“Of course,” she replied. “The blouse is by Schweitzer. I mentioned your name, and the staff were most attentive. They measured me so carefully. I may be the most measured woman in London. I do believe every man in Savile Row has had a turn at my inside leg. Have you come here to discuss breeches with me?”
“No.”
“Am I supposed to guess, then?” She laughed. “Very well! I shall guess. You have come here to ask meânay, to
demand
that I give up your brother. You think me unworthy of him.”
“I am not my brother's keeper,” he replied.
She frowned slightly. “You have not come here to rescue Dorian from me?”
“I expect his own good judgment to come into play at some point,” Simon replied. “He will discover, as I did three years ago, that you are a lying, cheating baggage. Then, of course, there will be no need for anyone to rescue him. He will run away from you as fast as he can.”
“As you did?”
He made no reply, merely looked at her. “You look tired,” he said. “You look older.”
She flinched. “I
am
tired,” she said coldly. “I
am
older.”
He smiled unpleasantly. “You are still very beautiful, Celia. What will you do, I wonder, when your looks have gone?”
“I hadn't really thought about it,” she said, shrugging. “I never think of the future. I live in the present. Some man will look after me, I expect.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn't count on it, if I were you. You have nothing to offer but your beauty. When that is gone, no one will want you.”
“In that case, I shall throw myself into the Thames,” she said, laughing. “Drown myself like poor Ophelia. Or perhaps I shall plunge a dagger into my breast, like poor Juliet! Yes . . . when my looks are gone, I shall certainly kill myself.”
“Oh, for God's sake,” he said impatiently. “You are not on the stage now, madam. Must you always be so bloody dramatic?”
“You said you had some business to discuss with me,” she reminded him. “Won't you sit down?” She crossed the room and took one of the armchairs, crossing her legs like a man, one knee over the other.
He remained where he stood, looking down at her. “You are acquainted, I think, with Sir Lucas Tinsley?”
She blinked, startled, but recovered quickly. “Am I?”
Simon frowned down at her. “You met him at Lawrence's studio.”
“Did I?”
“You seduced him.”
“How did I do that?” she wondered.
“You invited him to come and see you,” he said, biting back his annoyance.
She laughed. “Is that all it takes to seduce one of you men? The sterner sex, my foot. You are the silly sex! Don't you know, young man, that I invite
everyone
to come and see me? Young and old, tall and small, rich and poor, male and female. Bums in seats, Lord Simon. It's how I make my living.”
“You were posing for Lawrence. He saw you every day for three weeks.”
“You mean those meetings were not coincidental? He came there to see me?”
“You were posing in the nude, I believe.”
“Yes. Sir Thomas is painting the
Judgment of Paris
. I am Venus, of course, being awarded the golden apple. Well, I couldn't let him put my face on an inferior body, now, could I? It's not a crime, Lord Simon. It is art. Sir Thomas is paying me quite handsomely.”
“I don't doubt it,” he said dryly. “Sir Lucas became infatuated with you. He sent you a diamond necklace.”
She shook her head, bewildered. “What did you say his name was?”
“Sir Lucas Tinsley.”
“Old King Coal! Why didn't you say so? Yes, of course. I met him at Lawrence's studio. What an old sweetie. I quite liked him. We got on so well. We have so much in common.”
“Such as?” he said, taken aback.
“We were both born into poverty and obscurity.”
“One of you shall return to it.”
“This will astonish you, I know, Lord Simon, but not all of us were born with silver spoons in our mouths. Some of us have had to work for what we have.”
“You call that working, do you? Strutting on the stage like a peacock? Displaying your naked body for all the world to see?”
“If I wanted to hear a sermon, young man, I'd go to church. Is there a point to all this?”
Simon focused on a point behind her head and drew a sharp breath. “Sir Lucas wants his diamond necklace back. I am come to collect it.”
She raised her beautifully groomed brows in cool disdain. “Why?” she asked.
“Why? You dare ask? You failed to keep your end of the bargain, madam.”
“What bargain is that?”
“You promised you would grant him your favors. In return, he advanced you the necklace. You must either keep your promise or give the necklace back. Those are your choices.”
She stared at him. “Are you quite mad?”
“
Don't
play the innocent, Celia. Not with me. I know you too well.”
“If
this
is what you think, you do not know me at all,” she said angrily. “Do you really think I would sell myself for a diamond necklace? I am Celia St. Lys! If I want diamonds, all I have to do is snap my fingers. I don't even wear jewels.”
It was true. Offstage at least, she never wore jewelry. She might wear flowers, ribbons, bits of lace, feathersâbut never jewels. When asked about it, she reportedly had said, “I can't afford diamonds, and I refuse to wear paste.”
“Then you won't mind giving it back.”
She glared at him. “Why are you here? What business is it of yours, anyway?” she demanded. “I thought you served the Prince of Wales. Are you now dogsbody to Sir Lucas Tinsley as well?”
“I stand friend to any member of my sex who is mistreated by one of yours,” he replied, throwing her own words back at her.
Her eyes glinted. “Indeed? Your reputation precedes you. But you won't find
me
as easily bullocked as poor Mrs. Cleghorn.”
“I have respect for Mrs. Cleghorn. She kept her word.”
“Prinny kept his word, too, and gave her his IOU. Only you robbed her of it afterward. Poor woman! When you left her, she was so frightened she could not speak. They say her hair turned positively white with terror. But I am not afraid of you, Lord Simon. You will not intimidate me. The necklace was a gift. I never promised him anything in return.”
“You must have promised him something. Why else would he have given you a necklace valued at three thousand pounds?”
“Three thousands? He paid too much.”
“Give it back,” he said. “Give it back, or you will never be rid of me, Celia St. Lys. I will make it my business in life to ruin you.”
She laughed. “I have already agreed to kill myself when my looks are gone. Don't you know when you've won, young man?”
“The necklace, madam.”
“No. Anyway, I don't have it anymore. I sent it back.”
“When?” he said sharply.
“Oh, I don't know,” she replied carelessly. “Let one think! Yesterday? The day before? One's life is such a whirlwind! I hardly know if I'm coming or going!”
“Sir Lucas has not received it.”
“Well, no. I didn't send it back to
him
. Is that what you thought I meant? No no. I sent it back to the jeweler. It
scratched
my neck when I tried it on. Mr. Grey is going to line it with velvet for me. I should have it back soon. I mean to wear it onstage.”
Simon was now out of patience. “Either return the necklace or take Sir Lucas to bed,” he snapped. “Which is it to be? Choose carefully.”
“What are you going to do to me, sir? Drag me to the man's bed, strip me naked, and hold me down while he enjoys me? That
would
be disagreeable.”
“Don't be ridiculous,” he said coldly. “We both know I can make things very difficult for you. You are hoping to become my brother's mistress, are you not?”
She shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Return the necklace, and I won't stand in your way.”
“Won't you?”
“Refuse, and I will tell my brother . . . about us.”
“You mean you haven't told him already?” she exclaimed.
“Believe me, madam. He would not be interested in you if he knew.”
“About our night together? What fun we had! Haven't you told him, really?”
“I never told a soul.”
“You
are
discreet. Here I thought you had
recommended
me.”
“Not bloody likely!” he said roughly. “Loving you was the worst mistake I ever made.”
“Loving me!” she exclaimed softly. “Did you
love
me, young man?”
“I thought so,” he answered. “I thought I'd found heaven on earth.”
She smiled complacently. “I know! I still have the letters you sent me when you were camped at Brighton. âDarling, when are you coming?'”
He stared at her. “You kept my letters?”
She laughed. “You wrote me every day faithfully for three whole weeks. Don't think I wasn't tempted. Rooms over a shop! Horseback riding in Marine Parade or whatever. I even went to Schweitzer to have a proper riding habit madeâblue and white and gold like your uniform. You said a cavalryman's woman should have a good seat, and I wanted to be a credit to you. But before the month was out, I . . . I did hear that you'd found heaven on earth with someone else.”
“I waited for you as long as I could,” he said stiffly.
“Three weeks!” She laughed. “Such fidelity!”
“Fidelity!” he said, red with anger. “You're a fine one to speak of fidelity. You were Lord Palmerston's mistress when I had you.”
“Oh yes. What can I say? I disgraced myself. You were so very attractive. It was the summer of 'fourteen. The war had just ended, and no one thought it would start up again so soon. There were so many balls and parties. And you . . . you were so attractive. You even used to smile in those days. I could not resist you.”
“You swore you would leave Palmerstonâand you didâfor that Frenchy.”
“Armand, yes. Shall I tell you why I chose him over you?”
“Don't imagine that I care, madam!”
“I didn't say you cared. I'm sure you don't. I thought you might be curious, that's all. He offered me marriage.”
Simon stared at her incredulously.
“Yes, I thought he was mad, too,” she said. “But he asked me to marry him. If Bonaparte had not escaped from Elba, I might be the Marquise de Brissac. I might have been happy with you at Brighton for a while, but you would never have married me.”
He looked at her, not sure whether he believed her. “If this is true, why did you not tell me? You never answered my letters. Did you think I would not understand?”
“Of course I never answered your letters; I was engaged to be married. I could not be so disloyal to my future husband. I was honored by his proposal. It wasâas Juliet might sayââan honor I dreamed not of'! I wasn't going to see you or write to you behind his back.”
“You didn't mind cheating on Palmerston,” he reminded her.
“Henry was not my husband,” she said simply. “I would have left Henry for you, if not for Armand. That is the truth.”
“But you kept my letters,” he said slowly. “Was that not disloyal of you?”
“I am an actress,” she replied. “I suppose I could not bring myself to burn such rave reviews! They were good letters,” she added. “We had our time together. But don't pretend you loved me, young man. Don't pretend I broke your heart. You wanted me at Brighton for a trophy, nothing more. You cannot blame me for choosing marriage. Anyway, it hardly matters now. Only I . . .”
“Yes?”
“I never wanted you for an enemy,” she said. “I know we cannot be friends . . .”
“No,” he said quickly and curtly. “We shall never be friends. But we need not be enemies. Give me the necklace, and you will never see me again. Refuse andâ”
“Yes, yes! You need not repeat your threats. I know when I am beaten. I know better than to throw myself on your mercy. I surrender.”
“Good. Write me a note for the jeweler. Mr. Grey, was it? I'll collect the necklace and that will be the end of it.”