The Memory of Your Kiss (23 page)

Even through their relief, the two glared at Zachary and Sydney, but they nodded and then quickly scurried away like the vermin they were.

When they had gone, Thornton said, “I doubt they will repeat this particular offense. But those two represent just a hint of the greater problem. How long—how long before Parliament discovers a backbone to give us a police force?”

Recognizing this as a rhetorical question, the others did not respond.

“Allyson will be worried,” Thornton added and began to walk rapidly back to the arena. McIntyre quickly joined him, leaving Zachary and Sydney, her hand tucked in his elbow, bringing up the rear. Sydney was very quiet. Zachary was certain she was caught up in the aftermath of the near disaster she had just experienced. He had seen such reactions many times in the last few years. He wanted to wipe away her pain, to bring back the joy and contentment of the early part of the evening.

Back on the main path with its string of gas lamps hanging from trees, Zachary steered her into one of the conveniently situated, dimly lit alcoves. She made no protest as he slipped an arm around her and lifted her chin.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I am now.”

In her eyes he saw relief and gratitude and an indefinable something else. Longing, maybe. He couldn’t help himself; he lowered his mouth to hers. With no hesitation, she responded passionately, her arms around his neck, her need as urgent as his. He hugged her even closer, his hands caressing her back and she leaned in to him. He buried his face in the curve of her neck.

“I have dreamed of this for so long,” he murmured.

“I have too. Nearly three years.”

He pulled back to look into her eyes. “Really? Since that day in the park in Bath?”

“Yes. Since then.”

He kissed her again, a long, searching exploration of her mouth and was delighted as she responded in kind. Fully aware of his own intense desire, he thought she felt the same, yet he could not bring
himself to take advantage of her vulnerability. She had, after all, just suffered a very traumatic experience.

A loud boom brought them back to their senses even as the sky above them radiated brilliant light.

“The fireworks,” she said. “We must get back.”

“If you insist.”

“I insist.” She gave him a kiss that started as a friendly, joking peck, but quickly evolved into something deeper, far more intense. When they separated ever so slightly, she said weakly, “I insist.”

He grinned. “All right. But this is unfinished business, my lady.”

She nodded, her eyes reflecting her ready agreement.

They returned to the tables where others were already oohing and aahing over the fireworks spectacle. Zachary’s mother gave him a small nod. Allyson directed a knowing smile at them. McIntyre lifted a thumb slightly, but no one commented on their tardiness.

For Sydney, Zachary’s kiss brought back not just the joy of the evening, but also the joy of those earlier days in Bath. She chastised herself as a silly schoolgirl, but faced the next day with eager anticipation. When she received a small bouquet of violets the next morning, she thought her heart might burst with happiness. Yes. Definitely a schoolgirl reaction, she noted, not at all that of a young matron.

Regardless of her renewed feelings for Zachary, she was mindful of the narrow escape she and hers had had with the Barnet woman and that awful man. In the afternoon, accompanied by one of the “bodyguard” footmen and a maid, besides her coachman and another footman, Sydney visited the Fairfax sisters. As usual in her visits to that house, her coach was laden with foodstuffs, linens, and used clothing that Fairfax House would use itself or distribute to others.

The Misses Fairfax greeted her warmly, and over a tea tray Penelope said, “Wally told us of his narrow escape. And your sister! I do hope she will not have nightmares over this.”

“Marybeth is quite strong,” Sydney replied, accepting a proffered cup. “She seemed her usual bubbly self at breakfast. How is Wally today?”

“He is fine. Really. You must not worry. He is a very resourceful lad,” Priscilla said. “He is out with Boskins at the moment, delivering a cooker for a family over on Everdon Street.”

“He was very excited about the show,” Penelope said. “He simply
could not stop talking about the spectacle of the battle and the fireworks. He is quite the envy of every child in the neighborhood.”

“Some adults too,” Priscilla said.

“I’m glad.” Sydney remembered that stricken look on his face when the Barnet woman said his mother had sold him. “I think his earlier life was full of misery.”

“However,” Penelope said, “Wally’s enthusiasm and anticipation before the event may be why Alice Barnet happened to be at the gardens at all. He must have mentioned it to another child and where he would be got back to her.”

Priscilla nodded and said, “When I did the marketing this morning, I heard talk on the street about her attempt to snatch him. Barnet’s place is in a neighborhood some distance from ours, but such news travels fast.”

“Especially when it involves Alice Barnet,” Penelope said. “That woman never has been one to suffer in silence.”

“And now she thinks herself mightily abused,” Priscilla said.

Sydney leaned forward to set her cup on the tray. “Should I worry excessively?”

Priscilla responded. “Um—not excessively. I think she received a real fright last night. Still, she associates with some truly despicable types that hardly deserve to be called human beings.”

“So, just be cautious, my dear,” Penelope added.

When she arrived home, Sydney was disappointed to find she had missed a visit from Zachary.

“He seemed ever so sorry to have missed you,” Celia said in a casual tone but with a sparkling glint in her eyes.

“Celia, don’t tease,” her mother admonished. “Major Quintin wanted to inform us that he is going out of town for—I think he said—three days.”

“Oh.” Sydney tried to keep the disappointment from her voice. Three days? Three whole days?

“He is to accompany his sister, Lady Islington, and her two children from Warwickshire to London,” Celia said, all teasing gone. “Seems Lord Islington has business on the continent, but will return in time to escort his wife to the Prince Regent’s grand soiree at Carleton House.”

“I see,” Sydney said absently. She was still trying to absorb the idea of three days. But she had to laugh at herself. What was three
days compared to three years? She was impatient that the relationship between her and Zachary be carried to the next level, whatever that might prove to be. If his kisses at Vauxhall were any indication, he was equally eager for that to happen.

The three days passed more quickly than she had anticipated. On the first day, she went shopping. Shopping was never her favorite activity, but it might be nice to have a new gown for the prince’s extravagant affair. Rumor had it that he had invited nearly a thousand of his intimate friends to help him and the visiting royals honor the Duke of Wellington and other Peninsular heroes. On the second and third days, Lady Paxton was seen making a number of morning calls—certainly engaged in far more socializing with her peers than had been the case in the last several months.

For six months after Henry’s death, she had adhered faithfully to society’s dictates for a grieving widow. In this case, the widow of a husband who had not loved his wife, who had been unfaithful throughout the marriage. While it was also true that she had not loved him as a wife perhaps should, it was equally true that she had been totally faithful to her vows. In fact, she had forced herself not to dwell on what her life might have been with someone who stirred her senses as Zachary Quintin did.

And now, for an additional three months, she had been in half-mourning, curtailing her activities and dressing very soberly. Enough was enough. She would not behave outlandishly—Lady Paxton was no Caroline Lamb—but she would look better and enjoy herself more than she had these past few months.

And if a certain army major’s eyes lit with appreciation and he sought her company, it would be worth a bit of censure for bending the rules.

On the third day, it was with eager anticipation that she looked forward to a dinner party being hosted by her friend Lady Allyson.

S
ydney,
who never fussed much about her attire for a given party or event, changed her mind repeatedly in preparing for Allyson’s dinner party. Finally, she settled on a gown of iridescent teal silk with a silver overskirt, a low-cut neckline, and off-the-shoulder cap sleeves. With it, she wore silver colored kid gloves and her aquamarine necklace made of stones of graduated size, the large center stone teardrop-shaped and resting at the top of her cleavage. Dangling earrings were smaller aquamarine teardrops. Her hair was again arranged in the Greek style with curls framing her face.

She gazed at herself in the looking glass and said to her maid, “Maisie, you have worked a miracle this time.”

“You look very fine, my lady.”

Before descending the stairs to the drawing room to meet Aunt Harriet and Celia, Sydney went up to the nursery. Jonathan has been out of sorts all day, his cheeks warm, but not truly feverish.

She found Nurse Watkins in the playroom sitting on the floor with William, who was giggling on hands and knees, trying to catch up with a wind-up toy monkey skittering across the rug. The maid immediately stood as Sydney entered.

“What a lovely gown, my lady.”

“Thank you, Watkins. The dressmaker did a nice job, did she not?”

The toy lost its momentum and William began to howl. The maid
lifted him into her arms and he quieted, but reached toward the toy, which Sydney had picked up to rewind. She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, but his interest was focused on the toy in her hand. She smiled ruefully. “So much for trying to gain masculine attention.” She handed the toy to William and said to the maid, “I came to check on Jonathan.”

“He’s sleeping—at last,” Watkins said as she returned William and the toy to the floor. “It’s just as I thought, my lady. He is getting a new tooth. One of the back ones. It broke through just this afternoon. I moved his crib into my room so if he cries in the night, he won’t wake this one.”

“Good idea. And thank you, Watkins.” She waved “bye-bye” to William, who waved back somewhat distractedly, the toy monkey still absorbing his attention.

In the drawing room her aunt and cousin were waiting for her, Aunt Harriet in a violet silk gown and Celia in a pastel pink cotton with deeper pink rosebuds embroidered along the hem and scattered about the skirt. It was Wednesday. The mother and daughter were off to Almack’s, London’s most exclusive social club, for its weekly assembly.

When Sydney complimented her dress, Celia affected a small moue. “I do wish the patronesses were less strict about dress. It just seems silly to insist that all young unmarried women appear as fresh-faced debutantes.”

“Now you mind her p’s and q’s,” Aunt Harriet said to her daughter in a light tone. “When you are an old married lady, you may flout convention. Certainly if those dragons of decorum could refuse the Duke of Wellington admission because he was wearing trousers instead of knee breeches, they would think nothing of refusing you a voucher to attend.”

The coach dropped Sydney at Rutherford House first where the Thorntons were still in residence, then went on to Almack’s. As Sydney entered the drawing room, her hostess rushed to her side.

“Don’t you look lovely,” Allyson said. “That color is perfect with your eyes. I am so glad you are not in gray or something equally drab.”

“I confess that I am tired of those colors, too,” Sydney said, “but I suppose the high sticklers will find fault.”

Allyson hooked her arm into Sydney’s. “Well, let them do so. We who matter won’t. Besides, all England is celebrating, so the rules are relaxed.”

Sydney laughed and felt fully at ease now. “If you say so.” She surveyed the room—discreetly, she thought—looking for Zachary.

“He’s not here yet,” Allyson said softly.

“Who?”

Allyson gave her arm a shake and said in the same soft voice, “Don’t you dare play Miss Innocence with
me
. Zachary will be here—the Quintins are just a bit late.”

“Oh.”

Since it was their home, Allyson’s parents were officially hosting the party their daughter had planned, but Allyson was performing many of the hostess duties, in part because so many of the guests were her and her husband’s particular friends.

“I think you know most of our guests. Mama and Papa came back to town for the celebrations.”

Sydney chatted amiably with the Earl of Rutherford and his countess. She had always liked them and even envied them, for she thought theirs was the sort of marriage she had once envisioned for herself.

She and Allyson moved on, for Allyson seemed intent on seeing that her friend was known to and accepted by everyone. Two younger couples stood together and Sydney thought she heard Allyson mutter something like “birds of a feather” just before making her known to the foursome.

“Lady Paxton, allow me to introduce Nathan’s brother, the Marquess of Eastland, and his fiancée, Lady Dorothea Newsome.” They were a striking couple. The marquess was tall, blond, and some seven or eight years older than his brother. He was dressed impeccably in dark evening wear and a quizzing glass dangled from a silver chain about his neck. He used the quizzing glass to inspect this mere mortal being presented to him. Sydney wanted to giggle, but managed to keep a straight face as she curtsied to them. The fiancée, nearly as tall as Eastland, had thick, very black hair that was pulled back in an elaborate braid that showed off a widow’s peak on her high forehead. Her complexion was fashionably pale and her gown was gray silk trimmed with black lace.

Sydney said, “May I offer felicitations on your forthcoming marriage?”

“We have had to postpone our nuptials,” the woman said. “I am still in mourning for my stepmother.” She gave Sydney’s gown a pointed look.

Sydney was sure the look was intended to intimidate, but again she controlled an urge to giggle.

Allyson turned to the other couple, whom she introduced as Baron and Lady Edmund Lawton. “My sister Clara and her husband. Their name is the same as yours, Sydney, but spelled differently.”

“How interesting,” Sydney said politely. “Perhaps at some ancient time the names were the same.”

“Oh, I should not think so,” his lordship said.

“Perhaps we should have it researched to be sure,” his wife said.

“I doubt that would be necessary, my dear,” her husband said.

“There is something to be said for ignorance regarding some matters,” Sydney observed. While Sydney had not previously met Allyson’s sister or the sister’s husband, she knew from little bits of information Allyson had let drop from time to time that they were rather “high in the instep.” This encounter confirmed that impression.

Allyson urged her on and said quietly, “Don’t you think Lady Dorothea will make a perfect duchess one day?”

“I think
she
thinks she will,” Sydney replied.

Sydney was glad to see Adam Richardson and Cameron McIntyre among Allyson’s guests. She had enjoyed time spent with them at the Rodham party. Then the butler announced the arrival of Quintin family members. She was thrilled when Zachary, having done the polite greetings routine, sought her out to make her known to his sister, Lady Islington. Zachary’s sister was two years older than he and looked very like her brother, with the same dark good looks that Sydney admired in him. She was more outgoing than he, quick to try to ensure that those around her were at ease and amused. They talked of Lady Islington’s journey and the trials of traveling with young children.

“Thank goodness Zachary was able to accompany us,” his sister said. “He was very helpful in entertaining my two. That seems to be a recently acquired skill.” She gave him an arch look. “I certainly do not recall it in the pre-Lucas days.”

“I have learned a lot from my son,” Zachary said.

A few minutes later Allyson was pairing up her guests and ushering them from the first floor drawing room to the dining room on the ground floor. Sydney saw that her friend again bent the “rules” somewhat, but she managed to satisfy the sensibilities of those who held their own consequence in high regard, and she had seen that others simply had pleasant dinner companions. Sydney found her partner very pleasant indeed: Zachary.

“You can thank me later,” Allyson whispered.

The dinner itself was lavish and tasty—Rutherford had an excellent cook—and the conversation lively, centering on recent and current celebrations of Bonaparte’s defeat. Sydney was enjoying herself thoroughly and joined the discussions readily despite being distracted by the sheer magnetism of her particular dinner partner. When the ladies withdrew to leave the men to their port and politics and sport, she felt keenly the loss of his closeness.

Allyson, seated next to Sydney in the drawing room, leaned close to say, “They won’t be long. I gave Papa and Nathan strict orders: only one round of drinks.”

Sydney blushed at being so obvious. “Thank you—I think.” She changed the subject to tell Allyson about the progress on the extension to Fairfax House, for Allyson, too, had been instrumental in seeing that project to fruition. She had just finished when the men returned and, for Sydney, the party resumed its earlier liveliness. Again Zachary sought Sydney’s company. She noted a raised eyebrow or two at this, but chose to ignore the reactions of others.

Lady Rutherford had just called for the tea tray when the butler entered to speak quietly to Lord Rutherford. The earl immediately but calmly strolled over to where Sydney stood talking with Zachary, Richardson, and Lady Islington.

Lord Rutherford touched Sydney’s elbow to draw her slightly aside. “Lady Paxton, there is a Paxton footman in the waiting room of the entrance below. He says it is urgent that he speak with you.”

She gasped, unable to control her shocked surprise. No Paxton servant would have called here now except in the most dire emergency. “Jonathan!” she cried and hurried from the room, Zachary right behind her. A man in Paxton livery paced the floor in a room scarcely larger than a dressing room, with stark whitewashed walls, a padded bench and two padded chairs.

It was Cosby, one of the three footmen who had been added to her staff after Henry’s death.

“I came as quick as I could, my lady. It’s Master William. Someone snatched him.”

“Snatched—? William? But how—?”

“Just tell us what happened,” Zachary said, his hand gripping Sydney’s elbow.

Before he answered, the footman looked at Sydney, who nodded. “I went up to relieve Grady at the regular time to do so, and I found him lying on the floor in the hall, unconscious. Miss Watkins was in the nursery common room, gagged and tied to a chair. She’d been reading in there, you see, so as not to disturb the little earl with her reading light in her own room.”

“But the boys?” Sydney’s initial panic was only slightly assuaged by the man’s calm demeanor.

“The little earl is fine. Still asleep when I left. But they took Master William.”

“Oh, my Lord!” Sydney felt herself swaying and was grateful for the steadying arm Zachary slipped about her waist.

“They. How many?” Zachary asked.

“Two, so far as we know. They could’ve had someone outside watching. But Miss Watkins saw only two.”

“How did they get in?”

“From the alley. Broke in through the kitchen side door. Cook had the night off an’ the kitchen maids was all playin’ loo in the servants’ hall. They come up the back stair an’ conked Grady afore he even knew they was there.” He paused. “I’m real sorry, my lady. I checked that side door myself earlier. Locked, it was.”

“How long ago did this happen?” Zachary asked.

“We’re thinkin’ maybe two hours ago.”

Sydney was impressed with Zachary’s calm probing for information, but she also felt nearly hysterical at this devastating news. Was Jonathan
really
all right? And poor William. Where was he? Would they hurt him? Louisa. Louisa had to be told. How did you tell a mother you had allowed her son to be kidnapped?

“I assume you came in a coach?” Zachary was asking the footman.

“Yes, sir. The coachman come back after takin’ the ladies out.”

“All right. Here’s what we do,” Zachary said. “You take Lady Paxton home. Then have the coachman take you to Almack’s to ask Mrs.
Carstairs and her daughter to return home immediately. I suspect that Lieutenant Harrelson will be there. Bring him, too.”

“Yes, sir.”

Zachary opened the door. A Rutherford footman hovered in the entrance. “Bring Lady Paxton’s cloak, please.”

Draping the cloak over her shoulders, Zachary gazed into her eyes and said, “I’ll make your excuses above stairs. Try to stay calm. Richardson is here. So is McIntyre. We’ll get him back. I promise.”

He wanted to kiss her, but not with those servants looking on. As soon as she was out the door, he dashed upstairs to tell Allyson and Thornton and his parents what had happened. They, in turn, would convey the information to anyone who had a need to know. He pulled Richardson and McIntyre aside and elicited their help. Thornton took the three of them into the sitting room of the suite he shared with his wife in order to discuss a plan of action in relative privacy.

“Percy Laughton must be behind this,” Zachary conjectured, “though we cannot ignore the possibility of that Barnet woman. However, she would be far more likely to snatch a poor person’s child off the street than one whose parents had the means to offer pursuit. On the other hand, revenge can be a powerful motive.”

“Why would Laughton want
William
?” Richardson asked. “One would think if he were to snatch one of them, it would be the earl.”

“Right,” McIntyre said. “But what if they just grabbed the first child they saw in the Paxton nursery? What if it’s neither Laughton nor Barnet—but some random kidnapping for ransom?”

“That’s possible,” Thornton said.

“Yes, it is,” Zachary agreed. “And if that is the case, it will make our catching up to them much more difficult, for we will have to wait for a ransom demand. If Laughton is behind this, I doubt very much that he did this deed himself. Not his style. He’d be off somewhere establishing an alibi for himself.”