The Saint of Seven Dials: Collector's Edition

by Brenda Hiatt

  She did not look at the Duchess as she spoke, but Obelia's faint snort only served to reinforce her words, though that was doubtless not her intention.

  Bellowsworth frowned, but before he could voice his concern, a footman entered with an enormous arrangement of spring flowers —the largest Pearl had ever seen. "For the Lady Pearl," he said, looking to the Duchess for direction on where to place them.

  "How thoughtful, my lord," Obelia exclaimed to Lord Bellowsworth. "Here on this table will be fine, James."

  Pearl, noting that the frown had not left Bellowsworth's face, rose to pick up the card that accompanied the flowers.

  "Read it aloud, my dear, do," her stepmother invited, with a conspiratorial smile at their guest.

  "For Lady Pearl, with my undying admiration," she read, "from Luke, Lord Hardwyck."

  Obelia's smile vanished. "Well that is inappropriate, I must say. Even as new to the social scene as he is, he must realize that."

  "From what I have seen of the fellow," Bellowsworth commented sourly, "I rather doubt he cares."

  Pearl said nothing, keeping her back to them both as she carefully replaced the card, to hide the smile playing about her lips. She had no doubt Luke had timed the arrival of the flowers to coincide with Lord Bellowsworth's visit. But then she sobered. Gallantries alone wouldn't be enough get her out of this wretched betrothal.

  "Lord Hardwyck," Upwood announced, even as she turned back to the others.

  Luke himself strode into the room, pausing to sweep an elaborate bow that encompassed both Pearl and the Duchess. "I give you good morning, your grace, my lady, my lord. Ah! I see my small offering has arrived."

  With not the slightest trace of apology, he moved to Pearl's side, raising her hand to his lips. "Lovely as always, my lady," he declared, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of her hand.

  The heat of his lips burned through the thin lace of her fingerless mitten, flustering her enough to keep her from grinning back at him. Just as well, as both Obelia and Bellowsworth were watching them with something close to outrage.

  "Will you not have a seat, my lord?" Pearl said, as primly as she could manage.

  Without hesitation, he moved to the chair Pearl had just vacated, next to Lord Bellowsworth, leaving the chair on Luke's other side for Pearl. Bellowsworth made a motion as though to protest, but then contented himself with a scowl. Pearl, pretending to be oblivious to the interchange, seated herself by Luke, carefully arranging her sprigged muslin skirts about her.

  Luke turned to Bellowsworth. "I trust your mother has recovered from her outing, my lord?" he asked affably, ignoring the other man's frown.

  "I, er, yes," the marquess responded, clearly caught off guard by the innocent question. "She will be fine after a day or two of rest."

  "How are you finding Hardwyck Hall, my lord?" the Duchess asked then, disapproval clear in her voice. "Will you be making many changes there?"

  Luke's smile did not waver for an instant. "I've already made a few small ones, your grace. Needless to say, it's a far grander house than I've been used to, but I hope to make it livable in time. I mean to ask Lady Pearl for her advice on some of my plans for it, in fact."

  "Indeed?" Obelia infused the word with ice. "That scarcely seems appropriate, as she and Lord Bellowsworth are soon to be married."

  "Is it not?" he asked innocently. "Her taste is impeccable by all accounts." He shot a glance at Bellowsworth, one raised eyebrow implying that she'd perhaps had one lapse in judgement. "I feel I can trust her implicitly in such matters."

  "Now see here, Hardwyck," Bellowsworth began, his face reddening.

  Quickly, Pearl broke in. "I am honored by your faith, Lord Hardwyck, and would be happy to assist . . . by giving you the names of the best professional decorators."

  "I suppose I must content myself with that— for the present," Luke replied with a comically wistful sigh. "Should I have specific questions, however, would you be so gracious as to answer them?"

  "Of course," she said, her lips twitching again. Really, he was behaving most outrageously, and she was enjoying it far too much. "I am flattered that you value my opinion so highly."

  The Duchess tried again to turn the conversation to less personal channels. "Lord Bellowsworth, think you that the weather will hold fair for tonight's excursion to Vauxhall?"

  "I believe so, your grace," he responded, though rather sulkily, Pearl thought. "Rain is less of a danger now that June approaches. If it should threaten come this evening, we can always modify our plans."

  "Vauxhall Gardens! The very place I'd planned to spend the evening myself," Luke exclaimed, beaming first at the Marquess, then at Pearl and her stepmother. "I've never had occasion to visit it before."

  "Our carriage comfortably holds but four," the Duchess snapped, having apparently given up all pretence of civility.

  He blinked at her in surprise. "I did not mean to impose myself upon your, ah, family group, your grace! But perhaps I will be fortunate enough to encounter you there." He sent Pearl an almost imperceptible wink, which she did not dare to acknowledge under two sets of censorious eyes, though it stole her breath.

  A moment later, Luke rose to take his leave, apparently deciding he had stirred things up sufficiently for the present. The Duchess thawed slightly when he bowed over her hand, thanking her profusely for her hospitality. "I have so few friends in Town thus far, that I fear I have a tendency to impose upon those few," he concluded.

  "No imposition, of course," she replied coolly. "I trust your acquaintanceships will multiply rapidly."

  "You are too kind, your grace. Well, Bellowsworth? You were here before me, so I presume you'll be going as well. Perhaps you can advise me on a pair of carriage horses I'm considering purchasing."

  Lord Bellowsworth rose with obvious reluctance, taking leave first of the Duchess, and then of Pearl. As he took her hand, Pearl thought for a moment that he would say something either of warning or blame, but he merely nodded curtly, then joined Luke in the foyer. As they headed for the front door, she could hear Luke already discussing horseflesh with animation.

  The moment the front door closed behind them, Obelia rounded on her. "I will not have you encouraging Lord Hardwyck, Pearl. He may be unfamiliar with the proprieties, but you have no such excuse."

  "What have I done to encourage him?" Pearl asked reasonably.

  But her stepmother would not be sidetracked. "You had your chance to marry him, and chose Bellowsworth instead. Now you will have the grace to live with that decision. Lord Hardwyck may be wealthier, but he has not a fraction of the influence Lord Bellowsworth has, nor so high a rank."

  Pearl could not suppress a laugh. "Do you honestly believe any of that matters to me?"

  The Duchess' glare held pure venom. "I will not be made a laughingstock. Society will have no cause to assume I have not raised you properly. You will honor your obligations."

  "Yet you seemed willing enough to expose me a week since," Pearl pointed out. "Would that not have achieved the same effect?"

  Obelia's lips tightened ominously. "I knew it would not come to that. Had you been willing to wed Hardwyck, all would have been handled quietly. No breath of scandal would have escaped these walls."

  "So you were bluffing." Now it was Pearl's turn to become angry. "One might even say you deceived me— tricked me— into agreeing to this match."

  "Bellowsworth was your own choice," Obelia reminded her. "I suggested Hardwyck from the first, if you recall."

  "You suggested forcing him to wed me. A fine foundation for a happy marriage that would have been," Pearl shot back bitterly.

  The Duchess merely shrugged. "Men always need a nudge of some sort. What matter whether it is subtle or overt? In any event, you are committed now. I daresay you can contrive to be as happy with Bellowsworth as with anyone, if you put your mind to it. It's a course I recommend, for you will not be permitted to cry off, I assure you."

  Pearl took several deep breaths, striving
to bring her temper under control. Much of her anger, she knew, was directed at herself. It was clear now that had she only spoken with Luke before taking this step, all might have been avoided. Still, that did not excuse Obelia's hand in this.

  "Very well, I shall not cry off. However," she continued sweetly, "should Bellowsworth wish to end our betrothal, for whatever reason, I will make no effort to dissuade him."

  That her stepmother understood her was clear from the sudden alarm in her blue eyes. "You know he would only do such a thing in the face of gross impropriety on your part. I cannot think you care so little for scandal as that. Do you wish to be shunned by the world?"

  "I begin to perceive that my definition of the world and yours are somewhat at odds," Pearl began, but Obelia cut her off.

  "Promise me that you will do nothing to disgrace your father."

  That was a clever stroke, hitting Pearl where she was most vulnerable. After a long pause, she finally said, "I will promise to take his feelings and position into consideration in my efforts to secure a supportable future for myself."

  The Duchess relaxed marginally. "So you will not seek to create a scandal?"

  "I will not seek to do so, no." But if scandal was her only path to happiness, she would not shun it, either, she thought grimly.

  Obelia was still regarding her suspiciously, but finally she nodded. "See that you do not. Your father's health may seem robust, but he is not as young as he once was. There is no knowing what a serious shock might do to him."

  It was a blatant attempt at manipulation, but it affected Pearl nonetheless. "My father is at least as dear to me as he is to you. You need not fear that I will knowingly cause him distress."

  With that half-promise, she rose and left the room before Obelia could force further concessions from her— concessions she might not be able to honor. For whether it involved setting the Town on its ear or cloistering herself away in a convent, she would not allow her future to be decided by anyone but herself, she was determined.

  * * *

  Luke had given in to a slight falsehood when he had told the Duchess of Oakshire that he had never before visited Vauxhall Gardens. Though it was true that he had not yet seen it with the eyes of an adult, in his youth he had more than once found its more remote and poorly lit walkways a profitable venue for an enterprising pickpocket.

  Arriving just as the sun began to set, Luke paid his admission and entered by the front gate, instead of scrambling over the rear wall as he had on his last visit some twelve years ago. He could not help marveling anew at how far he had come from those hopeless days when he had lived moment to moment, never knowing if the next would see him dead or in prison.

  The Gardens themselves did not appear to have changed much, though he had never seen the Grove and its surrounding collonades, or the orchestra rotunda, except from a distance. Even as a jaded man of the world, some of the fairyland spell that had charmed him as a lad of fourteen remained.

  Dusk deepened, the hanging lamps glowing more brightly as the crowd thickened. Finally, Luke spotted the Oakshire party, walking from the entrance toward one of the supper boxes. Moving forward, quickly but not too quickly, he intercepted them as though by chance.

  "Your graces, Lady Pearl, Lord Bellowsworth." He swept them all his most elegant bow. "What a delight to encounter you here after all. I am particularly pleased at this opportunity to extend my thanks, your grace, for your assistance of some weeks since."

  "The pleasure is mine, lad," responded the Duke affably. "Will you not join us? We are on our way to our supper box, from whence we can enjoy the fireworks and music that will be starting shortly."

  Luke bowed again. "You are all kindness, your grace. I thank you." He moved to Pearl's left, ignoring Bellowsworth's darkling glare from her right. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Duchess whispering urgently to her husband.

  "You are enchanting as always, my lady," he said gallantly to Pearl, keeping his amusement at the situation from his voice.

  She smiled in return, favoring him with a knowing glance that stirred his blood. "You are too kind, my lord."

  "Have you no party of your own to join, Hardwyck?" Lord Bellowsworth asked peevishly from her other side. "I know you will not wish to crowd us."

  "Do not be rude, my lord," Pearl admonished him before Luke could reply. "You know Lord Hardwyck has few friends in London as yet."

  Bellowsworth merely snorted, not even attempting to hide his ill temper. The man appeared to have no inkling of how to court a lady, Luke thought smugly, with a sidelong glance at his petulant frown.

  Apparently he was not the only one to make that observation, for he heard the Duke, just behind him, saying in an undertone to his wife, "He's done nothing improper as yet, my dear. Mayhap it will do Bellowsworth good— keep him from becoming complacent, as it were. We don't want him taking our Pearl for granted, after all."

  "But your grace," the Duchess began, then broke off, apparently realizing that they might be overheard.

  Luke grinned. That the Duchess did not approve of him was no revelation, but discovering that the Duke had reservations about Bellowsworth was welcome indeed. Still, he would have to tread warily around Pearl while in her father's company. If he had any reason to suspect that Luke meant to dishonor his daughter, the Duke would no doubt react swiftly and decisively.

  They reached the Duke's supper box, which was not crowded in the least, as it was built to accomodate twice their number. The Duchess, in an apparent effort to mollify Lord Bellowsworth, made an inquiry about his mother.

  Luke took advantage of his distraction to seat himself next to Pearl at the table. As her father was on her other side, Bellowsworth had no choice but to sit next to Luke, or on the Duchess' far side. He chose the latter, his face reddening ominously.

  "I understand Vauxhall is fabled for its sliced ham," Luke commented, as though oblivious to Bellowsworth's discomfiture.

  "For the thinness of the slices, yes," Pearl replied. "But its real fame lies in the entertainments. Listen! Already the orchestra is beginning, and as soon as it is full dark we shall have fireworks."

  Luke responded in kind, taking no liberties, tempting as Bellowsworth's glower from across the table made it. They chatted lightly of the evening ahead, as well as the other amusements London had to offer, with an occasional interjection by the Duke, or even the Duchess.

  Bellowsworth was all but ignored, simply because he never spoke a word. Luke had hoped to goad the man into a display of temper, but he began to wonder if he were capable of anything more explosive than a pout. A challenge, which had been his ultimate goal, began to seem unlikely in the extreme.

  Still, seated next to Pearl, who positively shimmered tonight in silver-blue, he found the evening most agreeable. He promised himself far greater pleasures ahead, for both of them.

  * * *

  Wallis Knox, until recently the Earl of Hardwyck, watched the Duke of Oakshire's party from the shadow of a clump of trees at the edge of the Grove. He had followed the new earl at a distance since his arrival in London late that afternoon, but this was his first clear view of the man. It confirmed his suspicions.

  This nephew, this son of his dead brother James, whom he had assumed dead these twenty years and more, who now sat before him, laughing and chatting, was the very image of James, save that his hair was dark. Yes, there was no doubt of it—this was the "ghost" who had driven him from Hardwyck Hall, who had wrung from him a confession.

  Who had humiliated him.

  His resources might be limited now, but somehow that deception, that humiliation, would be repaid. Every man had his weakness, and he would discover what his nephew's was.

  It was only a matter of time, and time was the one thing he now had in abundance.

  CHAPTER 19

  The next morning, despite only a few hours' sleep, Pearl trotted her mare through the Park gates, every nerve vibrating with anticipation.

  Last night at Vauxhall had been an exh
ilarating mixture of pleasure and frustration. Pleasure at having Luke so close by her side, guilty amusement at Bellowsworth's discomfiture, but frustration at her inability to have so much as a word in private with Luke. Now, however . . .

  "Good morning, my lady!" Luke came around a turn in the path just then, a short distance ahead of her. If anything, he looked even more handsome than he had yesterday, dressed this time in a coat of deep hunter green. "I hoped you would not be able to stay away."

  "With your story but half told? No chance of that, I assure you," she responded lightly, though her heart hammered in her breast at the mere sight of him. She was not certain she liked having anyone, even Luke, wield this much power over her emotions.

  She reached him then, and he turned his horse to accompany her to the same path they had ridden yesterday. Luke glanced back the way she had come.

  "Where is your shadow today, my lady?"

  "John? I persuaded him to run an errand for me once we left the house. I had to promise not to tell Hettie, however. He seems most reluctant to incur her wrath." She found the budding romance between her abigail and the footman charming, though she knew the Duchess would not.

  "Then he is to find you here in the Park once his errand is completed?"

  Pearl shook her head, willing her color not to rise. "No, I said I would meet him at the corner of Mount Street on my way back to Oakshire House. I . . . did not know whether we would stay on the same paths as yesterday." Was she being too bold? Whenever she was near him, she could not help remembering their one night of intimacy —and wishing for another such experience.

  He looked at her then, his dark eyes warm— more than warm. "We need not, you know."

  "Where would you like to ride?" she asked breathlessly, meaning something else entirely.

  For a long moment, he watched her in silence, the merest hint of a smile playing about his lips. "Perhaps in the direction of Hyde Park Corner?"