Innocence and Impropriety

by Diane Gaston

  ‘But—’ Rose glared at Flynn.

  He shook his head. He knew nothing of this.

  Tanner gave the answer, agreeable as always. ‘Of course we will. Very generous of the madame.’

  So they all entered Madame Bisou’s house and were escorted to a private parlour. The Madame was there to greet them.

  ‘Good to see you, chérie.’ She offered her cheek for Tanner to kiss. ‘You have not favoured us with your presence in an age.’

  ‘That is so.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘I must rectify that, mustn’t I?’

  Like two old friends, Tanner chatted with Madame Bisou while she ushered the others into chairs, joining them herself.

  They were served cold meats and fruits and cakes and more wine. Tanner began to mellow from the drink.

  ‘And what do you think of our Rose?’ Madame Bisou asked him.

  Rose stared at her plate, a blush staining her cheeks.

  Tanner gazed at her. ‘I think she is as lovely as her name.’

  The words twisted in Flynn’s gut.

  Tanner continued to gaze at Rose in frank admiration. ‘Do you sing at Vauxhall tomorrow night?’ he asked. He gestured to the clock on the mantel. Dawn was not long away. ‘Tonight, I mean.’

  ‘I do, sir,’ she responded in a quiet voice.

  Tanner continued, ‘Would you do me the honor of sharing a meal with me at the gardens tomorrow? We can arrange something, can we not, Flynn?’

  Flynn nodded. He could arrange whatever Lord Tannerton wished. That was his job.

  Rose glanced at Flynn with a silent panic he did not comprehend. She turned to Tanner. ‘I hope you will not mind, sir, if we include the others present in that invitation? Miss Green, Mr Flynn and Madame Bisou?’

  Flynn admired her skill in turning the invitation around, making it appear as if chiding Tanner for poor manners. Her reticence towards Tanner still bewildered him, however. Now that she’d met him, she could have no further objection to him.

  Flynn noticed Katy flashing her eyes at Rose. Apparently Katy did not understand such behaviour any better than he did. Rose gave her a plaintive look in return.

  Tanner’s face showed dismay, but he answered in his typical affable tone. ‘They shall be included if you wish it.’

  Katy rolled her eyes.

  Madame Bisou put a hand on Tanner’s arm. ‘Sweet of you to include me, chérie, but I have a business to attend to.’ She stood. ‘In fact, I must check on the gaming room now. I wish I could accept your invitation.’ She smiled at Rose. ‘I miss hearing our Rose sing.’

  The connection between Rose and this mistress of a gaming hell was not lost on Flynn. Rose must not always have been under her father’s thumb. The whole thing was a mystery, but the real mystery was why it disturbed Flynn so greatly.

  Flynn and Tanner stood to bid Madame Bisou adieu, thanking her for the meal. She tweaked Tanner’s chin playfully and headed for the door, stopping to look back at him. ‘Come play my tables, Lord Tannerton. Come join your friend Pomroy. I believe he is here tonight.’

  ‘Pomroy is here?’ said Tanner with interest.

  Before the gentlemen could sit again, Katy stood, stifling a yawn that did not look quite real. ‘I hope you will forgive me,’ she said in a ladylike voice. ‘But I must bid you goodnight as well.’ She curtsied to Tanner. ‘It was a pleasure, sir.’

  He gave her a charming smile. ‘I will see you in a few hours, Miss Green.’

  Katy grinned back. ‘You will, won’t you?’

  Rose also got up from her chair. ‘I should retire as well.’

  Tanner looked disappointed. ‘Must you?’

  She nodded. ‘I must get some rest if I am to perform.’

  ‘May I escort you to your room?’ Tanner asked, somewhat hopefully.

  Flynn flinched, preparing for her to say yes.

  Rose barely looked at Tanner. ‘I do not live here, sir.’

  ‘That is so.’ Tanner responded. ‘Flynn said you live with your father. Do we return you to your father or do you stay here this night?’

  She glanced at Flynn, not Tanner. ‘I should prefer to return home.’

  Tanner’s face fell, but he recovered quickly. ‘We will take you home then, will we not, Flynn?’ he said in a cheerful voice.

  ‘Indeed,’ Flynn responded, trying very hard to keep his voice bland.

  If Rose had allowed Tanner to come with her to a room here, her acceptance of his interest would have been secured, and only the financial arrangement would remain for Flynn to manage. The matter would be at an end.

  So how was it he was relieved she had not accompanied Tanner to a bedchamber abovestairs?

  He followed Tanner as he walked with Rose out of the parlour. As they passed the game room, Tanner hesitated. ‘I should like to greet my friend who is here.’ He turned to Rose. ‘Would you care to come in the game room a moment, Miss O’Keefe? Or would you prefer to have Flynn see you home directly?’

  ‘I prefer to go home,’ Rose replied. She extended her hand to Tanner. ‘Goodnight, sir.’

  He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the air above it. ‘I shall look forward to seeing you at Vauxhall.’

  ‘At Vauxhall,’ she said.

  Flynn descended the stairway with Rose and collected their things from the footman. Neither of them spoke. Flynn ought to have manoeuvred Tanner to take Rose home. He could have done so with a judicious word. Dear God, why had he not?

  He had done this to himself. He wanted to be alone with her in the dark confines of the carriage.

  Rose felt a flare of excitement as Flynn assisted her into the carriage. She had been pining to speak with him, to thank him for this wonderful night. To share with him her reaction to the opera. She had so many questions.

  He did not sit beside her, but rather took the back-facing seat. She could barely make out his features in the dim light that filtered in from the carriage lamps outside.

  As soon as the carriage moved, she leaned toward him. ‘Flynn, thank you for this night. I do not know how to express my gratitude.’

  ‘My duty,’ he responded curtly.

  His stiffness took her aback.

  He went on in a dry voice, ‘I take it Lord Tannerton was pleasing to you.’

  ‘Lord Tannerton?’ She shook her head in confusion. ‘I was not speaking of him, but of the opera! Of King’s Theatre. I know that was your doing. You knew what it meant to me.’

  He did not immediately respond. ‘I thought only of what would best facilitate my employer’s wishes.’

  ‘That’s foolishness you are talking,’ Rose retorted. ‘You gave me the opera. I know you did.’ She hugged herself with remembering it. ‘It was so grand! I’ve never heard such singing! The voices, Flynn. How did they make their voices so big?’

  ‘Big?’

  ‘You know, their voices seemed to come from deep inside them. The sound filled that huge theatre. How did they do that?’ Even the mere memory of it excited her. ‘I want to learn to do that. Do you think I can, Flynn?’ She sang a note, experimenting. ‘That is not it, is it? I long to understand how it is done.’

  She wanted to practise right now.

  ‘I am sure it can be learned.’ His voice turned softer.

  ‘I long to learn it,’ She went on. ‘I wish I could return to hear them again. I wish I could remember the music and the words. I could not understand the words. Was it Italian? I do not know languages. Just a little French and Latin, but very little.’

  ‘It was Italian,’ he said.

  ‘Think how it must be to know what all the words meant.’ Some day she would learn Italian, she vowed. ‘I wish I had the music. I would memorise every part of it.’

  ‘Lord Tannerton will be gratified that he pleased you.’

  He’d not been listening to her. She’d been talking of the music, not Lord Tannerton. She closed her mouth and retreated to her side of the carriage, making herself remember the music.

  He broke the silence. ‘
Did you find Lord Tannerton agreeable, Rose?’

  ‘Everything agreeable,’ she answered dutifully, trying to recall the melody Elvira sung.

  But he’d broken the spell, and she remembered that she’d agreed to see Tannerton again that evening. ‘At Vauxhall tonight. How shall I find you?’ she asked.

  ‘I will collect you from the gazebo when your performance is done.’

  ‘Letty will be there. Come alone to fetch me, not with Lord Tannerton.’ She did not need Letty speaking directly to Lord Tannerton.

  ‘I will come alone, then,’ he agreed. He talked as if they were discussing some manner of business, like paying Tannerton’s bills. It was business, really. ‘Will you see that Miss Green is also there?’

  ‘I will.’

  They rode in silence the rest of the way. When the coach came to a stop in front of her lodgings, Flynn helped her out and walked her to the door.

  ‘I will walk you inside,’ he said.

  There was only one small oil lamp to light the hallway, and Rose heard mice skitter away as soon as their footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  In front of her door they were wrapped in near-darkness, a darkness that somehow made him seem more remote and made the music in her mind fade.

  ‘Goodnight, then.’ She was unable to keep her voice from trembling.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he responded. He turned and walked to the head of the stairs.

  She put her hand on the doorknob.

  ‘Rose?’

  She turned back to him.

  ‘I am glad you enjoyed the opera.’ Before she could reply, he descended the stairs.

  That night Greythorne stood in the shadows of the Grove, watching and listening to Rose O’Keefe sing. If anything, her voice was richer this night, especially passionate. Such passion ought to be his, he thought. He’d be her conductor. She would sing only for him, notes only he could make her reach.

  He spied Tannerton in the crowd. His adversary, a man who’d struck the initial claim. Greythorne would not let that impede him. It would only make the prize more precious to know he’d stolen it out from under the nose of the Marquess of Tannerton. The man was all Greythorne disdained, a Corinthian who cared more for horses than for the cut of his coat. Who would know they could share the same tailor? If it were not for Weston, the man would look like a ruffian on the street.

  After Miss O’Keefe finished, Greythorne watched Tannerton say something to that secretary who always seemed to be about. The two men parted. Something was afoot. If not for a woman, neither he nor Tannerton would spend this much time in London with summer upon them, not when other pleasures beckoned at places like Brighton or even Paris.

  Greythorne wondered what it would be like to take Miss O’Keefe to Paris, far away from familiar people or influences. Perhaps that was what he would do, but first he must discover what Tannerton planned for this night.

  He followed Tannerton, but the man walked aimlessly, stopping to speak to the few persons of quality who were present at the gardens this night. He ought to have followed the secretary instead. That Flynn fellow ran the show. Greythorne hurried back to the gazebo in time to glimpse the secretary escorting two women, one wearing a hood. He tried to keep them in sight, but lost them in the crowd.

  Cursing silently, he continued to search the line of supper boxes where Tannerton had dallied.

  Finally he discovered them.

  In one of the more private supper boxes, half-obscured by trees near the South Walk arch, sat Tannerton with the hooded lady. Greythorne wagered the woman was Miss O’Keefe. Greythorne waited for the moment he could make himself known.

  His eyes narrowed as he watched Tannerton talking to the chit as if she were already his. The marquess had made progress, perhaps, but Greythorne was not ready to concede defeat. His little interlude of two nights before had quite fired his blood for more. He was more than ready to pluck another flower.

  A Rose.

  Greythorne left the shadows and sauntered across the walk up to the supper box. ‘Good evening, Tannerton.’ He tipped his hat.

  ‘Evening,’ Tannerton reluctantly responded, making no effort to change from his slouch in his chair.

  ‘Forgive me for intruding.’ Greythorne made certain to use his smoothest, most ingratiating voice. ‘I could not resist the opportunity to tell this lovely creature how much I enjoyed her performance.’

  Miss O’Keefe, who had been hiding behind her hood, gave a start. Though he could not see her clearly, he made out the tiniest nod of acknowledgement.

  ‘Kind of you, I am sure,’ Tannerton said in an unkind voice.

  Greythorne tipped his hat again. ‘Perhaps we will meet again, Miss O’Keefe.’

  At that moment, the other woman in the box stepped forward, bringing a glass of wine to the lovely Rose. It was Greythorne’s turn to be surprised. She was the red-haired harlot whom he had seen with Sir Reginald, the one whose laughter had fired his blood. He widened his eyes in interest, an interest she caught.

  She gave him an appraising look in return. ‘Good evening, sir.’

  He smiled most appealingly and doffed his hat to her. ‘Good evening, miss.’

  Tanner glanced up at the woman. ‘Greythorne was just leaving.’

  Greythorne did not miss a beat. ‘Regretfully leaving,’ he said in his smoothest voice. He tipped his hat again to Rose. ‘Miss O’Keefe.’ And to the redhead. ‘My dear.’

  He sauntered back to the South Walk, heading in the direction of the Grove. Not defeated. Exhilarated. Two flowers to pluck instead of one. He’d have them both and rub Tannerton’s nose in it.

  Rose shuddered. ‘That was Lord Greythorne?’

  ‘Who is Lord Greythorne?’ Katy asked, still watching him walk away.

  ‘He’s a man who…who has asked my father about me,’ Rose told her.

  Tannerton’s open countenance turned dark. ‘Not a gentleman worth knowing.’

  ‘Do you say so, Lord Tannerton?’ Katy said lightly. ‘He seems a fine gentleman to me.’

  Tannerton grimaced. ‘Something about the fellow. Can’t remember it and neither can Flynn.’ He turned to Flynn. ‘Right, Flynn?’

  ‘Indeed, sir,’ Flynn replied.

  Katy gave Tannerton’s shoulder a playful punch. ‘You are just saying that because he wants our Rose.’ She laughed. ‘Do not tell me you fear a little competition?’

  Tannerton sat up. ‘I relish competition.’

  Rose glanced in the direction where the man had disappeared. He had given her a shiver. She turned to Flynn to see his reaction, but his back was to her. He’d barely spoken to her again tonight, but he spoke easily enough to Katy.

  Katy came back to him, grabbing his arm and squeezing it. Rose turned away.

  Tannerton regarded Rose with a hopeful expression. ‘The dancing has begun. Shall we?’

  Rose glanced at Flynn, but he was still thoroughly occupied with Katy. ‘Of course,’ she said to Tannerton, taking his arm.

  By the time they had entered the Grove, the lively country dance had ended, and the orchestra struck up a waltz. Tannerton took her by the hand, twirling her under his arm before placing his other hand at her waist. He led her into the steps with great energy, joining the other couples, who created patterns of wheels within wheels.

  Tannerton held her with confidence and moved her skilfully. Rose had had little experience with dancing, less with the waltz, but she was aware of his grace and the allure of his physicality. This was a man who did not take a misstep, a man secure being a man.

  Such virtues ought to persuade her to succumb to him. Unfortunately, she spied Flynn leading Katy into the dance, and all Rose could think of was how it would feel to be in Flynn’s arms, to be staring into Flynn’s eyes as they twirled under the magical lamps of Vauxhall.

  When the dance was done, Tannerton did not release her hand. ‘Come walk with me,’ he urged.

  She held back. ‘Please, no. I…I have a thirst. From the dancing.’

 
He gave her a rueful smile that should have melted her heart, but did not. ‘Then we must return to the supper box for more refreshment.’

  Katy and Flynn entered the box behind them. ‘Was that not fun!’ Katy exclaimed, giving Flynn another affectionate squeeze.

  Rose could barely look at her, she was so filled with envy. ‘Next waltz you should dance with Lord Tannerton,’ she blurted out.

  The marquess paused only a moment before affably agreeing. ‘A capital idea. We shall trade partners.’

  Rose was mortified that she had spoken so impulsively. She tried to tell herself that she had done it because she wanted Tannerton to transfer his affection to Katy. But that would be a lie. She’d merely been jealous.

  Mr Hook did not keep them waiting long for another waltz, understanding his audience’s preference for the more intimate dance, where the man held the woman in his arms.

  Flynn did not seem as eager this time to follow Tannerton to the dancing area. Rose felt another wave of guilt for pushing herself on him when he had placed her off limits to him, but Katy had so easily taken her place.

  All such thoughts were forgotten when she faced him and stared up into his blue eyes. He swung her into the pattern of twirling couples, not nearly as skilfully as Tannerton, but it hardly mattered. Rose settled into his arms with the feeling she belonged there.

  He did not speak, but neither did he take his eyes off hers. Rose’s vision blurred everything but him, and for this small space of time, she pretended that there was no one in the world except the two of them. At first he held her lightly, as if not wishing to touch her at all, but with each turn he seemed to pull her closer to him. She wished they would turn and turn and turn until their bodies touched and they moved as one. She wished she could burst into a joyous song that would never end.

  But the music did end. Flynn still held her.

  ‘Thank you, Flynn,’ she murmured, gazing into his eyes.

  His eyes were dark and needful, and the blood raced through her veins in response. She felt herself pulled to him, closer and closer, just as the twirling of the dance had drawn them close.

  He held up a hand and stepped back. ‘Tannerton will be waiting.’