Notorious Pleasures

by Elizabeth Hoyt

  “Thank you.” Hero’s pulse still fluttered in her throat. “I’m fine now.”

  “You’re sure?” Reading’s voice was deep and somehow intimate in the still night air. He hadn’t loosened his hold on her.

  Below them, Mandeville and Phoebe had halted on the small platform where the stairs turned.

  Mandeville looked up. “Coming?”

  His face was shadowed in the dark, but Hero caught an edge to his voice.

  She pulled and Reading let her arms slide from his grasp. “Yes, we’ll be there soon.”

  Mandeville nodded, turning and continuing down the stairs.

  “You’re late,” Hero murmured as she carefully stepped down.

  “Why must everyone tell me that?”

  “Because you seem to be continually late?”

  “Don’t you think I’m aware of the time and my tardiness?”

  “No,” she said clearly and distinctly as if speaking to a slow child, “because if you knew the time, you wouldn’t be continually late.”

  Behind her Reading exhaled a laugh. “Touché, my Lady Perfect.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Why not?” His breath seemed to stir the small hairs at the nape of her neck. “Are you not perfection itself?”

  She repressed a shiver. “Whether I am or not, I’m certainly not yours.”

  “Pity,” he whispered.

  They were at the turning in the stairs and she stopped suddenly. “What did you say?”

  “Pretty.” He raised innocent eyebrows at her. “You and your sister are very pretty tonight.”

  She stared at him and for the life of her didn’t know what to think. His pale green eyes were shadowed behind a black half-mask and domino, and what she could see of his expression was relaxed—but his hand was fisted by his side. Suddenly she was out of breath, the sensation of falling making her sway.

  “Careful,” he whispered tenderly.

  Her eyes dropped to his lips, wide and sensuous, framed by the black of the mask covering his upper face, and she wondered wildly what he tasted like.

  “Do hurry, Griffin!” Lady Caro called from the bottom of the stairs.

  Hero turned jerkily, glad the dark hid her face from those below. She descended the remainder of the stairs, very conscious all the while of the large male shadowing her.

  “Glad you could join us, Griffin,” Mandeville drawled when they reached the bottom.

  The rest of the party was gathered by the stone dock where two low boats were drawn up. Lady Caroline wore a sapphire dress and half-mask that complemented Lord Huff’s deep blue domino. Lady Margaret wore yellow with pink embroidery and bows. Her escort, Lord Bollinger, a slight young man, was in a black domino.

  “Phoebe, this is Lord Griffin Reading,” Hero said rather breathlessly. “Lord Griffin, my sister, Lady Phoebe.”

  “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” Reading said as he bowed gallantly over Phoebe’s hand. “Please forgive me.”

  “Not at all.” Phoebe darted a nervous glance at Hero. “There’s nothing to forgive. You’ve arrived just in time.”

  “Then let us proceed,” Mandeville said. “Huff, would you like to take my sisters and Lord Bollinger in that boat and we’ll take this one?”

  Lord Huff nodded once. “Good plan.”

  “My dear?” Mandeville held out his hand to Hero.

  She took his hand and stepped gingerly into the barge. Lanterns were affixed to tall posts at either end of the boat, and the long benches were covered in soft cushions.

  “Comfortable?” Mandeville asked her.

  “Yes, thank you.” Hero smiled at him. He really was quite solicitous of her welfare.

  “Watch your step,” Reading said as he helped Phoebe inside. “Wouldn’t want you to have to swim the river.”

  Phoebe giggled as she sat next to Hero. “Oh, this is wonderful! The river is like a fairy kingdom at night.”

  Hero looked over the water. Lights lit it here and there, coming from boats like theirs, the lanterns reflected in the water. The oars squeaked and splashed as the two wherrymen labored at the stern, and the sound of distant laughter, high and light, floated over the water. Despite the strong river stink, it was rather magical.

  “Will there be fireworks, do you think?” Phoebe asked.

  “Guaranteed,” Reading said.

  He and Mandeville sat across from them. Their black dominos made them nearly look alike in the dim light. But where Mandeville sat upright, his hands braced on his knees, Reading sprawled, legs spread wide apart, arms crossed on his chest.

  Hero hastily looked away from him, though there was no way to ignore him in such a small space. She thought of that breathless moment on the stairs when her eyes had locked with his. Of the fact that only yesterday he’d helped her with the home and discussed Herodotus with her, and the day before that she’d agreed to let him accompany her every time she went into St. Giles. She felt a dangerous unsteadiness as if she were still on the stairs about to fall. A trembling giddiness made up equally of expectation and guilt.

  “Your mother and I took tea this afternoon,” she said to Mandeville. “She showed me the menu she has devised for our wedding breakfast.”

  “Indeed?” He smiled indulgently as Reading glanced away at the water. “I hope it met with your approval?”

  “I…” For some reason, she looked at Reading. As if he felt her gaze, he turned back to watch her. He widened his eyes mockingly at her. Hero inhaled, hoping the night hid her blush. “Yes. Yes, she’s planned a lovely celebration of our nuptials.”

  Reading rolled his eyes.

  “Good,” Mandeville said. “I’m so glad that you and Mother have become friends.”

  “It would be hard not to.” Hero smiled with genuine warmth. “Your mother is lovely.”

  Reading’s lips curled in amusement at that and he looked away.

  “We’re nearly there,” Phoebe said. All this time she’d been peering out over the water. “That’s the dock, isn’t it?”

  She glanced at Hero for confirmation.

  Hero was aware that Reading’s attention was caught. He was staring at them curiously.

  “Yes, dear,” she said, catching Phoebe’s hand. “That looks like the dock.”

  But “dock” hardly did the landing area justice. A platform over the river was ablaze with lights, strung on poles. As they neared, Hero could see footmen in fantastic livery helping the rest of their party from their boat. Each footman wore a purple and yellow costume, but each was different: One man was in a striped coat with checkered stockings. Another wore a saffron-colored wig and a purple coat with yellow ribbons. And yet another had a bright yellow coat over a purple spotted waistcoat. They were all whimsical variations on a theme.

  Their boat pulled into the dock, and a fellow in a lavender-powdered wig bent to help her from the boat. “Welcome to Harte’s Folly, my lady.”

  “Thank you,” Hero said as the rest of her party disembarked.

  Phoebe came to stand beside her. “Did you see the primrose in his wig?”

  Hero turned and saw that indeed the footman wore a bright flower over his ear.

  “I do hope that’s not a catching fashion,” Reading murmured. He caught Phoebe’s eyes. “I’d look rather foolish with tulips about my ears.”

  Phoebe smothered a giggle with one hand.

  “You’d look a right ass,” was Huff’s pronouncement.

  “Thank you, Huff, for your opinion,” Reading said gravely.

  Huff snorted.

  Mandeville cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

  He offered his arm to Hero, and she took it as they entered a wooded path. The trees about them were hung with fantastical fairy lights. Hero peered closer and saw that each was a blown glass globe, no bigger than her palm, encasing a light. Music drifted through the decoratively trimmed trees and hedges, growing louder as they advanced. The path suddenly opened, and they emerged from the trees into a wondrous theate
r.

  A paved area spread out before them as if sprung from the forest floor. Behind that were artfully decaying ruins. If one looked closely, one could just see the orchestra playing between crumbling pillars. On either side, luxurious boxes rose, four levels high, some open, some curtained to give the occupants privacy.

  A pretty maidservant, her hair intertwined with lavender and primrose ribbons, led them behind the boxes and up a carpeted stairs to a high box right on the stage.

  “I say, this is cracking,” Lord Bollinger exclaimed. He was a quiet young man who seemed slightly overawed by Mandeville’s rank.

  Lady Margaret squeezed her escort’s arm. “It’s simply wonderful, Thomas.”

  Mandeville grinned, suddenly looking boyish. “Glad you’re pleased, Meg.”

  Hero smiled up at him as he held a chair for her. “Thank you for arranging this evening.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” He bowed, but as he rose, his eyes went over Hero’s shoulder and he seemed to stiffen.

  The curtains parted at the back of their box, and a troop of servants entered with supper. Mandeville settled into the chair next to Hero as thinly sliced ham, wine, cheese, and prettily iced cakes were laid before them.

  “A toast,” Huff mumbled, raising his glass. “To the beautiful ladies present tonight.”

  “Oh, Huff,” Lady Caroline said, but she was blushing as she drank.

  Hero smiled and sipped her own wine, but she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder as the others bantered. In the box opposite sat a lady with striking deep-wine-red hair. Three young and handsome gentlemen surrounded her, but the woman’s eyes were fixed on their box.

  Hero followed her gaze. Mrs. Tate was watching Mandeville.

  GRIFFIN’S EYES NARROWED as he saw Lady Hero note the redheaded woman across the way. What the hell was Thomas up to? Had he arranged an assignation with a mistress with his fiancée present?

  Lady Hero casually turned back to the table, her gaze sliding by his. She made no sign, but somehow he could tell: She was upset.

  Damn Thomas!

  Thankfully the entertainment began at that moment with a troop of brightly clad girls dancing onto the stage.

  Griffin watched broodingly, fondling the diamond earring in his waistcoat pocket. What matter to him if Thomas wasn’t quite as perfect as Lady Hero thought him? Their arrangement was surely no business of his. Why, then, did he feel an urgent need to drag his brother into a private corner and with a few choice words—and perhaps a fist or two—show him the error of his ways?

  “They’re so graceful,” Lady Phoebe said. She sat beside him, across the dinner table from Thomas and Lady Hero.

  “They are indeed.” Griffin smiled at her.

  Lady Phoebe was so different from her sister she might have been a changeling. Where Lady Hero was tall for a woman and elegantly slender, Lady Phoebe was of only average height with a buxom figure, softly rounded shoulders, and plump arms. Lady Hero carefully guarded her expression and movements like a miser with a handful of gold coins. Lady Phoebe, in contrast, let every emotion play across her face, her expressive lips parting in wonder or curving wide in surprised amusement at the antics of a clown on the stage.

  “But where did he go?” she murmured to herself. “The little monkey?”

  Griffin glanced at the stage. The clown had been playing with a monkey, but the animal sat now at his ankles, waiting with trained stillness.

  He looked back to Lady Phoebe. She was leaning forward, squinting. Suddenly she laughed. “He’s back.”

  Griffin looked at the stage. The clown was making the monkey perform backflips through a hoop. Griffin lifted his wine to his lips, frowning thoughtfully.

  The dancers and the clown were followed by a play, Love for Love, which was admirably acted, though Griffin hardly noticed. He was too busy watching Lady Hero from out of the corner of his eye.

  As the actors were bowing, Thomas stood. “Shall we stroll the gardens?”

  The suggestion was obvious, and Thomas never glanced at the box opposite. Still, Griffin was unsurprised when the red-haired lady stood as well. Grimly, he offered his arm to Lady Phoebe.

  The pleasure gardens were cunningly laid out. Tall hedges trimmed into fantastic beasts lined the walkways, obscuring narrower paths leading off it, as well as nooks and grottos tailor-made for sophisticated amusements. As he guided Lady Phoebe, Griffin wondered cynically how many of the other ladies they passed were there professionally.

  “Oh, look!” Lady Phoebe tugged at his arm as one of the many set pieces came into sight. “How is it done?”

  Before them was a pretty outcropping of rock, decorated with a falls. But the falls in this case was of multicolored lights.

  “How clever,” Megs murmured. “I can’t tell how it’s devised. Perhaps one of the gentlemen can educate us?”

  “Haven’t a clue,” Bollinger admitted immediately with honest good humor.

  Megs laughed. “Huff?”

  “Must be mechanical,” Huff said.

  “Well, of course it’s mechanical,” Caro said. “But how does it work?”

  Thomas frowned. “A pulley system of some sort, I’d wager.”

  For a moment they all gazed, transfixed, at the moving lights as they seemed to flow over the barren rock.

  Griffin stirred. “I think we’re overlooking the most obvious explanation.”

  “Which is, my lord?” Lady Hero raised her left eyebrow.

  “Fairies,” he replied gravely.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake!” grumped Caro, and immediately dragged her husband off, despite Huff’s protests.

  “Fairies,” Lady Hero repeated. Her lips definitely twitched.

  “Fairies.” Griffin stuck his free hand between the buttons of his waistcoat and struck a learned pose, head tilted back, brow furrowed solemnly, foot thrust forward. “In my opinion—which, by the way, is considered an authority on rainbow light falls—each individual light in this falls is in actuality a fairy running quickly over the rocks.”

  Megs was grinning, Lady Phoebe was giggling, but Lady Hero nodded as if his nonsense was perfectly possible. “But if they are fairies as you say, why exactly should they run down instead of up?”

  “My dearest lady,” Griffin replied with sad pity. “Do you not know that falls only run down and not up?”

  Her mouth had widened, her delicate, pale pink lips trembling with laughter, and his heart suddenly sang. Just like that. With no preliminaries or warning, without reason or goal, he was happy. And looking into her clear gray eyes, he had an idea she was happy as well. How odd that such a thing, such a moment, should compound and redouble until the very fact that she was glad made him the most joyful man in the world.

  For just a moment in time.

  Then Thomas, who if anything should’ve been suspicious of their banter, said rather absentmindedly, “Shall we try this path, my dear?”

  And he pulled her away.

  “Come on,” Lady Phoebe urged, and they and Megs and Bollinger chose another path.

  Griffin strolled along, listening with only one ear to their banter and exclamations. He must’ve interjected enough comments to maintain a normal front, for no one stared at him oddly or pulled him aside to ask just what the devil he thought he was doing flirting with his soon-to-be sister-in-law.

  But he knew. Oh, yes, he knew—he was in over his head and sinking fast. He might be irritated by Lady Hero’s calm acceptance of her own perfection, of her condemnation of him without even a trial, even of her fondness for Thomas, but that didn’t change his own body’s inclinations. He was attracted to the lady—and what was worse, the lady was attracted to him. This was exactly what he had vowed to never let happen. He couldn’t let it go further. He must make a firm pledge to stay away from the lady.

  Yet, here, tonight, he couldn’t stop himself from peering down alleys and grottos, searching for a glimpse of scarlet and ruby skirts, a gingery head, the elegant turn of a neck. Where had Th
omas taken her?

  Damnation! Were they embracing even now?

  They’d almost made a complete circumference of the gardens when the first pop! exploded overhead.

  “The fireworks!” Lady Phoebe pointed.

  A glowing red star shot into the night and burst above them, sending green and blue sparks showering down. Their group had stopped in a small clearing, and a crowd of the other guests began gathering about them. Caro and Huff soon joined them. Griffin glanced around but could see neither Lady Hero nor Thomas.

  “I say, is that a turtle?” Huff asked beside him.

  “No,” came Caro’s exasperated tones. “It’s a spider.”

  “Looks like a turtle to me,” Huff said, unperturbed by his mate’s correction.

  A flash of scarlet caught Griffin’s eye. He turned and saw Lady Hero disappear down a path. Good God, was she alone? Surely she knew better than to wander a dark path at night by herself?

  He excused himself from the small group, making sure Lady Phoebe was with Megs and Caro and their escorts, then strode rapidly to where he’d seen Lady Hero. The popping and cracking continued overhead, and suddenly the path ahead of him was lit in bright orange. There at the far end stood Lady Hero looking around.

  She turned as he advanced on her. “Thomas?”

  He took her arm, too ridiculously angry to correct her. Where the hell was his brother? He pulled, but she dug in her heels, just as blue and yellow lights burst overhead.

  “Why the hurry, my lord?” She tilted her face up to his, her eyes mocking behind the feathered half-mask she wore. “Don’t you think this romantic?”

  Suddenly the explosions were in his head. Griffin stared into those innocently seductive eyes and realized very simply that he couldn’t stand it any longer.

  He kissed her.

  Chapter Six

  What a spectacle there was when the three dignitaries arrived in the kingdom! Prince Westmoon came in a carriage made of gold and diamonds and drawn by twelve snow-white horses. Prince Eastsun rode in a palanquin encrusted with rubies and emeralds and hung draperies made of silk. And Prince Northwind arrived in a great gilded ship with sails of crimson and gold. All three men were haughty, commanding, and handsome beyond belief. But only the little brown bird and the stable master knew that the queen retired to her bed that night with a heavy heart….