by Julia Parks
“Aye, Mr. Pate taught me just fine. Why don’t we take Rattle with us? Better yet, what if I take Rattle, and we see what we can do by ourselves?”
“What? No, that would never work. The only thing you and Rattle alone would get is in trouble. But it would be a good idea to take Rattle for extra protection. Yes, tell him for me and see to it that he is armed, too. Then it is all settled. My aunt is not feeling well, so tonight will be the perfect opportunity for us to find those girls in need of our help. We leave at nine.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
Dressed in black with only his snowy cravat lighting his appearance, Sheridan set out for Vauxhall to meet his friend. He made the short journey by carriage, arriving at the gates and sending the driver away. Carriages lined the street, their drivers and footmen clustered here and there as they waited for their wealthy masters and mistresses to return.
Passing a sleek landaulet, Sheridan frowned. The crest on the side looked familiar. He continued on his way trying to remember where he had seen that particular crest. Then it dawned on him. It was the same as the crest on the huge traveling carriage that had taken guests to the picnic at Pendleton’s estate. It was Lady Olivia’s carriage.
Was it only a coincidence that Richard had invited him to Vauxhall this night? And was this the reason that Richard had not been able to travel to Vauxhall with him? Perhaps Lady Olivia was the thing that had occupied his friend all afternoon.
Sheridan frowned at these theories. He was becoming entirely too concerned with Lady Olivia. What if Olivia and Richard’s meeting in the afternoon had led to an assignation this evening? It was no concern of his.
He continued on to the Rotunda, always looking for Richard. From there, he tried the walkway to the waterfall. There was still no sign of his friend.
Grumbling in frustration while his stomach grumbled with hunger, Sheridan wandered through the darkened paths. He would give Richard another thirty minutes, and then he would leave.
Giggles and a deep voice made him take another direction. Before he knew it, he was quite turned around. The orchestra in the Rotunda was little more than a whine. He stopped and listened for a moment to get his bearings.
The moon had risen. When Sheridan turned a corner, he could see the silhouettes of two people in a small clearing ahead, both females. One was clad in an elegant gown, but the other was dressed in a gown that was almost transparent in the moonlight—an odd combination. Sheridan edged closer.
“I’m not doin’ too bad fer m’self, your ladyship.”
“I’m sure you are not, Mary, but there are better ways to earn a living. I can help you.”
“’Elp me t’ live like me mum, scraping out a livin’ and dyin’ o’ starvation? No thanks, says I.”
“It will not be like that. I will see to it that you learn a skill, and while you are learning it, you will have a decent place to live.”
Sheridan stepped closer, disbelief powering his feet. It was Lady Olivia, speaking to…but that was impossible! Surely, she was not so foolish.
“Look, I have written my direction on this card. If you should change your mind, come to this address.”
“I don’t know. I…”
“What the devil is going on?” growled Sheridan, stepping into the moonlight.
With a little screech, the girl vanished, leaving Lady Olivia alone to face him.
She bent to pick up the piece of paper. Shaking it, she stormed up to him and said, “Now look what you did! I almost had her! ”
“Dash it all, woman, have you lost your senses?” he shouted.
“Dash it all yourself, sir! I am here on a mission of mercy, and you have seen fit to ruin it! There is no telling where that poor girl will ends her days, thanks to you.”
She lifted her hand to slap his face, but he caught it handily.
Bringing his face close to hers, he spat out, “You don’t want to add to your foolishness by doing that, my dear.”
“Oh!” she yelped and stomped on his foot.
He threw her away from him. “Hellcat!”
“Overbearing popinjay! ”
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her against his chest. “Have you no sense? Do you have no idea what kind of danger you are in, wandering these dark alleys alone?”
“I am not in any danger.”
“Oh? And what is to prevent some ugly customer from doing this?”
He kissed her, his lips rough on hers. She stiffened, twisting her head, but he held her in his grip and continued. Then she was kissing him back, her lips searching his, her arms around his neck, her fingers ruffling his hair. He tasted her sweetness and only wanted more. His arms wrapped around her, pressing the length of her body against him.
They staggered, and Sheridan set her away from him.
His senses reeling, he panted. “See? What is to prevent that? Or worse!”
Her eyes were glazed, and she bit at her lower lip in the most provocative manner. Sheridan restrained himself from reaching for her again, but his anger was returning and he resisted temptation.
His breathing almost normal again, he demanded, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
The fire returned to her eyes. “Harold!”
Sheridan took a step back when a large figure stepped into the light. Behind this giant was another, a youth also dressed in livery.
“What I have to say, Lord Sheridan, is that if you had been a ruffian, Harold and Rattle would have knocked you flat.”
She signalled to the servants, and they withdrew into the darkness again.
Sheridan couldn’t help but smile. She was drawn up to her full height—little more than a child—and looked like a kitten with the fur standing up on its back.
“And if I had produced a knife?” he asked, his amusement growing.
She reached for her reticule, but before she could produce the pistol hidden there, he heard the unmistakable sound of two pistols being cocked. When his gaze returned to Lady Olivia, she had pointed a small pistol at his chest. He raised his hands in defeat, and she smiled again, returning the pistol to its hiding place.
Offering her his arm, he said, “Would you care to accompany me to a more comfortable spot where I can try and reason with you, and you can tell me to mind my own business? I think there is a secluded arbour with a bench close by. If we are the first to think of it, we should have it to ourselves. I would like to hear more of your tale.”
A companionable silence fell as they walked to the small arbour. Sheridan was aware that Olivia’s servants were following. They didn’t speak, but their presence was palpable. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, though he wasn’t sure why. He felt certain that they knew he meant their mistress no harm and that they would not assault him without a command from her. Still, it was a peculiar feeling.
When Lady Olivia was seated on the bench, he stood over her, but she moved to one side, patting the small opening.
“I don’t want you looming over me like some sort of vulture,” she said.
Drew sat down, and he had to admit it was better sitting next to her. When she lifted her face to him, the moon’s glow revealed every emotion, and her eyes sparkled like jewels.
“Now, what is this all about?” He resisted the urge to say “this foolishness,” for he knew it would only annoy her.
“As you know, Lord Sheridan, I have a number of charities I support. Unlike some, however, I do more than give money. My school, for instance—I keep close tabs on how it is run, day-to-day. I visit it often.”
“You go into the city—into the depths of the city—to this school?”
“It is perfectly safe. I have Harold to protect me. There is also Mr. Pate, my driver, and Rattle, my tiger. Nothing has ever occurred to make me reconsider.”
She chuckled. “Perhaps you know him from his days as a prizefighter?”
“That’s it! Horrible Harry!”
“Yes, but he simply goes by Harold Hanson now.”
“So you take Harold everywhere you go?”
“Yes, almost everywhere.”
“And you think that makes it acceptable for you to go to these rather seedy neighbourhoods?” asked Sheridan.
“My visits to the school are not open for debate. I merely told you about them so that you will know that I take my charity work very seriously and very personally.”
“I understand that, but it still does not explain why you would choose to stroll through the darkest, most dangerous pathways of Vauxhall.”
“I was perfectly safe. Harold and Rattle are here.”
“An overgrown…” He stopped, arrested by the look of warning in her eyes. He continued more temperately. “A large protector, perhaps, and a young man—hardly more than a boy. What would prevent someone from coming up behind them and knocking them senseless?”
“What nonsense! I suppose while this someone is attacking them, I will be standing there completely oblivious? That is not going to happen. I would scream, and then I would run away to get help for them.”
“As I get to know you better, my dear Lady Olivia, I believe you would be more inclined to wade into the fray, both small fists flying.”
She smiled at this, and he had the almost overwhelming urge to take her into his arms again and taste those sweet lips once more. Some hint of this desire must have shown on his face, for Lady Olivia bowed her head. Whether she found it amusing that she held this power over him, he did not know, but the prospect gave him the strength to curb his lascivious impulse.
When she looked up again, her eyes pleaded for his understanding as she said, “I know it is not the wisest course of action, Lord Sheridan, but it is the only course open to me. I have long wanted to help these poor, unfortunate girls who, through the chance of birth, are doomed to live the life of prostitutes.”
“My lady,” he mocked. “Such language!”
She squared her shoulders. “Neither the language nor the situation is acceptable, my lord, and I intend to do all I can to change this situation. Never think that I have deluded myself into thinking that I can help all of them, but if I can help a few, it is my…”
“Your passion does you credit, Lady Olivia, but there has to be a better way to go about it, a more efficient way than putting yourself and your servants in harm’s way.”
“Perhaps you would be willing to…”
“No.” Her face fell, and he wished he could make her smile again, but he didn’t know how. “Coming to Vauxhall and hoping for a chance encounter with one of these ladies is not the answer. First of all, she may not want your help, like the one tonight. She may be perfectly satisfied with her situation.”
“Nonsense. If you had not interrupted…” she said, turning her face away from him.
“She was about to leave anyway, and you know it.” He took her chin in his fingertips and turned her to face him again. “Admit it.”
“Yes, I admit it.” Her eyes now sparkled with tears that trickled down her cheeks like silver ribbons.
Sheridan fished in his pocket for a handkerchief and wiped her cheeks. At that moment, he would have done almost anything to make her smile again.
And then she did. Her eyes began to dance, and she clutched at his lapels. “I have it! I know what we will do—there are places where one can find all sorts of these girls, all in one place. Brothels, I think they are called? Surely you know where these are, and you could take me there!”
He wrenched free and jumped to his feet, all the while shaking his head and holding up his hands to ward off such an improper suggestion. She was at his side, babbling.
She grew quiet when he took her by the shoulders and said firmly, ‘There is no way in this wide world, nothing in the power of the entire universe, that could make me agree to such a foolhardy scheme. Do not say another word about it.”
“But…”
He put up one hand to stop her. “What is more, I want you to promise me that you will not attempt such a ramshackle plan on your own.” She shuffled her feet, and he added, “Promise, I say.”
She heaved a sigh and hung her head. Mumbling, she said, “I promise.”
“Good. Now, I don’t know about you, but I have had my fill of Vauxhall for the night. Let me escort you to your carriage.” She took the arm he offered, and they walked away.
When Sheridan had put her into her carriage, he leaned inside and said to the giant, “Her ladyship is to go straight home, is that understood?”
Harold looked to his mistress, who nodded. Then he nodded and said, “Very good, my lord.”
Exhausted, Sheridan found his own carriage and headed home too. He leaned against the soft squabs and thanked the heavens that he had been the one to discover Lady Olivia in the darkened pathways. It made his blood turn cold to think of what might have happened.
Now, however, he could rest easy. She had given him her word. She would not break it.
Chapter Six
“Tonight was certainly a disaster,” said Lady Olivia when the carriage was under way.
“I’m just glad it is over,” muttered Harold.
“Hardly over.”
“But, m’lady, you promised.”
“It is not over,” said Olivia with a smug smile. “I never said I would not try to rescue them, Harold. I merely said that I would not do so alone. There is a difference.”
“You don’t mean you’re going back to that Vauxhall place, do you, mistress?”
“No, I gave my word about that, but I have something else in mind. Don’t worry, I am certain you will approve this time. It may take me a few days to put things in motion, but I shall come about.”
“His lordship said…”
“Pish and tosh on his lordship. He has no power over me. And I do admit that perhaps I was going about things in the wrong way. I mean, how many nights could one spend at Vauxhall?” She was talking more to herself now than to her servant, but she was aware that he was listening intently.
“I have come to realize that I need help, and I think I know just the person to help me.”
“Women,” grumbled Sheridan as his valet pulled off his coat. “I sometimes wonder how men and women manage to live in the same world. Women are such nonsensical creatures. I mean, you can never depend on them, can you, Fenwick?”
“No, my lord,” said the valet, divesting him of his waistcoat and then the cravat.
“And who can understand them? They give the impression of being these delicate flowers, but they are made of steel, I tell you. Do not be fooled by appearances.”
“Certainly not, my lord.” Fenwick held out his dressing gown for him to put on.
The valet stepped back when this was accomplished and waited patiently for further instructions.
“Lady Olivia, for instance. She gives the appearance of being an empty-headed, empty-hearted lady of society—caring nothing for people, only for fashion—but there is a depth there that she doesn’t show. She is quite an amazing lady.”
“If you say so, my lord.”
“Well, I do. Not to say that she is less maddening than other women. No, I would have to say that she is the most maddening of all the women I know.”
Sheridan went to sit beside the fire and put his feet up on a footstool. He picked up the book he was reading but didn’t open it.
Behind him, his valet retrieved the bundle of discarded garments and waited. Finally, he said, “Will that be all, my lord?”
Sheridan waved a hand and said, “Yes, that’s all. Goodnight, Fenwick.”
“Goodnight, my lord.”
When he was alone, Sheridan tried to erase the troubling evening from his mind. Suddenly, the logs cracked and sent a shower of sparks onto the hearth.
His mind was drawn back to the arbour and Lady Olivia’s sparkling eyes. He should have kissed her again. There had been that moment—that hesitation. If he had taken her in his arms, he knew she would not have resisted.
With a frown, he wondered if she would react the same with some other man.
No, that was unfair of him. Despite his musings about her spending the afternoon with Richard, he felt certain there was nothing between the two of them.
Still, it was not the first time she had been kissed.
The thought made him get out of his comfortable chair and take the poker to stir the fire. Sparks flew, and again, he thought of Lady Olivia. There was fire beneath the empty-headed exterior she showed to society. He certainly had been fooled.
With a frown, he returned to his chair. There was more than fire. There was compassion. Passion and compassion, a formidable combination. The sort of combination that might make a fellow forget the past and its pain.
“Hell and blast! ” he muttered. “You, you old fool, need to get out of town for awhile.”
Sheridan glared at the fire. He would be dashed if he left town because of some female. Besides, who would see to it that she kept her promise? Her foolish generosity would land her in the suds, or worse. No, he had to stay close to keep an eye on her.
What Lady Olivia needed was a husband. That was it. Some kind-hearted clunch who would fill her nursery with children.
Sheridan found he was grinding his teeth at this thought, but he ignored it. Instead, he tried to focus on that insipid smile she always had on her face at balls—the one that was permanently placed there despite how many country boobs stepped on her toes. And then there was her sweet consideration of others like that annoying chit Miss Featherstone. No, Lady Olivia might not be as shallow as he had at first thought, but her everlasting sunniness would drive him mad in a fortnight.