A Regency Duchess's Awakening. Amanda McCabe
“I suppose the hero of the day is entitled to a foul mood now and then.”
“I’ve told you before—I only did what anyone would do when a child is in danger.”
“Tell that to the Hamptons. They’ve blanketed the whole drawing room at Manning House with bouquets in their profuse thanks. And I hear they’ve been proclaiming your name all over town.”
“I wish they would stop, then.” It seemed absurd for Lord and Lady Hampton to thank him so ardently for saving their child, when he could do nothing to save his own. He did not feel heroic in the least.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to turn modest, Nick. All the ladies will be even more in love with you than before.” Stephen gave him a grin. “Maybe one in particular?”
Nicholas answered that grin with a scowl, which did not put off his brother in the least. “Who on earth do you mean?”
“I was at the club this afternoon, and heard tell that Lady Emily Carroll seemed enormously concerned for you when you took that tumble into the Serpentine. They said she cradled your head in her lap and wept.”
“Oh, damn it all.” Nicholas tightened his fist on the charm, the golden corners biting into his skin. That was all the blasted situation needed—rumours about him and Lady Emily. “It was not like that at all. We happened to be walking together when it happened, that is all.”
“You were walking with Lady Emily Carroll?” Stephen said, sitting up straight in interest. “But she did not like you at all last summer at Welbourne! Despite all her parents’ efforts at matchmaking.”
“She did seem less than enthused about me,” Nicholas answered. “Our family is probably not serious enough for her.”
Stephen gave a snort. “Socrates would not be serious enough for her! Has she ever smiled?”
Yes, indeed she did smile—and it was like the sun came out when she did. But then it always vanished all too quickly. “I met with her at the park and did the polite thing for an acquaintance and walked with her for a time.” Nicholas saw no need to mention he had actually followed her to Hyde Park, foolishly following something elusive in that smile. “I’m sorry to be the cause of any gossip about her.”
“I had assumed those stories were made up out of whole cloth. I didn’t realise you actually were with her at the park. Did her touch freeze when she took your arm, Nick?”
Her hand had been quite warm. Warm and delicate, trembling slightly as she took his arm. And she smelled like summer roses. “Don’t be a fool, Stephen. She is not actually an ice princess, no matter what those bacon-brains at the club say.”
“It seems she’s called that with good reason, though. I’ve never seen a lady so quiet and still. They say—”
“Enough!” Nicholas shouted. “I do not want to hear any more about Lady Emily. Surely we know well enough what it’s like to be the objects of idle gossip. We shouldn’t subject an innocent lady to unfair slurs.”
“I—yes, of course. You’re very right, Nick,” Stephen said, looking nonplussed and quite sorry. “I certainly don’t want to be unfair to Lady Emily, especially if you like her.”
“I don’t like her. I’m just sick of the gossip. It never ends.”
“And you’ve been working too hard, Brother. We’ll have a merry time at Vauxhall tonight, it is just what you need. Some wine, some music, some pretty women—you’ll be yourself again in no time. And I will help you more, I promise.”
“Just make your racetrack scheme a great success. And perhaps you’re right, I just need some fun,” Nicholas said. But deep inside he was not so sure. His family thought a bit of fun would solve any trouble, but maybe that wasn’t so true any longer. Another night out, among noise and crowds, seemed the last thing he wanted. There was never a moment to think, to understand.
Then again, maybe thinking was the last thing he needed.
He tossed the charm back to Stephen, who caught it neatly, and reached for his discarded mask. The bright lights of Vauxhall were drawing nearer as they crossed the bridge, the press of carriages thicker around them as everyone headed for the masquerade.
Nicholas tied the mask over his face, and drew the hood of his black cloak closer. He would drink some of Vauxhall’s excellent arrack punch and find a pretty woman, as Stephen suggested. Maybe a plump, soft redhead, someone very different from a delicate, porcelain-doll blonde, and forget himself with her. It had been much too long since he did that.
And then tomorrow, he would no longer be haunted by a pair of solemn green eyes.
“Oh, Emily, isn’t it terribly exciting?” Jane whispered as they stepped through the turnstile into Vauxhall, the dense line of revellers dispersing on to the walkways.
Emily twisted her head about, taking in her surroundings. It was exciting, strangely so. She hadn’t expected very much from this outing—she had heard and read so much about the pleasure gardens she was quite sure she knew what it would be like. She’d thought it would be a mere curiosity, something to see once and be done with, since she could not get away from Jane’s invitation once her mother gave her permission.
But reading and seeing were two different matters. The gardens were astonishing, like something in a dream. It was a different world from her day-to-day existence of duty and sense. Here she didn’t have to be Emily. Here she could be anyone at all.
Maybe that was the real point of any masquerade. To escape for a time.
She held on to Jane’s arm as they followed her sister down the entrance pathway, and tried not to stare open-mouthed like some green country girl. Off to their right was the Grand Quadrangle, their destination, and she could glimpse it through the carefully spaced trees. Thousands of glass lamps, their globes faceted to make the light sparkle, shimmered from the branches, casting an amber glow on the costumed crowds as they passed beneath them.
“It’s like something from the Arabian Nights,” Emily murmured. “It can’t be quite real.”
“I can’t believe we’re here,” said Jane, tugging the folds of her Greek-goddess costume into place. “However did you persuade your parents to let you come?”
“Oh, it was not difficult.” After her name was linked with the duke’s in the Great Park Incident, as she had begun to think of it, they would have allowed her anything. Her mother had even given Emily one of her old gowns, an elaborate creation of green satin and ruffled gold lace Lady Moreby had worn in her own first Season, to serve as a costume. With the gown, a ravenblack wig of high piled curls, and a gold silk mask, she really did feel like someone else.
Unfortunately, she had also borrowed her mother’s old high-heeled shoes, and she was sure she would topple from them at any moment.
“Well, however you accomplished it, I’m very glad you did,” said Jane. “We’re going to have such fun tonight! Oh, look at that man over there, the one dressed as a Crusader. Who do you suppose it is? He has such deliciously broad shoulders.”
Emily laughed, but in her own mind she decided the Crusader’s shoulders were not nearly as attractive as the duke’s. He was so very strong, the way he snatched up the child so swiftly, as if she weighed nothing at all. The way he caught her, Emily, when she fell from the stairs, and held her so easily. So close to him …
She suddenly stumbled on a loose patch of gravel, her heel sinking into the pathway. Cursing her silly, distracted state, she yanked her shoe free and hurried after Jane and her sister Mrs Barnes as they entered the Grand Quadrangle.
The Quadrangle was the centrepiece of Vauxhall. Lying in the Grove between the parallel Great Walk and South Walk, it was enclosed by four classical colonnades holding the supper boxes and surrounding yet more walkways and trees. The orchestra played in the centre, lilting dance music as the guests arrived and mingled, greeting