A Not So Respectable Gentleman? (4 page)

He had to admit it felt gratifying to be greeted with even more enthusiasm than Ashworth had shown. He received a brotherly embrace from Charlotte’s husband, Drew, whom he’d known practically their whole lives, and answered Drew’s many questions regarding his health, when he’d arrived, where he’d travelled from, why they had not seen him sooner.

Charlotte interrupted. ‘Oh! Here is someone else you know, Leo. You must say hello.’ She tugged him away from her husband.

And brought him face to face with Mariel.

Her dress was a deep-rose silk and a dark blue sash was tied at her waist. Matching blue ribbons adorned her hair, which was swept atop her head with curls framing her face. She was so lovely she seemed unreal.

She was obviously not delighted to see him, but even less delighted was the man at her side.

Lord Kellford.

Leo bowed. ‘Miss Covendale.’

‘Miss Covendale?’ Charlotte cried. ‘Since when do you call Mariel
Miss Covendale?
’

He shot Charlotte what he hoped was a dampening look. ‘Since I am at a formal ball.’ He turned back to Kellford and gave him a curt nod. ‘Kellford.’

Kellford responded in kind. ‘Fitzmanning.’

Mariel’s eyes pleaded with him, as if she feared he would blurt out their long-held secrets. Did she think he would retaliate for her having spurned him? In any event, he was fairly certain she would not willingly speak to him privately, even if he could manage it.

Making matters worse, Mariel’s father approached and on a flimsy pretext hustled her away. Leo turned back to Drew, asking him how his sister and nephew fared and about their estate, and pretending the brief exchange with Mariel meant nothing to him. A few moments later, Justine and Brenner appeared and were delighted to see him. He was soon enveloped by family, who remained near him the entire night, an armour he did not need. He could stand on his own anywhere, especially in the superficial gaiety of a Mayfair ballroom.

Kellford rarely left Mariel’s side; Leo was beginning to despair of ever catching her alone.

Watching her altered something inside him, Leo had to admit. It would take some effort to turn his emotions to stone again. Still, he would never allow himself to be vulnerable to her smiles and promises. He must question, though, why he cared so much to discover why she must marry Kellford. And why he felt determined to prevent it.

He no longer believed he was merely playing the Good Samaritan.

Finally he spied her saying something to Kellford. She managed to walk away and leave the ballroom alone. Leo made an excuse to his family and followed her, taking care not to look obvious. He guessed she was bound for the ladies’ retiring room, otherwise why would Kellford have let her go?

Catching a glimpse of her entering the room as another lady left, Leo retreated to a discreet corner where no one would notice him.

It seemed a great deal of time passed before she emerged again. Had she delayed on purpose to enjoy being free of her constant escort?

Leo quickly stepped from the shadows and seized her arm, pulling her out of sight of prying eyes.

‘Leo! Let me go,’ she whispered, trying to twist away.

He released her, but blocked her way back to the ballroom. ‘Give me a moment.’

Her eyes darted. ‘Someone will see us.’

‘A moment,’ he implored. ‘Tell me the reason you feel you must marry. I’ll fix it for you. Let me help you.’

Her face flushed with anger. ‘You will fix it? Do not make me laugh, Leo. You have no right to even speak to me now.’

‘I have no right?’ he answered hotly. ‘Because of the choice you made two years ago?’

‘A choice I made?’ Her brows knit in confusion.

‘To marry Ashworth...’ Leo had not wanted to pursue this matter.

‘Marry Ashworth?’ She gave a scornful laugh. ‘Well, I obviously did not marry Ashworth. If I had, I would not be in this fix.’

It brought him back to the task at hand. ‘Never mind. Tell me why you must marry Kellford.’

She stood so near his arms ached to hold her again. He leaned closer, suddenly helpless against the need to taste her lips and recapture some of the youthful joy they’d shared.

Her eyes rose to his and her pupils widened. For a moment she did not move. He leaned closer.

‘Leo,’ she whispered, then pushed him aside. ‘What does it matter? Move away. I must return to my charade.’

Her charade. She did not wish to marry Kellford, that was clear. And, like it or not, Leo had made the choice to help her. He’d not back out now.

At the moment, though, he could only watch her hurry back to the ballroom.

* * *

At the end of the evening as Leo rode back to the ducal town house with Nicholas, he asked, ‘What event will everyone attend tomorrow night?’

‘A party at Vauxhall Gardens hosted by Lord and Lady Elkins.’ His brother stifled a yawn. ‘But I will not attend. I prefer to stay home with Emily.’ He glanced at Leo. ‘Would you like to go in my stead? I can arrange that.’

‘I would indeed.’

Anything was possible at Vauxhall Gardens.

Chapter Four

‘V
auxhall Gardens?’ Walker’s brows rose.

‘That is correct.’ Leo opened a cabinet in his sitting room and pulled out a decanter of brandy. He poured himself a glass. ‘I’ll need a domino and a mask. Do you know where you might get one?’

The valet shrugged. ‘I will find one, but what is this? A card game at Vauxhall Gardens?’

Leo lifted an empty glass in an invitation to pour some for Walker. ‘Not precisely. It is a society event.’

Walker shook his head. ‘Another society event? This is a change for you. May I ask why?’

Leo frowned, an image of Mariel flying into his mind, as well as one of Kellford brandishing a whip.

Walker’s expression turned to one of concern. ‘What is it, Fitz?’

Walker only acted the role of valet, which accounted for his plain speaking and familiar address. Few gentlemen—or servants, for that matter—would understand the sense of equality between the two men, born of mutual respect and one life-changing experience. Leo had fed Walker’s thirst to better himself, teaching Walker to read and to speak like an educated man. Walker had shown Leo the skills he’d acquired to survive the Rookerie and provided the contacts that would make their present venture profitable. There was little they did not know about each other’s lives.

Still, Leo had never told Walker about Mariel. His feelings for Mariel were a secret locked so deep inside him he did not know if he could ever dislodge them.

Walker’s brows knit. ‘Is this what your family asked of you? That you must rejoin society and attend its entertainments? And you are doing it?’

‘No.’ Leo lifted the glass of brandy to his lips. ‘Although no doubt my family would be delighted by it. You know my opinion of society.’ On the Continent he had learned that he needed only his wits and his courage to make money.

‘Then what is this?’ Walker circled with his finger. ‘Why this visage of life and death, then? It must be more than some new scheme. If you are in trouble, you should let me in on it, you know.’

Leo smiled inside at the way the word
visage
dropped so easily off Walker’s tongue. As did Walker’s willingness to help, somewhat reminiscent of Nicholas’s.

Leo took a sip of his brandy. He needed Walker’s help, he was certain of that, and Walker was not as easy to fool as Nick. He was also not one to follow orders without an explanation. Walker had freed himself from blind adherence to orders.

Leo must stick close to the truth, but he had no intention of exposing what was still painfully raw.

‘Do you recall Lord Kellford?’ he finally asked.

Walker made a disgusted sound. ‘The lout with the whip?’

‘Precisely.’ Leo lowered himself into one of the chairs. ‘He is set to marry an...old family friend and I am determined to stop it. There is a masquerade party at Vauxhall tonight which I suspect he will attend. As will the lady.’

Walker stared at him and Leo had the distinct feeling the man was trying to decipher what Leo left unsaid. ‘Does the lady know what he is?’

‘I told her.’ Leo tried to appear dispassionate. ‘She insists she must marry him. I would like to discover why, what hold he has over her and then stop him.’ Beneath his prosaic tone was a swirl of painful emotions. He took another sip of brandy. ‘I shall see what I can discover as a guest at this Vauxhall affair. My brother will arrange my invitation.’

Walker sat in an adjacent chair. ‘Then perhaps I can discover something from a different end. Shall I try to befriend some of his servants? See what they know?’

This was why Leo valued his valet-friend so much. Walker did not wait to be ordered about; he just acted.

‘An excellent idea.’ Leo smiled. ‘After you find me a domino, that is.’

* * *

The music from Vauxhall reached Leo’s ears just as the pleasure garden’s entrance came into sight. Nicholas had insisted on providing the ducal carriage, and, if anyone witnessed it, Leo supposed arriving in such style could do nothing but help his acceptance as his brother’s substitute.

As he moved through the garden’s entrance, his domino billowed in the night’s breeze and gathered between his legs, impeding his gait.

There could not be a sillier garment for a man, lots of black fabric fashioned into a hooded cloak, the accepted male costume for a masquerade. Once Leo put on his mask, the costume had advantages. No one would know who he was. He would be able to remain near Mariel without anyone suspecting his identity.

He knew she would attend. Before walking to his brother’s house and donning his domino, he’d concealed himself near the Covendale town house and watched as Mariel and her parents climbed into Kellford’s carriage. The evening remained light enough that Leo was able to clearly see her costume. Her dark green dress clung to her figure from neckline to hips. Gold-braid trim adorned the low square neckline and the long trumpet sleeves. Over the gown, she wore a matching hooded cape. How ironic she would dress as a medieval maiden, the quintessential damsel in distress.

Kellford, on the other hand, had exerted as much imagination as Leo. He, too, wore a black domino.

Leo hurried down the South Walk. Tall, stately elms shaded the area with its booths and the supper boxes. Ahead of him at some distance, Leo spied three triumphal arches and a painting of the Ruins of Palmyra so realistic it fooled many people into believing it was real. The three supper boxes reserved for the party hosted by Lord and Lady Elkins were located just before the arches.

His domino caught between his legs again and he slowed his pace, taking more notice of the gardens which seemed to show some tarnish since he’d last seen them. Or perhaps it was he who was tarnished.

He remembered his first look at Vauxhall, when still a schoolboy, the night his father and mother hosted a masquerade. He and his brothers had been allowed to attend until darkness fell and the drinking and carousing began in earnest.

A wave of grief washed over him. His parents had been blissfully happy, as scandalous as their liaison had been. They’d looked magnificent that night, costumed in powdered hair and shiny, colourful brocades, the fashionable dress of the last century. Surrounded by their equally scandalous friends and those few respectable ones who were loyal no matter what, they had been in their element. No one had enjoyed the pleasures and entertainments life had to offer better than his mother and father.

Perhaps they had enjoyed a masquerade in Venice before contracting the fever that killed them.

As Leo neared the supper boxes, so close to the ones his parents had secured that night, he stopped to put on his mask. He presented his invitation to the footman at the entrance. Because it was a masquerade, no guests were announced and Leo could slip into the crowd in perfect anonymity.

Almost immediately he found his sister Charlotte, dressed as a shepherdess, but he did not reveal himself to her. No, this night he’d take advantage of his disguise. He walked through the crush of people, searching for Mariel.

Finally the crowd parted, revealing her, as if gates had opened to display a treasure. Her hood and cape hung behind her shoulders. Her headdress was a roll of gold cloth, worn like a crown. She looked like a queen from a bygone age. He savoured the sight of her before moving closer.

He had no difficulty spotting Kellford or Mariel’s parents, or the fact that Mariel was edging away from them. He stepped forwards to help her, deliberately pushing his way between her and Kellford and remaining in Kellford’s way.

His ploy worked. She hurried away from them and let the crowd swallow her. Leo waited a moment before following her, confident he could find her no matter how many people obscured his view.

He was correct.

Darkness was falling fast, but he was able to glimpse her making her way out of the supper box. She covered her head with her hood and hurried towards the large gazebo in the centre of the gardens. The orchestra was still playing on its balcony, high above the area where guests danced to the music.

He continued, walking quickly, puzzled at what she was about. It was not safe for her to leave the protection of the supper boxes. In addition to revellers, Vauxhall Gardens attracted pickpockets and other rogues and miscreants who combed the gardens searching for easy prey.

She weaved her way around the dancers until she was on the other side of the gardens near the Grand Walk. She made her way to one of the trees that bordered the area and leaned against it.

He slowed his pace and stopped a few feet from her. ‘Mariel?’

She started and then gave him a careful look. ‘Leo.’ Her tone was flat. Obviously his mask had not disguised him from her.

He came closer. ‘It is not safe to walk alone here.’

‘Indeed?’ She lifted one shoulder. ‘Do you not think walking alone is preferable to remaining on Kellford’s arm? I confess, I do.’

He scowled. ‘Is that why you ran off? To get away from him?’

She made a disparaging sound. ‘Were you watching me, Leo?’

‘I came in hopes of speaking with you,’ he admitted.

She turned away to face the dancers twirling and gliding like fairies in a dream. ‘We can have nothing to say to each other.’

‘I need to know—’

She stopped him from speaking, putting her hand on his arm and moving to the other side of the tree.

‘What is it?’ He glanced around.

She gestured with her chin. ‘Kellford is looking for me.’

Leo caught sight of him, perusing the crowd, moving closer to where they stood.

He grasped her arm. ‘Let us make you more difficult to spot.’ He pulled her into the crowd of dancers.

The orchestra played a French waltz and the dancers had formed two circles, one inside the other. Leo led Mariel to the inner circle. He placed his hands on her waist; her hands rested on his shoulders. Their eyes met and locked together as they twirled with the circle of dancers. The sky grew darker by the minute and everything and everyone surrounding them blurred.

Leo only saw Mariel.

Her face remained sombre, as did his own, he imagined. Did she feel the same emotions that were coursing through him? Savouring. Yearning. Regretting.

How different their lives would have been had his parents been respectably married. Had there been no fire. They would have married. Had children. Built a prosperous stud farm together. Had a lovely life.

What foolish fancy. He’d learned early that it was no use to wish for what one could not change.

The orchestra stopped playing and a violinist began playing a solo. Some of the dancers stopped to listen; the others made their way back to their boxes or to the booths selling food and wine.

Mariel averted her gaze. ‘Thank you for coming to my rescue, Leo. Another good deed you have performed.’

She sounded despairing and he ached for her.

He searched for Kellford and no longer saw him. ‘Walk with me.’ He extended his hand.

* * *

Mariel hesitated. She should never have danced with him, even if it meant being discovered by Kellford.

Oh, she was full of foolishness this night. She’d so abhorred Kellford’s presence being forced on her in this beautiful place of fantasy and romance that she’d impulsively run from him.

Perhaps she had sensed Leo nearby, because she was not entirely surprised when he appeared in front of her. It has been foolish indeed to dance with him, to swirl to the sensual melody, to lose herself in Leo’s warm hazel eyes, his gaze more piercing framed by his mask.

No, she should not walk with him. She must be sensible.

But his fingers beckoned. ‘Please, Mariel?’

She glanced around, wondering what would happen if Kellford found her, especially with another man. Mariel had sensed the falseness of Kellford’s gallantry even before Leo told her of the man’s perversions. His actions towards her might speak to others of a solicitous lover, but Mariel had known all along that all he wanted was her money. His solicitousness was merely a means to control her every move.

She’d been clever enough to escape him this night. She’d find some excuse to offer him for disappearing from his side.

If only she could think of some way to rid herself of him entirely.

She stared at Leo’s extended hand, temptation itself.

Before she knew it, she’d placed her hand in his and felt his warmth and strength through her glove. ‘Do not take me back to the supper box.’

He nodded.

They stepped onto the gravel of the Grand Walk and, like so many other couples, strolled to the fountain. Beyond the fountain the paths led through trees as thick as a forest. The Dark Walk, they called it, a place where lovers could disappear and indulge in intimacies forbidden in the light.

They entered the Dark Walk and walked past the illusionist making cards appear and disappear at will. They continued and soon the darkness of a moonless night surrounded them. Then, all at once, the thousands of gas lamps strung throughout in the trees were lit and the night blazed with light.

Mariel gasped. It was as if they’d been lifted to the stars. She glanced at Leo and saw the wonder of the sight reflected in his eyes, as well. It had always been like this between them. An instant understanding. Conversing without needing to use words.

To be so close to him again made it seem as if no time had passed, as if they were still young and full of optimism, eager to lose themselves in the Dark Walk. In those days he would have pulled her into the privacy of the trees. He would have placed his lips on hers and she would have soared to the stars with happiness.

She shook herself. They were no longer young and full of optimism. They were no longer in love.

They came upon an area almost as private as in her imagination, a bench set in among the shrubbery, almost completely concealed from the path itself.

‘Shall we sit a moment?’ he asked.

She should resist the temptation of him, not succumb to old fantasies. She’d grown out of them. He’d forced her out of them.

Still, she sat.

They removed their masks, but did not speak.

Finally he broke their silence. ‘Tell me now why you must marry Kellford.’