Love's Folly

by Nina Coombs Pykare

  Emily nodded. Dunstan was now so perfectly matter of fact. Could he have looked at her in that tender way only seconds before? She could not be sure. Maybe she was imagining the whole thing because she wanted to believe it.

  Then they were climbing carefully out of the carriage. As she reached the ground, Emily stayed quite close to Dunstan. She noticed that he immediately took her arm and tucked it through his. She clung to him gratefully.

  Sarah and Bersford were soon beside them and they moved off toward the gate. It was very slow going, for the area before the gate was packed with people of all kinds. Lords and ladies rubbed elbows with shop girls and chimney sweeps, tinkers and butchers’ boys. Dunstan moved steadily through the throng, his broad shoulders and fierce countenance clearing a way for them. Beside him, his arm close to her, Emily felt surprisingly safe.

  The Horse Guards at the gate nodded at seeing the tickets and Emily breathed a sigh of relief as they passed through and into the park. The crowd there was not so dense and it was somewhat easier to move about.

  Dunstan paused and looked around them. “It seems wisest to go directly to the benches provided. As the crowd grows thicker it may be difficult to find a place to sit.”

  Bersford nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. I don’t want Sarah to be jostled about.”

  “I expect you have taken precautions concerning your watch and other valuables,” said Dunstan. “No doubt there are a great many divers on the lay here. Those who make their living picking pockets could ask for nothing better than a crowd like this.”

  Bersford nodded. “I took precautions before I left my room.”

  “Good.” Dunstan moved off toward where the seats were arranged and Bersford and Sarah followed closely behind.

  As the men settled them onto the benches, Emily looked around her. Though it was not as crowded as the streets, the park was full of people. Booths and open marquees had sprung up all over. The smell of frying meat hung in the air. There would be lots of good business on a day like this.

  Emily smiled at the sight of two small boys shinnying up a tree to get a better view. Then she frowned. Where was the mother of those boys? How could she allow such small youngsters to run around by themselves? She turned to Sarah. “Look at those little boys.”

  Sarah nodded and Bersford smiled. “Little devils will get a good view up there.”

  “They seem very small to be out by themselves,” said Emily.

  Bersford looked at her in surprise. “Those little urchins? They’ve probably been on their own for years.”

  Emily remained quiet. The facts of London life had never been more clearly apparent. Her children, she thought silently, would never risk life and limb like that. She recalled her earlier words to Sarah and paused in her thinking. Perhaps if she really loved them, she would want to give her sons the freedom to do such things. Otherwise how could they learn and grow?

  Dunstan touched her hand lightly. “Emily, you are looking extremely serious. What grave matters are presently occupying your mind?”

  Emily flushed. “I was thinking of—the day when I have sons.”

  His dark eyes met hers. “Serious thoughts for a young woman not yet betrothed.”

  She nodded. Somehow it was very important for her to make him understand. “I was looking at those boys.” She indicated the two urchins, who by now had moved far out on a limb and were bouncing there happily.

  He nodded. “Yes, go on.”

  “First I thought I should not allow my sons to behave so dangerously. But then I remembered what I had said—about loving someone. And I realized that if I loved them, I should not want to protect them too much. I should want to give them room to grow and learn, even to make mistakes. Because that is a way of learning.” She looked at him anxiously. “Does that make any sense to you?”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “Yes, it does. A great deal of sense.” His gloved hand closed over hers again for the merest fraction of a second. “I am discovering more and more about you today,” he said, that strange look flickering in his eyes again.

  Emily caught her breath. There was something special between them. Surely she could not be imagining it.

  Then Sarah tugged at her sleeve. “Look, Emily, look at the Chinese pagoda.”

  Emily really had no other choice but to look, yet she was extremely loath to take her eyes away from Dunstan’s. When he looked at her like that …

  The pagoda appeared to have seven stories and was erected on a bridge over the canal. Why the peace should be celebrated with a pagoda was unclear to her, but then the Prince Regent’s penchant for things Oriental was well-known. Everyone knew about the Chinese decorations of resplendent Brighton Pavilion, including its great Oriental dome. Emily lost herself in musing over what it was like to live in such magnificence.

  Her inheritance made her sought after by many suitors, and she could well afford the thousand pounds that Uncle Cyril had helped her settle on Sarah. But she had never known the kind of splendor with which the prince surrounded himself. She thought it would probably be an inconvenience. She liked comfort, but too much opulence could be cloying.

  Suddenly she was brought out of her musing by the stiffening of the man beside her. She looked up to find Lord Gilcrest standing before them. “Good afternoon, Miss Penthorne. I see that you are, as usual, out.” Gilcrest’s sharp face held only a suave smile. “I have left my card several times,” he continued smoothly, “but it is my misfortune always to find you out.”

  Emily did not know how to reply to this and glanced instinctively at Dunstan. His face was calm, but she saw the telltale muscle twitching in his jaw.

  “Some men might surmise, after such repeated misfortunes, that their calls were not wanted by the lady in question,” Dunstan observed calmly.

  Emily’s heart jumped up into her throat. Surely Dunstan would not call this man out. But if Gilcrest should take offense ...

  “Indeed, Dunstan,” Gilcrest replied cheerfully, “some men might. But I know better.” His eyes met Emily’s and he smiled. “Some day perhaps I shall be fortunate enough to have the lady listen to her heart instead of her keeper.” With that comment he bowed low and coolly departed before Emily could think of a suitable reply.

  She was aware of Dunstan’s eyes on her and felt the color creep into her cheeks. “I—I will not receive him,” she stammered. “He is ...” She searched for the right words. “Not a good man. Something about him frightens me.”

  She could almost feel the tension leaving Dunstan’s body at her words. Again she wondered at the source of the antagonism between the two men. She knew it had existed before her advent on the scene. Gilcrest’s attentions to her had only served to increase an anger that had already existed.

  A glance at Dunstan’s face convinced her that this was not the time to inquire about the matter. Indeed, now that Gilcrest had disappeared into the throng, a deep frown furrowed Dunstan’s forehead.

  She looked out over the crowd in the direction of his glance and her heart lurched in her breast. She now knew the reason for that frown. Gilcrest had not disappeared. He stood some distance away by one of the booths and beside him, clinging to his arm in that wanton way of hers, stood the brazen creature from Almack’s—Miss Castlemain, Dunstan had called her. Emily frowned. Even at this distance it was easy to see how her gown clung to her body.

  Emily fought to control her feelings. Was Dunstan’s anger caused by seeing that creature with Gilcrest? It certainly seemed so. All the good feelings she had been having about Dunstan and herself seemed suddenly foolish, the silly imaginings of a lovesick girl. Just because he treated her half decently and spoke to her as though she had some understanding—that didn’t mean that he had any partiality for her. He was, after all, considerably older—more than thirty. Perhaps his feelings for her were more like those of a father for a daughter.

  Emily swallowed over the sudden lump that formed in her throat. If that were so, she would never have the sons they
had spoken of. For of one thing Emily was quite sure. She would never marry any man but Dunstan, no matter if she must become an old maid, the butt of every man’s joke. It would be Dunstan for her or no man.

  She was trying to conquer the lump in her throat and blink back the tears that had suddenly appeared in her eyes when Bersford called out, “Look, there goes Sadler.”

  Emily looked up with the others. Slowly rising into the early evening sky was a great balloon. Beneath it hung a brilliantly painted car in which stood a young man waving several large cards. She could not read the messages on the cards, but she supposed they were instructions to his helpers on the ground.

  They watched in silence as the balloon rose higher and higher. Emily noticed that Sarah was clutching Bersford’s arm, and smiled. Love had changed Sarah from a competent companion to a skittish young woman fearful of the least thing that threatened her beloved.

  Strange, thought Emily, stealing a glance at Dunstan, that love did not affect her like that. She had been quite serious in her earlier comments. She could not conceive of a situation in which Dunstan could not take ample care of himself.

  As darkness slowly fell, the park took on an even more festive look as gay Chinese lanterns were lit. Emily occupied herself for some moments in gazing at the different designs painted on those nearest them. Some bore likenesses of Mr. Kean in his various characters. Some represented the Great Mogul, the Tower of Babel, and even the Chinese pagoda on the bridge. Gazing at those to her right, Emily discovered the likeness of Alexander, Emperor of Russia, and quickly looked away. Thank God, he had gone back to Russia and his Russian and French women. At least he was no longer in London to spread false rumors about her.

  She caught her breath as lanterns began to bloom on the Chinese pagoda on its bridge over the canal. The reflections of the lanterns sparkled in the water like a fairyland come true. She sighed, wishing she had the right to lean against Dunstan’s shoulder as the so-proper Sarah was doing to Bersford at this very moment. A thought came to her. If they were walking about, then she could put her arm through his—for safety’s sake, of course.

  She turned to Dunstan. “Milord, do you suppose we might walk a little down by the canal? It looks so lovely there. Bersford and Sarah can keep our places.”

  She held her breath. Perhaps he would not like her idea.

  But finally he smiled. “A capital suggestion. And after we return, if Bersford and Miss Parker wish to take a stroll, we may do the same for them.”

  The arrangements were soon made and Emily and Dunstan moved off across the grass, now sadly trampled by the feet of the multitudes. They had taken only a few steps when a great whooshing noise resounded through the air, causing Emily to clutch instinctively at Dunstan’s arm.

  “It’s all right,” he reassured her. “It’s only the rockets going off. See?”

  From above the pagoda and from various apertures in its sides rockets shot into the night air. A great variety of wheels and stars appeared on the pagoda and great flights of rockets whooshed higher, falling in slow showers of fire. Roman candles threw blue stars far up into the sky and great balls of fire went up to explode into innumerable sparks which seemed to fill the sky.

  “Stay close to me,” said Dunstan softly. “I do not like it that Gilcrest is about here somewhere.”

  “Yes, milord,” answered Emily and clung even tighter to his arm.

  As the fireworks continued to light up the sky, they moved on toward the canal. They were standing there, surrounded by others, watching the fireworks and the boats upon the canal, when suddenly there was a great roar and a stick from a rocket came crashing down among them, a stick six feet long.

  Emily’s arm was torn from Dunstan’s and she was thrown roughly to one side as the crowd milled about in panic. “Dunstan!” she called, but in the confusion her bonnet was knocked down over her eyes and she felt herself in danger of falling under the trampling feet. With a feeling of great relief she felt a strong arm encircle her waist and half drag, half carry her out of the confusion. She might have known that Dunstan would take good care of her. He hurried her some distance from the crowd while she endeavored to straighten her bonnet so that she could see.

  Finally, just as they stopped, she got the bonnet pushed up. A scream rose to her throat and died there. The man who had saved her from the crowd, whose hand now held hers so firmly in his own, was not Viscount Dunstan at all. Grinning at her cheerfully, stood Lord Gilcrest!

  “Milord!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

  “I am saving you from destruction,” he said smoothly. “Those rocket sticks are vicious things.”

  “Viscount Dunstan,” she began, her eyes searching the crowd.

  “He does not appear to be here,” said Gilcrest suavely.

  Emily tried to pull her hand free. “I must go. Please!”

  But Gilcrest merely smiled. “Not so fast, my dear. I have waited a long time to get you alone. Now that Dunstan is out of the way I mean to press my suit.”

  His pressure on her fingers increased until she wanted to cry out in pain.

  “Did Dunstan tell you that I made an offer for you?” he asked.

  Emily shook her head. “No, no, he did not.”

  Gilcrest sighed heavily. “You see how difficult the man makes it for me. He forbids you to see me. He does not even inform you of my suit.”

  “Perhaps he knew that my answer would be no,” said Emily, still struggling unsuccessfully to free her fingers.

  Gilcrest smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile. “He has forced me to take this kind of step,” he said. “A man should have a chance to speak his piece.” He gave her hand a sharp tug and pulled her into his arms. She struggled to free herself, but it was quite useless. There seemed little sense in screaming, for the general level of the noise around them was so high that a scream would go completely unnoticed.

  “I have conceived a mad passion for you,” said Gilcrest. “I wish to make you my wife.”

  “I—I do not wish to marry,” said Emily. “Please release me.”

  But Gilcrest shook his head. “Come, you are being unfair. I am not such a bad case. And once my passion has dissolved, as such passions always do, I shall give you leave to pursue your own adventures. I doubt that Alexander will return soon, but there are sufficient fish in the sea.”

  Emily stared at him in surprise. “You would give me leave to be—unfaithful?”

  Gilcrest nodded. “Of course. And you will give me similar leave. Oh, we shall be quite happily matched.” He smiled at her wickedly. “Besides, knowing of your affiliation with Alexander, I should hardly expect you to remain single-minded for long.”

  “Oh!” This picture so angered Emily that without thinking any further she used the strategy that Cousin Percy had once laughingly taught her long ago.

  As he bent to cover her lips with his, she brought her knee up sharply into Gilcrest’s groin. There was a strangled exclamation and his arms fell away from her. Emily gave him a great shove for good measure and sped away.

  Fortunately the light of the lanterns made the park bright and she could see in what direction the benches lay. She could only hope that Dunstan had returned there and was not wandering aimlessly about in the crowd.

  She jostled her way through the masses of people, never looking behind her. Several times rough hands clutched at her, but she hurried on. She would let nothing stop her. She must find Dunstan.

  Finally she pushed her way through and could see Sarah, Bersford, and Dunstan huddled in a worried conference. She composed herself as best she could and hurried up to them.

  Sarah saw her first. “Emily! Emily, my dear. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes,” Emily answered their queries with a smile. “When the rocket stick fell, I lost my grasp on his lordship’s arm and was pushed to one side.”

  “The stick knocked me down,” said Dunstan, putting one hand to his head. “Several people carried me to one side where I regained my
senses.”

  “Oh! Are you all right now?” asked Emily.

  The viscount nodded. “Yes. Aside from a small bump, I suffered no injuries. But please continue your story.”

  Emily felt the color flood her cheeks, but she determined to keep him from knowing about Gilcrest. He would be so angry, he might call the man out. And it was all unnecessary. No harm had been done.

  “I was a little startled by being so rudely separated from you,” she continued. “It took me a few minutes to get my bearings. Then, when I couldn’t find you, I made my way here.”

  “It took you a long time,” observed Dunstan. She could not tell if there was suspicion in his tone.

  “The park is very crowded, and I was confused at first.”

  “And no one bothered you?” he asked gruffly.

  Emily shook her head. There was little point in telling him about the clutching hands. He could do nothing about them now. “No,” she lied. “No one bothered me. I’m just fine.”

  Dunstan continued to stare at her suspiciously, but she forced herself to confront him boldly and finally he turned to Sarah. “I must admit that the accident has somewhat damped my enthusiasm for any more festivities. If you and Bersford do not mind, I believe I shall just take Emily home. I shall send the carriage back to fetch you later.”

  Sarah sprang to her feet. “No, no, milord. We shall come, too. I am myself quite fatigued.”

  “Yes,” agreed Bersford. “We shall come with you.”

  The four of them began to make their way back toward the gate. The grounds of the park were so crowded that it was quite difficult to get through the people, but Dunstan and Bersford put their shoulders together and with determined effort cleared the way. Outside in the street the throng was even thicker and Emily clung to Dunstan’s arm with both hands. Fear clutched at her heart. If she should get separated from him in this press of people … She refused to consider the subject any further. They would soon find the carriage and be safe.