"Ahem," Penrith gave a pained cough, from his seat across from them.
"Not that trips to Vauxhall are the only good thing about marriage," Charlotte corrected herself with a blush, "And not that I would have married anyone but my dear Sh—"
"How is Lord Pariseau?" Penrith interrupted, cutting Charlotte off mid-stream.
"He is well, your Grace," Julia replied, with as even a tone as she could muster.
As the date for the masquerade—and Pariseau's expected proposal—neared, the earl had become rather free with his hands, if left alone momentarily with Julia. Her refusal to entertain even a kiss had led to many arguments, and Julia wondered at the many ways in which a woman might find herself castigated by men.
Kiss too freely, one found oneself a slattern wench.
Offer no kisses at all, one was then dubbed a Mrs. Princum Prancum.
Women, it seemed, could never win.
Julia allowed herself fall into silence, as she listened to Charlotte witter on. Her friend talked of all the places she had visited, now that she was her own chaperone, and all the places she would go.
"Perhaps we might even venture into The Rookery," Charlotte suggested, her eyes bright.
"Perhaps you will not," Penrith answered, his willingness to indulge his wife only stretching so far.
"Not for a lark," Charlotte assured him, "But for charitable purposes. We might call in on Montague's school."
"Montague's what?" Julia interjected, furrowing her brow.
"Oh," Charlotte beamed, "Lord Montague has become the patron of a school run by Reverend Laurence; by all accounts he is very heavily involved in the running of it. And, I'm sure you read, he donated an astronomical sum to the building of a new foundling hospital."
"Twice what Lord Pariseau donated," Julia answered, for the earl had grumbled about that for a week, "But what's this about a school? I did not think he would involve himself so."
"I did not think you knew Lord Montague?" Charlotte frowned, before her husband interrupted.
"Montague is a passionate chap," Penrith said, his eyes holding Julia's, as though trying to convey a message, "Some might accuse him of fleeting from one thing to the next, but when something truly captures his heart, he is lost to it forever."
Gracious. Julia attempted to remain impassive, as Charlotte glanced with confusion between her friend and her husband, unsure if she was being left out.
Thankfully, before the tenacious Charlotte had a chance to interrogate them both, the carriage turned over Vauxhall Bridge, and they found themselves amids t the noise and bustle of London's night.
They joined a queue of carriages, waiting to enter under the gate, whilst about them, pedestrians swarmed, ready for an evening's entertainment.
Julia pushed aside all thoughts of Montague, as she tried to focus on the scene before her. The Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens were a kaleidoscope of colour and sound. As they entered through the gates to the rotunda, they were confronted with the sight of what seemed to be thousands of glittering guests milling about the orchestra stand. To the right, The Grand Walk lay, tempting revellers to traipse along its tree-lined path, toward more secluded avenues.
Supper-boxes, bedecked in silk and lined with paintings, were set around the rotunda, and Penrith led the two ladies to theirs, where Violet and Orsino were waiting.
"My congratulations," Julia cried, as she sighted them, "How fare the newlyweds ?"
Only a few days before, Orsino and Violet had wed by special license, and this was the first time that Julia had met them as man and wife. Poor Violet had entangled herself in an absurd scheme, where she had dressed as her twin brother Sebastian in order to help Orsino with some mission for the Crown. When all had come to light, it had seemed that the pair's tentative courtship might come to an end, but love had prevailed, and they were now man and wife.
"We are well," Violet said, rushing to embrace Julia warmly.
As her friend pulled away, Julia noted that her hair was mussed slightly, and she frowned.
"Were you caught by a gust of wind?" she queried, as she raised a hand to tuck a stray hair or two back in place.
"Er," Violet flushed deep red, and Charlotte gave a giggle, which she hastily disguised as a cough, as her husband cast her a curious glance.
"Undone hair is one of the hidden dangers of marriage," Charlotte whispered in Julia's ear, before they all took their seats at the table.
Vauxhall was famous for many things, but the food was not one of them. The wine was bitter, the meat so thin that when Orsino held it up by the fork before a candle, the light shone easily through—but none of this mattered, for Julia had never had such tremendous fun in her life.
With Charlotte and Violet acting as her "chaperones", Julia was free to behave as she pleased. Without her parents hovering over her shoulder, watching her every move, Julia was relaxed and carefree, and thoroughly happy, excepting when a certain marquess popped into her mind.
Which only occurred during the first, second, and third course, as well as dessert, and the cheese and wine plate.
What would it be like, Julia mused, to have Montague seated beside her? They would then be a trio of couples, rather than a quartet with Julia acting as the spare wheel.
Still, her friends did not make it so, and Charlotte and Violet were at pains to make certain that Julia enjoyed herself. Once they had finished eating, they traipsed outside to watch the orchestra play—On Richmond Hill, a popular new ballad—and dance and be merry.
"The fireworks should begin soon," Charlotte called over the din of the crowd.
"Oh, let us find a good spot to watch them!" Violet cried, and the two plunged into the masses.
Julia was just a second behind them, but her way was suddenly blocked by a rather large mass.
"Your Grace?" Julia queried of Orsino.
"Forgive me if I am overstepping the line," Orsino rumbled in response, as he looked down at Julia from his lofty height, "But we have a friend who wishes to speak with you."
We?
Julia turned and found Penrith behind her, as stiff and formal as ever.
"All is above board, my lady," he assured her, "Our friend merely wishes to speak with you. Orsino and I shall separate the wives, telling each one that you are with the other. No one shall know, and I assure you that our mutual acquaintance has promised us his best behaviour."
"Should he at all step out of line," Orsino added, with a slightly wistful look in his eye, "You just let me know. I owe him repayment for smashing my new curricle to smithereens during one of his races."
The confusion which had washed over Julia dissipated, as she realised what the two Upstarts were about. They had set up an assignation with Montague! A stroll with a rake along the moonlit walks of Vauxhall Gardens.
Well, really, the practical side of her bristled indignantly, who did they think they were?
"Where is he?" Julia asked in a rush, desperate to outrun her practical nature.
Orsino nodded toward The Grand Walk, and Julia spotted him at once, lounging by a Doric pillar.
"One hour," Penrith cautioned, with the look of a man who was half-inclined to halt the whole thing before it began.
"My word," Julia replied, but her voice was lost on the wind, for she was already rushing toward Lord Montague.
As she neared him, Montague stood to attention. He was filling out both jacket and breeches very nicely, Julia thought with a grin as she approached, though his silk waistcoat of tangerine was rather offending on the eye.
"You came," Montague said, as she reached him, a smile playing around his generous mouth, "Why?"
Love knows no reason. The words were on Julia's lips, but she was not spontaneous enough, or brave enough to utter them.
"His Graces said you wished a word," she offered in reply, opening her eyes wide in hope that he might see the apology in them for her cowardice.
"Not a word, no," Montague frowned, "I have someone I wish you to meet, and something
I wish to show you."
Heavens, he was speaking in riddles, Julia thought, but when he held out his hand, she took it.
Montague led her quickly down The Grand Walk, darting off halfway down to a side path, which in turn led to the rear of the The Temple of Comus. Here, the gardens gave way to grass, and servants scuttled to and fro from the kitchens, with food and wine for the those in the supper-boxes beyond.
Montague gave a whistle and from the darkness, a gentleman emerged, dressed in a soot-blackened coat.
"My dear," Rob said gamely, "I would like you to meet Mr Charles Green."
"Honoured," Julia replied stupidly, as Mr Green gave a flourishing bow before her.
"Mr Green is going to make us fly," Rob supplied, his face wreathed in pride.
Fly?
Julia blinked, as she recalled her silly declaration that if Montague made her fly, she would believe in love. She had thought that he had given up on the idea—she certainly had. But, no, the marquess was far more tenacious than she had given him credit for.
"This way," Mr Green said, waving an arm toward the right of the field, where Julia could make out a large mass, and men bustling about.
"My Lord," Julia whispered, as Montague took her hand and began to lead her away, "What on earth?"
"We are leaving earth," Montague scolded, "As you requested. Just trust me, my lady."
They trampled across the field, until they reached a large wooden basket, where inside a stove was bellowing smoke into a half-inflated balloon.
The thing was monstrous, Julia thought; made from what appeared to be silk, it twitched and moved upon the grass as the smoke filled it, rising ever higher.
Men stood about, holding ropes attached to the balloon, and Mr Green waved to them to reassure Julia.
"It is merely an ascension," he said, as though that made it better, "You will still be held to earth by these strapping lads. Mr. Gye and Mr. Hughes, Vauxhall's proprietors, merely wish us to make a brief appearance above The Temple of Comus, so they might have a spectacular sight when they make their big announcement."
"And what announcement is that?" Julia asked, wondering at how she could make polite conversation when her heart felt as though it were about to leap from her throat onto the ground before her.
"They are announcing the beginning of The Royal Vauxhall Balloon Project ," Mr Green boomed, "We shall design a balloon twice the size of this, and offer passage to anyone with the right coin. We'll show those Frenchies how it's done."
"Professional balloonists are terribly patriotic," Montague whispered in Julia's ear, as Mr Green disappeared to instruct his men to ready themselves, "Don't mention the exhibition at the Jardin des Tuileries, whatever you do, once we're up there."
Up there. Julia looked up at the sky, then down at her feet, which were safely planted upon the ground.
"I cannot," she protested, but Montague shook his head.
"I'm afraid you already must," he shrugged, not looking one bit sorry, "For you are acting as a counter-weight, while I shall help stoke the fire."
This was absurd, Julia thought, though her fear was soon beginning to give way to excitement. The balloon was now nearly inflated, and the gondola was threatening to lift itself off the ground.
"All aboard," Mr Green called cheerfully, vaulting the side with ease.
Montague swept Julia into his arms, a thing she had oft dreamed of, but his embrace was short lived. He deposited her inside the basket, hopped the side himself, and soon the trio were lifting slowly off the ground.
"You might both admire the view, whilst I stoke the fire," Mr Green called, as he stuffed coal into the roaring stove.
"How kind of you," Julia called back, over the din.
"Er, yes," Mr Green was momentarily distracted, "I say, Montague, did you say all my owed vowels will be forgiven for this?"
"All of them," Montague assured him, and he turned happily back to his task.
Julia started, as the men on the ground untied the ropes which tethered them to earth, though she was slightly assured that they were holding fast to the ropes which were attached to the balloon itself.
"Oh, my," she whispered, forgetting even Montague, as the earth fell away beneath them. She could see the gardens below them, and people walking about—tiny like figurines—and beyond that the rooftops of London.
"Just look at the view," she breathed, turning her eyes to Montague, "Have you ever seen anything so breath-taking ?"
"Never in my whole life," he replied, but he was not looking out at the London sky, but at Julia herself.
She flushed, as her heart began to hammer within her chest, and Montague moved to close the space between them. He gathered her in his arms, pulled her toward him, and delivered unto her lips a kiss so heart-achingly pure that Julia almost wept.
If only this could go on forever, she thought, as she wrapped her arms around Montague's neck, and pulled him nearer to her.
"Counterweight!" Mr Green roared, as the gondola began to sway, "You're both supposed to be acting as counterweights ; resume your previous positions."
Julia took a hasty step back from the marquess, who in turn took up his old position, slightly away from her.
"You said that if I made you fly," he said, "That you would then believe in love. What say you now?"
His eyes were full of hope, the same emotion which stirred in Julia's breast. She thought of her parents, whose dogged determination to see her married at any cost had robbed her of her joy. She then thought of Thomas, who hated the Montagues, but cared not a jot for her either. And she wondered why she had been so willing to give up the man before her for people who merely wished for her to behave as pleased them.
"You told me you would do it in a sennight," Julia teased, and Montague's face fell.
"But," she rushed to continue, "I should have told you the truth; you made me fly the first night I ever met you, Lord Montague, when you kissed me upon my balcony."
"You mean it?"
"Whoever loved that not at first sight?" Julia asked with a smile, and Montague, forgetting all of Mr . Green's previous advice took her into his arms once more.
"Counterweight!" Mr. Green roared, as Montague kissed her hungrily.
They broke apart after another irritated shout from Mr. Green and once they had resumed their positions, the balloonist irritably instructed them to prepare for the descent.
"It shall be bumpy," he warned, "Though even more so, if you both decide to abandon your posts for another amorous embrace."
Julia and Montague behaved themselves as the balloon made its return to earth. When they neared the ground, Mr Green's men began to tether her, and Montague lifted her from the gondola.
"My thanks, Green" Montague called, tipping his hat to their captain.
"All of the vowels, Montague. You promised me before a witness!"
"All of them," Montague agreed, before he took Julia's hand in his to race back across the field.
Once they had returned to The Grand Walk, Julia began to grow nervous. She stank of smoke, was most dishevelled, and was certain she would meet someone she knew.
"Perhaps I should make for the Archbishop's Palace now?" Montague was musing beside her, "And procure a special license. We could be wed by the morning."
"Can we wait, my lord? Julia asked, bowing her head as jovial group passed them, "I should like to tell my parents first, to seek their blessing. Even if they do not give it, I should like to ask for it."
Montague halted, his brow creased into a frown of worry.
"My heart is true," Julia assured him, "I just need time to pack my trousseau. Time to tell Lord Pariseau that his attentions are not welcome. Time to see if my parents..."
She trailed off, knowing full well that her parents would never sanction a union between them.
But she did need to pack.
"I will forewarn my father, if that is the case," Montague decided, "Then we shall tell them together."
"At the
masquerade," Julia smiled, "It was intended to be a celebration of my engagement—it can still be so."
"I am not so sure your parents will think me a husband to celebrate," Montague jested.
"They would be wrong," Julia answered, taking his hand for the remainder of the walk.
After a short walk, Montague deposited her at the supper-box, with a promise that he would see her in two nights' time.
"Have your bags packed," he whispered, as he bestowed a kiss upon her forehead, "And be ready to run away with me."
"Always," Julia smiled, then Montague disappeared into the shadows, and Julia was left to await the return of her friends.
"Did you see the balloon ascension?" Charlotte called a few moments later, as she and Penrith returned, "I have never seen anything so spectacular, have you?"
"No," Julia replied, honestly. "It was a once in a life-time event."
"And where have Orsino and Violet gotten to?" Charlotte queried, as she picked up a goblet to take a sip of her wine, "We shall have to give them a lecture when they return on how to be proper chaperones, should we not, Shuggy?"
Penrith blushed and lifted the goblet from his wife's hand.
"That's quite enough of that," he muttered, placing the goblet back down upon the table, "You will be in no position to lecture anyone, if you end up in your cups."
"Wine is another one of the benefits of marriage," Charlotte called dreamily to Julia, as she snuggled into her husband's side.
"I'm certain that Julia will find out soon enough just how advantageous marriage can be," Penrith informed his sleepy wife, before offering Julia a wink.
An actual wink.
Love did upend even the most practical people, Julia thought with a smile.
Chapter Ten
It was to be a night of miracles, Robert thought, as he ascended the steps to Cavendish House. Earlier that evening, Staffordshire had benignly informed his son that he might marry who he liked, as long as she produced an heir.
"Even Lady Julia?" Rob had asked, surprised that his father had taken his announcement so well.
"Especially Lady Julia," Staffordshire had shrugged, "I have seen her from afar, and I know a good pair of childbearing hips when I see them."
The Rake and Lady Julia (Wilful Wallflowers Book 3) Page 12
