Chapter 19
Elf and Chastity took the boat upriver to Chelsea. Elf soon realized that this wasn’t wise, for the boat held far too many memories for such a day.
Fort had been upset to hear Bryght had shot the bridge and put her in danger.
It was from this boat she’d watched him fall, and known he was wounded.
It was from here that she’d ordered the execution of a man.
Despite these thoughts, she managed a flow of light chatter throughout the journey.
The boat conveyed them to Lord Coalport’s boathouse—a miniature cottage, complete with deep thatched roof. From there they climbed the steps to his pretty garden, which was in full summer bloom. Elf told herself that it was nothing like arriving at Vauxhall for a midsummer masquerade.
It was daytime, for a start, and an ideal one for a picnic.
They were blessed by a cloudless sky, but also by a light breeze to cut the heat.
Tables of food and drink sat beneath shady trees, and ladies and gentlemen strolled paths and lawns, chatting.
To one side, a small orchestra played peaceful, soothing music.
A perfect English summer day.
As they went in search of their host and hostess, however, Chastity swatted with one hand. “Wasps. That’s always a problem with picnics.”
Elf sighed, seeing it as an unfortunate omen.
She wore amber jewelry with her outfit, and the large pendant around her neck contained a winged insect trapped there through the ages. It was similar to the effect created by the wasp engraved in the topaz.
Were she and Fort both trapped in a situation they could neither enjoy nor fully escape?
Her Malloren soul said there was always an escape for the brave. But did courage always bring victory?
They headed toward the house, where Elf saw Lord Coalport standing by his wife’s chair near the terrace steps.
She suddenly stopped dead.
Chastity turned back. “What’s wrong?” She followed Elf’s eyes. “Oh, there’s Fort. What has you so shocked? You expected to encounter him here. Is it that he’s in colors again? I must have forgotten to mention it.”
Certainly it was a small surprise to see Fort in blue silk, but that wasn’t what had frozen Elf to the spot. Couldn’t Chastity see? Sitting beside him was London’s latest darling—Lord Coalport’s daughter, Lydia.
The girl had arrived in town in the spring and created a sensation.
Pictures of her had appeared in the print shops—not scandalous pictures, but idealized ones of angelic beauty.
Soon her every appearance and the details of every gown were in the newspapers.
At one point the Horse Guards in the Mall had been called out to intervene to control the crowds of people wanting to catch a glimpse of her.
Elf had not paid the girl much attention, for she’d seen such beauties come and go. But that did not deny the fact that Lady Lydia possessed extraordinary beauty. Glossy dark curls, a perfect heart-shaped face, huge eyes of an almost violet color . . .
Even this catalog of perfections did not do her justice, for it was all put together perfectly and accompanied by grace and a charming youthful modesty.
Lady Lydia, in an exquisite blue-and-lilac dress and a hat that appeared to be composed entirely of lace and flowers, sat beside Fort smiling up at him as if he were a god come to life. He was smiling back at her as if she were the most fascinating person he had ever met.
Charming though she was, the girl could hardly put together two coherent sentences, so what had him so absorbed?
As if that wasn’t obvious. Elf wanted nothing so much as to flee back to the boat and go home.
Such a retreat was unthinkable, however, so Elf drew upon years of social training and smiled and chattered as she continued toward her host. Lord Coalport greeted them affably, so Elf supposed she was saying and doing all the right things.
She could hardly tell when she was so rattled by fear and anger.
She would have to go over and talk to Fort. What had possessed her to come here with his sister? Otherwise she could have ignored his existence.
Of course, she’d never intended to ignore his existence. She’d come here to woo him, damn his black heart.
Unless the girl moved—a likely event, to be sure!—she would have to talk to Lady Lydia. It would be a remarkably one-sided conversation, she thought with appropriate waspishness.
She saw no point in putting it off. As soon as they could move on from the Coalports, Elf summoned every scrap of Malloren spirit, and went over to smile and chatter at Fort and his lovely companion.
“I’m pleased to see you recovering, Walgrave.”
Perhaps, just perhaps, he had a little trouble meeting her eyes. “Thank you, Lady Elf. Are you acquainted with Lady Lydia?”
Elf smiled at the girl. “A little. What a lovely property your family has here.”
The girl blushed as if she’d been paid an outrageous compliment. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
“Especially now the city grows so hot and dusty.”
“Oh yes, it is, isn’t it?”
Elf couldn’t help herself. She flashed Fort a look of disbelief.
He met it with a look of his own, a challenging one.
Then she understood.
This was a direct move to counter her persistent stinging of him. Dear God, had she pushed him into peril again?
With a resolute breath, she sat on the bench beside Lydia, leaving Chastity to talk to Fort. He gave her a thoughtful look, as if wondering about her intentions, but then turned to talk to his sister.
Elf smiled at her rival. “This has been your first visit to London, hasn’t it, Lady Lydia?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“And have you enjoyed it?”
The girl looked around. “Everyone has been most kind.”
Elf’s competitive instincts abruptly became protective. Gemini, but the child should still be in the schoolroom! “Perhaps a little overwhelming?” she suggested gently.
Lydia turned back, a spark of relief in her huge eyes making her even more breathtaking. “Oh, yes! Overwhelming expresses it perfectly. Everyone has been most kind, such flattering attention, but”—color rushed into her cheeks—“I will be glad to be home again.”
Elf reached over and squeezed Lydia’s hand. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be just seventeen and cause a crowd to gather even when walking down the street. “Next time you come to town, you will be more at ease, I promise.”
“I suppose so.” But Lydia looked down and fiddled with the trimming of her lovely dress.
“You do not want to return?”
The girl glanced up as if considering the wisdom of a frank answer. She was not at all stupid, Elf realized, just very young and appropriately shy. “I suppose it will be different if I return to London as a married lady.”
Elf’s mouth dried. “Is that likely?”
Lydia blushed. “A number of gentlemen have expressed their admiration.” But her glance slid betrayingly to Fort.
Pain around Elf’s heart made it hard to breathe. She’d expected to find Lydia a pretty bird-wit quite unworthy of Fort, but she was charming, innocent, and honest. Too young, though. Surely too young. What were her parents thinking of?
When she spoke, she felt only an honest desire to help.
“There can be no hurry, surely. If I were you, I would enjoy the single state a little longer. I assure you, you will not lack for offers in a year or two.”
And Lydia laughed, doing so as charmingly as she did everything else. “That’s what my mother says. But having begged to be brought to London . . . And . . .” Lydia glanced again at Fort, who appeared to have all his attention on Chastity and a gentleman who had joined them.
Clearly it had to be spoken of openly. “Lord Walgrave is a handsome man,” Elf said.
“Yes, he is.” But Lydia did not speak like an infatuated girl. It was a simple statement of fact.
“And one of the most eligible men around.”
“Indeed.”
“He can be a pleasant companion.”
“Oh yes. He teases me and makes me laugh.”
Elf wanted to burst into tears. Just briefly in the cellar he’d teased her, and when they’d been shouting for help it had come to laughter, but teasing was a side of Fort she’d never really known.
Yet it seemed it came naturally to him with Lydia.
She knew she should wave the white flag, should surrender the field of battle. This was what she wanted for him, wasn’t it, someone who could make him joyous in season? But in her opinion, Lydia was still too young for marriage, too young to know her mind.
She smiled at the girl who might steal the man she loved, and spoke as honestly as she could.
“Let me give you some advice, my dear, unasked for as it is. You are very young. Do not rush into marriage for any reason other than the deepest devotion. But if you feel that devotion for Lord Walgrave, accept him now. I doubt he will still be available next year.”
Lydia considered her, then said, “Thank you, Lady Elf. I think that is sound advice.”
Elf had the horrible feeling that the girl could read the situation too well by far. No, not stupid. A treasure in fact, and if Fort could win her, she should wish him all success.
She had done what she could and with the best of intentions, and so she excused herself and rose to mingle with the other guests, chatting to this group and that. They were all old friends and acquaintances and put no strain on her.
The strain came entirely from the man sitting in the shady spot with a treasure by his hand, ready to be claimed. But really, she thought—despite her charitable intentions—could he seriously want to share the marriage bed with a delightful infant?
Why, thought Fort, had he believed he could marry a mere child?
Oh, she was beautiful almost beyond belief, and charming with it. But if he did marry her, he didn’t think he’d be able to touch her for years. And even having let years go by, he couldn’t imagine ever enjoying with Lydia the sort of wild loving he’d explored with Elf Malloren.