Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

T hough Eva had always enjoyed a degree of freedom, likely in the hopes that this would allow her to find a husband on her own, this was quickly changing. Though her mother had no real proof of any misdeeds, Lady Stanton still clearly suspected that something had happened that she would not entirely approve of. This was also a perfectly natural response after the downturn in Eva's reputation. Lady Stanton was attempting to control any damage that might be so that she could get as respectable (and wealthy) a husband as she might.

Still, despite this newfound scrutiny at home, Eva found herself wishing to explain her situation and the reason she had to keep her adventure a secret. It was an odd compulsion, as Eva would not a year ago have felt compelled to explain herself under any circumstances. It also made no sense for Eva to need to explain herself to a dancing master; it wasn't as if his good opinion should actually matter to her.

And yet, it did.

The real question was how to go about getting her thoughts known. It wasn't as if she could simply sneak out to see Mr. Galpin again, at the theatre or the academy—Lady Stanton was threatening to escort Eva everywhere, just to ensure that Eva's good name was ensured. This also meant that any outings with Kitty were curtailed as well; she wasn't forbidden to go, but it really was Not On to be accompanied around town by one's mother if one wished to do clandestine activities.

Kitty was proving to be as sympathetic as one might expect, which was fairly significant by virtue of her being Eva's very dearest friend. She had brought over a conciliatory box of violet and rose creams, which they were eating as they lounged atop Eva's bed.

"Are you certain that you even need to say anything to Mr. Galpin? I'm sure he's seen his share of histrionics," Kitty said philosophically.

Eva shrugged, doing her best to appear nonchalant. "I just don't want him to think that I am permanently wedged beneath my mother's thumb."

"Which you are," Kitty reminded her.

Eva sighed, and reached into the box for a rose cream. "Yes, but how will it be if that gets around town?"

Kitty, having just popped a violet cream into her mouth, chewed thoughtfully. "Well," she said, swallowing, "I don't see why it should. He doesn't strike me as a gossip."

"No," Eva agreed. "But the potential is there. He moves about in such rarified circles these days, and you know how the ton would just love to have more unsavoury gossip about me."

"It's your own fault for being the most beautiful girl in London," Kitty said.

Eva smiled at Kitty, patting her cheek affectionately. "Perhaps, but you are undoubtedly the sweetest girl in London." She paused, considering before flopping backward onto the bed. "I know it is not particularly sensible, but I just…can't bear the thought of him thinking poorly of me," she said quietly, barely audible.

Kitty absorbed this, not saying anything. "If you can't speak to him, perhaps you should simply write to him."

Eva propped herself up on her elbows, staring at Kitty. "Just write him a letter? But—he's a single man! Can you imagine the scandal if it were found out? That would be the end of my reputation."

"Then do not sign it," Kitty said with a pragmatic shrug.

"Simple as that?" Eva asked softly.

"I don't see why it shouldn't be," Kitty answered. "Especially when we're faced with a real problem here."

"Which is?"

"There's only one cream left."

Receiving post was something of a mixed blessing for Josiah. On the one hand, there were frequently notes of introduction, invitations, occasionally even invitations to perform. Unfortunately, there were also bills mixed in that needed payment, which was naturally a negative for anyone that had to sort out their own finances.

Josiah idly flipped through the post, finally home for the evening in his plush townhouse. It was not the largest of homes, but the address was fashionable enough, and it was warm and comfortable. Lately, it was a rare evening that Josiah was able to retire at a reasonable hour, and truth be told, he would almost nearly always rather be working.

But the night was chilly, and sleet had begun to tap at the windows. February was right around the corner, and winter was not being particularly kind this year. Even the ton, always so eager for a ball or a party, seemed subdued because of the inclement weather. It was as if all of London had decided to simply stay tucked up in bed; the sounds from the street outside had died down before Josiah had even concluded his supper.

Sighing, Josiah sat heavily at the chair before his writing desk. He tossed the pile of post down, not particularly enthusiastic about reading any of it. As the pile of letters landed, however, the corner of one poked out. The writing was unfamiliar, which was not unusual, but there seemed to be a familiar scent that wafted up.

Reaching down, he lifted the letter. There was no return direction given, but there was indeed a familiar scent that he could not quite place—something spicy and floral all at once. Intrigued, he slid his finger past the seal, and unfolded the letter.

Dear Mr. Galpin,

I am sure that you are surprised by my brazen forwardness in writing to you, unbidden. I would beg your indulgence on this matter, as well as that you grant me further indulgence to allow myself to explain my circumstance.

In truth, it is rather simple: I must find a husband this season, or Mother and I will face destitution. We have been living essentially on borrowed time, and the hourglass is nearly empty. To this end, it is vital my reputation remains as spotless as is possible.

Bearing this in mind, I hope it is a testament to my dedication and love for dance that I took the risk of coming to the theatre regardless of the potential consequences. I find myself in your debt for protecting my foray, and I hope that I may be able to repay it someday.

Yours in friendship,

Eva Stanton.

Josiah read the letter again and again, his eyes running over the words. It was a very daring thing to do, but he was coming to understand that Lady Eva was a daring girl. He tilted the letter toward the candlestick on his desk, illuminating the words better. Idly, he let his thumb, quite near the bottom of the letter, brush over Lady Eva's signature.

"A brave thing to do indeed," he murmured to the empty study. Ostensibly, he meant the outing to the theatre, but her bravery and trust in him also showed with the letter itself. Not only had Lady Eva taken a chance in sending it, but also in the fact that she had signed her name to it; moreover, she had dispensed with the title, choosing to sign simply as herself.

She was right to trust him—there was nothing that could induce Josiah to betray her. He was fond of her, fonder than he was of his other students. There was something irresistible in her pluckiness, her enthusiasm for dance. When he saw her taking her first tentative steps into his world, it was like he was seeing it all over again for the first time. She made him love his art more.

Leaning back in his chair, Josiah looked up at the ceiling, a little lost in thought. He did not wish to endanger her prospects; if something should go array for her, he would feel immensely guilty. It was a difficult world for women, especially those who sought independence—Beatrice had reminded him of that often enough—and if this is what Eva truly wanted, then he would not interfere.

But there was something undeniable about her. It was not just that she loved to dance, there were scores of young ladies who liked a turn about the dancefloor; it was like she had been searching for something, and dancing had been it all along. She saw the possibilities, the art of it, rather than simply using it as a tool to get along with the ton. Her letter spoke about her situation, but showed no enthusiasm for it; she simply laid out the terms, no real plan or confirmation that this is what she would do.

Josiah suspected that there was more to her mother's urge to protect her daughter's reputation than the usual. He had heard hints and whispers about Lady Eva: She was known for gadding about London with a fast set, and all generally agreed that she had been allowed too much freedom the past few years since making her debut. It was also not a secret that Lady Stanton was on the make for her daughter, no matter how circumspect she thought herself to be. It seemed that the ton generally agreed that she was at the centre of at least one fiasco of a romantic plot, and caution was advised.

The real question, then, was if Lady Eva was simply going along with her mother's plans, or did she endorse them? If given the choice, which would Eva choose? For that matter, did she even know that there was a choice for her? Josiah wondered if Eva's enthusiasm for dance was not in actuality an escape attempt, a last bid for some kind of freedom. Perhaps all that she really needed was to know that there were options…

Laying the letter to one side, he pulled out a sheet of writing paper and a knife, cutting a quill with a small knife automatically. He dipped it into the ink well, and hesitating only once, decided to be a little bit daring himself.

"Dear Lady Eva… "