Lessons in Seduction (Greentree Sisters 1)

Vivianna lifted her head and looked up at Aphrodite. And now she could see the resemblance, particularly to Francesca. The dark eyes and dark hair, the pale skin, the beauty and passion in her face. This was indeed her mother, found at last, and she no longer had any doubts.

What did it matter who she was or what she was or had been? It only mattered that she had been found. Strange, that Aphrodite was the person she had run to when she was in desperate need.

Perhaps, deep in her soul, she had always known the truth.

Vivianna gave a trembling smile. “Mama?” she whispered.

Aphrodite gave a low cry and tears ran down her cheeks. She wept unrestrainedly, and now it was Vivianna who tried to comfort her, patting her back and shoulders, murmuring words that meant nothing, kissing her cheeks.

At last they were quiet, Vivianna’s head upon her mother’s shoulder, and Aphrodite’s arm about her waist. Vivianna felt exhausted and yet oddly content. Oliver was still there, a constant ache in her heart, but he had been set aside for now. She had other things to think of.

“Who is my father?” Vivianna asked in a soft voice, as though she were indeed a child again. “I cannot remember him. I do not even remember speaking of him, or knowing anything about him. It’s as if he was a secret.”

“He was a secret,” Aphrodite said. “All of my three daughters had different fathers—shocking, is it not?” with a smile. “Having children is not the cleverest thing a courtesan can do, Vivianna, but if there is a man willing to care for her and the child, to make her life comfortable while she carries the child and bears it, and to help bring it up, then why shouldn’t a courtesan become a mother? Besides, I was lonely. I wanted a family of my own. For your father, I chose a man who was also alone, and who had no wish to marry. He had no children, and he agreed that to have one as an heir would be prudent. Although, when he learned you were a girl, he was not quite so keen. Your sisters were conceived in similar circumstances, and with similar results. They are children to men who were otherwise childless at the time—insurance against the future. But for myself, well, I was content with my daughters.”

“I see,” Vivianna said, and she did. “Can you tell me now who my father is?”

Aphrodite gazed down into her face a moment and then she sighed. “Perhaps. I will have to ask him first. Yes, he still lives, Vivianna, but I have not seen him for a great many years. Not since I had the awful task of telling him you had been stolen. But I promise I will speak to him, and tell him you have been found, and if he is agreeable, I will give you his name. As for your sisters, I think it is best to wait until they are older bef

ore I speak to them. I fear for you all. I would rather suffer myself than have more harm come to you. I could not bear to lose any of you again, but especially not you, Vivianna. I know you now. I see you, living and breathing and standing before me. Your sisters…they are still memories, still little girls.”

“Why should you be afraid?” Vivianna asked, with something of her usual spirit. “You can name this man. He can be punished for what he did.”

Aphrodite shook her head. “This man will be watching; he always watches. If he thinks the truth might come out about what he has done, I know he will not scruple to act again. Or he will deny it, and why should anyone believe me over so important a gentleman? Let me deal with this, please. I understand your longing to know all, but believe me, it is safer if you do not. Not just yet.”

“I do not mean to press you….”

“I know. You are impatient. I will speak with your father, and then I will contact you. You must understand, mon chou, there were promises made before you were born. I swore I would do only as he wished in that regard. I cannot break them now.”

Vivianna understood, of course she did, but that did not help her to feel any more patient. She had found her mother, looked upon her, and now she wanted to know her father, too.

“I can hardly believe it,” she murmured. “Where was it we lived? I tried so hard to remember it, and to name the village nearby, but I could not remember! I could not remember enough to enable them to find us our home. I failed my sisters. I could not bring them home again.”

Aphrodite gave her a fierce hug. “You did not fail! You were magnificent. You saved them, Vivianna. And it is my fault, and your fathers’, that you did not know enough to find your way home. I kept you all secluded and, I thought, safe. You and your sisters lived a sheltered life in the country. You were my treasures and I thought you would never be stolen. How wrong I was!”

“This man…are you certain he cannot be punished?”

“I cannot prove he did it. Nothing is so simple. I must tread very carefully, my daughter, for all our sakes. There is danger. Do you understand? I must have your promise you will not act alone or tell your sisters before I am ready to do so. Will you promise me?”

Vivianna nodded reluctantly. “Yes, I promise.”

“Then trust me in this. I swear I would die rather than allow you all to be harmed again. I will send word when I have news.”

Again Vivianna nodded. It was, she realized, time to go. She did not want to go, but she knew she must. This was not her home, and although Aphrodite was her mother, she had not been in that position for many years. Lady Greentree—Mama—would be wondering where she was. Lady Greentree had been her mother since she was a child, and Vivianna realized, with a sense of regret, that Aphrodite must remain in the shadows.

Aphrodite must have known that herself, for she gave a sad little smile. “You go home now,” she said. “I know you must. I do not hate Lady Greentree. She has cared for you and loved you, and I am grateful. I lost you long ago, and now you are back, but it cannot be as it was. I know that. I know that.” She sighed and shook her head. “Go, mon chou, and I will send word when it is time to meet your father. But please, you may come back to me. Whenever you wish.”

“Thank you. I will. I think I will need time to believe this is not a dream.”

“Of course. Goodbye, Vivianna. Goodbye, my daughter.”

She fell into her arms again, and then she was beyond the door. Outside, the birds were singing. She could hear them above the noise and chaos of London. She had found her mother. After so many years they were reunited.

She could hardly believe it.

And the birds were singing.

“I have lost her. I have found her, only to have lost her. Oh, Jemmy, Jemmy, I never thought…I never realized it would hurt so much, when I am so happy.”