stiffening.
'Yes...a wonderful, virtuous, lonely martyr. After Mama left him, Father retreated into his shell and hid from the world. And you stayed with him and tried to atone for everything that had happened by becoming exactly like him. You've been living in this same damned cottage, poring over the same bloody books. It's morbid, I tell you.' 'You don't understand--' Victoria began hotly. 'Don't I?' Vivien interrupted. 'I understand your fears better than you do. It's always been safer for you to hide here alone than take the chance of loving someone and have him leave you.That's what your real worry is. Mama abandoned you, and now you expect the same of anyone else you might love.'
The ring of truth in the words stunned Victoria. She stared at her sister while her eyes prickled with tears. 'I suppose...' she began, the sudden tightness of her throat making it difficult to speak. Vivien was right--she had never been the same after her mother had left her. The ability to be comfortable with love, to trust someone with her heart, had been stripped away from her, forcing her to build layers of self-protection that no one could reach through. Until Grant.
But he deserved her trust. He deserved to be loved without reservation or fear, without anything being held back. All she had to do was find the strength within herself.
'It was so much easier when Father was still alive,' Victoria said. 'I convinced myself that he was all I needed. We kept each other from feeling lonely. But now that he's gone...' She stopped, biting her lip as the tears overflowed.
Vivien sighed and stood with difficulty, reaching into the tiny drawer of a side table to procure a handkerchief. She dropped the linen square into Victoria's lap. 'That was two years ago,' she commented. 'It's about time to carry on with the rest of your life.'
Mopping her face with the soft linen, Victoria nodded vigorously. 'Yes; I know,' she said in a muffled voice. 'I'm tired of mourning. I'm tired of being alone. And I love Grant Morgan so much that I can't bear the thought of losing him.'
'Thank God,' her twin said in a heartfelt tone. 'I daresay even Father would say you've done penance for long enough. And while we're on the subject, I'm going to tell you something I've always wanted to say...Loving a man doesn't make you a 'bad woman,' as you always believed Mama and I were.'
'No, I never thought--'
'Yes, you did. I have a fairly good idea of the things Father said about me and Mama behind our backs. And some of them were probably well deserved.' Her voice turned self-mocking. 'I admit, I may be rather too free with my favors. But I know one thing for certain--giving yourself to a man when you love him, as you have with Morgan, is not wrong. Moldering here in Forest Crest, on the other hand, is a crime. Therefore, I'm leaving this godforsaken village as soon as I can arrange it, and I'd advise you to do the same. By all means, marry Grant Morgan--I daresay you could do much worse.'
'Somehow,' Victoria said wryly, 'I had the impression you and he did not like each other. What has happened to change that?'
'Oh, I still don't like him,' Vivien assured her with a quick laugh. 'Not really. Except...well, it's obvious that he loves you, otherwise he wouldn't have made that ridiculous apology you had required of him.'
'He did?' Victoria asked in wondering delight. 'He truly brought himself to tell you he was sorry?'
'Yes, he confessed everything and asked for my forgiveness.' A catlike smile appeared on Vivien's face. 'I'll admit, there was something rather sweet about watching him gag on that apology, simply because you asked it of him. So if I were you, I would marry the man, if you desire to keep from breaking his heart. Or...' She paused as another idea seemed to inspire her. 'Or you could come with me! We could go to Venice or Paris...Do you realize the kind of attention that two sisters with our looks would attract? I'll teach you everything I know about men, and...Good Lord, we would make a king's ransom!'
Victoria looked up at her sister's animated face and shook her head decisively. 'Ick.'
'It's a good idea,' Vivien said defensively. 'Pity you haven't got just a bit more imagination and fewer scruples.'
A stew of potatoes, kidney beans, and chopped greens and onions simmered atop the small cast-iron range. The appetizing scent filled the cottage and drifted out the open windows. Remembering the many times she had made the dish for her father, Victoria smiled wistfully. Her father had never been a great lover of food, regarding it solely as a necessity for the body rather than something to be enjoyed. On the rare occasions when Victoria had made plum pudding, or brought currant buns from the bakery, he had nibbled at the treats and quickly lost interest. The only times she had ever seen him eat heartily, and with obvious enjoyment, was when she had made vegetable stew.
'Father,' she murmured fondly, pausing in the task of folding clothes and packing them in an ancient leather truck, 'I hope you won't mind that I want to marry a man so unlike you.' Grant was a physical man with a strong appetite for life. He would never choose to hide away from the world as she and her father had done. Instead, he wrestled with dangerous, complex, often sordid problems. He saw the worst of humanity, whereas the Devanes had preferred to contemplate only the best of it. And yet...she thought her father might have liked Grant after all, if only to admire his utter fearlessness when it came to dealing with the realities of life.
Humming tunelessly, Victoria went to stir the stew and add a pinch of salt to the pot. Returning to her packing, she began to fold an old knitted shawl when she heard a demanding knock at the door. The entire cottage
