The Wicked Baron

by Sarah Mallory

  Carlotta gave a rueful smile. ‘I am sure one soon grows accustomed, but it is all so new to me. You must forgive me; my senses are quite overcome by so many shops, so many wonderful things displayed. I am very much afraid that if I have to make one more purchase, I shall be completely undone.’

  ‘Well, then, I have the very thing,’ cried Mrs Ainslowe. ‘We shall change partners. Lady Broxted and I will finish our shopping together while Darvell escorts Miss Rivington back to Berkeley Square.’

  ‘Oh, no, ma’am!’ cried Carlotta, appalled. ‘Truly I am not tired, I was merely funning.’

  Luke bent a frowning look upon his sister-in-law. ‘Pray, Adele, do not be so overbearing.’

  She gave him a mischievous smile, but turned to address Carlotta. ‘My dear Miss Rivington, I can see that you are quite done up. You must accept this opportunity to rest. Let Darvell take you home; he dislikes shopping as much as you and has been wishing himself elsewhere for the past hour. Your aunt and I can enjoy ourselves for a while longer, then we shall follow you. What do you say, Lady Broxted?’

  ‘You are looking a little tired, Carlotta.’

  ‘No, really, I couldn’t leave you, Aunt—’

  Mrs Ainslowe raised her hand. ‘Do not think we are putting ourselves out for you, Miss Rivington. This arrangement will suit us all. And you need not fear any impropriety; one of Lady Broxted’s footmen shall walk behind you.’

  ‘Well, if Lord Darvell does not object to taking my niece home…’

  Carlotta could see that her aunt was weakening. ‘No, really, I could not impose upon Lord Darvell!’

  She was ignored. Lord Darvell was bowing.

  ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure, ma’am.’ He spoke with studied indifference and Carlotta cringed. ‘Well, Miss Rivington, shall we leave these ladies to their hedonistic pursuits?’

  She was trapped. There was nothing she could say that would not sound churlish and ungrateful.

  ‘There, now!’ cried Mrs Ainslowe, beaming. ‘Take good care of her, Luke. Tell James I shall send for the carriage later to collect me from Broxted House.’

  The two parties went their separate ways. Carlotta stared ahead of her. At Malberry she had wanted nothing more than to be alone with Luke but here, even with Lady Broxted’s footman walking a few paces behind, she felt very tense. It was as though she was walking beside a wild beast. A tiger, perhaps, that might pounce on her at any moment. However, when he spoke, Luke’s tone was perfectly polite.

  ‘My new sister is a minx,’ he remarked. ‘She likes to organise everyone her own way. I must apologise for her.’

  ‘Not at all,’ murmured Carlotta cautiously. ‘I like her; she is very…very refreshing.’

  He laughed. ‘When you have known her a little longer, you will call her exhausting. She has so much energy to expend on her friends, especially when it comes to matchmaking. Tell Adele your requirements, Miss Rivington, and she will have you fixed up with a rich husband before you can blink an eye.’

  Hellfire! Luke swore under his breath. What had made him say that? He had been surprised at the lightness of spirit he felt at the prospect of having Carlotta to himself for the short walk to Berkeley Square. She looked so pretty with that straw bonnet framing her face, the dark brown ribbons matching her eyes. He wanted to put their quarrel behind them, but his joking remark had come too soon. He sensed her drawing away from him.

  ‘I beg your pardon, I—’

  She waved her hand, saying airily, ‘Pray do not apologise, my lord, it is an excellent notion. I am sure Mrs Ainslowe must know all the most eligible gentlemen in town. And she will not be shocked by my ambition—after all, your brother married her for her fortune, did he not?’

  Luke ground his teeth. ‘I’ll have you know that James is very much in love with his wife!’

  ‘I am sure he is,’ came the honey-sweet reply. ‘But I’d wager the fortune does not detract from their happiness. Perhaps we could ask him, for he is even now approaching us.’

  ‘We shall do no such thing,’ he retorted as James hailed them from across the street.

  ‘Luke, well met!’

  James tossed a coin to the crossing sweeper and came up to them, a look of enquiry upon his features. Luke performed the introduction almost reluctantly and Carlotta held out her hand.

  ‘Mr Ainslowe, how do you do, sir? I was speaking to your wife but ten minutes since.’

  Luke glanced down at the little figure beside him. She was smiling shyly up at James, showing no sign of the scheming minx he knew her to be. James, damn him, was beaming back at her, obviously enchanted.

  ‘Were you, by Gad? I thought she had prevailed upon Luke here to take her shopping.’

  ‘She did, but she has met a kindred spirit in Lady Broxted,’ explained Luke. ‘Miss Rivington, however, has made her purchases and I am escorting her back to Broxted House. Where are you going, brother? I did not know you would be coming out today or I would have let you escort your own wife.’

  ‘It wasn’t my plan to come this way, but I was at Brooks’s last evening with a party of friends, and I am now off to collect my winnings from Sir Gilbert Mattingwood. Quite rolled up, he is. Poor Gil, almost lost his boots last night and did not have the means to pay me, so he told me to call on him today at his lodgings in Dean Street, which is where I am going now.’ He took out his watch and studied it. ‘By Jove, is that the time? I had best get on; there is a house sale in Curzon Street later today and I thought I might give it a look. I fancy there are one or two nice pieces of Sèvres that would look very well at Malberry Court. So—your servant, Miss Rivington; good day to you, Luke.’

  James strode away and Luke set off again. He was aware that Carlotta was watching him and said irritably, ‘Very well, I will admit that James could not be fitting out his house in such grand style if Adele had not brought a fortune with her. But there is a very strong affection between them.’

  ‘I am sure there is,’ was all she would say, but her soothing tones made his fingers itch to strangle her.

  He took his leave of her at the door of Lord Broxted’s residence, but as he bowed over her hand, a thought struck him. ‘Tell me, Miss Rivington, once you have married your fortune, how do you propose to enjoy it, if you are so ill disposed to shop?’

  There was a flash of anger in her eyes but it was gone in a moment. She said haughtily, ‘It is the proximity of all those other shoppers that disgusts me, my lord. When I have my fortune, then the merchants will come to me.’

  As the door closed behind her, Carlotta felt an immediate surge of remorse that her antipathy for Lord Darvell had prompted her to utter such an ill-bred comment. She ran up to her room, trying to shut out the look of surprised contempt that she had seen in his face at her words. It was the second time she had seen that look in his eyes and it hurt, even though she knew she deserved it. She sat before her mirror and tried to tidy her curls, which had been sadly flattened by her bonnet.

  ‘What if he does think me mercenary?’ she asked her reflection. ‘I do not care a fig for his opinion!’

  Nevertheless, the feeling of guilt persisted, even though she tempered it with anger at Darvell for being so easily persuaded to think ill of her. Had he learned nothing of her character in those weeks at Malberry Court? It was bad enough that he should consider her capable of chasing a rich husband, unforgivable that he should think that she, with so little herself, should be disdainful of others.

  Such reflections made Carlotta more conscious of her behaviour, so that when Mrs Price sent a note to inform them of her plans for their visit to Vauxhall Gardens she was careful not to utter one word of dissent.

  ‘There are to be eight of us,’ remarked Lady Broxted, scanning the letter. ‘That will be a squeeze at supper, but we shall manage.’

  ‘Who is going, Aunt?’

  ‘Let me see…Mr and Mrs Price, naturally, and Mrs Price depends upon my bringing Broxted. I shall have to work on him, for in general he is not fond of s
uch entertainments, which is why it is such a joy for me to have you here, my love, to share in my pleasure. Then there is Julia, and you…oh, and she has engaged Lord Fairbridge and Mr Woollatt to join us. Splendid. How merry we shall be.’

  ‘Yes, splendid.’

  Carlotta smiled and tried to sound enthusiastic. Mr and Mrs Price’s boisterous spirits would more than compensate for her uncle’s retiring nature. She suspected that Julia and Lord Fairbridge would wish for nothing better than to spend an evening together, and Mr Woollatt might be a little dull, but he was perfectly respectable. Besides, there would be Madame Saqui and the fireworks to entertain them all. She told herself it would indeed be a splendid party.

  An unseasonably cold spell of weather on the appointed day persuaded Lady Broxted to advise Carlotta to wear her new round gown of blue bombazine with a matching pelisse.

  ‘I had thought it would not be needed until much later in the year, but it will not do for you to catch a chill, my love.’ Lady Broxted watched her niece putting the final touches to her dress. ‘And you should wear your new kid boots, too, for the rain has left the ground very wet underfoot.’ She went to the door. ‘Mrs Price says we are to take the water to Vauxhall rather than the new bridge—will that not be a treat?’

  Carlotta agreed and hurried downstairs to join her aunt and uncle in the carriage that would take them to the river. They found the rest of the party waiting from them on the quay and they all set off in high good humour for Vauxhall.

  ‘This is your first visit to the gardens, Miss Rivington?’ asked Mr Woollatt as they alighted on the far side of the river.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then I think you will enjoy the spectacle. The Grove, you see, is before us—that large rectangle, enclosed by trees and colonnades. Mr Price has hired a supper box for us on the far side, I believe, from where you will be able to watch and listen to the orchestra while we eat. Before that, of course, there is the cascade to be seen, and later, we have the funambulist.’ He smiled at her look of surprise. ‘Madame Saqui, the tight-rope walker—more properly called a funambulist.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Carlotta.

  His smile widened. ‘You see, Miss Rivington,’ he continued, ‘I will endeavour to fill your evening with education as well as entertainment.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said again.

  ‘For example, did you know that there are over one hundred supper boxes in these gardens?’

  ‘Yes, so shall we find ours?’ put in Mrs Price, coming up. ‘It is far too bright yet to see the walks at their best. Instead, we shall all enjoy a cup of arrack punch.’

  Carlotta made haste to agree, thinking she would need something if she was to endure Mr Woollatt’s rather pompous lectures for the whole evening.

  Once they had discovered their supper box, the little party passed the time watching the crowds while they sipped at their punch. Carlotta was not sure that she liked the taste of the thick, pungent drink or the way it burned in her chest when she swallowed it, but she struggled on, and had finished the whole cupful when Lady Broxted remarked that it was almost time for the cascade to be revealed.

  ‘Pho, plenty of time yet, it is barely eight o’clock,’ said her husband, consulting his watch. ‘There is nearly an hour to wait.’

  Lady Broxted fidgeted with her fan.

  ‘But the cascade is only on display for fifteen minutes, my dear, and there is always such a crush. If one is late, it is difficult to see anything.’

  The earl looked a little contemptuous. ‘I have already experienced the spectacle, several times,’ he announced. ‘I shall stay here.’

  ‘Very true, my lord,’ agreed Mrs Price. ‘Having seen the cascade on several occasions, I too should much prefer to remain here. No doubt you are the same, Lady Broxted, but the girls must not miss it.’ She smiled at Lord Fairbridge and Mr Woollatt. ‘Perhaps, sirs, you would like to escort them?’

  ‘Indeed we would!’ exclaimed the viscount, jumping up. ‘That is, I can’t speak for Woollatt, of course, but I should very much like to—I mean…’ He trailed off in confusion, a flush darkening his fair cheek.

  Mr Woollatt rose to his feet and said smoothly, ‘We would be delighted to escort Miss Rivington and Miss Price to the cascade, my lady. That is, if you think you can trust us to take such precious treasures through the gardens.’

  Mrs Price laughed gaily and spread her fan.

  ‘Mr Woollatt, how charmingly you compliment our young ladies. Of course we trust you, do we not, Lady Broxted?’

  ‘Indeed we do, my dear sir. Off you go now. You will be able to secure a good view of the cascade, and when you return we shall go together to see Madame Saqui performing.’

  Carlotta regarded her aunt with a little surprise, but a moment’s reflection made her realise that Lady Broxted considered both gentlemen worthy suitors and she was eager to promote them. She wondered what her aunt would say if she expressed a desire to remain in the supper box, but Julia was already standing up and the viscount was tenderly placing her paisley shawl about her shoulders. Carlotta could only acquiesce with a good grace.

  With plenty of time to spare, Mr Woollatt led them all on a circuitous route through the gardens, pointing out the various statues and grottoes on their way. His tone was very much that of a man instructing a child. Julia and Lord Fairbridge were so engrossed in each other that they did not notice, but Carlotta found herself trying to think of something outrageous to say to shock him out of his complacency. Just when she thought she could no longer endure making polite conversation a bell rang out, summoning the crowds to the cascade and the wide path quickly filled up.

  ‘Now you see how wise we were to get here early, Miss Rivington?’ murmured Mr Woollatt, drawing her forward. ‘We are not quite at the front of the crowd, but I think we shall have a capital view from here.’

  With a fanfare, the curtain was drawn back to reveal the display; Julia laughed and clapped enthusiastically, but Carlotta was aware of a little disappointment. The metal representation of a stream and miller’s wheel was ingenious, but it clanked noisily, and her artist’s eye found the garish setting and lurid colours a little childish. However, as they strolled back to their box, Julia was so enthusiastic about what they had seen that Carlotta suppressed her criticism. Remembering her resolution to be charitable, she even found a few words of praise for the spectacle when they returned to the supper box and her aunt asked her for her opinion. Satisfied that she had acquitted herself well, Carlotta settled down beside Lady Broxted to enjoy a light supper of paper-thin ham, followed by fruit tarts and syllabub laced with wine, while they watched the crowds parading through the Grove.

  ‘Goodness, I vow there are an extraordinary number of gentlemen here tonight,’ remarked Mrs Price, her bright eyes surveying the throng.

  Lady Broxted nodded. ‘More than one usually sees here, certainly.’

  ‘Well, that is to be expected,’ said Mr Price. ‘A lady performing on a rope high in the air—they have come to watch her, hoping to glimpse more than a pretty ankle, what?’ He laughed loudly at his own wit. Lord Broxted, Carlotta noted, gave only a tight little smile.

  Mrs Price nodded towards the latest group of gentlemen to appear in the Grove. ‘We are certainly acquainted with some of them. Look.’ She began to wave to attract their attention.

  Like a flock of starlings the noisy crowd changed direction and headed towards their box. To a man they were dressed in the height of fashion with their cut-away coats and light-coloured trousers.

  ‘Heavens,’ murmured Julia, moving a little closer to the viscount. ‘So many of them.’

  ‘But we know them, my love,’ cried her mama, still waving. ‘Look, there is Mr Eastleigh, and Sir Gilbert Mattingwood…Sir Peter Ottwood…oh, and Lord Darvell, too! Good evening, my lord, gentlemen. My goodness, the gaming houses will be quite empty tonight.’

  ‘We can always go back to ’em later, ma’am,’ cried a fair-haired gentleman with florid cheeks and a twinkle in his b
lue eyes. He bowed over Mrs Price’s hand. ‘Thought we should take a peek at the incomparable Saqui.’

  Luke followed his friends towards the supper box where Mrs Price was waving and smiling at them all. He had not really wanted to accompany his friends to Vauxhall, but when he saw Carlotta in the box his spirits lifted. He felt the usual tug of attraction as he watched at her. She had discarded her enshrouding domino and looked enticing in her gown of blue satin. The deep colour enhanced the creamy tones of her flawless skin. Her dark hair was curled artlessly around her head, providing a charming frame for her pale face and those huge dark eyes. The anger he had felt at their last meeting was forgotten. He moved forward, ready to smile, to speak to her warmly, but Sir Gilbert was there before him, turning from Mrs Price to fix his eyes upon Carlotta. By God, thought Luke irritably, the man’s almost drooling.

  ‘Talking of incomparable,’ murmured Sir Gilbert, ‘won’t you introduce me, Mrs P.?’

  Luke noted that Lady Broxted was tutting with disapproval at this forward approach, but Mrs Price merely laughed.

  ‘Of course! Miss Carlotta Rivington, may I present to you Sir Gilbert Mattingwood?’

  It was as much as Luke could do not to scowl with frustration as Carlotta gazed up at Mattingwood, a shy smile curving her lips.

  ‘Your servant, Miss Rivington.’ Sir Gilbert fixed his laughing blue gaze upon her face. ‘Now, why have I not seen you before?’

  ‘I have not long been in town, sir.’ Still smiling, she looked past him to meet Luke’s eyes for a fleeting moment. Luke knew he was frowning and he saw her smile falter, until Sir Gilbert’s next words recaptured her wandering attention.

  ‘Your first visit here, is it, Miss Rivington?’

  ‘Yes, sir, and for Miss Price, too,’ answered Carlotta. ‘We are mightily impressed.’

  ‘We have been to see the cascade,’ offered Julia in her soft voice.

  ‘And did it please you, Miss Price?’ asked Luke, determined to say something, however inane.