by Heather Boyd
While he was here, too, he thought he might be able to decide the type of woman Teddy was drawn to as well.
He mingled, casting furtive glances at Teddy whenever a woman drew close. But saw little sign of interest in any one type of woman. He had not really thought it was going to be that easy anyway to find a wife for Teddy, but he’d hoped to know where to start looking first.
A thin girl with long blonde ringlets bobbing around her face broke away from a gaggle of gaily-dressed women and rushed up to them, trying to press a kiss to Sinclair’s cheek. “Hello, handsome.”
Sinclair caught up her hands quickly and pressed a kiss above her dirty knuckles. The girl was pretty, with wide, innocent green eyes, but she could not be more than fourteen years old. She posed with an assessing light in her eyes, and despite her apparent youth, it was clear she was not new to the games women used to lure men into a dalliance.
Sinclair did not, could not, consider someone that young for Teddy. She would make them both feel ancient just looking at her. “My lady.”
She fluttered her eyelashes. “Ain’t you a flatterer? I am Alice. Do you want me, sir?”
“No, child.” He shook his head firmly. Alice should have been tucked up in her own bed. Alone, with no idea what went on in the pleasure gardens’ dark corners. Anything but offering her body to a complete stranger for the coin.
He handed the girl to Teddy, as he often did when faced with an awkward situation. He was surreptitiously testing his heir’s character, too, curious to see how the young man would handle awkward encounters. “All yours, my friend. See what you can do with her.”
Alice scowled. “Here, what? Ain’t I good enough?”
“Too good for the likes of him,” Teddy answered quickly to soothe her wounded pride. Teddy linked Alice’s arm through his. When he began to whisper in her ear, Sinclair suspected it would be of opportunities for honest work rather than any seduction. Teddy had done that before with good results. However, if Alice did not like the idea of finding a better form of employment or further schooling, Teddy would probably pay her handsomely and send her on her way.
He was a good man. Uncorrupted still.
Bored now, Sinclair resumed his scrutiny of the light-skirts ahead of him, looking for someone older and pretty to tempt Teddy. A flamboyantly dressed courtesan he’d a nodding acquaintance with was surrounded by a dozen fellows vying to entertain her, and beyond that, a pair of poorer-dressed light-skirts were scowling at the well-dressed courtesan—clearly envious she had so many admirers.
Teddy stepped up to his side. “I am afraid to say she refused.”
Sinclair looked at Teddy in surprise. “You have lost your touch.”
“She is clever.” He shrugged. “She knows she’ll make more lifting her skirts for a year than in a lifetime being a governess.”
“True, but,” Sinclair shook his head, “she would have lived a better life.”
Teddy shrugged. “There are no guarantees.”
It was impossible to force anyone to live a respectable life. There was not a thing he could do about Alice. Teddy had done his best. He’d tried.
It was also impossible to force Teddy to behave appropriately, either, no matter how he argued. His heir insisted on anonymity, or he had threatened to disappear again. Sinclair had lost track of the young man once already, and he could not afford to do so again. He would keep him close and—
Sinclair’s attention caught on a woman ahead, and he could not find his breath again.
The woman drew closer, her body enticingly rounded, her throat bejeweled in a stunning creation of jet stones. They glimmered slightly whenever she drew nearer to torchlight, and he could not look away. Her skin was pale, what little of it he could see. He could also not see her hair because of her mask and hood draped close about her shoulders and head. Her body was swathed in a gown of deep red that shimmered in the torchlight and accentuated her womanly proportions.
She was not a light-skirt, or a high-paid courtesan, either, he’d wager.
She was a lady.
One he intuitively recognized but could not place or name.
That was so rare he was moving toward her before he had even decided to meet her.
She was with a gentleman, clearly a servant of some sort by the way he deferred to her and scowled at anyone who got too close. On closer inspection, he discovered she was not young and not very tall. She studied those around her with open curiosity and more than a little amusement. A smile tugged at her lips when a pair of well-dressed fops prowled past her, arm in arm. She caught their eye, and the pair descended on her. It only took a few minutes of conversation for her fan to appear, and with two sharp snaps of it across their outstretched hands, the pair beat a hasty retreat, laughing as if they’d just been scolded by their mother.
Sinclair found that amusing, since he knew the pair in question quite well. Lords Stephens and Stockwick were a pair of larrikins, and they would no doubt tell a far different version of that meeting tomorrow if he cared to listen.
However, the lady intrigued him even more now. It took a courageous woman to beat back two of the most popular gentlemen in the ton with only a delicate fan in her arsenal. She wielded it well—as if she had done so many times before. Did she not fear the repercussions of being identified? What the devil was the world coming to when a lady of such unmistakable quality attended Vauxhall Garden almost alone?
He simply had to find out who she was. Perhaps Teddy would be interested in her, too.
Her servant purchased champagne from a wine merchant and handed it to her. She sipped slowly as she moved along toward the dark walk. All gentlemen gave way to her, and many bowed deeply. Her regal nod was bestowed on one and all without hesitation, and Sinclair was doubly fascinated. She stopped at the fire jugglers to watch them toss flaming batons high in the air before moving on to listen to a woman singing of long-lost love on the steps of the rotunda.
She turned, and her eyes were suddenly upon him.
Sinclair could not move as one delicate brow rose above her mask, but then her gaze moved on.
Sinclair was bereft to lose her attention. He followed after her, determined to make her notice him again. Sinclair lost sight of her, and panic unlike he’d ever felt before struck him. He looked around wildly, turning about in circles to see where she’d gone.
He was afraid he’d lost her, which made no sense.
The crowd thinned suddenly, and he found she was standing before him.
“I’m starting to think you’re following me.”
He smiled at the Irish accent that rolled off her tongue like music. He also noted that Teddy was quickly backing away to give him privacy for conversation. And he wanted that privacy more than ever before. The soft lilt of her voice marked the woman as a foreigner, and the sound sent an astonishing thrill through his whole being. An Irish woman, if he was not mistaken. He still did not recognize her, and there were so few Irish peers that he was intrigued not to. “I was hoping you might spare me a moment of your time.”
The fan rose between them. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Why, indeed.” He raised a brow at the fan but found her preparations to repel him utterly charming. Wholly unnecessary, too. He would say nothing to earn a slap. “I noticed some gentlemen had bothered you earlier, and I wanted to be sure you were not upset by anything the pair might have said to you. We English tend to speak our minds a little too freely in this place.”
She looked around with a delicate shrug of one shoulder. “What would you do now if I was upset?”
Sinclair had never reacted so strongly when he’d heard an Irishwoman speak before. “Were you?”
“No. They were like all the English I have ever known. Bored and only interested in the pursuit of their own pleasure. Same as you, I suspect.”
“They flirted with you,” he decided. “I know the pair, so I can easily imagine how the conversation might have gone.”
“I am sure you do,
too,” she said dismissively. “I do not need your protection. Should you not be returning to your friends?”
“I came alone,” he promised, taking a cautious step toward her.
“You came with him.” She pointed with her fan at Teddy. “And with that threatening trio spread out behind you. I am sorry you have needed to take precautions for your safety.”
Sinclair did not look behind him. There were always servants following him about for his protection. However, Teddy was the most zealous and watchful when they went out together. He was quite attached to the notion that Sinclair would live to a ripe old age, probably in the deluded hope he would never have to inherit his vast wealth and responsibilities. But everyone died, and Sinclair was ready for that. Or would be if Teddy would try to be reasonable.
“They’re usually more circumspect,” he promised, wondering how this woman had spotted them so quickly. “I am a prisoner,” he suggested in jest.
She shook her head. “Of a fine, strong gilt cage.”
Sinclair must be losing his touch. She saw through his disguise far too easily. “I am but a poor Englishman merchant looking for some company.”
“If you cannot be serious, I really must go,” she announced with a shake of her head. “I do hope you enjoy your evening.”
“Surely I could not enjoy the evening without you,” he begged, bravely taking up her hand and bringing it to his lips. Risking a slap of her fan would be worth knowing this woman’s name. He bowed over it and looked up slowly before pressing a kiss there. The hand in his trembled. “Stay. I would like to talk to you some more.”
She drew in a slow breath and took possession of her hand again. “It’s not only a bit o’ talk you are after tonight, is it?”
“True, but we could start with a conversation. You have a beautiful voice. I long to hear more of it,” he suggested with a soft laugh, still hopeful of winning her company for the evening, even if it was entirely chaste. Sinclair was quite captivated by her speech and manner. She was no missish lady to be easily swayed by just anyone. He revised his estimate of her age upward a bit. She was closer to his own, he now suspected. He found himself extremely attracted to her, and he thought she was to him, too. She could not stop looking him over. He felt her gaze like rain upon his senses after a long, dry summer.
She would never do for Teddy, but for him…perhaps.
His pulse started to thud as he considered the woman. If he revealed his title, no doubt she might fall into his arms and accept his invitation to stay without too much trouble. He really did not want to mention his title, though. “If you insist on discretion, I have a carriage and a place not far away.”
Her chin lifted. “Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“So single-minded when it comes to ladies.”
He had not given too much thought to how he seduced anyone before. “I am who I am.”
“An evasive answer, that is.” She crossed her arms, inadvertently lifting her pretty breasts high so he’d notice them more. “Well, who are you tonight?”
“A gentleman, I swear to you,” he promised, as he forced his eyes to remain on hers. “Later, I can be whatever you want me to be. For one night, or perhaps the happy memory of a few.”
The lady unconsciously brandished her fan. “If you ever had honorable intentions, I might consider your suggestion.”
Sinclair was definitely losing his touch. Any other woman would be hanging on his arm by now. “We could wait for an introduction, but then we might miss the opportunity anonymity will afford us. We can be completely honest strangers. I assumed you had been here before.”
“I have not. I assume you are a frequent patron.”
She was not leaving still, and he felt a ray of hope. If he could keep her talking to him, the night might turn out well still. “My first visit was a long time ago. I used to meet someone in a place very similar to this often, but they disappointed me in the end. Imagine that.”
“I do not have to. I was disappointed, too.”
“I am sorry.” Sinclair did not want to talk about former lovers—his or hers. He wanted her to be his next. Tonight. Perhaps he should speak bluntly. “I would give my life to kiss you right now.”
“You are only thirty years late,” she said, and then sighed. “I am sorry. I cannot do this anymore.”
“What?”
She removed her head covering and her mask and smiled up at him. Silvery blonde hair glinted in the torchlight, and the delicate web of lines around her eyes and mouth creased in amusement. “Hello, Sinclair. It has been a long time. I am glad to see you are in fine form tonight.”
He drew back in shock as he matched the young woman of his memory with this older, mature woman who stood before him. “Kitty?”
She waved her fingers at him. “The one and only,” she said.
“Kitty Hunter?”
She winced. “It is Lady Catherine Forbes now, your grace, not that I ever imagined you might remember anything of me after all this time.”
“I could never forget you,” he whispered. He had not lain eyes on Kitty in over thirty years, but he’d forgotten nothing about her. Her laughing eyes were familiar, and the way she spoke to him was the same, too. But the sound of her voice had changed a lot.
Yet even that alteration changed nothing.
He moved closer, his hand lifting to caress her cheek with his fingertips.
Kitty slapped his hand away with her fan. “Enough of that.”
Chagrined, he shook his head at his own actions. Kitty had been his lover for two exciting years when they’d been younger. Apparently, he still wanted Kitty the way he’d done at seventeen, eighteen, and until the day he’d learned that she’d gone and married another man. He could not make his mouth form words to say how genuinely pleased he was to see her again. He just stared at her, drinking in the surprise and changes the years had brought to her face.
She shrugged. “Well, it’s been lovely, but I really must go. I am relieved to see you are in good spirits and obviously unharmed. You have got a smooth tongue still, when it comes to charming a lady, your grace. Enjoy your amusements, but you must excuse me.”
His sluggish mind finally woke up, and he darted forward. “Wait!”
“I cannot,” she replied.
She hurried off with a burst of speed that belied her age, which was a little shy of his own, he recalled. Most women her age walked only at a sedate pace—waddled, he often thought—but she was nearly running as if he were the devil chasing her. He admired the slight sway of her hips before as she disappeared into the crowd, her man hurrying after until he vanished, too.
“Bloody hell! Come back here, woman,” he shouted, running after her, but she was well and truly gone and likely never heard him. “Kitty!”
He could not believe Kitty was in London again—and that he’d lost her again, too. He dragged his mask from his face, scrubbed a hand across his mouth, and cursed roundly.
Thirty years ago, he had been quietly making preparations to marry Kitty. Not even his twin sister had known about that momentous decision. He’d never imagined meeting her again would feel so unsettling.
A few minutes later, Teddy rejoined him. “Ah, bad luck. I thought you must have found someone for yourself.”
“I had too.” Not just tonight, though. Forever would have been Sinclair’s choice once.
Chapter 4
Kitty escaped the sweltering carriage and stood upon the pavement outside her brother’s home in a very bad mood, indeed. It was not just the heat of the day or this errand that irked her. She had slept poorly the night before, plagued by memories of Sinclair—then and now. He’d seemed in good spirits last night, but the presence of servants discreetly following him about proved her worst suspicions correct. Her brother had utterly lost his marbles and was harassing the Duke of Exeter already.
Percy had to be stopped.
She knew from experience what ill could happen when you got on the w
rong side of a member of the Berringer family.
Kitty shuddered to think what could have happened if she had not run away from Sinclair last night. She had not meant to talk to him or reveal herself. Apparently, she still had no sense when it came to dealing with that particular man.
The letter Percy had sent her had quickly fed the fire in her bedchamber last night. Keeping such a missive in her possession was both dangerous and foolish. It was proof of Percy’s madness. She did not want to imagine what might have happened if anyone else had read the undoubtedly false accusations Percy had put in writing.
There was no possibility Exeter had harmed the late Lady Ettington all those years ago, as Percy now suddenly claimed.
He would not have harmed one hair.
Sinclair would have protected his twin sister in the same manner that Susanna had him.
Their bond had been absolutely unbreakable, and none could ever come between them.
The street her brother lived on now appeared to be an unending strip of weathered gray terraces, pinched tightly together. Residents were already looking out at Kitty’s carriage, apparently something of a novelty here in Southwark.
She strode to the door and knocked loudly just as the sun reached its zenith. Her brother was not expecting her visit. She had wanted to give him no warning.
From inside, she heard the rush of footsteps, and the door opened a crack. “Who’s there?”
“Lady Catherine Forbes,” she explained, expecting not to be recognized. She was still feeling the sting of Sinclair’s reaction last night. “I would have a word with my brother immediately.”
The door opened a little more and a familiar face from her past appeared. Kitty was surprised their old housekeeper was still in her brother’s employment when she should have been pensioned off years ago. The woman beamed, eyes alight with wonder in her old face. “Oh my! Miss Kitty. Is that really you?”
The woman had been with the family for an age, and Kitty overlooked her improper addresses out of past affection. “Mrs. Quinn, it is good to see you again. Do let me in before I expire in this dreadful heat.”
