Читать книгу Regency High Society Vol 7: A Reputable Rake / The Heart's Wager / The Venetian's Mistress / The Gambler's Heart - Diane Gaston - Страница 16

How could he have not instantly known them at first glance? Before the crowd closed the gap again, he’d even recognised Penny and Miss Moore. He’d bet one of the gentlemen with them was Penny’s favourite inamorato, that idiot Duprey. The identity of the other gentleman put a worried crease between his eyes. Few of Penny’s masculine acquaintances would be men Sloane thought fit for Morgana’s company.

He put his hand on Hannah’s elbow. ‘Ladies, let us go back to the supper box. Your friends may have arrived in our absence.’

‘Oh, let us do that,’ Hannah replied enthusiastically.

They all walked at a brisker pace: Hannah, to find her friends; Sloane, to find a way to get back to Morgana.

Several young people could be seen in the supper box. Hannah and Athenia broke away and hurried to greet them. Hannah’s brother Varney saw them, rushing forward to escort them into the box.

Sloane’s nephew appeared to be the only one to notice Sloane’s arrival. ‘Good evening, Uncle,’ David said. ‘Is this not a beautiful night for the Gardens?’

Sloane agreed that it was, but could say little more, because the supper arrived and soon everyone was piling plates full of paper-thin slices of ham and tiny chickens. A fruit girl filled dishes with fresh strawberries and cherries, and a sideboard offered a selection of wines and arrack, the heady punch always served at Vauxhall. His nephew dipped into the arrack more than once.

Soon a bell signalled the start of Madame Saqui’s daring rope dancing, and the young people poured out of the box in a hurry not to miss a moment of it. Lady Cowdlin and Lady Poltrop begged off, assuring Sloane they would be very comfortable in the supper box with each other for company and certain their husbands would return at any moment.

Sloane did not follow the young people to view Saqui’s performance, but rather strode across to the South Walk’s supper boxes to find Morgana.

Penny and Miss Moore were the only ones of the party seated in the box. Sloane’s eyes narrowed. Sir Reginald, one of Penny’s gaming-hell regulars, was there as well, not exactly the sort of company Morgana should keep.

She and the girls were likely watching Madame Saqui. Sloane threaded through the crowd exactly like the pickpockets were doing. He looked for Morgana, finally finding her, standing with Rose at the edge of the crowd, chatting with a grey-haired man. Just as he’d feared, they had attracted an admirer.

He pushed his way through.

‘Morgana!’ he cried, seizing her arm.

Morgana jumped, pulling away, before she realised the man who had accosted her was Sloane. She felt flushed with excitement to see him, even though she had not wished him to know they were there. Vexed at Katy for her impudent gibe as he passed them, Morgana saw the precise moment he’d recognised them. She should have realised he would come after her.

‘You have found us.’ She gave a defiant toss of her head. ‘I am going to box Katy’s ears.’

‘What the devil do you think you are doing?’ he said in a fierce whisper as he squeezed her arm.

She pointedly stared at the hand grasping her. ‘I am watching Madame Saqui,’ she said in patient tones. ‘And I do wish you would not always come rushing up to me, screeching my name.’

He released her.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he muttered.

She turned back to the spectacle, but her heart beat wildly, not at Madame Saqui’s daring exploits, but that she could be in this magical place with Sloane even for a few minutes. Perhaps for the time being she could pretend he was her beau, pretend he was not about to scold her again.

Madame Saqui faltered on the rope and teetered for several seconds before regaining her balance. The crowd gasped a collective ‘Ohhh!’ Perhaps Madame experienced the same sensation Morgana felt, as if she could tumble through the air.

Morgana had forgotten Rose was by her side until the girl touched Sloane’s sleeve. ‘Mr Sloane, may I introduce my father to you?’

‘Of course.’ He sounded as surprised as Morgana had been.

‘Mr Brian O’Keefe, one of the musicians here.’

Morgana had nearly fallen to the ground when the man came up to Rose. She’d made the girls promise they would not engage in any liaisons this first outing. Morgana had been about to send the man packing when Rose told her who he was.

Sloane shook the man’s hand. ‘Indeed?’

Madame Saqui was joined by her husband and son and the crowd applauded with approval. Morgana was more interested in watching how easily Sloane conversed with the musician, as at ease as if he were talking with a gentleman at Almack’s. It was a quality she greatly admired in him.

Rose and her father stepped away to watch the rest of the performance, and Sloane leaned in to whisper in Morgana’s ear, ‘What possessed you to bring those girls here? Do you not know what happens in this place? You are noticed, believe me. You look like a group of harlots.’

She knew this scold was forthcoming. ‘We are a group of harlots,’ she replied, her voice unapologetic. He must reconcile himself to the life they were training these young women to lead. So must she. ‘Madame Bisou said some practice would be beneficial.’

The performance ended to another burst of applause and cheers and the crowd began to disperse.

Rose came up to her again. ‘May I spend some more time with my father, Miss Hart? He will bring me back to the box.’

‘I think that would be very nice for you.’ Morgana smiled. She watched Mr O’Brien escort his daughter to the two-storey gazebo, from where the orchestra played high above the crowd. ‘Rose’s father. Imagine that.’

‘Gainfully employed, as well,’ Sloane added. ‘What the devil is she doing in your courtesan school?’

His scold seemed to be over, and he seemed more her friend again. It made her want to dance the night away with him.

‘I was wondering the very same thing.’ She took a breath to steady herself. ‘I should go back to the supper box.’

He took her arm more cordially than before. ‘That puts me of a mind to tell you that the gentleman cosying up to Penny is no man you should know.’

That puffy man with the exaggerated manners? Morgana could see no harm in him. She gave Sloane a saucy glance. ‘Oh, is he scandalous? As scandalous as you?’

He dipped down to her ear. ‘You have no idea how scandalous I can be.’ His voice was low and his breath on her skin warm.

She swallowed.

They passed under the arch near the supper box. Mary rushed up to them, Robert Duprey at her side. ‘Miss Hart! Miss Hart!’

Morgana was about to beg her to stop calling out her name, when Mary cried, ‘Lucy has run off!’

‘What?’ Morgana stopped.

Mary saw Sloane and gave a quick curtsy. ‘Good evening, sir.’

Duprey nodded. ‘Oddest thing. Standing happy as you please. Calls out, “He’s here!”, then takes off.’

Mary added, ‘Mr Elliot ran after her, but we thought we should find you right away. Or at least that is the advice Mr Duprey gave, which I thought was excellent.’

‘Elliot?’ exclaimed Sloane. ‘What the devil is he doing here?’

Morgana held up her hand to silence him. ‘Where did she go?’

‘Ran down the Dark Walk. Worst place. Dangerous,’ Duprey responded.

Lucy had been doing so well. She’d even seemed happy sometimes, blossoming, like her garden. Morgana could not bear it if someone had frightened her.

She turned to Sloane. ‘Will you take me to look for them? I dare not go alone.’

Sloane hesitated only a moment. ‘Come along.’

The Dark Walk was not totally without light, but the lamps were fewer and dark alcoves and small private rooms were dotted along the path. Some sounds of revelry could be heard from the shadows, and Morgana was glad Sloane was at her side.

‘I wonder if she saw the man from Hyde Park,’ Morgana said. ‘I cannot think anyone else would frighten her so. She wore a mask, for goodness’ sake. He would not have known her.’

‘I recognised you,’ Sloane reminded her.

‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But only after Katy made her silly comment.’

He stopped her for a moment and made her face him. ‘Morgana, when will you realise that you cannot truly hide behind a mask or a hat with netting? If you are where you should not be, it is always possible for someone to discover it.’

She averted her eyes. She knew he spoke the truth. She had come to accept the likelihood of ruining herself over the courtesan school.

He took her chin in his fingers and turned her face back to his. ‘You greatly risk your reputation with activities such as this. Already your name has been called out.’

‘By you, as well,’ she protested.

He nodded, but it only brought his face closer. ‘I am sorry for it,’ he murmured, his voice as soft as the orchestra’s music drifting in from the distance. ‘Forgive me.’

She lifted her face to his, remembering how easy it had been to stretch just a little farther and taste his lips.

The sound of giggles reached them, and Sloane pulled her aside so that they were shuttered by the bushes. A young couple walked by laughing and kissing. Morgana was shocked to see the lady was Athenia Poltrop and her companion Morgana’s cousin Varney.

Sloane recognised them as well. ‘Well, at least now I know what she and Hannah were whispering about.’

Recalling Hannah always returned Morgana to her senses. ‘You must need to return to your party.’

He wrapped his arm around her back and squeezed her against his side. ‘Let us find Lucy first.’

They walked all the way to the hermitage before they found her. Lucy, racked with sobs, sat on a bench with Mr Elliot holding and rocking her.

‘Lucy.’ Morgana wanted to rush to her, but Mr Elliot shook his head. ‘What is it, Mr Elliot? What has happened to her? Has someone hurt her?’

She felt Sloane stiffen beside her, felt him as ready as she to fly to Lucy’s defence.

Elliot’s expression was pained. He turned to Lucy. ‘Shall I tell them?’

Lucy gave them a miserable glance and nodded to Elliot, who did not release her from the circle of his arms.

‘She’s been hurt, all right, but it was a long time ago…’

In his precise, methodical voice, Elliot explained what Lucy had shared with him a little at a time in their quiet talks together pulling weeds and planting seeds. Lucy had been seduced at the shocking age of fourteen. The man next door, a family friend, seduced her and gave her to think it was her fault, that she’d been the one to entice him. The man found time for her often, Elliot went on, and Lucy in her naïveté came to believe it meant he loved her. He gave her money and other presents.

‘But right before you hired her, Miss Hart, something else happened.’ Lucy buried her face against Elliot’s chest. ‘This man took her to a place with two other men. They all had their way with her, and the men paid her for it. A few days later, the man took her to be with other men. She protested this time and he laughed at her, telling her to simply enjoy herself. He told her she was nothing but a common harlot. So Lucy believed that was what she must be.’

‘Oh, Lucy!’ Morgana felt tears sting her eyes. She knelt beside the girl, who fell into her arms. ‘How very awful for you.’

‘I was startin’ to think maybe I wasn’t all bad.’ Lucy managed between shuddering sobs. ‘Your lessons—Madame Bisou’s and Miss Moore’s—you tell us all the time that we are worth somethin’ no matter what, that we deserve nice things. I was startin’ to believe it, but I saw him, and I remembered…’ Her voice trailed off.

‘Who was it?’ Sloane’s voice cut through the night like sharpened steel.

Lucy looked up at him, and her sobbing stopped. ‘His name is Mr Castle. He has the button shop next to my father’s hosiery.’

‘Where?’ Sloane said in the same honed voice.

‘Cheapside,’ she answered. ‘Milk Street.’

He nodded, still thin-lipped.

Morgana rose to her feet, her eyes on Sloane, sensing the danger rising in him. It filled her with dread.

Elliot spoke up. ‘I’ll bring her back in a bit, when she’s a little calmer.’ He gave Morgana a direct gaze. ‘You can trust her to me.’

Morgana had no doubt she could. Lucy was in very good hands indeed. ‘Well, we shall go then. I’ll tell the others she was scared for a moment, but you talked her out of it, reminding her of the mask.’

He nodded agreement.

As soon as she and Sloane were out of earshot, Morgana asked, ‘What are you going to do?’

‘Do?’ He stared straight ahead, but his voice still held that timbre of violence.

‘About the man who molested Lucy.’

He did not answer.

‘Are you going to kill him?’

He met her eye. ‘You think me capable of such a thing?’

She did not look away. ‘Yes.’ She could easily imagine him able to kill a man.

His eyes narrowed. ‘It does not shock you?’

‘No.’ A wild part of her wanted to kill the man herself for the wrong he’d done to Lucy. She dared not examine that part too closely. ‘Will you do it?’ Her voice came out all breathless.

He stared at her a long time ‘No.’ He took her arm suddenly and said, ‘Come with me.’

Instead of returning her to the supper box, he led her to one of the small restaurants along the colonnade, selecting a small table in the corner where they were relatively private. He ordered them both a glass of wine. She felt unreasonably happy to be in his company.

‘I must speak with you, Morgana.’ Sloane’s tone of voice did not mirror Morgana’s gaiety, however. ‘Does this not prove to you the dangerousness of this escapade? Suppose that man had recognised Lucy? What might have happened then?’

She avoided his eyes. ‘But he did not see her, any more than Miss Poltrop or Varney saw us.’

He waved aside her comment. ‘What if I had not been with you? Would you have run down the Dark Walk yourself, searching for Lucy?’

The server brought the wine and Morgana waited until the man left. ‘I would have made Mary and Mr Duprey come with me.’

‘No, you would not. You would have gone by yourself. You are reckless, Morgana.’ He took a sip of wine before saying more. ‘You do not perceive how easily one’s reputation can be ruined. This business of yours already risks too much.’

She flashed her eyes. ‘It is too late to scold me for this! It is done and I will not fail those girls now.’ Morgana fought a wave of nausea. Was teaching Lucy, Katy, Rose and Mary to pander themselves so different than that man pandering Lucy?

‘Give it up,’ Sloane commanded.

She gazed at him, hoping he could not see the pain in her eyes. ‘How can I?’

He did not answer but looked away, drinking his wine. Morgana felt the bitter sting of failure, the loss of his friendship, the shattering of her secret dreams. The only thing worse would be for him to realise that she herself knew how thoroughly she’d mismanaged everything.

She placed her glass on the table and made herself look defiant. ‘Do you know that I envy them? I envy those girls. They will not be constrained by conventional behaviour. They will be able to do as they wish!’

She captured his attention, because his eyes flashed at her. ‘They will have constraints of a different kind.’

She secretly agreed, but could not stop herself from going on. ‘You are one to talk, Sloane. You have known the freedom of doing whatever you wish. My cousin Varney told me of it. It seems to me your choice to re-enter society is more mystifying than my desire to break its chains.’

A muscle in his cheek flexed. ‘Being on the outside is not necessarily being free, Morgana.’

She took another sip of her wine, her brief effort at defiance merely leading her to inadvertently wound him. Her misery returned.

He plucked another sensitive nerve. ‘Do you not wish to be married, Morgana?’

She gave him a pained expression. ‘Do you?’

He averted his gaze. ‘I do. It is a respectable thing to do.’

With effort, she refrained from rolling her eyes. Though he would not look at her, she stared at him, deciding to answer his question truthfully.

‘I have long accepted that no man would want a woman such as me. And I dare say I would chafe at the binds a husband would place on me.’ His eyes darted back to her. ‘But what I cannot understand is why anyone would give up their freedom so readily. I fail to see why respectability has such value to you.’

He reached over and took her hand, the tenderness in the gesture startling her. ‘It is because I have been on the other side. It is why I worry for you, Morgana.’

Nothing was resolved between them, not really, but the warmth in his expression was enough to push her misery aside. She smiled at him. ‘Oh, let us not quarrel, Sloane! Not in this place. The night is so fine.’

The music from the orchestra sounded in her ears, mixing with shouts of revelry. The lights twinkled and the scent of food, spirits, and people filled the air. The orchestra began a new tune and a high, crystalline voice carried in the crisp night air:

Stay not till I learn the way;

How to fib and how betray,

E’er I can my thoughts disguise.

‘Listen,’ Morgana cried.

The voice went on.

Force a blush or roll my eyes.

Take me, take me, some of you,

While I yet am young and true.

‘It is Rose!’ She jumped up from the chair, still holding his hand. ‘Hurry.’

They pushed their way through to where the orchestra played. Rose, without her mask, stood in front of the musicians, as if she had been their featured songstress. Her voice carried in the air distinct, sweet and sultry at turns.

Could I find a blooming youth,

Full of love and full of truth,

Of honest mind and noble mien.

‘Is she not lovely!’ Morgana felt a surge of pride, as if she had created this beautiful creature whose wonderful voice cast its spell over the now quiet crowd.

‘You did not know she would do this?’ Sloane did not sound as pleased as she.

‘No, indeed.’ She smiled.

Take me, take me, some of you,

While I yet am young and true.

Rose finished the last refrain, and the audience burst into applause and cheers.

Morgana clapped as enthusiastically as the rest. ‘Well done!’

Sloane muttered, ‘She selected the right song.’

Morgana’s smile faded at his grim expression. ‘Can you not enjoy it, Sloane? What a lovely moment for her!’

‘She places you in jeopardy, Morgana. If you are associated with her, questions will be asked.’

The orchestra started playing a waltz, and several couples in the crowd started to dance.

Morgana glanced around her, savouring the gaiety. ‘Oh, do not be cross any more, Sloane.’ She gazed up at him and her voice turned low. ‘Dance with me.’

His eyes held hers for a moment, then he suddenly gathered her to him and swung her into the dance. The lamps above them blurred as they whirled round and round, and Morgana felt as if she were indeed soaring in the stars, with Sloane’s arms around her. His chiselled features softened as he gazed down at her. He held her as close as he had when they’d danced in her parlour. Morgana thought she knew how heaven might feel.

The orchestra segued from the waltz into a more rousing, lively piece, and the dancing became more boisterous. Sloane guided Morgana away from the carousing. They were about to enter the path when they saw Katy walking with two gentlemen, one on each arm.

‘What is she up to?’ Morgana said with irritation.

Katy came closer, and Sloane pulled Morgana halfway into the bushes, hiding them both by putting his arms around her.

‘You see her companions?’ he whispered.

Katy was flanked by none other than Morgana’s uncle and Lord Poltrop. Like Rose, she had shed her mask. Even worse, she was gaily allowing the gentlemen to place their hands upon her, one of them squeezing her derrière.

Sloane held Morgana out of view as they passed…

‘She promised.’ she began, but, when she lifted her head, he was so close, she forgot what she was about to say.

He did not release her, and her arms had nowhere to go but around his neck. His eyes darkened, and he pressed her against him so firmly she could feel his arousal from beneath his clothing. From Madame Bisou’s lessons, she knew what it was—and what it meant. Sparks of pleasure glittered through her like the lamps strung through the trees. She laughed and pulled his head down to her eager lips.

His hand slid down to her hips and ground her against him. His tongue played in her mouth. She met his kiss eagerly, daring to let her tongue frolic with his, feeling her whole body come alive with need. His lips slid to her neck and she heard herself whimper at the ache of pleasure created as he tasted her tender skin. His hand moved to her breast and Morgana covered it with her own, urging him to not move it away, but to fondle her more.

‘Sloane,’ she moaned, her voice husky. It started to make sense to her, all of Madame Bisou’s lessons. She wanted more of him, could imagine the sensation of feeling his bare skin against hers, of feeling his hands upon her. This was desire, she realised, and it frightened as much as it thrilled her. How easy it would be to become carried away, to allow him to lead her down the Dark Walk with him.

Still, she did not wish him to stop. She found his lips and tasted him again. She pressed herself against him, unable to stop herself, unable to allow this moment to end.

He broke away. ‘This is madness.’ He held her at arm’s length, panting, every fibre of his being on fire for her. By damn, he wanted to make love to her, wanted to discover how that depth of emotion that swung her from weeping for Lucy to cheering for Rose, that passion would play out in bed. The same recklessness he chided her for, he’d been willing to exploit. And her enthusiastic response showed him she wanted him to be the rake, not the reputable gentleman.

‘That was not well done, Morgana,’ he said.

She looked at him with a puzzled and wounded expression.

He had to impress upon her, convince her that this path she was bent upon would only bring her pain and eventual loneliness. If she did not exercise some restraint, how could he? ‘Were you practising Bisou’s lessons, Morgana? Practising at being the harlot?’

Even in the dim light, he saw the shock in her eyes. She swung her hand back to strike him, but he caught her wrist before her palm connected to his face. ‘You are making a spectacle. Someone will see.’

Under her mask, her eyes blazed. ‘What will they see? They will see the very reputable Mr Sloane cavorting with a harlot. Take care, Sloane. Your hard-won respectability may be ruined by me.’

‘Indeed it may.’ He still gripped her wrist and held her so close he could feel the angry rise of her breast against his chest. ‘You are not acting the lady, Morgana.’

Her arm flexed again, but the movement only rammed her full against him. ‘You are not acting the gentleman.’

Her words struck the blow her hand had missed.

She hissed, ‘Perhaps you ought to return to your very silly, respectable Lady Hannah. A gentleman would not keep her waiting.’

Hannah? He had forgotten about her while he held Morgana in his arms. Even now, while they exchanged angry words, his body came alive with the feel of her. He wished more than anything to be the rake he once had been.

He pushed her away before he could kiss her again and act on that nearly irresistible impulse.

‘I will return to her.’ He spoke more to himself than to Morgana, trying to convince himself that he wished to return to the task of acting the host.

‘Yes.’ Her voice was so low he could almost not hear her. ‘Of course you will return to her.’

Before he could speak another word, she spun around and ran to her supper box, skirts flying. She did not look back.

Sloane followed, sickened by his own behaviour, but more by his words. He’d blamed her for that kiss, for his own arousal, for his own desire to risk her ruin in the gardens at Vauxhall.

He watched to see that she reached the box without mishap. Katy had returned and was now busily flirting with Sir Reginald. Lucy, Elliot, Mary and Duprey were there as well. He wanted to order Morgana to take them all home now, before something worse happened. But, damn him, even more, he ached to grab her hand and run with her down the Dark Walk.

Some gentleman he was. If anyone cared to examine him in the light of day, they could undoubtedly see he was as shabby as Vauxhall’s plaster columns and painted walls.

He quickly backed away before the others of Morgana’s party saw him. He made his way through the revellers to the other side of the park, and slipped into his own party’s supper box. After him came Hannah and David, the other young people good-naturedly teasing them about being together. Cowdlin and Poltrop now sat with their wives in domestic harmony, and behind their backs Athenia held hands with Varney. Hannah looked unusually subdued. David fetched her a glass of wine and returned to fill his own glass with some more of the arrack punch.

Sloane joined him.

‘Have you missed us, Uncle?’ David asked, slurring his words. The young man must have dipped into more than his share of the arrack.

‘I confess I wondered where everyone went off to,’ Sloane lied.

‘Just looking at the sights,’ said David, his eyes drifting over to Hannah.

Athenia whispered something in Hannah’s ear. Hannah whispered back. Sloane felt relieved of the obligation to join her.

His mind and senses were still filled with Morgana, not the thoughts of a man intent upon offering for a society miss. At the moment, any thought of marrying Hannah was unbearable.

The signal sounded for the illuminations to begin, and everyone in the party hurried out of the box to get a good view. Sloane looked through the crowd and found Morgana, standing with her girls, all looking like the high-flyers they would become. The sight of Morgana roused him all over again. Instead of the illuminations, he watched her, the flashes of light catching her mask. The sparkle and crackle and boom were nothing to the explosions ricocheting inside him.

He’d be damned if he did not find in Morgana a kindred spirit, but one who would cause him to lose the game he’d bid so high to win.

Later that night, after a very subdued Hannah and her dozing parents delivered him back to his town house, Sloane donned dark clothes, grabbed his swordstick and his knife, and slipped back out into the night, bound for Milk Street and the living quarters above the shop of a certain button seller.

As he blended with the night on his way to Cheapside, he formulated his plan, glad he had a target for the pent-up emotion inside him. Murder might be justified, but he would settle for frightening the fellow. He gripped his swordstick tighter as he hurried to avenge the man’s evil deeds.

Sloane knew exactly what would keep the man’s breeches buttoned when the next pretty girl came into view.