Love Birds: The Complete Collection

by Ruth J. Hartman

  Conrad rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”

  Cecilia tapped Mr. Radcliff’s arm. “I’m certainly excited to be here.”

  “I’m hoping you’ll tell me you’ve never been. I find myself escorting you to places you’ve previously visited.”

  “I can assure you this will be my first experience here.”

  “Splendid.”

  They finally got their opportunity as the coachman maneuvered their carriage directly in front of the theatre. Mr. Radcliff assisted Cecilia from the carriage and they waited while Conrad assisted Amelia.

  “Shall we?” Mr. Radcliff offered Cecilia his arm and she placed her hand there. A lady certainly could become accustomed to this. At least this young lady could!

  As they neared the entrance to the amphitheatre, the noise level increased. Laughter. Conversations. People saying good day to friends. Whinnies…

  Whinnies?

  Cecilia whipped her gaze to Mr. Radcliff who simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

  Once inside the building, the seating area formed a circle around the main floor. Patrons sat in balcony seats that raised several levels. Cecilia blinked and tilted her head back to take in the entire structure all the way to the ceiling.

  “Oh my goodness.”

  “It’s quite something, isn’t it?” said Mr. Radcliff.

  They climbed to the second level and were shown to their seats. Another moan came from Conrad, who sat on the other side of Amelia. She patted his hand. “It’s all right, darling. Just hold onto my hand. I won’t let you fall.”

  Cecilia bit her lip. My poor brother! How he must hate this. But she was proud of him, too. Since she’d been a chaperone to Conrad and Amelia on their outings when they were betrothed, she’d witnessed him trying new things even though he was deathly afraid. It was all because of Amelia. In her love Conrad found courage.

  Cecilia glanced over at Mr. Radcliff. What must it be like to be so close to someone, so trusting of them that a person would even attempt activities that he or she found frightening?

  Trust…

  How could Mr. Radcliff ever completely trust Cecilia when she’d been lying to him from the start about her identity?

  But he doesn’t know. He might never find out.

  That wasn’t right, though. As hard as she tried to push away her guilt of not being truthful with him, it still caught her unaware at times, clawing at her conscience. Pointing out her wrongdoing and shame. Cecilia’s face heated with said shame. I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be pretending to be someone I’m not.

  “Is something amiss, Miss Fleming?”

  Startled, Cecilia smacked her hand against her chest. Oh!

  “Pardon me. I meant not to be frightening.”

  “You… you weren’t.”

  “Is the seat not to your liking? I could ask that we be seated somewhere else.”

  Now he thinks he’s done something wrong. “No, it’s perfect. Please don’t think for one moment that it’s not. Thank you for bringing us.” She laid her hand briefly on his sleeve. When she started to pull away, he placed his hand over hers.

  Mr. Radcliff raised his eyebrows and tilted his head as if to ask if it was acceptable.

  She nodded. Yes. Very much so.

  Amelia pointed down toward the circular floor area. “Oh. They’re about to begin.”

  Conrad mumbled, “Hooray…”

  A tall man in a topcoat and black hat walked to the center of the floor. “Welcome to Astley’s Amphitheatre. We hope you enjoy our show!”

  Polite applause followed. Cecilia wasn’t sure quite what to expect, but there was a palpable sensation of excitement buzzing around her. People fidgeted and pivoted in their seats trying to gain a better view of the main floor.

  Mr. Radcliff leaned close, his warm breath caressing her already warm cheek. “Are you able to view the main floor, Miss Fleming?”

  “Yes. Thank you. What’s to happen now?”

  “That, my good lady, is part of the surprise.” He chuckled, a low vibration that entered her ears, thrummed around her heart, and plummeted to her midsection. She clasped her hand into a fist on her lap. Mercy me! What is it about this man that makes me feel as if my bones have liquefied?

  A lively tune began to play from somewhere to Cecilia’s left and down near the floor, but she couldn’t see the musicians. The notes of the music were soon accompanied by the thunderous hoof beats of four white horses.

  Cecilia widened her eyes as far as they would go, but still couldn’t believe the sight. Riding on top of the horses, on top of all four horses, was a short man with his feet straddled across the backs of the middle two. The four animals stayed in perfect alignment as they ran around the inside edge of the circle.

  The rider stood as straight and as confident as if he no more than watched passersby on the street.

  How on earth was he not falling off the horses? Cecilia shuddered. It was beyond the realm of possibility that the man, that anyone, could perform the amazing feat. Yet, she was witnessing it with her own eyes.

  The crowd cheered and applauded. Everyone stood, so she did as well. Cecilia braced herself. Would the horses be spooked? Would the rider tumble to his death or to be injured such as her father was?

  Her mouth went dry. A vision of Papa’s hand being crushed beneath the giant hooves of that horse crossed her mind. She swooned.

  Oh, no. No! Please, not here!

  Something stopped her fall. Suddenly, she was cocooned within strong, warm arms.

  “Miss Fleming? Are you all right?”

  His warm breath fanned across her forehead. Even in the midst of her fright from watching the horses and thinking of Papa, Cecilia had never been more right than at that moment.

  “Let me help you to sit down.” Without loosening his embrace, Mr. Radcliff assisted her back to her seat.

  She fanned her hot face. “I feel so silly.”

  “Please don’t. It is quite the sight, I must admit. The first time I witnessed it, I could scarcely believe what was before me.”

  Amelia leaned down and grasped Cecilia’s shoulder. “Goodness! What happened?”

  “I’m fine, truly.” She mouthed the words Papa’s hand to her sister-in-law.

  Amelia nodded. “Can I get you anything, dear?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Conrad turned as well. “What in the blazes happened?”

  Before he could get himself worked up into an apoplectic fit himself. Amelia grabbed his hand. “She’s fine. See?” Pointing to Cecilia, Amelia stared at her and produced an exaggerated grin.

  Oh, she means me to smile for his benefit? Cecilia forced a smile.

  “I told you, nothing is amiss,” said Amelia. “Most likely overtired, Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes. That’s it exactly. Please…” Cecilia indicated the show. “Don’t miss it on my account.”

  Conrad rolled his eyes, mumbling something about, Please give me a reason to miss it. I beg you. But he and Amelia resumed their view of the horses.

  Cecilia tapped his arm. “Mr. Radcliff. Don’t think that you need to sit down with me. Please, you’re missing the show, as well.”

  “That matters not.”

  “But isn’t that why you came to the amphitheatre?”

  “My dear woman, that’s the furthest from the truth. I wanted to come today with you.”

  “I… oh.”

  “How are you feeling? Still a bit unsteady?”

  She took a deep breath. “Better, but do you mind if I sit here for a little while longer? I fear I might not have my legs yet.”

  “Of course not.” He glanced down. “Would it bring you comfort to have someone hold your hand?”

  She gazed into his brown eyes. “Yes. I believe it might.”

  “And would… would I be acceptable for the task?”

  “Most definitely.”

  One corner of his mouth rose. He reached over and took her hand in his, entwining their fingers.


  Cecilia couldn’t view what was happening down below, but the musical number ended. All those standing around her clapped and then sat down en masse. What had appeared to be an innocent display of caring from Mr. Radcliff when no one could see them now felt like a display of affection on view for the entire world.

  With an apologetic shrug, she slipped her hand from his. He frowned but nodded.

  I wish his touch could have stayed on my hand! Now the warmth from his glove on hers was replaced by indifferent cool air. Not nearly as enjoyable or satisfying by any means.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Barrington glanced down at his hand. The hand that had just reluctantly released Miss Fleming’s. Disappointment warred with understanding. While he wished she wouldn’t have pulled away, it was the right thing to do. No use giving the gossips fuel to ignite their fires of disparagement against either of them. He had no wish to subject anyone to that.

  Her color could only be described as pale. “Would you care for some fresh air, Miss Fleming? Perhaps we could find you something to drink downstairs.”

  She nodded, her eyes still slightly glazed over. “Yes. That might be a good idea.”

  He assisted her to stand and whispered to Lady Lofton their plans, assuming the couple would wish to go with them. As much as he’d like to be alone with Miss Fleming, society dictated that they should not have that privilege.

  “A splendid idea!” Lord Lofton couldn’t remove himself from their row of seats quick enough and raced to the aisle alone, nearly tripping in the process.

  Lady Lofton giggled. “That’s quite all right, dear, I’ll help myself out.”

  Chagrined, Lord Lofton held out his hand to her. “Come along darling. I meant no disrespect.”

  “I know.” She smiled and took his hand.

  Barrington and Miss Fleming followed them up a set of stairs that took them to a narrow hallway that sat behind it. More steps took them down to the main hallway just outside of the main arena. The noise level increased the closer they got to the ground level.

  Lady Lofton pointed toward a set of large windows beside some bench seats. “We’ll be just over there if you have need of us.”

  Barrington nodded to them and then gave his attention back to the main floor. Craning his neck, he could see some acrobats flipping each other into the air through an open doorway that led out to the arena. Small compact bodies rose and dove, somersaulted and spun. “Miss Fleming, come see.”

  Hesitantly, she stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. She raised her gaze slowly to where he pointed. “Oh, look at that!” She let out a breath as if she’d been holding it.

  Barrington placed his hands on her shoulders only for the briefest of moments. “I wouldn’t have had you watch the horses again since they’d upset you previously.”

  A becoming pink blush formed on her cheeks. “I know. It wasn’t the horses themselves. I happen to love them.”

  That hadn’t been Barrington’s impression of her reaction to the four magnificent beasts running in tandem. “Was it the man, then? The rider?” Although he couldn’t imagine why that would have caused her to swoon. The performer had stood steady and sure on the horses’ backs, showing no fear or dismay.

  She swallowed, her throat moving with the effort. “No… just, something happened to someone I care a great deal about. Because of a horse.” She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand as if she’d said something of which she’d not intended.

  How strange. “Oh, well I trust this person has sufficiently recovered.”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Tears hovered just at her lower lashes.

  Was it a man she spoke of? A former beau, perhaps? She’d said it was someone she cared a great deal about. Am I too late? Has another already stolen her heart? Jealousy, instant and fierce, raged through his veins. Between clenched teeth, he uttered, “I’m so sorry to hear it.”

  “Thank you. He does struggle yet to this day.”

  So it was a man, after all. Barrington’s hands fisted before he realized it. The rogue. The blackheart. Any man who had dared to cause Miss Fleming such agony at the mention of his misfortune deserved a sound beating from Barrington.

  That makes no sense at all, you idiot! Why would you harm an already injured party?

  He cared not and pushed away the thoughts built on common decency. Jealousy didn’t always need to make sense, did it?

  Miss Fleming’s small hand touched his arm. “Mr. Radcliff? Is something amiss? You’ve gone suddenly quiet.”

  “What?” He shook the strange ideas away as one would push away the vestiges of an odd dream. “No. Pardon me.”

  “It’s all right.”

  Barrington focused on Miss Fleming, on her blue eyes and lovely angelic face. Stop thinking about yourself! “Are you feeling better now that you’ve gotten some air?”

  “Yes, thank you. Would it be all right if we stayed down here a little bit longer?”

  “Certainly.” Anything to spend more time with her away from her chaperones’ prying attention. Although when he glanced their direction, they were gazing at something through the sparkling window glass.

  As he and Miss Fleming stood watching the acrobats, someone tapped Barrington’s shoulder. Turning, he spotted a clown dressed in bright colors with a floppy hat. Barrington smiled and nodded, hoping the silly man would leave them be. Go away. I have such little opportunity alone with Miss Fleming as it is!

  Apparently, the clown had other ideas. He stepped around Barrington to position himself in front of Miss Fleming. From a deep pocket in his coat, he produced a single white rose. With a flourish, he presented it to Miss Fleming.

  As she giggled, she tilted her head. “Why thank you.” Then she lowered her face toward the flower and inhaled deeply. “How sweet of you.”

  Barrington ground his teeth together. Sweet, my—

  The clown bent down in an exaggerated bow. Miss Fleming laughed and reciprocated with a curtsey.

  What in the blazes is going on? Why is this insidiously ridiculous man dressed as a fool bothering us?

  The clown angled his head slightly, gazed at Barrington and then back at Miss Fleming. While looking directly at her, the clown gave an exaggerated wink.

  Oh! Of all the unmitigated gall! Barrington’s heart pounded painfully against his ribs. His face grew hot, as did his ears. He leaned toward the clown and in a low but forceful tone said, “Perhaps it’s time you visited a different patron.”

  The clown shook his head, causing his hat to wobble.

  “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  The clown shrugged.

  Miss Fleming glanced back and forth between the two men, er, the man and the fool. “He’s not bothering me, Mr. Radcliff, truly.”

  “Well he’s bothering me,” he ground out, barely above a whisper.

  She frowned. “Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that.”

  The clown had the audacity to put his hand up to his own ear as if he, too, needed to hear better. He tapped Miss Fleming’s shoulder. When she acknowledged the clown, he smiled at her and stepped closer.

  The crazy demented jester was flirting with his Miss Fleming! How dare he? With me not standing a foot away!

  “That does it!” Barrington grasped the clown by his floppy coat collar with one hand and punched his painted face with the other.

  The clown’s head tilted to the side as Barrington’s fist connected with the painted surface. With a yelp, he fell on his backside, lifting his hands to his sides as if to ask why?

  Miss Fleming’s mouth agape, she stared at first at the clown and then at Barrington’s still-clenched fist. “Good heavens, Mr. Radcliff. What on earth just happened?”

  Rubbing his sore hand, he shook his head. “I know not.” But I’d do it again!

  Lord and Lady Lofton hurried across the hall, boots clattering on the hard floor.

  Thankfully, no one else had been close enough to witness the debacle. At le
ast he hoped not. Just think what the gossips would make of that! Remorse at his stupid actions directly connected to unwarranted jealousy had already begun to sink in. What had he been thinking? That was the problem, he hadn’t been!

  Now who’s the fool?

  Lofton and his wife, both with raised eyebrows, watched in silence as the clown stood up, took great exaggeration in dusting himself off and flitted away to find someone else to bother.

  Relieved, Barrington let out a breath. At least Mr. Clown didn’t seem too battered to continue bothering the patrons.

  Lady Lofton took one of Miss Fleming’s hands in hers. “Are you all right, dear?”

  Miss Fleming nodded slowly. “Fine. Yes, fine.” She glanced up at Barrington with a half-smile and wide eyes as if to say, what in the world were you thinking? She didn’t appear angry, though, but slightly amused. Barrington was thankful for that, at least.

  Even though I don’t deserve it! What must she think of me?

  “Barrington!”

  Who in the world is calling me now? He turned. A man rushed in his direction. “Uncle Percy?” What’s he doing here?

  “What happened?”

  Perhaps he didn’t witness my atrocious behavior and just saw me standing here. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “What I mean is, I looked over, saw you knock a strangely dressed man to the floor and then rub your fist. Did you strike someone?”

  Barrington glanced down, keeping his voice low. “Uncle, I fear I’ve punched a totally innocent clown.”

  Uncle Percy’s boisterous laugh filled the hall.

  Lord Lofton sputtered a laugh as well. “Couldn’t have happened to a better person.”

  Barrington whipped his head around. “Pardon, my lord?”

  Lady Lofton frowned and swatted lightly at her husband’s arm. “Conrad, really…”

  “Darling, you know how I feel about them.” He shuddered.

  She sighed. “Yes, I know.” She looked at Barrington. “My dear husband has an aversion to anyone who wears the color puce.”

  “Ah…” Glancing back toward the clown who was now bowing before a young woman in a pink gown, Barrington saw that the man did indeed have a healthy amount of the hideous color on his coat.