“My love, my poor love.”
Aphrodite took a deep breath, though it cost her dearly. “I cannot grieve for her anymore. I cannot. She is safe and happy, she is a wonderful person. I should be proud and pleased, and I am, Jemmy. I am!”
“She is an awful lot like you, my love.”
Aphrodite’s eyes brightened a little, and she wiped her cheeks with her fingers, rather like Vivianna had done earlier. “Is she?”
“You know she is.” He handed her a handkerchief. “What will you do about the father?”
Aphrodite attempted to marshal her thoughts. “I will go and see him, as I promised. Fraser was never a problem, but he is not a young girl’s idea of a father. She will be disappointed, Jemmy.”
“That isn’t your fault.”
“No, that isn’t my fault.”
“And the others?”
Aphrodite shrugged, her eyes mournful. “There will be time to decide what to do. There must be. I cannot risk such a thing happening again, or worse.”
“I will kill him for you. You know I would do anything—”
“But I cannot be sure. I was never entirely sure. I feel he was responsible, but there was never any proof. How can I accuse a man of such a crime when I have no proof? It is his word against mine, Jemmy.”
“Let me kill him for you.”
“Hush, Jemmy, hush.” She leaned against him, feeling the strength in his arms, the familiarity of the man she had loved all her life. The man she had lost, only to find again years later.
He kissed her and stepped back. Jemmy unbuttoned his red jacket. “You need to rest, my love,” he said. “Let me take you upstairs.”
She smiled. “Yes, I would like that, Jemmy. I still have you, don’t I? Though after all I have done, I do not think I deserve you.”
“You did what you had to, as I did what I had to. The past is over, and we are together now.”
Jemmy Dobson bent his head to kiss the only woman he had ever loved.
Vivianna was in a daze when she returned to the house. She did not know what to say to her family, so she said nothing, removing herself to her room and pretending she had a headache. Another lie, but she could not think of that now. The humiliation, the sense of betrayal, and her broken heart were all still there, but they were juxtaposed with this new joy.
She had found her mother. She was Aphrodite’s daughter. Her past was suddenly a little less mysterious, although not entirely. There were still secrets, and it seemed that Aphrodite meant to hold them close to her and not reveal too much. Maybe it was, as she said, for Vivianna’s sake and the sake of her sisters, but Vivianna wished with all her passionate nature she could solve the problem now.
By the time she came down to supper, Vivianna felt a little better, though she was still pale enough to cause comment. Marietta was full of the wonders of London—she had spent the afternoon with Mr. Jardine and Lil, wandering about Madame Tussaud’s at the Baker Street Bazaar. Lady Greentree had been closeted with her sister, no doubt offering sympathy and advice concerning her husband. Lady Greentree had loved her own husband and sincerely mourned him still—he had died in India with her brother, Thomas Tremaine. They were best friends, had served in the same regiment and had both succumbed to fever within days of each other. In fact, it was through Thomas that Amy Greentree had first met her husband all those years ago.
Speaking of him now, Lady Greentree sighed, “Even after all this time I miss him so.”
“It was a love match,” Helen said. “You were fortunate that it worked out for you, Sister. Sometimes, in the first flush of love, one is blinded.”
There was an uncomfortable silence, as they all thought of the horrid Toby—and Vivianna of Oliver. Mr. Jardine cleared his throat. “I never had the pleasure of meeting your husband, Lady Greentree. I wish I had. He sounds an admirable sort of man.”
Lady Greentree gave him a grateful smile. “He was, Mr. Jardine. I am sure you and Edward would have got on very well together.”
Although, thought Vivianna, if Edward had not died, then Mr. Jardine would not have found himself a home at Greentree Manor. It occurred to her now, watching them together, that her mother and Mr. Jardine were extremely well matched. Perhaps because of her own new and tender position as a brokenhearted lover, she saw them from a different perspective. It was odd, that they had never considered marriage: Mr. Jardine was a gentleman, even if he had lost his fortune, and a personable man in looks and manners; Lady Greentree was calm and lovely, and universally admired. And yet, still mourning for her husband as she was, perhaps Lady Greentree did not notice other men. At least, she did not notice them as prospective bridegrooms!
“Edward would have been a wonderful father to you all,” Lady Greentree said now, looking about at her two daughters. “He longed for children.”
“I wonder who my real father is.”
It was Marietta, as usual saying exactly what was in her mind, without thought for the consequences. Vivianna, who now knew of the past, bit her lip. A crease marred Lady Greentree’s usually serene countenance.
“Dear child, I, too, wish I knew! After you were all found, we tried to discover the secrets of your past, but without success. William searched high and low, and even placed advertisements in some of the more widely read newspapers and circulars, but there was no response. Not one person came forward. Not one clue did we receive. We tried our very best, indeed we did, but to no avail!”