Chapter Four
After the duke had gone home, Louisa retired to her favourite room, planning to spend the rest of the morning with a book.
But her mind kept straying back to his visit and the story that had been written out for her to learn.
She set her novel aside and pulled the papers from her pocket, spreading them out to peruse.
The duke wrote with clear, smooth strokes with no excessive flourishes or blots.
She could not remember seeing so much of his writing in one place before.
He wrote often to Percy when they were not in town together.
Though her brother read the most interesting parts of the letters aloud, he would have thought her quite odd if she’d asked to examine the pages herself.
These lines were written just for her and she meant to enjoy them.
Bonham had a fine, masculine hand. She hoped he followed through on the plan to write her some love letters.
She could build an entire world of daydreams on a man who had such nice handwriting.
If she did not look at the signature, she could imagine anyone she liked.
He would still look like the Duke of Bonham. But there was no reason to let the truth limit her. The pages before her were full of simple delights that could be found in London. She could imagine this life and enjoy it as if it had actually happened.
Of course, the trip to Hatchard’s sounded familiar.
It was very like a real conversation she’d had with the duke.
At some point, he must have run out of ideas and fallen back on the truth.
She hoped that did not mean that these other meetings were taken from memory, too.
That would mean he’d swapped out some other woman and popped Louisa into her place.
That was not much different than what she did when fantasising about him, weaving him into the plots of the books she read.
But he did not know about that and she had no intention of telling him.
It felt less pleasant when the situation was turned about and she was pasted over someone else.
But given time, and enough re-readings, she would learn to forget it.
She scanned down the page. There was nothing to be made of meeting at church. That was simply too boring to read more than once. Having ices at Gunter’s was familiar enough. She’d usually eaten alone, or with female friends. But never with a handsome man doting on her every word.
Thomas Smith had not taken her to balls or dinners.
But she could not blame him for that. Bonham had attended such things with her.
His alter ego could not have been in the same place.
Nor should he be wandering around where anyone might have seen him.
Their courtship was secretive, which made it rather romantic.
At least, it was romantic if she ignored the most significant fact about it. The man involved did not exist. She could not dance herself around the floor at Almack’s and pretend he was there. Their courtship had been so discreet that even she did not know about it until this morning.
If she had not spent so much of her life alone and enjoying the rich fields of her imagination, she’d have called the duke’s plan nonsense.
But in a way, this suited her. A make-believe love affair was the sort she deserved.
It implied a social success for her that required no effort.
It was not marred by shyness, social gaffes or her tendency to let her mind wander while men were speaking to her.
Perhaps she paid better attention to Thomas Smith. Or maybe he was just a very patient man.
The door opened at the front of the house and she heard Percy leaving his hat and gloves with the butler before appearing in the doorway of the room to grin at her. ‘Alone again, my dear Louisa?’
She smiled back. ‘I usually am at this time of day.’
‘I take it Bonham has come and gone, already,’ he said, glancing at the papers in her hand.
‘He left me with the story of Tom Smith,’ she said shaking the notes at him. ‘Apparently, I’ve had a lovely Season. It is a shame I do not remember any of it.’
Percy laughed. ‘I would never have encouraged his suit if the man did not treat you well.’
‘He was only in town for two weeks. But we went riding in Hyde Park, to the menagerie and to Vauxhall Gardens two nights in a row.’ She frowned at her brother. ‘You have never taken me to Vauxhall once and it has been years.’
‘I haven’t?’ The innocent look he gave her was probably meant to hide the sort of women who usually accompanied him on such visits. The place was not disreputable. But the crowds that mixed there were more varied than the ones she’d met at gatherings of the ton.
‘You haven’t,’ she replied. ‘But we are not gone from town, yet. And you have no engagements tonight, do you?’
‘I do not,’ he agreed. ‘Most of the regular crowd has left for the country, already. You might not know anyone there.’
He said that as if it was a disappointment. To her mind, it would be a relief to spend an evening without having to pay attention to gentlemen who had no interest in speaking with her. ‘The Gardens have not closed, have they? There are still jugglers and music and fireworks?’
‘And overpriced food. And stifling crowds of ruffians, cutpurses…’
‘Percy!’ She was not the sort of girl to stamp her feet and pout, but today she was sorely tempted.
‘I will call for the carriage at eight,’ he said, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘Be ready. Wear comfortable shoes. We will see if the place lives up to your expectations.’
It was nearly nine when Thomas arrived at the gates of the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens and paid his two shillings at the gate.
He had planned for a quiet night at home, since there were few of them to be had before he set off for Wiltshire with the Skeffingtons.
But a late afternoon note from Percy had changed his plans.
T.
Hope you enjoyed your walk with my sister. Because of Tom Smith, you shall have to have another. She’s read all about her courtship and now I must take her to see Vauxhall.
Meet us at the Pavillion for supper.
P.
He made his way through the crowds to the place Percy had suggested and scanned the space for an empty supper box. As it usually was, the place was crowded, noisy and a bit tawdry. After months of tasteful balls and carefully arranged dinners, the excess was a shock to the system.
Once he was satisfied that he could find seats, he turned back to look for his friends. A moment later, a woman who was obviously too focused on the chaos around her to watch where she was going, crashed into him with such force she nearly knocked herself to the ground.
He grabbed her automatically, set her back on her feet and reached up to straighten her crooked bonnet.
Her head tipped up to look at him. ‘Oh.’ She tried to straighten her own bonnet, only to move it back to the awkward slant he’d corrected. ‘Excuse me, Your Grace.’
‘Thomas,’ he reminded her. ‘Take care, Louisa.’
Behind her, Percy smiled and shrugged.
‘I was…’ She looked around her and made an expansive gesture. ‘It is just too wonderful. The lights…’ She waved up at the hundreds of coloured lanterns, leaning so far back she almost overbalanced again.
He took her arm, steadied her and recorrected her bonnet. ‘You have never been here before?’
She shook her head and the bonnet wobbled again. ‘There is a statue of Handel. And a prancing horse. All in the same place.’
‘We must get the girl one of those miserable ham sandwiches,’ Percy said with a sigh. ‘That will anchor her to Earth, again. She is impressed by far too little.’
‘Because you never take her from the house,’ Thomas said with a smile. He had meant it as a joke. But she was still looking around her as if she suspected the lanterns were filled with actual stars. Her mood did not change when he led her to the supper box he’d found for them.
As Percy ordered them a chicken, a bottle of champagne and a plate of custard tarts, Louisa stared at the paintings decorating the walls. ‘A Hogarth,’ she whispered.
‘It is shockingly maintained,’ Thomas replied. ‘But I believe you are right.’
As they ate their food, Louisa continued to chatter, which was quite out of character for her.
She seldom carried the conversation when he dined at Percy’s townhouse, nor was she overly talkative when he saw her out at the many gatherings of the Seasons.
But if she’d never been to Vauxhall, there was much to see and all of it was rather remarkable on the first viewing.
It was strange to find a girl so inexperienced, especially when he knew Percy held a season ticket to the place.
‘I suppose you have never seen the cascade,’ he said, when she stopped to take a breath.
Her nutmeg-brown eyes grew wide, and she gave her brother an expectant look.
He shrugged, again.
‘You have been neglecting your sister,’ Thomas said, cocking his head in the direction of the back of the park.
‘Couldn’t exactly bring her along the last time I came here,’ Percy replied with a grin.
‘Because you brought an opera dancer,’ she added, sipping her second glass of wine.
‘You are not supposed to know of such things,’ Percy chided.
‘You let slip more about her than you ever did about the attractions here,’ she said, draining her glass. Then, she turned back to Thomas. ‘What is the cascade?’
He shook his head. ‘It is better you see it than I try to describe it.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘The bell will ring at ten. We do not have much time.’
Percy leaned back in his chair and poured the last of the bottle into his glass. ‘You take her. I’ve had more than enough fun for the evening.’
For a moment, the usual Louisa returned and she gave him the same doubtful look she had that morning. Before she could ask about the need for a chaperone, he poured the remainder of his champagne into her glass and said, ‘Drink up.’
She looked surprised, as if she could not quite understand how she’d got more wine. Then, she drank. He stood and pulled her out of her chair. ‘Come along, little one. And prepare to be amazed.’
They moved with some difficulty through the mobs gathering towards the back of the park to the platform with the black curtain that contained the attraction. Their progress was slower than it might have been, for his companion was easily distracted and delightfully bosky.
He had never seen her drink more than a small glass before. She had always been cautious around him—
polite and cheerful, but reserved. But that had been during the Season, where everyone around her was watching her behaviour, ready to judge her against the other young ladies on the marriage mart.
She would probably be embarrassed tomorrow if she remembered. But there was no harm in it. She was perfectly safe in his company and there were no familiar faces in the crowd that might mock her for the lapse.
As the bell rang to signal the beginning of the display, he turned her gently towards the attraction and watched as they pulled back the curtain.
The tableau was a painted backdrop of a woodland clearing with a bridge and a realistic mannequin of an old man whose pipe let out puffs of smoke.
After a time, the song that played to accompany the scene gave way to the tinkling of bells to represent the running water of the cataract.
Beside him, Louisa let out a gasp of amazement as cleverly arranged sheets of tin, rattled and twisted into place, forming a waterfall cascading down the painted cliffs and under the bridge. ‘A clockwork,’ she whispered. ‘It is marvellous.’
He had seen it many times before. But tonight, he watched her watching it, the light sparkling in her eyes and her face transfixed. ‘Yes, very beautiful,’ he agreed quietly.
They watched it to the end, for it took just fifteen minutes from start to finish. As the crowd dispersed, she looked around them at the place where the lanterns were less numerous and the paths gave way to shady grottos. She looked up at him, nibbling on her lip.
He watched as her normally quick mind considered what she was about to say. Then she looked back into the gloom. ‘Are those the dark walks I have heard about?’
‘Yes,’ he said, reminding himself that, if she was safe with him, they should not be having this conversation. ‘And now, it is time to go back to your brother.’
‘Do not worry,’ she said with a deliberate nod. ‘I am not going to ask you to show them to me. That would be very improper.’
‘It would,’ he agreed with no small amusement.
‘But they were not mentioned in your little story about Mr Tom Smith,’ she said with the careful enunciation of one who wished to seem much more sober than they actually were. ‘Would he have taken her—I mean me—down that path, do you think?’
‘Would you have allowed him to?’ he asked, honestly curious.
She looked up at him, wide-eyed. ‘I do not know. No one has ever tried such a thing before.’
‘Never?’ he said. ‘No one has stolen a kiss from you in the moonlight at a ball. Or coaxed you down a dark hall at a house party?’
She scoffed, then dissolved into a giggle as light as a champagne bubble. ‘Certainly not. After three Seasons…’ She reached out a gloved finger and gave him a series of pokes to the chest. ‘Not a single kiss. It is probably some sort of a record.’ Then, she looked up at him and smiled.
That was indeed a crime. If she were any other girl, he would stray just a few feet into the darkness and remedy that lack immediately.
If anything, it was proof that he was right to help her gain her inheritance and get a fresh start.
Such a sweet creature living and dying without a single kiss was a crime against nature.
But she was not just any girl. She was his best friend’s sister.
And that friend knew exactly how long the cascade took and was waiting for them to return.
‘You have had far too much wine for us to take this conversation any further, my dear. But I promise you, once you have your money, we will find someone to give you all the kisses you could hope for.’
She seemed satisfied with that answer and linked her arm in his. ‘I will remember you have said that and hold you to it.’
He sincerely hoped she did not.