“You—you’re here.” She crossed her arms, lips twisting into a snarl. “What in damnation took you so long? All those letters and not one single response. What did I do to be punished so?”
He followed suit by rising, but instead of replying, lifted her into his arms and carried her across the room to the dais. “You, my dear, are unwell. Rest first. Scold later.”
Of all the nerve! “A slight presumptuous, are we? And precisely what makes you think there will ever be a later, Nathaniel?”
But for all the anger slowly simmering, seeing him again made her soft, warm, and light-headed. Many a night, she lay in her bed chambers, dreaming of all the wicked things she wanted to do with him. To him. Wicked temptations. Temptations that only Nathaniel could satisfy. If only they had married as planned, and she had not been told that he had died during his service to the crown.
During the few evenings that Henry had come to her chambers to claim his husbandly right, she had imagined and replaced his cold detachment for the warm caress of Nathaniel. Stolen kisses in the moonlight, naughty exchanges, and gentle strokes of forbidden flesh.
Her fondest memory was the time that he climbed through her window in the middle of the night, coaxing and teasing her to join him in the grove.
That night had sealed her fate.
Or so she’d thought. He had kissed her slow, instructing her on how two people in love communicated with touch alone, his gentle ministrations keeping her maidenhead intact.
Good Lord, how is it even possible to become damp with only memories?
This man, for as deeply as she loved him, had given her much pain and grief with his absence. He hadn’t written to her once. For her that was unforgivable. Though he could try to make amends, they weren’t foolish children any more. They had responsibilities. Their time together had most certainly passed. And even if they were so fortunate to be blessed with another chance, she’d have to wait at least until the year was out.
“I have no idea why you’re here, Lord Thompson, but I assure you, you needn’t have wasted your time. Your presence here is not required. And while I thank you for your concern and assistance, I think it’s time you left.”
“Leave us,” he ordered Cecily and the staff who hovered by the door.
How dare he! Isabel bolted from her seat. “You, sir, are impertinent. You cannot just waltz in here and command my guest to leave!”
Nathaniel closed in, blocking any route of escape. “And you, My Lady, need your rest. Once you have recovered and the doctor issues a clean bill of health, I am taking you away from here. I suspect Downsbury will not cease until he’s fully embarrassed himself and embroiled you in another unnecessary scandal.”
“And you think that leaving with you, after my husband’s passing only six months ago, will not create a scandal of its own? You are mad.”
“Well, you can’t very well stay here.”
His logic had merit, but no respectable widow would consider entangling herself in an affaire de coeur. But the solution was simple enough. “Very well, My Lord, you have made your point. I shall travel to Bath then perhaps I will stop for a bit at Vauxhall.”
“Alone?”
She refrained from laughing at the ghastly glare he gave her. “Of course not. Robert Turner was planning on taking Cecily for her birthday. I think I shall accompany them. That way I will not be alone, and it would be impossible for me to find myself in the embrace of another scandal.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Why do I get the impression, Isabel, that nothing has changed?”
What does he mean that nothing has changed?
“Changed? What in the world is that supposed to mean? You…up and left, without so much as explaining to my parents what your intentions were. Do you have any idea how many days I spent hating you, loathing the day you were born? You were the one who did not have to endure Henry’s cruelty!
“Much has changed, Nathaniel. The only difference is that you are not centered around it. You say you thought of me often while you were on the continent, but pray tell, how many women did you spend time with? Wait. Don’t answer that. I have no desire to learn of how many maidens you took or exotic courtesans with which you fornicated.” Anger boiled dangerously, and for a woman who barely raised her voice, Isabel neared her point of no return.
“My dear, I have no desire to give you an account of all my comings and goings. I should be the one to ask, while you were married to the cad, did you not think of me? And why all the hostility? Darling, I mean to ensure your safety. Downsbury was being positively outrageous with his claims. I will not have him patronizing you in any way.”
“You give yourself far too much credit, Lord Thompson.”
“Frankly, I don’t think I give myself enough. Right when you think you are doing an honorable gesture, you are shot down. I have no idea what I have done to earn such poor behavior, but if I have offended you in any manner, you have my deepest apologies.”
Pfft. “Have no idea? You only barged into my home, manhandled the duke—who happens to be a fellow peer—and threw him out of my house.”
“I did not like his tone,” he growled. “Isabel, he was out of line!”
“He might have been out of line, but I do have staff to ensure my safety, My Lord. Now, if you are quite finished, I would like to get back to my company.”
He stared at her as if she had three heads. “If that is what you wish, then I will depart, but before I leave I should impart on you with some words of wisdom. Whatever he is up to reeks of mayhem and disaster, and this is far from over.”
Nathaniel stormed out of the parlor, the front door slamming behind him. She had injured his feelings. There had been hurt and regret in his eyes. Now that he was out of sight, her stomach turned. How she wished she could take her words back. She owed him an apology.
* * * *
Isabel glared at Cecily, who now stood only steps away, shaking her head disapprovingly. While today was a new day, yesterday’s excitement had weighed heavily on her mind, keeping her from a restful sleep.
“You know if it were not for the kindness and interference of his lordship, providence only knows what would have transpired.” Cecily shifted her eyes to the very same doorway out of which the Duke of Downsbury had been escorted the day before. “Furthermore, I daresay, if it weren’t for his lordship’s quick wits, not even vapors would have brought you out of the state you were in. I, for one, am glad for his intrusion.”
Isabel wanted to agree with her, yet refused to concede. “Honestly, Cecily, in all the years we’ve been friends, you have never once abandoned me. And now, here we stand, and you have all but taken his side in the matter.”
“What matter, Isabel?” She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around her. “My dearest friend, you will always be the sister I never had. I would never forsake a friend for a man, let alone the Marquess of Stoughton, but believe me when I say he wants to make amends, if not more.”
Isabel desired nothing more than to push away the mere thought of her and the marquess entangled again. No. Her time to prove to herself that she did not require the approval of her parents, friends, or the haute ton was now.
Being a widow would yet prove most advantageous to her independence. She would not have to rely on a man approving household changes. She could move out of the city to wherever she wished. She could even travel to the continent or the Americas.
In a feeble attempt to stray from the seriousness of the discussion, she pulled away from Cecily’s embrace and smiled. “I assure you, my darling, I am fine. I will recover and move on as I did when Henry passed.” She sighed and fiddled with her gloves. “I can’t believe you managed to convince Robbie to take us,” Isabel whispered.
“Really, Isabel, did you think my brother would miss the opportunity to escort us—you—to Vauxhall and Bath? I think not. I dare say, the moment I suggested it, he was positively beaming.”
Oh. Isabel had entirely forgotten how s
mitten Cecily’s eldest brother was with her.
Robert Turner the Third had only just returned from the war in hopes to finally marry his betrothed. What he had not expected to find was that she had gone off to Gretna Green and eloped with some other fool.
Unfortunately, Robert would not find happiness with her. She liked him well enough, but never saw him in a romantic way. Though, he was handsome and had the Turner family’s charming dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, and dashing smile.
Contemplations about the kind of life she and Nathaniel could have had intruded her mind once again, never giving her an ounce of peace. Would they have had a brood of children by now? Or taken up residence in his family estate? What would it be like to feel his lips against hers after all this time? His hands raking her body up and down? His wicked tongue delighting her in ways she had only read about in the French novels her friends often shared?
An unfamiliar feeling washed over her, desire mixed with fear and possibly envy. They could never be. Proper etiquette dictated that she wait a period of one year for mourning. But why should I? Her late husband would not have hesitated to leave her funeral and find himself in bed with his mistress.
The sound of horses outside aroused her attention. She approached the window and spotted six magnificent, speckled grays tethered to a beautiful, black-lacquered carriage. Both ladies stood in silence, waiting for the occupant to emerge.
They glanced at each other, speaking at the same time. “Who do you think it is?”
Time seemed to drag for an eternity before another carriage appeared down the lane.
“Robbie!” Cecily squealed excitedly, recognizing their family carriage, only to be silenced as the Marquess of Stoughton stepped out from the first one.
Gasping collectively, Isabel groaned. “Good Lord!”
“It is about bloody time, if you ask me!” Cecily cheered.
Isabel’s heart thundered in her ears, barely finding breath. Why is he here? He knew full well her intentions, and truthfully, she had never known him to make such house calls with a team of horses. What is he up to?
* * * *
Nathaniel made haste in exiting the confines of his carriage. He hated the damned thing and disliked even more to be brought to such lengths in demonstrating his affections. For him, there were better ways to show a lady appreciation and admiration, to declare undying devotion without having to ride a team of horses to the steps of a dowager’s door.
Yes, he loved her now, as much as he did then. He would do anything to secure her confidence. And heaven forbid anyone who got in his way.
The moment he had found out about the arrangement her father had made, the overwhelming fear of never seeing her again had pummeled his heart down his throat and into the pits of hell. And only Isabel could rescue it. He did not want to spend the rest of his life with anyone other than her.
Bound by his bullocks and determination, he would finally make Isabel, Lady Brimley, his. Now would be as close as he could get to for a second chance. He was certain there would never be another opportunity as such.
Adjusting his cravat, Nathaniel noticed the curtain fall into place in the parlor. Is Isabel watching from the window? Or maybe a servant? With no previous arrangement, he truly hoped Isabel would receive him. Allow him to escort her to Vauxhall and, perhaps, further on to Bath.
They could use the sojourn to become reacquainted in more than one way—just as in their youth—in complete and total abandon. With no need to fret over disappointing either set of parents, nor risking his title, they were free to explore as they wished.
As Nathaniel was about to knock, the door opened and her butler stood before him, flashing an amused grin. “My Lord, the ladies will see you in the drawing room.”
He wondered who exactly was here, but given Isabel had been in the company of a female companion night before, perhaps she had returned to check on her. They would surely protest his return and his mannerisms from the previous night. Not that anyone’s opinions mattered, as Isabel’s well-being was a priority, next to her pleasure, of course.
Led away from the foyer, he was received in the same room as yesterday, only today Isabel sat quietly with Miss Turner at her side. Both ladies rose and curtsied. “To what do we owe this pleasure, My Lord?”
He found the flush of her face fascinating. The thought of sliding his fingers across the rosy flesh made him wonder if her entire body would blush the same way. What an ill-timed thought. Get a hold of yourself, man! You are here to strengthen your bond with the woman. He smiled. “Well, Your Grace, it was my desire to speak with you. Alone, that is.”
The instant grin on Miss Turner’s face was infectious. He smirked in return, only to have Isabel leap from her seat. “You cannot expect me to ask my guest to leave.”
Miss Turner giggled and waved her gloved hand. “Hush, darling. Think nothing of it. I shall step outside briefly to see if Robbie is ready to leave.” Slightly turning, she curtsied and rushed out of the door.
Scrutinizing the wary glances Isabel delivered, he stepped toward her, capturing in the faint floral scent encapsulating her. Isabel’s beauty mesmerized him, increasing his need for her exponentially. Her devilish, violet eyes scorned him for the interruption, yet the way she colored from the apple of her cheeks to her neck noted a much more fiery reaction to his presence.
His eyes moved to the swell of her breasts, distracting him even further. He shifted his stance to accommodate the increasing bulge in his pants.
“Well now, I hope you are satisfied, Lord Thompson. Not only have you succeeded in bullying your way for a bit of privacy, you have managed to clear the room in a mere few seconds. You may sit. Shall I ring for refreshment?”
She waved for him to sit opposite of her, but Nathaniel chose to sit next to her instead. He dragged another chair from the lone table in the far corner of the room and moved it next to hers. “Tea would be nice but not necessary. We will be leaving shortly. Have your butler summon my footman to take your things to my carriage.”
She stiffened, and her eyes widened. “Have I misunderstood you, My Lord? Did I just hear you say you will be taking me to both Vauxhall and Bath in your carriage?”
Yes. You heard me well. I will not leave your side ever again, he wanted to say, but only grinned and winked at her.
“I assure you, madam, your hearing is in perfect health. Yes, I will escort you. Nevertheless, you will still be in the company of Mr. and Miss Turner. I would not dream of your dismissing them so easily. Though, I am rather thankful for the opportunity for us to be reacquainted.” In truth, Nathaniel was ecstatic, his nerves threatening to reveal his true feelings.
“My Lord, this is highly improper—” Her outburst was cut short as Miss Turner returned with her brother.
“By the by, this is a pleasure, My Lord!” Robbie gleefully smiled. “So we’re a party of four, then? Well, we must not tarry.”
Nathaniel rose from his seat and offered a hand to her ladyship. “Madam, if I may have the pleasure of escorting you?”
Both men bowed to each other.
Isabel’s eyes narrowed. “You may, for now.”
“Smashing. Now come along, we shall not keep the Turners waiting.” And I really cannot wait to get you alone. I have waited so long.
* * * *
Isabel stood in the middle of the path in awe. “Oh, Robbie, it is beautiful here.”
Cecily fanned herself incessantly as she took in the general splendor of the grounds. Ladies in all the fashionable wear the times had to offer, dapper gentlemen escorting them, and simply the general liveliness surrounding them.
Nathaniel bent his head, whispering into Isabel’s ear, “Not nearly as beautiful as Your Grace, I might add.”
Isabel blushed, simply replying with a coy smile. She turned her attention to Cecily. While she adored her most cherished friend, Isabel feared the giddiness ready to burst would draw unnecessary attention. “Calm yourself, sister. Or half of London’s elite will vo
uch for us to be denied entry. We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?”
Cecily walked with her brother while Isabel took the marquess’ arm and followed their lead.
Vauxhall’s reputation for being elegant and enchanting certainly rang true. Then there was the pleasure garden. Why exactly do they call it that? She wondered, trying to avoid any scandalous images the mere title brought on.
Her eyes fixed in the direction of the orchard and would not move, as if drawn to some mythical landscape where knowledge, escape, and trouble awaited. It would be rude of her to abandon Robbie and Cecily, but on second thought, branching off might not prove to be a bad idea. Cecily would experience London’s favorite playground, and Robbie would perhaps meet a lady or two who might elevate his status.
The barrister, elder by two years, had always been interested in her, yet seemingly more in the idea of settling down. Unfortunately, his designs on her had been met with disappointment. Her secret betrothal to the Marquess of Stoughton then her marriage to the duke had made each of their meetings tense, even if it was for only moments at a time.
“Isabel? Lord Stoughton? Shall we head over to the amphitheatre?”
Isabel barely registered Cecily’s question. “I beg your pardon, I seem to be lost in my thoughts.”
“I can see. The amphitheatre. Shall we attend?”
Temptation of the gardens struck Isabel like a musical chord on the harp. Or maybe it was like a siren, drawing a sailor into his own demise. But, surely, nothing could happen to her while she was here. This was, after all, civilization. Or could it? With Nathaniel by her side, “expect the unexpected” should be her motto.
“Robbie, you take Cecily on ahead, and I will find you both later. I would like to walk around for a bit.”
“My Lady, you cannot expect me to leave you alone with the marquess?”
“Robbie, I will be fine. Now go ahead and escort Cecily.” Isabel lowered her voice. “You might even find her a handsome rogue to whisk her away.”
Scandal at Vauxhall (Pleasure Garden Follies) Page 3
