A Certain Magic (14 page)

“Are you going to marry Aunt Alice?” she asked Piers.

Alice wished fervently that it were possible to control one’s blushes.

“No,” he said at her side. “I don’t believe your Aunt Alice would be very flattered at the idea, Mary.”

“I don’t see why not,” Mary said. “Uncle Webster has been dead a very long time, and I would like to have you for an uncle.”

“That is high praise indeed,” he said. “I shall keep it in mind. Now, I have not turned my head to look, but I will wager that your aunt’s face is as crimson as the bow at your chin. Am I right?” Her turned a laughing face to Alice’s.

“Mary,” she said, knowing that the coolness of her voice was utterly belied by the color of her face, “that is not the sort of thing you speak of in public, you know. It is not at all ladylike.”

“It is never considered genteel to put another lady to the blush,” Piers said, amused eyes steady on Alice’s face. “Even when she looks very pretty doing it, Mary.”

Fortunately for Alice’s peace of mind, he turned his head at that moment to wink at Mary.

***

Mr. Westhaven was pleased with the party he had arranged for Vauxhall. It should be quite easy to avoid the appearance of having committed himself irrevocably to Miss Borden. Since Vauxhall was an open-air pleasure garden attended by all and sundry, Mr. Bosley had agreed to be one of the party, which included also Lady Margam, Miss Borden, Alice, Sir Clayton Lansing (he had not intended to invite that particular gentleman, but had felt obliged to do so when Lansing had mentioned that Miss Borden had told him about it), Amanda and Jarvis Carpenter, Mr. King, and Miss Marks. 

“I am vastly pleased that Bosley has agreed to be one of the party,” he told Alice. “You will like him, Allie.”

“Will I?” she said. “I must confess to a curiosity to converse with him, having heard so much about him.” 

“You will find him genial and jovial,” he said. “And yet I swear, Allie, he would sell his grandmother if there were profit in it.”

“A delightful character,” she said.

“One in a million,” he said cheerfully.

She was to have her curiosity satisfied early in the evening, Alice discovered. Piers had decided that they would approach the gardens in the slow and cumbersome manner—by boat across the River Thames. It was also, of course, the most enchanting approach to Vauxhall. Mr. Bosley seated himself beside her in the boat, while Sir Clayton frowned and sat with Lady Margam. And he offered her his arm when they set foot on land again.

“If you do not consider it an impertinence for me to expect such a thing, Mrs. Penhallow,” he said, “me being only in trade, you know, and some of the gentry considering that I must therefore have the plague.” He laughed heartily at his own humor.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. “I am very thankful for your arm.” 

“It is civil of you to say so, I am sure, ma’am,” he said. “I have made something of a fortune for myself, it is true, but it is a notion of the gentry, I know, that they can be as poor as church mice, but it is still beneath their dignity to set their hands to some honest work. And how well set up was the late Mr. Penhallow, may I ask?”

Alice almost choked and turned an amused eye in Piers’ direction. But his head was bent to hear something Amanda was saying.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. “He left me with a competence.”

“And his property went to...?” He raised inquiring eyebrows.

“To his cousin, sir,” she said.

“Ah, how sad for you,” he said. “There were no children, ma’am?”

He patted her hand and clucked his tongue in sympathy. “But then you are young enough and lovely enough to attract yourself a handsome lord, if you choose,” he said. “Or perhaps you will turn your eye next time to a man who can offer you a fortune and no titles.” He laughed heartily.

Gracious, Alice thought, startled, was the man flirting with her? This time she did catch Piers’ eye and he winked at her.

Mr. Bosley seated her beside him in the box Piers had reserved for the evening and even replaced her hand on his arm when he had taken his own chair.

“We will dance later, Mrs. Penhallow,” he said genially, “when the orchestra strikes up with a country dance I know the steps to. I suppose you dance quadrilles and minuets and waltzes and all those. I do not. I hope you do not mind sitting for a while.”

“Certainly not, sir,” she said with some amusement. “The gardens and the lights are so enchanting.”

“It is just to be hoped that those clouds do not bring rain until very much later,” he said, “or even a storm. It has been hot enough today.” 

Alice murmured assent and sat back prepared to be entertained. Mr. Bosley told her all about his business and his many assets, for all the world as if he were making an offer to her papa, she thought.

”It is as well to let the young people frolic,” he said affably after a few minutes when Piers was dancing with Miss Borden, Amanda with Mr. King, and Jarvis with Henrietta Marks. “It looks good to see young people happy together, does it not, Mrs. Penhallow?”

She thought how Piers would enjoy hearing his dancing described as frolicking and himself as one of the young people. But it did strike her suddenly that perhaps Mr. Bosley’s interest in entertaining her was more a ruse to keep her away from Piers than a personal interest in her. Had he heard that they were friends? That they had spent some time together in the previous few weeks? Somehow the idea did not seem at all improbable now that she had met the man.

It was a suspicion that was further confirmed when Piers asked her to dance awhile later and Mr. Bosley immediately got to his feet and declared that she had promised the dance to him. It was a waltz.

She followed him to the dancing area with some amusement.

But it was not after all to be a thoroughly enjoyable evening. The gardens were all she had ever dreamed they would be and more. The boxes were gaily decorated, the orchestra played lively music, the food was every bit as good as it was famed to be, and the colored lanterns gave a magical glow to the many trees and to the figures of the revelers below.

But her only escape from Mr. Bosley was with Sir Clayton, who led her onto the dance floor, also for a waltz, tried to hold her too close, and then suggested a walk along the lantern-lit paths. Before they returned to their box a half hour later, she had been forced to fend off yet another kiss and marriage proposal.

It was all very irritating, she thought, as they settled for supper. Yet when she tried to analyze the underlying causes of her irritation, she came up with two answers that only made her feel worse.

The weather was very close. There was not a breath of a breeze. There was a storm coming. She could feel it. It was giving her something of a headache. And the evening would be spoiled. The rain would probably come before the fireworks display. Hence her irritation.

The other cause was far more disturbing. She had had no private word with Piers all evening and had not danced with him even once. They were in surely the most enchanted spot in all of London, and the orchestra had played several waltzes. Yet not one of them had she danced with Piers. The fact irritated her.

And disturbed her a great deal when she had analyzed it. The sooner she returned to Bath, the sooner she could restore a measure of serenity to her mind.

Chapter 9

IT was an evening Mr. Westhaven wished at an end even as he exerted himself to make sure all his guests were occupied and enjoying themselves. He had always enjoyed an evening at Vauxhall and was determined to make the most of this one. Having once set his mind on returning to the country, though, he found himself resenting every day that kept him from making the journey. He intended to set out the next day.

In the meanwhile Bosley seemed to have decided to make Allie the object of his gallantry. Piers was not at all surprised. She looked particularly fine in a dress of deep rose, her dark hair piled high, with curls at her neck and temples. And of course, she was far too well-bred to show any disgust at being singled out for attention by a mere cit. Indeed, he could see that she was amused by the situation, as he had known she would be. He had known Allie would appreciate Bosley’s personality. 

He danced with all his lady guests with the exception of Alice. She was being too jealously guarded by Bosley, and later was borne off by Lansing. He would have worried about her when the two of them disappeared along one of the paths, away from the dancing area. But he knew Alice had too much sense to consent to step off the main thoroughfare. He would wager, though, that Lansing would try to steal a kiss anyway.

By the time they all gathered in the box for supper, Piers was congratulating himself on the success of the evening and on his own success in singling out none of the ladies for marked attention. The only thing that threatened to spoil the evening—and he had no control over that—was the weather. It looked as if a storm might come up before the fireworks display. But he had had the carriages brought around over the bridge. They would not have far to run if the rain came down before they were ready to leave.

It was Mr. Bosley who suggested the walk. It would be a pleasant way to help their supper on its way down, he explained. But when Piers turned to claim Alice’s company, it was to find her hand already resting on Bosley’s portly arm. And even as he turned to Lady Margam, he found a little hand creeping beneath his arm and two large eyes peeping imploringly up at him for a brief moment.

“Miss Borden, “ he said, “would you care to walk with me?”

They all set out along the widest and most brightly lit path. The air was close and still, although a breeze was beginning to sway the upper branches.

“It will be raining within a half hour, “ Lady Margam said. “We had better not go too far.”

“We will turn back as soon as the wind reaches us,” Sir Clayton assured her.

“The trouble with ladies,” Mr. Bosley said, “is that they are always afraid of having their hair blown about and of getting their dresses wet. There are plenty of places to shelter in the gardens.”

“But not for an hour or more while a storm blows itself out, brother,” Lady Margam said.

Mr. Bosley smiled genially down at Alice. “That depends entirely on the company one is in,” he said.

Good Lord, Piers thought hilariously, Bosley really was flirting with Allie. He was going to have to watch to see that the man did not draw her down any of the less frequented paths. Perhaps she was going to have an offer of that fishy fortune after all. He pursed his lips and tried to catch her eye. But she was looking up to the treetops, her lips parted. She looked enchanted.

“I do beg your pardon,” Cassandra was murmuring at his side, “but I thought Sir Clayton was about to offer me his arm. I am afraid of him.”

“Afraid?” he said. “Because the man has such good taste?”

“I am shy,” she said. “I do not know what to talk about with other gentlemen. I feel comfortable with you. I do beg your pardon.”

“I am honored to have your company.” he said. “ I am sorry. Am I walking too fast for you?”

“Just a little,” she said apologetically. “I am wearing new slippers.”

“Then we will stroll in a more leisurely fashion,” he said, slowing his steps so that they fell to the back of the group.

The storm was going to come up far faster than they had anticipated, he noticed a mere few minutes later. The air grew chill, and the branches began to sway above their heads with loud, swishing sounds. The lanterns moved in the trees and the colored lights they cast swayed about, making even more of an enchanted land of the world below them. He must suggest that they turn back.

“Oh,” Cassandra Borden said suddenly, “what was that?” She had stopped walking and was staring down one of the narrow, darkened paths to their left.

“What was what?” he asked. But even as he did so, she pulled her arm free of his and darted down the path.

What the devil? Piers stood still for a moment, not sure whether he should call ahead to the others to wait or pursue his companion before he lost her among the trees. It was a very dark path. He chose the latter course. 

She stopped a short distance down the path and looked carefully about her. “Where did it go?” she asked.

“Where did what go?” He took her arm in a firm grasp. 

“The kitten,” she said. “A little lost, frightened kitten. Did you not see it?” 

“No, I did not,” he said. “It was doubtless a stray, Miss Borden. We had better return to the main path. I fear it is going to start raining soon. We should find the carriages without delay. The fireworks will have to wait until another night, I’m afraid.”

“But we cannot abandon it,” she said, sounding on the verge of tears. “Poor little lost kitten. I would not be able to sleep tonight for thinking of it out here, starving and alone.”

Oh Lord, Piers thought, how did one explain to a sensitive young girl that looking for a kitten in Vauxhall Gardens was rather like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack? And how did one explain that one did not wish to be alone with her for too long for fear of compromising her and putting oneself into an awkward position? He could imagine what some members of their party were already thinking about the fact that he had slunk down a darkened path with her.

“We must look farther,” she said. “Just a little farther along, sir.”

Well, perhaps twenty steps farther, he thought weakly, following her deeper into darkness.

“We must turn back now,” he said gently a couple of minutes later, “Probably by this time the kitten has found its owner and is curled snugly on someone’s lap.” The trees were roaring above their heads.

“Oh,” she said. She sounded on the verge of tears. “If only I could believe that were true. But we must do as you say. It is the only sensible thing to do.”

She gazed about her one last time as she turned back toward him. But her arm stiffened in his, and she pointed eagerly along another path altogether.

“There it is,” she said. “We are almost up to it, poor frightened little thing. Stay, kitty.” And she advanced slowly along the path, one arm stretched out before her.