After giving the display a careful examination she exited to stand in the midst of the row, clasping her hands with excitement. J. B. came to stand beside her.
“What do you think, my dear?” he asked with a smile. “Do you find the fair to your liking?”
“Oh, Uncle!” She spun to face him. “I fear I may never be able to take it all in!”
J. B. laughed lightly at her exuberance. “I promise you’ll have ample time to explore, Victoria.”
She nodded and made quick work of the pasty. Having assuaged her hunger, she began to set about preparing the shop for its patrons, smiling at the sounds of the horses kept at the inn not far from the row of stores. She took a deep breath and sighed with pleasure. The country air was welcome to her lungs. She hadn’t realized how confining the atmosphere in London was until she’d left it for this brief respite.
She was astounded at the sheer number of shoppers that frequented her uncle’s booth on that first day, though they varied widely in dress and circumstance as those in London never had. The atmosphere was far different from the London shop, as well. Victoria noted that most were in high spirits, and smiles and winks were abundant. The good-natured gentlemen who bestowed those smiles and winks upon her gave her none of the strange and uncomfortable feelings that the leering gentlemen in town had.
As the afternoon of that first day began to wane, J. B. advised Victoria that he would be closing well before dark to give her an opportunity to explore the fair.
“I would take you about the grounds myself, my dear,” he told her, his gaze darting up and down the row of shops. “But I have to meet a gentleman regarding some business.”
“I’m twenty years old, Uncle,” she pointed out to him. “I can look after myself.”
J. B. turned those intent eyes on her face, his brow wrinkled in thought. “You must promise me that you will keep to this section of the fair,” he said. “I don’t anticipate my business taking overlong, but if I don’t come for you please make sure you’re back at the shop before dark.”
Victoria nodded and donned her straw bonnet. “I won’t wander far afield, Uncle.”
J. B. nodded with satisfaction. He escorted her from the shop, locked it tightly, and gave her one of the keys, which she placed in her reticule.
“Do take care, my dear,” J. B. said, his eyes once more running over the row of shops.
She accepted the distracted kiss he dropped on her temple and watched as he hurriedly made his way down the row. Happily anticipating all that she would see, she tied the wide burgundy ribbon of her bonnet below her chin and slipped the ties of her purse over her wrist. With one final tug of the hem of her short gloves, she began her leisurely walk through the fair.
* * *
Patrick and Tony made their way among the booths at the fair in Cambridge, eyeing the wares displayed with idle interest. The happy chattering of excited children and the hum of adults debating the merits of one particular item over another, surrounded them. Patrick took a deep breath, taking pleasure in the combined scents of savory roast meats, sweet-smelling baked goods and fresh-cut hay. An errant breeze ruffled his hair and the befuddlement that had plagued him these past weeks began to dissipate.
“Capital idea, Latham,” Tony said. “I do love a country fair.”
Patrick smiled at his friend’s words. “At the very least you can spend too much of your money on a horse you don’t need.”
Tony laughed.
“I find that I need to get out of London now and again,” Patrick went on with a nod. “I daresay I was feeling stifled.”
“Not enough to entertain you in town, friend?” Tony teased. “Not even the lovely Miss Elliot could entice you to stay?”
Patrick started at the mention of Victoria. He’d thought of little else since last he’d seen her, despite his attempts to put her from his mind. He’d taken in several shows on Drury Lane, and had frequented several public houses. He’d participated in so many sparring matches at Bradley’s boxing club that there was nary a man whom he’d not met in the ring. But when he fell into his bed at night, either drunk or utterly exhausted, Victoria was the one who haunted his dreams.
“I believe the country can provide any number of diversions, Tony,” Patrick quipped.
Tony laughed again as they continued on their leisurely stroll. The very enticing figure of a woman was soon before Patrick, clad in a lovely day dress of ivory sprigged with tiny red flowers. Her hips swayed pleasingly as she made her way down the row of shops, one graceful hand trailing lightly over one item or another that seemed to capture her attention. What do we have here? Perhaps the diversion was at hand.
A fetching straw bonnet capped the intriguing woman’s head, and he saw that its burgundy ribbon was tied in a saucy bow right beneath her dainty chin. The woman paused at a booth selling spun glassware, turning ever so slightly as to allow Patrick a glimpse of her profile at last. He stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded.
“Tory!” he called, causing the girl to turn.
Her eyes widened with surprise as she met his gaze. He nearly bit his tongue as he realized the name he’d called.
“Miss Elliot,” he said smoothly in correction, plastering a smile on his face.
Her face was alight with surprise and pleasure. As he neared her he fully took in the lovely picture she made in her pretty day dress and bonnet.
“Mr. Latham,” she said, one graceful brow arched. “What was that name you called me?”
Patrick grinned foolishly for a moment, lost in the allure of that one simple gesture.
“Allow me to introduce my good friend to you, Miss Elliot,” he said at last, evading her question. “This is Mr. Tony Waring.”
Her lips curved in a slight smile. “I daresay I’ve already made your friend’s acquaintance,” she said as Tony took her hand in his.
“Ah yes,” Tony said, bringing her hand to his lips. “Miss Elliot was most helpful to me at the shop.”
Patrick waited with impatience while Tony held her hand a bit too long. He studied Victoria’s reaction to the man, pleased that her incredible eyes held nothing of the fire he glimpsed in them when it was his own hand holding hers. She withdrew her hand gracefully from Tony’s and faced him fully. He was struck by how the fresh air in the country had given her smooth cheeks a glow. She was even more beautiful standing in the sunshine than she’d appeared in the elegant shop in town.
He took her hand in his, feeling the welcome spark pass between them. Satisfaction filled him as he saw her eyes widen slightly. Did she feel it too?
“I’m very pleased to find you here,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips. “I trust your uncle is with you?”
She gave a slight shake of her head. “He had to see to some business,” she said. “I’m not to wander too far afield and must return to our booth well before dark,” she added with a cheeky grin, her eyes sparkling.
“Then you must allow us to accompany you,” he said trying not to be distracted by her charming dimpled cheeks. “Tony here is a fitting chaperone, I daresay.”
“Chaperone!” Tony crowed. “The ladies at Almack’s would surely swoon to hear me addressed as such.”
“Never mind.” Patrick placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Shall we?”
She arched a brow. “You do seem . . . What did you call yourself? Determined?”
“That I am, Miss Elliot. That I am.”
Her thick lashes dropped demurely as she nodded her acceptance and he led her slowly down the row, ignoring the look of amusement on Tony’s face as he followed along beside him.
* * *
After exploring the shops at the fair for nearly two hours, Patrick and Tony escorted Victoria back to Garlickrow. The two gentlemen were quite gallant toward her, and she enjoyed the afternoon immensely. Mr. Latham was ever-solicitous and Mr. Waring interjected humorous observations as they made their way among the other shoppers.
As the sun met the horizon, they passed a booth s
till open for business despite the growing lateness of the hour. Victoria noted that the jewelry it offered for purchase was of nearly the same quality as that sold by Elliot’s. Her escorts stood by her side as she perused the wares with interest, her fingers brushing lightly over the finely-made trinkets resting on blue velvet.
“Are you by chance searching for anything in particular, Miss Elliot?” Patrick asked, his voice teasing. “A brooch, perhaps?”
A pique surged through Victoria. She snapped her head up to face him, extremely vexed by the smile curving his mouth. “I’ve no need for a brooch, Mr. Latham,” she asserted, her voice conveying the irritation she felt at his ill-placed words.
Patrick’s eyes widened and she was certain he grasped her meaning. How dare he allude to that hideous brooch? Did he think her so grasping as to wish he would gift her with such a trinket? That she would welcome everything else that would accompany its receipt? Not likely.
“Miss Elliot,” he murmured, falling into step beside her. “What’s wrong?”
Victoria spared him a glance before facing stoically ahead once more, her hands clenched in fists so tight her nails bit into her palms through her gloves.
“Nothing is amiss, I assure you,” she said stiffly. “I’m tired, Mr. Latham, and anxious to find my bed.”
She nearly bit her tongue at what her words could be misconstrued to mean. Oh, she silently lamented, was she to be forever plagued with the thought of Patrick locked in a passionate embrace with the opera girl?
Patrick seemed to take no such inference from her words, although a look of bemusement was stamped on his very handsome features. Tony wore a secret smile on his face, the source of which she couldn’t fathom. The three of them continued in silence down the row to her uncle’s locked shop.
“Your uncle has not yet returned?” Patrick asked at last as she eyed the closed shop.
Victoria peeked around the side of the snug little building and shook her head. “I don’t see him.” She withdrew the key from her reticule. “But I’m certain he’ll return shortly.”
They saw her to the back of the shop. She unlocked the door and turned to Patrick once more. He appeared uneasy to leave her, and she assumed that was as much due to her short words to him as to the fact that it was now well past sunset. She smiled up at him in an effort to relieve his apprehensions. Wonder filled her as gold flecks began to dance in his hazel eyes. He dropped his gaze to her lips and she drew in a breath.
“I . . .” he began, stepping closer. He cleared his throat. “We’ll leave you then.”
They bade her good night and took their leave, to both her regret and her relief. She closed the door and removed her bonnet, looking about the sparsely furnished private chamber. The abrupt and awkward end to her time with Patrick and his friend left her feeling disappointed, and she truly had no wish to settle in for the evening. She set her bonnet aside and tapped her foot impatiently. The faint strains of boisterous music reached her ears and she suddenly felt an urge to pay a visit to the shows set far from their row of shops. She recalled her uncle’s warning, but the night was still early and she promised herself that she would be careful. The excitement of the performers she’d glimpsed upon her arrival beckoned so she donned her cloak against the chill of the damp evening and set out for the lights and sounds of the stages.
Her spirits lifted as she approached and saw the merrymakers. Flags of every color festooned the stage and laughing patrons crowded the area. Jugglers performed for the spectators, accompanied by tumblers. Two gifted little girls who apparently hailed from the Far East seemed to fold themselves in half, and with bright smiles, deftly tumbled off the stage. Victoria laughed gaily and clapped her hands with delight.
A vibrantly-garbed singing girl soon took the spotlight and Victoria was immediately reminded of the blonde who now possessed the gaudy brooch. Was this girl also as free with her favors as that woman so obviously was? Victoria eyed the garish green velvet dress wrapping her voluptuous form. And why did all of the men surrounding the stage wear identical looks of longing as they gazed at her?
She caught a glimpse of Patrick where he stood with his friend off to one side of the crowd, his head tilted back as he laughed with ease. The two gentlemen each held large tankards of ale in their hands, obviously already well into an evening of various diversions. Would Patrick seek to occupy the opera girl’s absence with this woman? That thought filled her with both anger and hurt. Perhaps he could find her an equally ugly brooch from the booth they had visited earlier, she thought darkly. The turn of her mind’s wanderings took her by surprise. What was it about that man that caused her such turmoil?
She gazed at Patrick’s wavy brown hair, glinting richly in the light of the torches set about the stage. The smile on his face was breathtaking, showing his even white teeth. He turned his face toward her and she started, backing quickly away from the revelry on the stage. Had he seen her?
She sought to lose herself in the assembled crowd, the sound of the music rapidly fading as she carried herself away from the stages. Her mind was muddled from her rush to escape Patrick and she mistakenly turned down an unfamiliar row of closed booths. Trying to get her bearings, she came to a stop in the deserted area, and heard two men arguing somewhere close by. A shiver of fear tickled her spine as she heard what the men were saying.
“This ain’t the way it’s supposed to be,” one man said in a surly tone. “What the hell is he thinkin’?”
“Pipe down, ya’ bloody fool,” another hissed. “Elliot knows what he has to lose.”
Victoria gasped at her uncle’s name.
“What the hell was that?” the first man asked nervously. “Did you hear somethin’?”
“What?” the other replied. “You’re goin’ daft, you are.”
Victoria took a step away from the angry voices and stumbled over a discarded crate. She yelped as she landed on her bottom, her cloak and dress fanning out around her bared legs. The two men hurried from out of the shadows. They came to an abrupt halt to stare at her in surprise.
“What the b-bloody hell?” the larger of the men stammered.
His skinny companion nodded. “I told you I heard somethin’!” he crowed.
“Ah, shut up,” the large man returned.
Victoria watched the surprise leave the man’s eyes as he gawked at her. The look of hunger that crossed his dirty face caused her heart to pound with raw fear.
“Well, well,” he said, rubbing his fat hands together. “What have we here?”
His thin and equally filthy companion nodded with enthusiasm. “I think we be mighty lucky,” he said, licking his lips. “She be a pretty little dove.”
“S-silly me,” Victoria stammered, coming slowly to her feet. “My father always told me how clumsy I was. I seemed to have lost my way and tripped over this crate,” she explained as she began to slowly back away. “But I do believe I recall where I was heading, and so I shall bid you gentlemen a good night.” She turned to make a quick get-away when the fat man made a grab for her elbow with his grimy hands.
“We’ll be more than happy to help you, miss,” He grinned, showing several missing teeth. “Never can be too careful at a fair, you see . . . A lot could happen to a lost pretty girl.”
Her mouth went dry as his friend stepped behind her to cut off her escape route.
“Bring her behind the booth,” he rasped, his foul breath fanning over her face. “We’ll soon set her on her proper way.”
The fat man’s laughter joined his friend’s as Victoria began to struggle.
CHAPTER 6
Patrick left the crowd behind. Had that been Victoria he’d seen near the stage? Wasn’t she supposed to be tucked safely into her uncle’s booth?
He strained his ears and eyes as he searched for her. She was daft if it was her. Didn’t she know that a woman alone was prey to all sorts of dangers? His heart pounded as he pictured what could befall her. The country held as many perils as the seediest London str
eet.
He slowed as he came to an area that was dark and far less populated than the stages. Looking sharply down each dark row, he began to feel an urgency that he couldn’t explain. Hearing a sound, not far to the left of where he stood, he cocked his head to one side and listened for it to come again. Words reached him then, words that chilled his bones.
“Leave me alone,” a female voice sobbed. “Please, I won’t tell anyone—just let me go.”
Slap!
Patrick had heard enough. His pulse raced as he ran behind the booth. At first he couldn’t fathom the scene in front of him. Two unkempt men stood together, pressing a slight female against the wide wooden boards of the outer wall of the booth. She struggled, earning another slap for her efforts. Patrick couldn’t see if the degenerates had any weapons. Loath to bring more harm to the woman, he tamped down his outrage and forced himself to take easy steps toward the trio.
“What have we here, gents?” he drawled in his best impression of a carefree gentleman out for a bit of sport.
The thinner of the two men turned sharp eyes on him, his lip curling. “Take yourself off,” the thin man spat. “She be our bit of fun for the evenin’.”
His fat companion nodded and turned, at last giving Patrick a glimpse of their struggling captive. Patrick sucked in a breath, as terrified gray eyes turned pleadingly toward him.
Tory!
That Determined Mister Latham Page 6
