“You have brought me to realize that I have made a perfect waste of dramatic surroundings,” he said, gazing ahead with a lurking smile, “and would make reparation without delay but, in truth, I should hardly know the first place to look.”
She sat back, pondering the problem. “I see. If one was used to have no inclination, one would not know where to begin, without an experienced person to guide you.”
“Exactly my thought, Miss Breckinridge. Perhaps we may discover a secret passage or two, if you were to help me look.”
“We?”
He smiled down at her. “Amelia plans to visit me at Wrenthorpe for a few weeks after the season, and it had occurred to me that she might invite your family along, if you should like it.”
“Oh, sir! It would be perfect!” Lenora was visibly delighted. “I’m sure Mama would be thrilled to have us come.” She tucked a confiding hand into his arm. “I am sorry I ever thought you were the evil Duke.”
He blinked at her. “The evil Duke?”
“Oh! My wretched tongue!” She pulled away, blushing in confusion. “Oh, sir, forgive me. I cannot think how I came to rattle on so.”
He looked stern and said, “I expect I can find it in my heart to forgive you, on the condition that you tell me what you mean, for I shall surely die of suspense if you do not.” When she only covered her face with her gloved hands, he persisted gently, “Come, I will not eat you. Now, why did you think me ‘the evil Duke?’”
She glanced anxiously up at him. “You will think me the silliest pea goose alive, sir.”
“That doesn’t signify in the least, Miss Breckinridge, for I have always thought so,” he said, assuming his gravest countenance.
“Oh, sir!” she gurgled, responding most satisfactorily to this sally. “Well, I suppose I may as well tell you, for you’ll find it out soon enough, I daresay. The case is that my dear friend—Miss Chuddsley, you know—subscribes to the circulating library, and she and I have read all of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels—”
“Ah! The case becomes clearer already—but I interrupt. Please, go on.”
“And we resolved, only in fun, of course, that we should find ourselves in the midst of a romantic tale when we came to London, for there is so much variety here, among people, you know, and we thought it would be so thrilling if it did happen!” She leaned toward him again, wound up in her story. “And it did, sir! For, of course, Elvira or I would be the heroine, and we had not been out a fortnight when we met the perfect hero—Mr. Barnabus, you know, who has the most tragic life—”
“My heart is quite broken, Miss Breckinridge!” interjected Sir Joshua. “Am I not tragic enough to be your hero?”
She took his arm again. “But you are a hero of a different kind, sir! Still quite as important!”
“Oh, then I am redeemed,” he said, accepting this explanation with perfect equanimity. “Pray continue.”
She giggled. “We have many supporting characters,” she squeezed his arm, “like you, and the disappointed suitor—”
“I see now I have escaped a terrible fate! I would much rather be ‘a hero of a different kind’ than the ‘disappointed suitor.’”
“You shall not play that role, sir, not if I have anything to say!” she declared.
He looked ironically down at her. “But you did think that I might play the evil Duke?”
“I can honestly say that I never thought you to be such a man,” she disclaimed. “Well, not very seriously at any rate.”
“But you interest me excessively, Miss Breckinridge! What kind of man is the evil Duke?”
She gripped his arm with both hands. “He is capable of the most heinous villainy, sir! He seduces the unsuspecting heroine, cultivating her trust through the most insidious deceit, then abducts her and holds her in his crumbling castle, in the highest tower, until she is compromised and must sink to marrying him!”
“Goodness, you alarm me! And you thought me such a man, even for a moment?”
“Oh, sir!” She stared wide-eyed at him as the injustice of such a thoughtless fancy came home to her. “It was unpardonable of me! Please say you forgive me?”
“With all my heart, my dear girl,” he said, his handsome smile lighting his face.
She sighed in gratitude. “Indeed, I would never consider you the evil Duke now, and have not a long time since!”
“My relief knows no bounds, Miss Breckinridge.”
Had she been privy to one of these conversations, Genevieve may have experienced the relief at least of facing the demon which seemed to have taken possession of the recesses of her mind. When Tom had apprised her of Sir Joshua’s intention to take his place as guard over them, the feeling in the pit of her stomach she had put down to embarrassment at the need of placing such a responsibility on his shoulders. That her chest prickled hotly whenever Sir Joshua bestowed his wonderful smile upon Lenora, or chatted in low tones to her, she easily dismissed as the effects of too much indulgence at tea time, and would never give the least heed to that sly voice in her head that suggested she had more concern than a mother ought in Sir Joshua’s friendliness to her daughter.
Sir Joshua might have relieved her mind one way or the other, but his intentions remained maddeningly elusive to her, even more so after she had determined to put herself in command of them. He treated Lenora with the same gentlemanlike manner as he did herself, and gave them almost equal parts of his time, with no distinctions that she could discover. If he preferred to take Lenora on drives in his curricle, and so be seen publicly in her company, he never missed a morning walk with Genevieve, which could be perceived as more intimate.
He most often took her on long, rambling walks through the Green Park, where they never neglected a sober inspection of the tree whose treacherous branch had precipitated her third debt to his chivalry, or to pause beside the sparkling water of the reservoir. Here, with the fresh air and quiet to clear her mind, she could forget how the man beside her had upset her peace.
“I think you must miss the country, ma’am,” Sir Joshua noted one day. “Your spirits seem to animate whenever we walk here.”
She squinted up at him, the sun glinting off the water into her eyes. “You must tell me how to take that remark, sir. Either you wish me away, or you think me blue-deviled.”
“Or I find a kindred spirit in one who responds so palpably to nature.”
“Pardon me, sir, for misreading you,” she said, the dimple appearing in her cheek. “My nerves have been so over-stimulated by the bustle and noise of the Metropolis that when confronted by peace and tranquility, they are so dumbfounded that I become a trifle stupid.”
“That must be why you are blue-deviled.”
“That was no admission!” she cried, glaring askance at him. “Why should I be blue-deviled? I am perhaps a little tired, from all this gaiety and action.”
“Then why do you stay?”
More than a little annoyed at his shrewdness, she masked it by pressing a hand to her heart, and saying in an injured tone, “You do wish me away!”
“Not in the least, ma’am. I merely wish to get to the bottom of your malady.” He turned to face her, regarding her intently. “Since the Wraglain’s ball you have been in the grip of a most persistent melancholia. I would I knew what I could do to cheer you.”
She could not speak for several moments as her thoughts tottered from gratitude at his concern, to distress at the mere possibility of her true feelings bursting to the surface.
Reading her silence only slightly awry, he said, “Perhaps I am impertinent. I had hoped to have shown myself enough your friend to merit your confidence, but I have no wish to obligate you.”
“Yes—I mean, no,” she disclaimed, turning from him in confusion. “You have been all that is kind, sir, but I could not presume upon—” She stopped, the very thought of owning her struggles to him overpowering her.
“My forgiveness?” she echoed, completely at a loss.
“Yes. My behavior toward you at the ball, when I found you with Lord Montrose—”
“Oh,” she murmured, coloring and looking away again.
He removed his hat and passed it from hand to hand, rather in the manner of a shy schoolboy. “Friend or no, it was none of my business. I have no opinion of Lord Montrose, or if I do, it is not what I ought to speak aloud. Suffice it to say that I shouldn’t wish any female of my acquaintance to be in his company, and feeling as I do in some way responsible for—well, for your family, while you are guests in my sister’s house, you understand—I lost my head.”
It took some minutes for Genevieve to compose herself after this handsome and unexpected admission. “Well, sir,” she said, a little hesitantly, “if you must beg my forgiveness, then I must beg yours for giving you any anxiety. I have never had the intention of obligating you in any way, though circumstances may have conspired to make you believe otherwise, and I can only say that your concern is felt with gratitude, and will be rewarded as conscientiously as may be.”
Opening his eyes at this speech, he said, “I am put in my place again, I see.”
“No, sir!” she cried. “It is only that I have no other choice in the matter.” He gazed dubiously at her and, flustered, she cast about in her mind for adequate words to explain. “Though I dislike Lord Montrose excessively, he is an acquaintance of long standing, and our relationship is such that—I simply cannot cut him.”
“You will pardon me, ma’am, but to keep the acquaintance of a man so low as Montrose simply because he was your husband’s friend seems to me the height of folly.”
“It does, sir, I know it does, but you cannot appreciate my situation. For a man, it would be simple enough to sever ties, but for a woman, it is not so easy. I must do what I can to keep relations civil between us, for fear of what revenge he may decide to take.”
He seemed to digest this. “Very well, ma’am. I bow to your superior knowledge of him, and will engage to stay clear of your dealings with him.”
She thanked him, though with some misgiving, and they walked on in silence until he said abruptly, “Now here is a sight I expressly wish you to see.” Stepping off the path, Sir Joshua led her amongst the trees, then stopped, pointing with his malacca cane to a branch high above them. “There is a dove’s nest there. If we are fortunate—yes! You see the female’s head? She is at home.”
Genevieve, quite ready to leave their former subject behind, craned her neck to see into the shadows of the leafy tree top. “Sir Joshua, how delightful! I suppose it is too much to hope for babies in the nest?”
“It must be too late in the year for that.”
“Of course.” She gazed a few minutes longer, then glanced up at him, and caught him regarding her intently. She blushed faintly and said, “However did you discover the nest?”
“Lenora told me of it, and two days ago I came to see it for myself,” he said, with obvious satisfaction. “I thought it would be a sight to cheer you.”
She quickly stifled the ruffling of her feelings and achieved a smile. “Well, you have gauged me rightly, sir, to fancy such a sight would cheer me. I declare I never felt better.”
“If only all your worries could be gotten rid of so easily.”
She dropped her gaze as they moved out of the shelter of the trees. “You must think me a poor-spirited creature, indeed, sir, if you believe I desire deliverance from all my cares. I am no fair maiden in distress.”
That brought a tiny smile to his lips. “Woe betide me to think such a thing, ma’am!”
She was forced to chuckle. “What sort of woman would I be without my trials, I ask you?”
“A very uninteresting one, to be sure, ma’am.”
After a few paces in companionable quiet, she said, gazing out over the lovely verdure of the park, “You were right that I respond to nature. I should be very sorry were these parks unavailable.”
“So, you do prefer the country to town?”
“For the most part, yes. The country is more forgiving, with fewer pressures and more simple pleasures. But town presents challenges to one’s intellect and habits that country life can never approximate. It is good to put oneself to the test once in a while, but there are limits to all good things.”
“Not all good things, Mrs. Breckinridge.”
She glanced up to see a ghost of a smile on his lips, and she longed to know if his thoughts were here, with her, or with another, younger lady not far away. Shaking her head, as if to clear away such nonsensical thinking, she unconsciously quickened her pace. “And do you prefer the country, sir?”
“I do, when I have company. Being a widower, with no children, my country seat seems rather bleak when I am there for very long. Consequently, I find myself in town whenever I can be sure of good society.” He turned to look down at her. “But I hope I foresee much satisfaction in coming home in future.”
She forced herself to smile again. “I should like to see Wrenthorpe Grange, sir.”
He seemed gratified. “I should like to see you there, ma’am. I have already mentioned a visit to Lenora, and she was not indisposed to the idea.”
She thought her face would crack with the strain of her smile. “I am sure not. What a lovely prospect!”
His handsome smile brightened his face, and he offered his arm. “You are a wonderful woman, Mrs. Breckinridge. Lenora is a lucky girl to have you as a mother.”
No longer able to maintain her mask of delight, she turned her face away and murmured many proper things about “so kind,” and “much obliged,” all the while cursing the sly voice in her head for being right.
With such feelings jumbled in her breast did Genevieve receive Sir Joshua’s invitation to an intimate little supper party at Vauxhall Gardens, to which renowned retreat he knew Miss Breckinridge had yet to go, and to whose many delights he was persuaded Mrs. Breckinridge would not be loath to return. Her mood half determined her to decline the invitation, to spare herself the pain of an entire evening wondering and wishing, but after sober reflection, she accepted it, and swiftly, delivering the note with the sand hardly swept off, to teach herself not to deny her daughter any opportunity for pleasure through selfishness on her own part. Then she steeled herself not only to enjoy the evening, but to watch with complaisance her daughter’s enjoyment.
At first, her resolve seemed to no purpose, for Sir Joshua was all amiability, greeting each lady with equal gallantry, and smilingly making the introductions of his two friends, Sir David Granton and Colonel Bunding, who had graciously agreed to enlarge the party, and to whom Lady Cammerby was already well known. Genevieve rather despondently perceived that the gentlemen were much closer to her age than to Lenora’s, and so were more likely to be meant as companions to her, leaving Lenora to Sir Joshua, but nothing in their behavior vindicated this notion. All three gentlemen attended the ladies down the steps to where Sir Joshua handed them into the carriage, then they all three rode behind the carriage to Vauxhall.
Arriving at the Gardens from Kennington Street, they were set down some way from the coach gate and, once all the ladies had alighted, were drawn eagerly on by Sir Joshua, who navigated through the crowded carriageway toward the entrance. Light spilled from the gateway as they approached, and once through, their eyes were dazzled by the myriad oil lights in colored glass lanterns, appended, it seemed, to every surface imaginable. Both Genevieve and Lenora sighed in wonder as they were led down the principle walks, barely able to speak, much less withdraw their gazes from the glittering lights to greet acquaintances on the way.
Genevieve glanced up at Sir Joshua to say, “They’ve cut down all t
he beautiful trees in the Grove, and replaced them with lights!”
“Do you disapprove?” he asked her.
“I hardly know,” she said, gazing around her once more. “I suppose at this time of night I must not, for I have seen nothing to rival the sight of all these lights, but in the day I should be scandalized for the loss of such natural beauty. They were lovely old trees.”
In answer, he drew her arm through his, further dispelling her fears of a painful evening, and led the party back into the Grove, where animated groups of people from all walks of society congregated here and there, mostly under a stately iron colonnade on their way into the Rotunda, or near the Orchestra in the center of the clearing.
They drew nearer this amazing edifice, whose tiered front was so bedecked with colored lights as to mesmerize the unwary onlooker, and as lively couples danced before them, the band worked away on the first tier, the music floating out to fill the Grove. Their party stood and listened a while, not a little bemused by such a bright display, until the gentlemen, inured to the sight from more frequent experience, urged the ladies to come along to the Rotunda, where the formal concert was to be played. Sir Joshua left them in the colonnade to bespeak a box for supper, then rejoined them in good time to see them to their seats.
After the bustle of settling had done, Genevieve found herself beside Sir Joshua, who showed no consternation at being separated from Lenora by Colonel Bunding, who was engaged with that damsel in eager conversation over the delights of the evening having taken place so far. Observing the general satisfaction of the party, Genevieve felt compelled to relax, and quickly succumbed completely to the enjoyment of good company and novel surroundings. For though she had been to Vauxhall Gardens as a young girl, it had changed so materially in the succeeding years that she felt almost as if she were in a strange place. She gazed with appreciation at the artfully embellished canopy above her, and the intricately carved scrollwork along the walls, which was much the same as she remembered, but the paintings around the room had been updated to rural scenes, which she thought infinitely suited to such a place.
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