“Oh, I see,” Aunt Ivy contemplated. “Well then, if you and Sir Randall are not amiable, there is no reason to torture you with his company. I shall send a note to Rushton, to cancel.”
“Oh no, Aunt, you cannot. The earl will be brokenhearted. He is so very taken with you. I do not think he could bear to be without your company for an entire evening.” Larissa saw the glint in her aunt’s eyes at the mention of Rushton. “And I cannot say you would be pleased, either.”
Aunt Ivy gave a surrendering smile.
“Aunt, you have been everything kind to me. I cannot ask you to forsake your own happiness because of my discomfort.”
“But what about you, my dear?” Ivy took Larissa’s hand in hers. “I cannot ask you to endure Sir Randall’s presence if you do not wish it.”
“Sir Randall and I may not like one another, but we find our mutual disharmony an acceptable state and we contrive.”
“Do you? How practical of you both.”
“I plan on meeting Lord Fenton Harding once we arrive, and Sir Randall, Lady Dorothea Brookhurst.”
“How clever of you,” Ivy gasped. “Do you find Lord Fenton agreeable, dear?”
Larissa smiled knowingly. “Let’s just say I am very interested in furthering our relationship.”
Colored lanterns strung from the trees swayed in the gentle breeze, dotting the gardens at Vauxhall. Music with no apparent source laced the air. Larissa felt a sense of excitement drawing her in. When Larissa looked up, Sir Randall had gone and in his place stood Lord Fenton.
Lord Fenton wore a light blue jacket and light-colored pantaloons, a conservative selection. Sir Randall had chosen to wear a fawn-colored jacket with velvet lapels, cream breeches, and Hessians.
“Would you mind if we abandoned you, so I could take your aunt to my box for refreshment?” Rushton asked.
“Not at all,” Larissa answered. In fact, she was looking forward to wandering the park at the side of Lord Fenton.
“You are, of course, welcome to join us,” the earl added in equitable tones.
“Perhaps later, then.” Larissa looked with longing toward Lord Fenton. “It is such a lovely night. I do wish to see the gardens.”
“I shall keep a keen eye on Miss Larissa,” Lord Fenton promised, placing a protective hand over hers. Ivy nodded, giving her approval. “She shall be quite safe with me.”
Larissa flashed a smile at Lord Fenton. Of that, she was quite sure. Lord Fenton had not gone so far as to try to press her hand.
Tonight this would change. If Lord Fenton would not be brought to kiss her, she would kiss him. She knew there were many men who stole kisses from unsuspecting maidens. She would be the first she knew of to steal a kiss from an unsuspecting man.
“What would you like to see?” Lord Fenton gave one of his dazzling smiles. “What about the rotunda? It’s very beautiful. Music, mirrors, crystal chandeliers and paintings. It is a delight for the eyes and ears.”
Larissa returned his smile with mischievous intent. “I think it’s a nice place to begin,” she replied, holding tightly onto her shawl. He led her away from the grove.
The path took them by the wood and iron triumphal arches. Larissa looked at the people strolling along the intersecting crossing walks. Beyond the unevenly lit areas lay the dark walkways, where the lanterns were few and far between. That was the place her aunt had warned her about.
The dark walk, she thought. If only she could somehow convince Lord Fenton to follow her. Before the night was done, she intended to do just that.
Timing would be critical. Lord Fenton could easily outrun her if she decided to make a dash. She needed to wait until he was occupied to gain a suitable head start.
The opportunity presented itself a mere hour later, after visiting the rotunda, the exotic colonnades, and the cascade. They were fortunate to discover an unoccupied bench on which to sit and rest, which Lord Fenton insisted she needed.
“I say, there is Lord Alversly. I haven’t seen him in an age.”
“Why don’t you pay your respects to him,” she suggested. “I’m still feeling fatigued. I’d like to sit here and rest a bit.” Larissa smoothed the folds of her skirts on her lap, hoping to look as if she were settling to stay for the duration.
Lord Fenton looked shocked by her idea. “I believe it would be highly unsuitable to subject you to man-talk. Yet, I couldn’t possibly leave you,” he replied. She suspected he was insulted that she should dare ask him to abandon her. “However,” he pondered, reconsidering, “I wanted to have a word with him.”
Larissa smiled, attesting to her sincerity. “Please go. I shall wait right here, on this very spot.”
Fenton was clearly torn about what to do. After a brief deliberation, he gave in, still obviously undecided. “I shan’t be more than a moment.” He sketched a bow and legged it to Lord Alversly.
Larissa waited until he was deep into conversation before she hiked her skirts around her ankles and dashed off toward the far temple. Out of breath by the time she reached the steps, Larissa turned backed to see if Fenton had noticed. He hadn’t. She climbed to the top and waited, never taking her eyes from him.
Larissa watched Lord Fenton glance at the bench where he had left her, then around the area, looking for her. After their eyes had met, she ran into the temple, taking the steps down the other side and onto the path beyond, plunging into the darkness. She pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders and took cover between some bushes.
Larissa watched Fenton appear. He glanced around from the elevated vantage point of the steps, looking for her. He moved from the lit area near the temple onto the remote path. She waited until he traveled deeper onto the darkened walk, closer to where she crouched tucked between the surrounding hedges in wait. She realized her weeks of eager anticipation were about to come to an end in only a few moments.
Someone coming from the light would find it difficult to see. Her eyes had already become accustomed to the dark. While her victim’s eyes were adjusting, it was time to act.
In a few quick steps, Larissa moved from between the shrubbery into the open. Approaching from behind, she stepped in front of Fenton. Her shawl slipped from her shoulders when she reached up and pulled his head down to hers. Her lips found his.
This was not how Sir Randall had kissed her. He bestowed upon her a new type of kiss. A lover’s kiss. She pressed against him with all the longing that had built up inside her.
It was heavenly. More than she had remembered a kiss should be. She felt the same thrill in addition to a closeness and a desire to lose herself to the pure pleasure enveloping her. All warm and soft.
Soft as velvet.
Larissa ran her hands up the front of his coat. Under her fingers lay the soft lapels.
Velvet?
She leaped back. “Oh, my heavens … you’re Sir Randall!”
Chapter Eleven
Miss Quinn!” Randall exclaimed. Larissa’s face took form in the darkness once he heard her voice. “You have a talent for appearing in the most unfortunate of places.”
“It is you, sir, who apparently possesses the uncanny timing,” Larissa returned. “For it was Lord Fenton I wished to surprise, not you.”
“It is Lady Dorothea I seek. We somehow managed to lose one another.” He glanced around, squinting to aid his vision.
“If you will be so kind as to release me, I shall be on my way and you can be on yours.”
“Indeed. For this is not a place for the innocent, or they should not be innocent for long.” Jumping from the bushes and assaulting him was not the act of an innocent. His initial shock had melted into a complacent ardor.
The feel of Larissa’s softness, her scent, arose from his dreams and now penetrated his senses. She was like a dream. He caressed her face with a look. “Are you quite sure you wish to leave so soon?” Randall caught Larissa’s arm when she turned to leave.
“If you’re trying to f-frighten me, it’s a rather p-poor attempt,” Larissa said,
holding her chin high, pulling free from his grasp. She knelt and retrieved her shawl that had slid to the ground.
Randall had the urge to show her exactly what there was to be afraid of. He wanted to pull her into his arms and make her breathless with kisses. Instead he watched her gather her skirts and run down the darkened path into the brightly lit area beyond the temple.
Randall glanced up and stared at the crescent moon, which alone kept him company. Larissa had surprised him. And, unlike Larissa, after the first few seconds he knew exactly who he held in his arms.
In place of the innocence he had sensed on their first kiss, he felt something different. She did not respond as an experienced woman, he felt a hunger, a searching need in her kiss.
Climbing the temple steps, he returned to the gardens. Shrouded under the shadow of an arch stood Lady Dorothea. Randall waved, catching her attention, and made straight for her.
“Where have you been, Sir Randall?” Dorothea cooed.
“Where have I been, indeed. Where have you been? I thought you had disappeared.”
“Disappeared? Such nonsense.” She laughed. The wide smile faded and her voice grew soft into a whisper. “Are you wanting me, then?”
Randall’s eyes shot open in surprise. His breath caught in his throat, almost choking him. Dorothea could not have meant what Randall thought she meant.
How easy it would be to step behind the triumphal arch with her. Hidden from public view, he could take her into his arms and …
He stopped his thoughts from continuing down that lascivious lane. If it were not for his amorous predisposition, no doubt caused by the incident with Larissa, Randall would not have interpreted Dorothea’s statement in such a suggestive fashion. How could Randall think a lady such as she was capable of such duplicity?
Larissa collapsed against one of the columns at a distance from where she had discovered Sir Randall. Why, of all people, did it have to be him? She should have known who he was the moment their lips met. The familiar touch of his hand on her cheek, the familiar smell of spice, the familiar feel of his body brought back such pleasant memories.
She walked down the nearest path. After several minutes she arrived at the supper boxes. Larissa pulled up short upon hearing her aunt’s voice pierce the surrounding music.
“You want us to marry tomorrow? Why, Rushton, that’s impossible.”
The earl chuckled. “Not so impossible, my dear. I secured a special license the day I met you.” Larissa moved closer and saw Rushton press Ivy’s hands within his. “I need not tell you I am not a young man. But I can assure you, the love I feel in my heart for you is not diminished by age.” The earl gazed into Ivy’s face, his eyes twinkling.
“Oh, Rushton,” Ivy blushed. “You are far too hasty in your actions. I cannot think.”
411 enjoy it when you do not think,” the earl replied, playfully.
“Please … I have no doubts for myself. However, I do have Larissa to consider.”
“What of her? I find her a lovely girl.”
“I can’t just leave her alone,” Ivy replied.
“Alone? My dear sweet, your Larissa will be much better off. Related to an earl, her chances of a match will increase twofold. Oh yes, a very positive alliance for her. She’ll have a new family … she’ll be far from alone.”
Larissa moved back. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. On the other hand, she felt relieved she had not intruded upon their privacy. Not that the earl’s action was unexpected. Sir Randall had warned her of his intentions earlier that night at the opera. But to marry tomorrow? Aunt Ivy was right, it was far too soon.
Stepping farther away from the supper box, Larissa wandered down one of the paths, which delivered her to the stone bench where she had last seen Lord Fenton. She moved toward the unoccupied bench and sat. He still stood there among the very same men. How could that be possible? She was sure he had seen her at the temple before she left for the dark walk. Why had he not followed her?
Not more than a moment after she’d sat, he left his colleagues and was at her side. “It’s the funniest thing,” he said, raising his quizzing glass and examining her. “For a moment, I thought I saw you standing by that far temple.” “
“Nonsense.” She lied and forced a small laugh. “I haven’t dared move from this spot.”
“Just as I suspected,” he replied, laying his glass to rest on its chain. He offered her his arm. “Shall we join your aunt at the earl’s supper box?”
Larissa pulled her shawl tight around her and accepted his arm. “I imagine they might have some happy news to welcome us when we arrive.”
“Imagine that,” he commented, leading her away.
Larissa decided it would take more than a quizzing glass for Fenton to see what was going on under his own nose. No doubt he would miss Aunt Ivy and the earl smelling thoroughly of April and May.
“Our trunks are loaded onto the coach, and Katherine waits below stairs,” Larissa informed her aunt.
“Very punctual my Katherine,” Ivy praised. “I am sorry to do this to you, my dear. I had no intention of marriage when I came to London.”
“Do not be sorry.” Larissa was very happy for her aunt.
“How my life has changed since you came. I thought we’d have such fun coming to Town. Attending all the parties, balls, and such. Little did I imagine I would be the one to fall in love and marry.” She held out her arm and asked, “Fetch my wrap, would you, dear?”
Larissa lifted the blue Norwich shawl from the bed and handed it to her aunt. “In love?”
“Oh yes, my dear.” She covered her shoulders. “I should never have remarried unless I was.” Her voice grew serious. “I do believe it is time we leave.”
Ivy took a last lingering look at her reflection in the pier glass. Her eyes were radiant, almost glowing. She fingered the folds of her gown and ran her hand over her hair, admiring the neat chignon. She regarded the satisfied smile and the high color on her cheeks.
Obviously, blushing was not limited to the young for her aunt flushed the most becoming pink. Some things, Larissa thought, never change.
Arriving at Rushton townhouse, Ivy and Larissa were immediately greeted by the earl.
“There she is now,” Rushton announced, rushing to the dowager’s side. “My lovely bride.” He took both her hands and drew her near, placing a kiss on each cheek. “Have you ever seen any more beautiful?”
“Rushton, shame on you,” Ivy sighed. “You put me to the blush, and I am too old for that nonsense.”
“Ah, no, my love.” He placed a kiss on her hand. “You shall see. Life has just begun for us.” Rushton gave an all-encompassing look before announcing, “Let us not waste a moment longer.” He released one of her hands and reached out to one side. “Laurie,” he called.
The butler appeared, handing the earl a nosegay of white roses with small green ivy threaded through. The earl inhaled its fragrance before presenting the love token to his bride.
“For you, my dear. Ivy for the most delicate Ivy of all.”
She accepted the flowers. “Why, thank you, Rushton.”
“Let us remove to the blue parlor and proceed.” Laurie led the way with Ivy and Larissa following. The clergyman, Rushton, and Sir Randall brought up the rear.
Larissa immediately noticed the parlor was not blue, but yellow. She glanced at the others. No one else seemed to have observed the incongruity, it seemed, except for her. She would certainly not bring up such a trivial fact on such an important day as this.
The clergyman indicated where the bride, groom, and witnesses should stand, then proceeded. The ceremony was short, lasting no more than fifteen minutes followed by a brief celebration.
“I told Larissa I have asked one of your maids, Abby, to attend her since I am taking Katherine with me. I am still concerned about her, though,” the new countess confessed to Rushton.
“Did you not send for a chaperone for Larissa?” the earl queried.
“Yes, but
Mrs. Rutledge will not arrive until tomorrow.”
“It is not even one full day. Surely we can entrust her care to my nephew until then,” Rushton suggested.
“But won’t that seem odd?”
Rushton sighed and eased into his chair. “My nephew has the most upstanding character, high morals, and sense of what is right of anyone I know.”
Having Larissa in his care was the last thing Sir Randall wanted as well. Above all, he did not want to compromise his developing romance with Lady Dorothea.
“Not to worry, my dearest,” the earl said to his new bride’s hand. “Larissa and Randall are connected now. Randall is a gentleman beyond reproach.”
“Dash it, Uncle Cyrus, I wish you wouldn’t talk about me as if I were not here,” Randall grumbled, hoping someone would include him in the conversation.
“Who knows what sort of scoundrel lurks about in the shadows and sits ready to pounce,” Ivy said in imaginary horror of fiends and seducers after her niece. “I must check on her.” She flustered with this unpleasant talk and left the room.
“Pounce? Scoundrels?” Randall repeated in alarm after the countess left. “I think this is all a bit far-fetched don’t you, Uncle?”
“Perhaps, but it shall keep her aunt happy.” Rushton sat forward and shook a finger at his nephew. “And I need not remind you, if she’s plagued with worry over Larissa’s welfare,” the earl took up a coquettish falsetto and did his best imitation of his new wife, “whether she’s happy or whether she’s safe, I shan’t—” He coughed and resumed his normal tone, “We shan’t have any kind of bridal trip at all. I hope I don’t make myself sound too selfish about all this. I do care about Larissa. She’s a fine girl and I won’t mind that she’ll be moving in with us after the Season. I’m really quite fond of her.”
“She’s to reside at Rushton Manor?” Randall remarked, outraged.
“Unless she can manage a marriage soon, she will have to.” The earl gazed at Randall with a pleading look he had never seen before. “Please say you’ll agree. If not for sweet Larissa’s sake, then for mine.”
Sweet Larissa? The chit had them fooled. All of them. It was clear, at least to Randall, he was the only one who knew what the real Larissa was all about.
Miss Quinn's Quandary Page 7
