by Candice Hern
He was coming to find her laughter irresistible.
At Baldwin's book shop on Paternoster Row, while Annie thumbed through several new publications, Will's eye was caught by a particular book, and quietly purchased it. She had been so engrossed in volumes on science and history – quite a surprise, that – she had not noticed his purchase. When they left the store, he presented it to her.
"I thought you might find this little book useful."
Annie looked up at him, surprise and delight in her eyes. "You bought this for me? After already buying me perfume?"
He nodded.
"You are too kind, Will." She opened to the title page, and smiled. "The Picture of London for 1802, Being a Correct Guide to all the Curiosities, Amusements, Exhibitions, Public Establishments and Remarkable Objects in and near London, for the use of Strangers, Foreigners, and All Persons who are not acquainted with the British Metropolis. Oh, how wonderful!"
"Just in case you are able to manage another adventure or two."
"Oh, I hope I can." Her furrowed brow indicated she thought it unlikely. But she composed herself quickly and said, "Thank you so very much, Will. I shall treasure this, if only as a reminder of a wonderful day."
They walked back toward Fleet Street, where they had left the curricle in Parker's charge. Despite the incident with Burke, the earl was glad he'd brought her here. It was a pleasure to watch her wander through the various shops and emporiums. She didn't buy anything – like most royals, she probably never carried any money – but that did not seem the point, in any case. It was just the act of shopping that appeared to be an entirely new experience to Annie – to be allowed to view wares of all kinds and pick out what she wanted, if she wanted it. It all seemed so unfamiliar to her that he had to guess she'd never been permitted to visit shops. There seemed to be so much she had not been allowed to experience, so many simple, ordinary things. Such was the life, he supposed, of the daughter of a prince.
Evesham had never given any consideration to his future bride's life. He had, in fact, never given much consideration to Lady Ann at all. He knew he was unofficially bound to her and would one day wed her. But he never thought to care for her. Their type of marriage was never about affection. But after only a few hours in her company, he had developed not only affection for her, but compassion. He hated that a young woman filled with so much curiosity and liveliness had been so closely guarded. It was no wonder she tried to escape now and then. She had a joyful zest for life. It was rather amazing that it had not been squashed over the years.
It surprised him to have to admit it, but he was determined that when they were married, she could have as many adventures as she liked. As long as he could share them with her.
#
"It says here," Ann said, reading from the guidebook as they drove west on Fleet Street, "that there is a panorama of London at a place called Spring Gardens. Have you seen it?"
Will kept his eyes on the road as he maneuvered through traffic. "No, I have not had that pleasure."
"It says that the painting is one hundred and eight feet long! Can you imagine? And shows the whole of London from the vantage of a rooftop near Black Friars Bridge. Isn't that the bridge we walked on, near where we had oysters?"
"The very one."
Oh, how she would love to see it. But perhaps it was on the other side of London. "Is Spring Gardens very far from here?"
"Not at all. Would you like to go?"
She turned on the seat to face him and smiled. "Oh yes, please! I've never seen a panorama painting. And how serendipitous that is was painted from a spot very near where we recently stood."
"Then we certainly must see it."
She was delighted that he would take her to see this marvel, but was struck with a sudden pang of conscience. "Oh, but perhaps you have other things to do. I have monopolized your time all day."
"Nonsense. I have enjoyed every minute, Annie. And the day is not over. Let us continue to enjoy it."
He shot her a smile so warm it made her skin prickle and flush. Foolish girl! She must not allow this charming, very obliging gentleman to affect her so. She gathered her scattered wits and sat quietly while he drove her to Spring Gardens, which was close by to Charing Cross.
Poor Parker was once again left in charge of the curricle and team while she and Will entered the Great Room where the exhibition was being held. It was only open until dusk, so they were among the last visitors of the day. A huge canvas, nearly twenty feet high, encircled the room. It was entitled Eidometropolis, and had been beautifully painted by an artist named Thomas Girtin, providing a three-hundred sixty degree view of London.
Ann had never seen anything like it. The treatment of light was so naturalistic, she felt as though she were indeed standing on a rooftop in Southwark and viewing the whole of London. She was quite mesmerized, and almost made herself dizzy by turning in circles to see the entire picture. She was able to easily recognize the streets where they'd been, following the line of Black Friars Bridge to Ludgate Hill and St. Paul's. Will even pointed out to her the small inn where they'd eaten oysters.
"I feel positively transported," she said. "It's quite extraordinary. Just imagine the effort involved in producing so prodigious a work. Oh, I am so glad we came!"
"So am I." He grasped her hand and squeezed it gently before releasing it. "And I am delighted that you are able to enjoy the extraordinary as well as the ordinary."
She chuckled. "Yes, I much prefer a bit of the high brow along with the low brow. It makes for a well-rounded education, don’t you think?"
"Absolutely. Now, as they are about to chase us out, I wonder if you could manage one more extraordinary experience, just a short walk from here?"
"I am all agog. Lead on."
After informing Parker where they were going and arranging to have him meet them there in an hour or so, Will led her onto Cockspur Street and then onto Pall Mall. They stopped in front of Carlton House, where he described the elaborate renovations done by the Prince of Wales. Ann was not a supporter of her cousin's extravagance, but she kept silent. Then they turned into St. Alban's Street and into the charming Chocolate Rooms of M. Augero, chocolate-maker to the king.
"It is not so fashionable as it once was," Will said, "but Augero makes the most perfect dish of chocolate you will ever drink."
There were cases and cases of beautiful confections and pastries, and two rooms filled with small cloth-covered tables. They were led to one of these tables, and Will told the waiter what he wanted. A pot of chocolate was brought to them, and the waiter poured and foamed it for them. He also provided a pot of cream and bowl of crushed sugar.
Will was right. It was thick and delicious. Ann preferred it bitter, without sugar, but did add the cream, which sweetened it slightly. She savored it slowly while they spoke of the events of the day.
"I am surprised," Will said, "that this is your first London adventure. Surely it is not your first visit to the Metropolis?"
"Oh, no. I've been here several times, but always …" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Always well chaperoned."
He chuckled. "Have you always been such a romp that you must be so closely watched?"
"Not at all. I have had a few small adventures, as I have already confessed. I suspect if I had been less closely watched I might have had more."
"You must not have been too closely watched today. How did you escape?"
"By climbing a tree, of course!"
He laughed. "But how did you avoid being seen? Do you not have a lady's maid or dresser who keeps a sharp eye on you?"
"I do indeed. A whole team of sharp eyes, in fact. I wasn't allowed to bring my favorite German maid with me, and was assigned a termagant named Barnes, who I prefer to call Barnacle, as she clings to me so closely. Don’t laugh. It's true! And there are others who almost never let me out of their site. My personal footman and my father's major domo are on constant guard. But this morning I told them I was ill and did not
wish to be disturbed. While all my guardians were having their breakfast downstairs, I managed to sneak out to the garden. And you know the rest."
"Will they be looking for you?"
"Probably." She added more cream to her chocolate and took a satisfying sip. "But I don't know how they will find me. They have no idea an obliging gentleman in a sleek curricle swept me away."
"I hope they are not too hard on you when you return."
"They will scold, of course, but then turn me over to the tender mercies of my future bridegroom." She gave an unladylike snort. "No doubt they will all be pleased to be rid of me."
A hint of sadness gathered in his eyes for an instant. Ann was rather disconcerted by his solicitous gaze, and looked away.
"Have you been unhappy," he asked, "living as you do?"
"Oh, no. I do not mean to give that impression." Heavens, she must have sounded like a petulant child. "I was born to privilege and rank and fully appreciate my good fortune. I have never wanted for anything. In fact, I have been rather indulged. I have nothing to complain about."
"Except for the lack of opportunities for adventure."
She shrugged. "It is a very minor disadvantage. Would you like more chocolate?" He nodded and she poured. He took a small lump of sugar but no cream.
"If you were not so closely supervised," he said, "what would you most like to do?"
"The sort of things we have done today. To actually visit a gallery or museum to view works of art along with other people, and not have them privately exhibited for my family. To visit dressmakers and milliners' shops and linen drapers – if only to browse – instead of having everything brought to me. To be allowed to wander through a street fair or market, sampling simple foods, examining simple crafts, watching a troupe of actors or a puppet show. I am pleased to live in the style and elegance that wealth provides. But sometimes I yearn for simpler pleasures."
"You enjoy being among people"
"I am surrounded by people. But most of them are obsequious, governed by rules that are supposed to have my best interests at heart. I often yearn for a simple, honest conversation." She gave a soft chuckle. "Such as those I've enjoyed with you today. It is not often, sir, that I allow myself to indulge in such uninhibited speech."
He smiled. "Perhaps it is easier with a stranger."
"Perhaps." She returned his smile. "But one cannot always count on an interesting stranger to come along."
"This fellow you are to marry. He is more or less a stranger, is he not? You may find him easier to talk to than you might think."
"Unlikely. He will have expectations of me that do not include what he would surely deem hoydenish behavior. That is why I must make the most of today. What next, sir? I am not ready to return home yet. Where shall we go?"
"It is getting late and neither of us is dressed for the evening. That limits our choices."
"Remember that I prefer ordinary entertainments to tonnish affairs, so I am pleased not to go somewhere that requires a ball gown or opera dress."
He tapped his chin as though considering the options. "I can suggest two alternatives for the evening. It is the last night to visit Vauxhall Gardens before they close for the year. Most of the ton has already left Town, but those still here might want to experience the final evening of music and fireworks and such."
"And the other option?"
"There is a masquerade at the Opera House tonight."
"Oh! That sounds like fun. What sort of people go to masquerades?"
"At the Opera House … all the vulgar riff and raff of London may show up. It can be rather rowdy."
"Then that's the place to go. It sounds like fun. Unless it is thoroughly improper?"
"It can be, but you will be with me and I am a gentleman and will protect you from obnoxious cits and tradesmen."
She smiled. "Of course you will. Only, we don't have costumes."
"There are always domino and loo mask vendors outside. They will be sufficient to disguise us. And if anyone wonders what a lady and gentleman in afternoon dress are doing at an evening ball, we need not worry that anyone will know who we are. And since neither of us knows the true identity of the other, a masquerade will be a perfect cap to the day."
#
They had dined on a large repast in the supper room downstairs, along with a very boisterous and bawdy crowd – and imbibed a great deal of wine making them both a trifle bosky – before coming upstairs to join the ball. Annie had likely attended very lavish masquerades in Europe, if she'd been allowed out of her cage, so she would not be impressed by the motley group of costumed revelers at the Opera House. Some costumes were shockingly revealing, some were impossibly vulgar, and some had seen better days. There were harlequins and nuns, Amazons and Turks, shepherdesses and snake charmers, cavaliers and soldiers.
The stage had been transformed into a Moorish temple, cleverly incorporating Handel's organ, where jugglers and acrobats entertained an audience who mostly ignored them. No one cared a jot that he was in boots or that Annie was in an afternoon dress. In fact, no one paid much attention to them at all. He was, though, glad to have the security of the domino and mask. They already had two near misses today.
An orchestra played a lively country dance, and Evesham led Annie to join a line. The atmosphere was loud and boisterous, and they were both soon caught up in it – joining hands, twirling, interweaving with other couples, circling, hopping, skipping, clapping, and dancing down the line. And laughing. Oh, how they laughed as they tried to follow the steps of the lead couple, who were both very drunk.
Evesham was entirely charmed by his partner. There was nothing reserved or sedate about her dancing. She threw herself into it wholeheartedly, joining in gavottes and reels and cotillions with abandon, dancing beside people of the lowest classes of society without judgment or concern. Annie was a complete revelation to him. Not at all what he'd expected, or even thought he wanted, but now he could not imagine anyone else as his bride. He was already a bit in love with her.
He would bring her again to these masquerades, where she could be uninhibited and free.
They had just completed a promenade when Annie suddenly froze, a look of sheer horror on her face. She spun around and walked away from the set, to the jeers and complaints of other dancers. Evesham caught up with her and touched her shoulder.
"What is it, Annie? What's happened?"
"It's him. I know it's him, but how could he have found me here?"
"Who?"
"Blast it all, I should have kept on my bonnet. They will recognize my hair."
"Who? Dammit, Annie, who have you seen?"
"Phillips. My father's major domo. Somehow he has tracked me down. Oh, no! There is Joseph, my footman, too"
How the devil –
"They have seen me! Oh, Will." She grabbed his hand. "What am I to do?"
Evesham turned to the crowd and saw the two men pointing in Annie's direction. He was damned if they were going to spoil her night. "Follow me."
The pit was too crowded to manage, so he led her through the stalls to a side aisle. The lower tier boxes were packed with rowdy, drunken revelers, but now was not the time to be particular. He grabbed Annie by the waist and lifted her into one of the boxes, much to the delight of the inebriated gentlemen seated there. One of them pulled her onto his lap before the earl was able to swing himself into the box and retrieve her.
"Sorry, lads, we can’t stay."
The men cackled merrily as he tugged Annie through the curtain at the back of the box. They hurried down a corridor lined with niches that held life-sized plaster cast figures of Roman gods and goddesses. A commotion behind them caused Evesham to turn around, and he saw the two men from Gloucester House bearing down on them. Looking for some way to distract them, he impulsively reached behind one of the plaster figures, pulled hard, and sent it crashing to the floor, effectively blocking the path of their pursuers.
This would call for another bank draft for damages,
but he couldn't think of that now. He hustled Annie through the corridor and down the stairs, and out a side door onto Hart Street where he'd told Parker to wait. The startled tiger, who'd been lounging against the curricle chatting with a coachman, dashed to the horses as the earl handed Annie into the carriage and leapt in beside her.
"Hop on, Parker, we're in a hurry."
The tiger barely made it into the rear seat before Evesham had given the horses their heads. When he'd caught his breath, the earl realized that Annie was laughing.
"Abominable girl! You enjoyed that!"
"I was frightened to death at first," she said, hanging on to the strap as Evesham embarked on a complicated route of turns and back-tracks to confuse any pursuers. "But once you took me in hand, I knew we'd outrun them."
"It was a near thing, my girl. I am taking you back to Gloucester House. I believe you have had enough adventure for one day."
"Yes, I suppose I have. If you are able to get me back before Phillips and Joseph return, I can plead ignorance if they accuse me of being at a masquerade."
"Consider it done. Hold on!"
#
She would not allow him to drive her to the entrance of Gloucester House. She insisted on being put down a short distance away, saying she did not want to get him into any trouble. Evesham left the tireless Parker in charge of the horses – he would have to slip the boy a special bonus for his efforts this day – walked a ways with Annie until he found a tree where they might be somewhat private.
She had left her domino in the curricle and retrieved the capote bonnet she'd worn all day but had not put it on again. Her golden hair caught the moonlight, and she looked entirely beautiful. But she had a very wistful, almost sad look in her eyes when she faced him. "I know this must have seemed the most mundane of days for you, sir, but I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed myself. I am overwhelmed by your kindness in spending so much time with a complete stranger."
"Not a stranger. You said yourself that we were fast friends."
