Chapter 14
"Clara?"
Looking over at her cousin, Clara smiled. "Yes, Alice?"
"Your brother has suggested we walk the Grand Walk together --- he wishes to see the cascade."
Her eyebrows lifted. "He wishes to walk with you?"
Alice nodded and then grasped Clara's hand, her voice dropping low beneath the swell of music from the orchestra stand.
"Take the opportunity. Lord Worthington has told me that he and Lord Rutland will be near the south colonnade, past the second turning of the hermit's walk.
It is quieter there --- fewer lanterns."
Excitement sent a thrill up Clara's spine as she caught her breath, her eyes widening.
The warm evening air carried the scent of supper-box ham and something sweeter --- night-blooming jasmine, perhaps, from the gardens beyond the walks.
Thousands of glass oil lamps glittered in the trees above them like earthbound stars, casting everything in a soft, golden haze that made the familiar faces around her seem almost otherworldly. "You think that I might ---"
"Why not? The walks are long and dark enough that no one will notice your absence for a quarter hour." Alice's eyes twinkled. "And I will keep Tyrone occupied. He is in an oddly agreeable mood this evening --- the arrack punch, I think."
Clara put one hand to her stomach, her breath swirling in her chest. "I do not know what to say."
"There is nothing you need say!" Alice laughed, putting her hand on Clara's arm. "You must only act!"
"Alice?"
The deep voice of Lord Tyrone swiped the smile from Clara's face in an instant. He appeared beside them, his coat well-fitted, his manner relaxed in a way Clara had not seen in weeks. Vauxhall seemed to ease something in him --- the openness of it, perhaps, the anonymity of the crowds.
"Ah, Tyrone. I was just telling Clara how eager I am to see the cascade. Shall we walk?"
"Indeed." Lord Tyrone put his arm out to her. "Clara, will you come with us?"
"I think I shall stay and enjoy the music for a few minutes more," Clara replied, gesturing to the supper box where her mother sat in pleasant conversation with Lady Whitaker. "Mama will want company, and the orchestra is about to play a new piece."
Lord Tyrone hesitated, his gaze sweeping over the crowded walks as if assessing something, but Alice tugged gently at his arm and he relented.
Before he turned away, Clara caught her brother's gaze lingering on a gentleman passing their supper box --- Lord Atherstone, recognizable even in the lantern-lit dimness by his commanding height and the particular way he inclined his head to every lady he passed, as though bestowing a gift.
David raised a hand in brief acknowledgment and Atherstone returned it with a broad smile and what Clara thought was a rather conspiratorial nod before disappearing into the crowd along the Grand Walk.
Clara frowned after him. She did not care for Lord Atherstone --- she had said as much to Alice weeks ago --- and her brother's apparent fondness for the man's company was another small puzzle she could not yet place.
But there was no time to dwell on it. Alice was steering David away and the walks were waiting.
"Very well. We shall not be long."
Clara gave her cousin a quick smile and then watched as Alice steered Lord Tyrone towards the Grand Walk, their figures gradually swallowed by the lantern-lit crowds.
The moment they were gone, she rose from the supper box and murmured an excuse to her mother about finding Alice a shawl she had left behind.
She had taken no more than a dozen steps along the lamp-lit path when a familiar figure fell into step beside her.
"Lady Clara." Lord Worthington offered her his arm with an easy smile, as though they had arranged this meeting by the happiest coincidence. "Might I escort you? The walks can be rather crowded this evening."
Relief washed through her. She took his arm gratefully, knowing that with a gentleman at her side she would draw no unwanted attention.
Worthington guided her away from the main avenue with the practiced ease of a man who knew Vauxhall well, turning down a quieter walk where the lanterns were sparser --- pools of golden light separated by stretches of warm darkness where the gravel crunched softly beneath her slippers.
Laughter floated from somewhere she could not see, and the rustling of the elm trees overhead sounded almost like whispered conversation.
And there he was.
Lord Rutland stood beneath a lantern near the colonnade, half in shadow, waiting. When he saw her, the sharpness left his face and something luminous came into his eyes --- something that made her breath catch and her step quicken.
Lord Worthington released her arm and stepped back. "I will keep watch," he murmured, positioning himself where he could see the path in both directions.
Lord Rutland grasped her hand and drew her past the last of the lanterns and into the shadows of the elm walk, where the branches arched overhead like the nave of a cathedral.
The moment they were hidden from the path, she was in his arms. His lips found hers and she clung to him, her hands gripping his shoulders, his hands tight around her waist, both of them holding on as though these stolen minutes were all they would ever have.
It did not last too long and it was near agony to her heart to step away from him. Breathing hard, she gazed up into his eyes and saw him smile, the lantern glow from the distant path catching the edge of his jaw.
"My darling Clara," he murmured, lifting one hand to trail down her cheek. "It is only a few minutes alone with you, I know, but it will be enough to sustain me for the next few days."
"I have struggled being apart from you," she told him, her hand catching his again. "But to know that there is now hope for our future has brought me both relief and joy."
"Not only hope but a promise." A steadiness came into his eyes which had not been there a moment ago.
"Clara, I have been thinking on this a great deal.
If our search for the truth should not lead to freedom for us both to marry with your brother's blessing, then I have another plan in mind.
" He paused, his gaze holding hers with a fierceness that made her pulse quicken. "I would elope with you."
Clara's breath caught.
"It would take some planning," he continued, "and I know the consequences well enough.
There would be much said about us thereafter and it would be damaging to both of our reputations --- whispered about for many years to come.
I would not take such a path lightly. But if it means that we can be man and wife, then that would be enough for me.
" His thumb brushed across the back of her hand.
"I would not demand it, my love. I can understand if ---"
"But what is that to our love?" she cried, and then pressed her hand to her mouth, remembering where they were.
The darkness of the elm walk felt protective but voices carried at Vauxhall, drifting through the trees like smoke.
She lowered her voice. "If we can be together, as husband and wife, then what does a few whispers matter?
It means nothing at all. I would care nothing for it.
" Releasing his hand, she put her own back around his neck, her fingers in his hair.
"The only thing that matters to me is you. "
When he kissed her again, it was soft, slow and sweet; a gentle brush of his lips across hers. Clara leaned into him but then forced herself to pull back. Alice could not keep Tyrone occupied forever, and the cascade was not so long a spectacle.
"I can finally have a secure hope that we will be husband and wife one day soon," she murmured, pressing her hand to his cheek only for him to turn his head and kiss her palm. "I love you, Rutland."
"Not as much as I adore you," he replied, making her smile. "Before you go, Clara, there is something I must tell you."
She waited.
"I discovered that Miss Jennings, my aunt's companion, was sent from the house in disgrace."
Surprise threw itself around Clara's heart. "What do you mean?"
"Lord Prentis informed me that she had done something --- though he did not know what --- that was considered a betrayal to the family she was working for.
Lady Prentis, it seemed, was deeply upset about it but refused to speak of the specifics to anyone.
Thus, Miss Jennings was sent away rather than leaving of her own free will. "
Something kicked hard in Clara's stomach. "You think that my brother's shame, whichever brother's it is, relates to this incident?"
When Lord Rutland nodded slowly, Clara's heart flipped over in her chest, forcing her to catch her breath. "Goodness."
"I do not know for certain but it would align, would it not?"
Clara had no choice but to nod, finding herself in full agreement.
"Yes, I suppose that it would." She let out a slow breath.
"I too have some news for you. I discovered a half finished letter, penned by Tyrone.
It was to be sent to my brother Thomas --- Lord Thomas --- and although it did not have an address, it did state that Thomas was in Devon. "
Lord Rutland's eyebrows lifted.
"I have a spinster aunt in Devon," Clara continued, quickly.
"I have written to him there, in the hope that he is residing with her.
I was careful with what I wrote and did not even sign it as myself, just so I could be quite sure that, should Tyrone discover it, he would not have any certainty as to who penned it. "
"You are both courageous and wise, my darling." Lord Rutland sighed, leaned down and kissed her lightly. "Would that I could stay longer with you but alas, I fear we must go."
A low whistle from the path --- Worthington's signal --- made her start, her skin prickling, but Lord Rutland only smiled.
"Come then. Let me return you to the walks so that your brother does not see you gone."