by Shana Galen
Of course he hadn’t seen Gideon or Susanna walk into Vauxhall. They’d have no blunt. There were other ways of gaining entrance. Brook turned and arrowed for the entrance.
Sixteen
“It’s amazing,” Susanna said as they strolled along The Great Walk, bordered on all sides by hedges and trees. She sipped Rhenish wine and gazed at the buildings, which she informed Gideon were of Palladian design. The gardens had been laid out in a rectangular fashion, with straight walks lit by lamps and ornamented by arches, giving way to pretty arbors housing small, intimate buildings for a couple or small group to dine. He pointed out the larger buildings to her—porticoes, obelisks, an orchestra, and supper boxes.
She hadn’t asked where he had acquired the blunt to purchase the refreshments, and he hadn’t offered any explanation. The bubble whose pocket he’d picked wouldn’t miss a few shillings.
“I had no idea there were places like this in Town,” she said. “I can even hear birds singing—nightingales, if I’m not mistaken.”
He made a noncommittal sound. He had no idea what nightingales sounded like. It seemed there was music and laughter everywhere, something new every few feet.
“Oh, look! Do you see those hedges? Those are raspberry and gooseberry bushes and”—she inhaled—“smell the bushes. Oh, and I knew I recognized the perfume of jonquils. But oh! Gillyflowers and lilies and”—she clutched his arm—“fruits and vegetables grow here—beans, asparagus… I don’t know what that one is. Peas, perhaps. Those are strawberries.”
Gideon was sorely tempted to pluck one.
“Oh, but I must say the trees are by far the garden’s best feature. They’re quite old. That group there must be over a hundred years in age. I’ve seen better gardens, of course, but these are really very well tended.”
“Thank you.”
Gideon spun around, his gaze landing on a man kneeling next to a bed of lilies. The white-haired man rose slowly, as though his knees pained him.
“Robert Southey,” he said with a bow. “Amateur horticulturist. I am sorry to interrupt your discussion, but I suppose I feel as though the gardens are partly mine. I’ve traveled the world in search of specimens for this garden and that of my family. I planted many of these myself.”
Susanna dropped a curtsy. Gideon shoved a hand in his pocket, jingling the two shillings he had remaining.
“I’m so sorry if I offended you,” Susanna said quickly. “If it’s any consolation, I was referring to the Duke of Devonshire’s gardens at Chatsworth.”
“I’ve seen those myself. Quite impressive. And I don’t take any offense. My work here is merely a hobby when I’m in London. My travels keep me away for much of the year. Most people come for the entertainment, not the walks, and those who do come for the walks aren’t looking at the flowers.”
“Do you always tend gardens at night?” Gideon asked.
Southey glanced at the bed he’d been weeding. “If I have the urge. The best time to see the gardens is in the day. You’re right about that.”
“Vauxhall isn’t open during the day, is it?” Susanna asked.
“No.” Southey squinted, and Gideon knew she’d won him over. She won everyone over.
“If you want to come back tomorrow, I’d be happy to show you around.”
Susanna practically bounced with pleasure, but she looked to Gideon for an answer.
“Do you give everyone you meet day tours?” Gideon asked.
“Only the rare few,” Southey said, smiling at Susanna. She smiled back.
If there was a con in this, Gideon hadn’t figured it out yet. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep looking.
“Why are we among the privileged?” Gideon asked.
Susanna gave him a frown.
“You aren’t,” Southey said with a dismissive glance. “She is. I’d be delighted to see you again, Miss—”
“Mrs. Harrow,” Gideon interjected. They’d agreed she wouldn’t give her real name in case her brother was looking for her, but they’d never agreed to pose as husband and wife.
Susanna made a credible attempt to hide her surprise at his statement. She schooled her features into another smile. “I’d be delighted to partake of the tour. If you don’t mind, I will bring my husband.” She barely stumbled over the word.
“He’s welcome if he’s with you.” The older man reached into his pocket and withdrew a tattered card. “Bring this for admittance.”
Susanna took it, handed it to Gideon. “Thank you, sir. Might I ask why you invited me, considering you mentioned you rarely give day tours?”
Southey scratched the white hair above his ear. “I don’t know. I suppose…” His dark eyes stared past her and into the shadows of The Dark Walk, just a few feet away. “You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago.”
“Oh.” She all but cooed.
Gideon took her arm and pulled her toward The Dark Walk. She looked over her shoulder. “We shall come by after breakfast, if that’s agreeable.”
“Perfectly.”
“Until then, Mr. Southey.”
Gideon supposed she would have curtsied if he hadn’t been dragging her.
“Don’t allow that dog to dig in my flower beds,” Southey said as they retreated. “Not sure how you even managed to sneak her in. They’re not allowed, you know.”
“Oh, no!” Susanna shook her head. “She would never dig in the gardens.”
The shadows of The Dark Walk closed around them, and Gideon pulled her deep into the deserted path. He well knew it only looked deserted. Off the path, hidden by foliage and muted light, couples strayed from the crowds for a moment of passion. Of course, molls worked here too, taking coin for their favors, but most of them preferred The Great Walk. The Dark Walk was too far out of the way to attract customers.
Gideon nodded to a constable who passed, and moved along the walk at a leisurely pace. The space between lamps lengthened, and the darkness held sway. Gideon paused in a shaded spot, listening closely for sounds of trysting couples. He heard nothing and took Susanna’s hand. She didn’t protest when he guided her off the path. She trusted him, a fact he did not want to examine too closely at the moment.
The Dark Walk was thus named because the trees were thicker there and provided a canopy that blocked out the light. But he led her to a secluded patch of ground where the soft grass was thick and the branches above opened for a clear view of the sky. Gideon wished he had a coat to lay on the ground. Unfortunately, he’d lost it at some point in the last day. It was probably still on the chair in Des’s room. He tugged Susanna down beside him and pointed at the starlit sky. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Really?” She might have been a child, with her wide eyes and her excited grin. He loved that look on her face, loved pleasing her.
He lay back on the soft grass and gestured for her to rest her head on his shoulder. She did so without protest, though he knew she probably had no fondness for grass or twigs in her hair. Beauty settled a little ways off, putting her head between her paws and snoring quietly.
“It’s a beautiful night,” she said quietly.
“With all the lamps on the walks, you wouldn’t know it was night. It’s darker here. More stars.”
“I didn’t know one could see the stars in London. I’ve only seen them in the country.”
“There’s a lot you haven’t seen in London,” he said.
She nodded, her head moving slightly on his arm. He turned to look at her, admiring the curve of her nose and the jut of her lips.
“You’ve shown me so much.”
“I could show you more,” he said. “I’d like to.”
She turned to face him, her lips inches from his. “What are you saying, Gideon?”
What was he saying? He wasn’t her husband in truth. He’d never be her husband. They had tonight, perhaps tomorrow
afternoon. That was all.
“I’m not here with you solely because of the necklace.”
She gave him a wistful smile. “At least you added solely.”
“I won’t lie and say I don’t need it back. I do. But I want to be with you almost as much.”
“Why?” She closed her eyes. “I should not have said that.”
He rose, shifting her head so it rested in the palm of his hand. “Never censor your words with me. You want to know why I want to be with you? The list is too long. To begin, you enjoy every moment. You don’t take a single instant for granted. And you’re brave. The way you stood up to Dagger Dan, and faced down Corker at Stryker’s flash ken. I misjudged you.”
She reached up and traced a finger down his cheek. “I misjudged you. You’re so much more than a thief. You know that, don’t you? You’re kind and generous. You make me laugh. You make me feel.”
She was wrong. He wasn’t kind or generous. He was selfish. What could be more selfish than a thief? He watched his back, and the hell with the rest of them.
And now he would prove to her how selfish he could be. He couldn’t resist her any longer. He didn’t want to.
He kissed her lightly. “What do you feel now?”
“Love,” she whispered. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve fallen in love with you.”
It was as though she’d reached inside his chest and grabbed hold of his heart. He felt a tightness in his chest, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe.
“What did you say?” he finally managed on a gasp.
She smiled and cupped his face in her hands, those slim, long-fingered hands. “I said, I love you, Gideon Harrow.”
The words were a punch in the face, a knee in the gut, an elbow to his lungs. When had he last heard those words? Age five? Six? He’d been tucked into the pallet that served as a bed, the rough, sheet pulled up to his chin. His mother’s rough, red fingers gently smoothed the hair back from his forehead.
“Sleep, Gideon. I love you, sweet boy.”
He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to remember that time. He didn’t want to feel the pain of the loss again.
He didn’t want to look at Susanna and know he would lose her too.
He pushed up and back, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. He couldn’t breathe; the memory of his mother’s hands caressing his forehead was too vivid.
Susanna sat, pulling her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees. “I said something wrong.”
“No.”
She rested her cheek on her forearm, turning her face toward him. Waiting. She didn’t demand. That wasn’t her way. He was coming to see that her demand he take her to Vauxhall was not her usual way. She must have been desperate to resort to such uncharacteristic behavior.
“The last time someone said…that.” He swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat. “I was remembering my mother.”
“She died when you were very young.”
He nodded, stared at the tiny pinpricks of light in the velvet blanket above. Was she up there somewhere, looking down? What would she have thought of Susanna? Gideon snorted. She would have thought the girl was too good for him.
She was.
“Has no one told you they loved you since your mother?”
He expected to hear pity in her voice, but if it was there, he couldn’t detect it.
“Who would love me?” he asked. “Beezle? Racer? Marlowe?” He laughed at the last name, because it hurt to say it.
“Marlowe does love you,” Susanna said, putting her warm hand on his arm. “Just not in the same way you love her.”
His gaze met hers. “I don’t love her. I thought I did.”
How could he explain that since he’d met Susanna, he’d felt so much more than he knew he could? He’d thought what he felt for Marlowe was love. Now he knew it was nothing more than lust, nothing more than amplified affection.
Did he love Susanna?
How the hell was he supposed to know? How did a man who spent his life preying on others change into a man who cared for someone else?
“What’s changed?” Susanna asked.
She knew the answer.
He turned and knelt before her, taking her hands. “I’m flattered you think you love me.”
She laughed. That wasn’t the reaction he’d expected, and he shut his mouth abruptly.
“You’re not flattered. You’re terrified. You think I don’t know what I’m talking about. That if I knew who you really are, what you really are, I wouldn’t love you.”
“If you knew half of what I’ve done, Susanna…”
“I know some of what you’ve done. I know you helped Marlowe escape that crime lord. I know you helped return a little girl to her mother. I know you carried Beauty under your arm to keep her safe from Beezle.”
The dog raised her head, regarded them curiously, and went back to sleep.
“You think those were acts of kindness? They were acts of survival. You wouldn’t have walked away from them.”
“So why didn’t you walk away from me?”
“Greed,” he said baldly. “I need that necklace.”
“So go fetch it. You could have left me behind at any time and gone back to Derring House to search.”
Her words vibrated like the distant strings of the music being performed in the Orchestra. “I don’t know where it’s hidden.”
She took his hand in hers, examined it closely. “A practiced thief like you? How long would it take you to find it? An hour? Two?”
Gideon looked down at the hand she held, dark and large in her small, pale one. His hands were dirty with all manner of wickedness—drink, debauchery, theft…murder.
“I know who you are, Gideon Harrow. I know what you’ve done.” Her dark eyes met his. “I want you anyway. I thought I wanted to come to Vauxhall to discover my mother’s secrets. I thought if I saw this place, with its closed walks and secluded arbors, I might see something of the woman she’d been before she turned hard. I might understand why she couldn’t love me. But you were right.”
“What was that?”
She smiled. “You heard me. You said I began this journey because I needed to escape. I did.” She squeezed his hand, brought it to her lips, and kissed his palm. “And because I was supposed to meet you.”
“You were never supposed to meet me.”
“But I did.” She slid his hand around her neck and leaned in to kiss him. “I did meet you, Gideon Harrow,” she whispered against his lips. “And I don’t regret it. And I won’t regret anything between us.”
His lips took hers. He couldn’t stop himself from tasting her. He lowered her to the soft grass, balanced himself on his forearms, and looked down at her. “You’ll regret this. You’ll wish it hadn’t been me.” He stroked her silky hair, spread it out around her like a halo.
“It has to be you.” She tangled her legs with his. “There will only ever be you.”
He kissed her again, slowly, knowing they had the rest of the night. The crowds didn’t leave Vauxhall until close to dawn most evenings. No need to rush. Plenty of time for her to change her mind.
Though she might think this time they shared would last forever, he knew differently. The future held nothing for them. She was destined for a very different life than he. It did no good to imagine what might have been if they’d been different people. She was the daughter of an earl. He was nothing and no one.
He couldn’t marry her. He couldn’t even give her food or drink without stealing to obtain the funds.
But he could give her this. He could give her one last night of pleasure.
He slid his hand under her skirts, cupping the soft skin on her calf. She inhaled sharply when he brushed against her scraped shin. “Does it still pain you much?”
She shook her head. “Only wh
en I bump it. It doesn’t hurt to walk.”
“Just a scratch then.” He slid his hand higher, over her knee and then between her thighs. He knew what she looked like without the ill-fitting dress and the layers of petticoats and shift. He’d seen her on the table at Des’s, and she’d been magnificent. He thought of her long, lean legs now, ran his fingertips up and down them until she shivered and trembled.
Her hands gripped the base of his shirt, yanking it up and diving beneath to stroke his back. He’d been touched by many women, but never like this. Never with tenderness and reverence. Her lips pressed against his jaw, his neck, and her hands smoothed over his buttocks, squeezing lightly.
He used his mouth to yank her bodice down, to take one firm nipple in his mouth, to work it as his hands inched closer to the burning heat of her. Her legs quaked with need, and he slid over the soft curls, drawing a gasp of pleasure from her.
Her hands slid to his hips and then stroked over his hard cock, while his fingers tangled in her curls, circling and teasing. Her hips rose, and he slid a finger into her sleek folds. She was wet and warm and ready for him.
He tried to forget the hand wrapped around him, tried not to imagine the slim fingers stroking from root to head. He slid two fingers into her, his thumb teasing the small nub that would make her come. He could give her that and leave her virtue untouched.
Her hand stilled, then moved deftly to unfasten the fall of his trousers. Suddenly his cock was free and encased in the warmth of her hand. “Susanna,” he said in warning.
“I want this, Gideon.”
Her hand moved up and down in long, languid strokes, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure from the back of his throat. His fingers moved faster, and her hand stilled as the muscles around his fingers clenched.
“Take me, Gideon,” she murmured.
“I won’t be able to stop myself if you keep talking like that.”
“Good. I want you. I want… Yes. Oh, yes.”
His thumb brushed against that pulsing bud again, and she opened to him then closed like a vise. A strangled sound of pleasure escaped into the night, muted by a distant thunder. He looked up and into a burst of light as the first fireworks exploded above them.
