Lord Lightning (2 page)

“Is Sir Thomas rich?”

“As rich as Croesus—and all self-made they say.”

“Then perhaps you can trust his advice. A selfmade man would understand investment. Is he a good man?”

“What would I know of goodness in men?” snapped the actress. “But he’s handsome, anyway, and very attentive—and far less temperamental than His Lordship. He already has children—his wife died giving him his sixth, and he respects me as an
artiste.
Perhaps
he
would make me his wife—”

Violet stood up. As she took a step toward Eliza, her eyes darted from one horoscope to the other where they lay on the tiring table amid the spilled powder and rouge. “Perhaps you do know something,” she said. “But can you tell me about His Lordship? Can you ferret out
his
secrets with your charts?”

Eliza nodded, relieved to have moved on to an easier topic. “Oh yes, his character is very clear.”

“To you, perhaps, who’ve never met him,” Violet said with a wry grin. “But not to those of us who’ve had to deal with him.”

Eliza could not help but smile. Then she said,
“His Lordship is a fiery man. He has great pride and courage. He shows strong loyalty to those who serve him faithfully. He has an excellent wit and wishes others to admire it. He is also a fine actor and loves to play a part. Because the moment of his birth was ruled by Venus there is much pleasure in his life and much affection. Indeed, he has a much greater need than the ordinary man to give and receive affection because he is a Leo. It is the sign of those who are born to love.”

“How very interesting,” said Violet, with a guarded look. “But what about his constancy?”

Warned by the actress’s tone, Eliza paused before replying, anxious not to make another misstep. “I think His Lordship could be very constant in his affections, were they fully engaged. Though it’s true that his Sun is opposed by Saturn, which could mean his ability to love might develop only as he got older. Still, once it was awakened, he would be a very faithful lover.”

She glanced down at the chart again to allow herself another look at His Lordship’s Saturn, before adding, “If he has difficulty expressing his true nature, it’s because there’s some hidden sorrow in his life—something to do with his early life. Did his mother die when he was young?”

It seemed likely. The nameless lord’s nativity bore the same conjunction of the Moon and Mars that appeared on her own chart, and her own mother had died in a carriage wreck when Eliza was only eight.

But Violet disposed of that possibility, saying, “No, his mother is most definitely alive—far too alive according to him. There was some great broil between them in his youth and any mention of her will send him into one of his rages.”

“Well, that would fit, too. The Moon in a chart describes the mother and Mars may often be expressed as anger,” Eliza said. “Still, I would expect he experienced something painful in his childhood. Saturn is the Lord of his House of Early Life and it stands in that house, too, making it more powerful. His childhood must have been one of suffering.”

“Suffering is not a word I should think of in relation to His Lordship.” Violet laughed. “His home is like a palace. He has more riches than he can spend. And if that weren’t enough, he’s so handsome it’s hard to understand why he bothers to keep a mistress as there are plenty of women of the ton who would gladly take on the role
gratis.
No, the only suffering in his life is the suffering he causes others. He’s notorious for the pranks he plays on people.” Violet paused and the expression of scorn that had previously filled her face was replaced by one that held a hint of curiosity. “Does his chart tell you why he’s such a rake?”

Eliza examined the chart again then answered, “I see nothing here that would explain it.” But even as she spoke she wondered. She knew so little about such matters and doubted her Aunt Celestina had known much more. The only rake
they’d encountered in Bishops Ridley had been found in the pages of Mr. Richardson’s novel
Clarissa
and they hadn’t had his chart.

More to reassure herself than for the benefit of the actress she went on, “His Moon is in Taurus, Venus’s sign, and it stands in the Eighth House, which would be read by some to mean he was very passionate. But even so, Jupiter, the planet of good fortune, is in his Seventh House of Marriage. So, I do not see a rake here.” She tapped one finger on the powder-spattered top of the dressing table. “I see a man who needs love and who is capable of intense devotion. The woman he loved would be very fortunate.”

Several other actresses had drifted into the room, attracted by the sound of conversation.

“Who’s she talking about?” one asked.

“I’ll let you guess,” Violet said. “A fiery man, prideful and courageous, with a strong need of affection. Oh yes, don’t let me forget—he’s loyal and constant in love.”

The other girl looked mystified. “And who, pray tell, is this paragon?”

“That’s the joke of it, Sally.” Violet laughed. “This loving, constant man she’s sketched out for us is none other than Edward Neville, Lord Hartwood.”

“Lord Hartwood? That is a good joke, indeed.” The girl giggled. “Lord Lightning, a loving, constant man? Why he’s monstrous proud of his profligacy. I’ve heard him stand right here and brag that he’d never give his heart to a woman for even a single moment.”

“Indeed,” Violet said.

Eliza put out a hand to steady herself against her chair. It was almost too much to take in. Violet’s nameless lord was Lord Hartwood? Even living in obscurity in the tiny hamlet of Bishops Ridley she had heard dreadful stories about the notorious rake the world had nicknamed Lord Lightning thanks to his shocking behavior.

Violet turned back to face her, her rosy lips curled in disdain. “What a fraud you are. For a moment you had me thinking you could tell the future. But you must have learned what you knew about me from someone you bribed. Too bad you forgot to question them about my protector.” Rage had turned her even features ugly. “I am glad I hid Lord Hartwood’s identity from you. Had I not done so, scandal alone would have told you all you needed to sketch out his character.”

“But what I described to you must
be
his character,” Eliza protested. “At least it must be if the time and place of birth you gave me were correct. But if they
were
correct, I don’t care what scandal says about him. Lord Hartwood must be exactly the man I described to you.”

“Then you are a charlatan. All the world knows Hartwood’s character. And all the world knows of his heartlessness, too.”

“Then perhaps all the world is wrong,” Eliza snapped. But even as she heard herself speak those words, she wondered how she could have been so mistaken. She picked up Lord Hartwood’s horoscope again and peered at it, muttering
under her breath as she scanned the symbols she had so carefully drawn the previous evening. What had she missed?

It was true the new planet, Uranus, stood at the top of his chart. Any planet in that position described the reputation the native would earn in the world. But with Uranus, who could say what it meant? It was so unfair to have new planets to deal with—planets about which the ancients knew nothing. Sir William had done the world no favor by discovering this one.

But she’d ignored Uranus in making her interpretation. Perhaps that was her mistake, as any planet placed at the top of a chart must be important. She recalled now how her aunt, who had maintained a correspondence with many of England’s most distinguished astrologers, had speculated toward the end of her life that the new planet might indicate explosions, eccentricities, and sudden, unexpected events. If that was true it might explain the personality Lord Lightning showed to the world. Then she remembered something else: she had assumed the conjunction of His Lordship’s Mars and Moon described an accident like her mother’s. But her own Mars-Moon conjunction stood in the House of Travel where it might well describe a coaching accident. Lord Hartwood’s afflicted planets were set in a different house: the troublesome Eighth House which governed Sexual Relations. Placed there it might indeed describe a man who directed his anger at
women or even a sexual pervert. Eager to confirm that this had been her mistake, she looked up at the glowering actress and demanded, “Has Lord Hartwood hurt you?”

Violet shook her head no.

“Are his tastes in love abnormal?”

“Far from it.”

“Why then do you disparage him?”

Violet looked uncomfortable. “He’s a very cold man, not a warm one as you described him. He says cruel things. And from the start of our connection, he has shown so little interest in pursuing the delights of love that I’ve wondered if he keeps another woman.”

“He doesn’t force himself on you against your will?”

“Far from it. Indeed, I wish he would force himself upon me more. I would feel more confident of retaining his affections if he would give in to the normal passions of a male. But he doesn’t. He shows no passion at all, but just toys with me. It’s quite unsettling.”

“Then it is just as I thought,” Eliza announced triumphantly. “You have listened to too much idle gossip. The lustful libertine your friends describe is not Lord Hartwood. He is more complex. His need for love is there. Perhaps you cannot see it, but it is most definite and strong, though I do wish someone who knew him better could shed more light on his true character.”

“Perhaps I can,” drawled a deep male voice.
“I wager I know Lord Hartwood’s character far better than any of you, having known him intimately these past thirty-two years.”

The women packing the small dressing room sprang back to open a path for the pale-haired man garbed in elegant evening dress who stood at the doorway, so tall the crown of his lofty beaver top hat almost brushed the lintel. He balanced a large jeweled dagger lightly in his right hand and flourished it before making a stabbing motion in the air. Then he took a single step forward and, with a powerful flick of his hand, sent the knife sailing into the corner, where a harsh squeak revealed it had glanced off its target, a large gray rat. The women shrieked as the animal scampered away. Eliza managed to maintain the outward appearance of composure—glad that her aunt had taught her to suppress all sign of feminine weakness—but she was no less perturbed. Even Uranus at Lord Hartwood’s midheaven had not prepared her for this!

“I don’t like vermin,” he said coldly. He strode to the corner and picked up the knife, running a finger along the side of the blade as if cleaning it. Then he stalked back toward Violet. The jewels on the dagger’s hilt sparkled more brightly with his advance. As the actress cowered back against the wall, Lord Hartwood closed in and brought the dagger up slowly toward her chest until it touched the top of one rounded breast projecting from her low-cut bodice, just above her heart. Then, before she had time to react, he grasped the blade with a
swift motion of his other hand, twisted the blade, and snapped it in half.

“You were so frightened, my darling Violet,” he said in a soft mocking tone. “But there’s no need for fear. It was only a papier-mâché knife that I found in the prop room. I took a fancy to it, imagining myself for a moment in the role of Hamlet. But you needn’t fear me. The knife was as harmless as I am. It couldn’t have hurt you any more than your insults could have hurt me.”

Violet rounded on Eliza, her face flaming. “Now see where your foolishness has led us! Here’s Lord Hartwood himself, and now, I wager, you shall have a taste of that bad temper you were so sure he didn’t have.”

Eliza bit her lower lip, determined to show no hint of the dismay she felt. The golden guineas she had been so close to earning had been swept away in the storm that had blown up between the actress and her protector—the golden guineas that were all that stood between Eliza and ruin.

Violet, meanwhile, had recovered herself as best she could. Turning back to her protector, who still loomed over her, she said, “This is only some foolish girl who’s come to read the players’ fortunes, Your Lordship. She’s an imposter and knows nothing about the stars. Please don’t take offense at her foolish ramblings.”

“On the contrary,” Lord Hartwood protested with a cold smile that did not reach his dark brown eyes. “Your seeress is a deep well of wisdom. I have been standing outside your doorway these
past five minutes and am much diverted by the character she’s given me. ‘Loyal and loving. A man who must have love to live.’ How refreshingly different.” He paused, and his eyes hardened. “But you made it clear you don’t share her good opinion of me.”

Violet blanched, and Eliza wondered what else Lord Hartwood had heard, his mistress’s words disparaging his sexual performance? Clearly Violet thought so. After shooting a furious look at Eliza, she took a deep breath, faced Hartwood, and said, “I shall not mislead you, Your Lordship. My regard for you has changed. Though I appreciate all you have done for me, I cannot accompany you to Brighton. If I did, I would have to give up the leading role in the theater’s new play. I don’t believe that your feelings for me are strong enough to justify such a sacrifice.”

Hartwood gestured toward Eliza. “Was it for help in deciding this matter that you took counsel with the little fortune-teller?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve taken her advice, though you’ve just assured me she’s a deluded fool?”

“It had nothing to do with her.”

“Then what does it have to do with?” He paused, his dark eyes glittering. “Were the jewels I bought you not to your taste? Was the house I purchased too small? Or was it my lack of interest in your skills between the sheets that disgusted you? Come, tell me. I would like to know.” As he
spoke the last phrase, he began to walk toward Violet, pushing her back with each step.

He was a much better actor than Violet. The chart had not lied there. He was the classic Leo, part actor, part spoiled child. He used his whole body when he spoke, his long, strong hands expressing the tension he kept out of his voice. Everything about him demanded he be noticed, even the things he had no control over like the startling contrast between his pale blond hair and gleaming mahogany eyes.