He leans in close and makes the gentlest of kisses on my mouth.
I feel myself breathing him in, falling into him.
It is a heady confusion and somehow I cannot fix the muddle he is creating in me.
I close my eyes, unresisting, letting my lips move deeply against his.
Then, with my heart pounding, I press my hands to his chest and break the kiss.
His eyes are on mine, questioning.
He has paid for my person. So why does this feel like something more?
Perhaps Edward finds the answer in my face. For without saying a word, he takes my hand, leading me onwards.
I follow, too dazed to ask where we are going.
I fear that perhaps he is angry. But his expression does not look so.
He is peering towards one of the grander rotundas. The stone pillars are festooned with colourful banners of fabric, and it houses men and women in incredibly rich dress.
‘I see Fitzroy,’ says Edward, his voice giving no hint that something just passed between us. ‘He is with a few of Vanderbilt’s creditors.’
Just hearing Fitzroy’s name makes my stomach twist.
‘We shall not go to them just yet,’ decides Edward. ‘Let us take a little walk in Spring Gardens first.’
‘The romantic gardens?’ I ask, in a teasing tone. ‘Surely you need no such arts to seduce me.’ I am thinking of the kiss we just shared and my humour is an attempt to bring back a semblance of control.
He smiles. ‘I merely aid your education,’ he says. ‘Even a Piccadilly girl might be shocked at the brazenness of some aristocrats in Vauxhall.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘We shall see.’
Edward guides me into a close maze of hedges, guarded and secret walkways. As we turn inside, it seems as if we are completely alone. But every so often we catch a sigh or a gasp from another closed section, reminding us that clandestine amours are all around.
Edward was not exaggerating. It really is quite shocking. Some people are indulging in relatively innocent caresses. But others are rutting like animals in the shrubbery, their fine clothes hanging loose, or discarded on the grass.
‘You see?’ he says, as we glimpse a couple. ‘Something about the gardens makes people quite brazen.’
‘It is not so different to Piccadilly at midnight,’ I say, thinking of the alleyways and backstreets. ‘Though the people here are better dressed, of course.’
Edward steers me onwards. ‘I will show you my favourite part,’ he says.
I feel my heart pick up a little.
He leads me into a long walkway and there’s an ardency about him as we reach the end. I wonder if he means to resume our kiss. And whether I should feel the same dual tugs. To give myself to him or to draw away.
We are standing in an enclosed space, hidden by hedges, facing one another. And Edward takes me in his arms and kisses me. This time he is even harder to resist. My body is betraying me.
He slides his fingers down my waist and I feel myself shiver with anticipation.
‘Elizabeth,’ he whispers, moving his hand under the hem of my skirt, ‘have you ever taken any pleasure? From being with a man?’
The question takes me by surprise and my practised expression does not manoeuvre fast enough.
‘Of course,’ I say, with a flirtatious laugh, pulling him close. ‘I enjoy men more than most women.’
‘You do not have to lie to me,’ he says. His fingers are moving smoothly up my thighs now. ‘I want you to … It would give me greater pleasure. If I knew that you liked your time with me.’
‘I do.’ I’m confused by the sensations he’s stirring in me.
Edward still looks troubled.
‘When you lay with a man, do you ever …?’ he asks, leaving the question hanging.
I feel my face begin to heat.
Of all the things men have asked me to do. I never thought I could be embarrassed again. But here I am, blushing like a young girl.
‘No,’ I admit. Because he seems to be able to tell when I am lying.
‘That is what I thought,’ he says.
He pauses and then his hands begin softly roaming under my skirts again. Now I am afraid. Because I have no intention of letting that happen. Not with anyone. And his kisses seem to have earned some unexpected power over me.
‘I do not wish for it,’ I say, panic rising up. ‘I have no desire for it. I am here for your pleasure.’
Edward smiles. ‘I will not try, if you do not wish,’ he says. My face must show my relief, for he looks sad.
‘But I would like something else,’ he says.
‘What?’ I am anxious again.
‘Let me take you as I wish to take you,’ he says. ‘Do not use your seductions.’
‘I … I am not certain …’
‘Please,’ he says.
I find myself nodding nervously. Falling into his dark eyes.
He unlaces the top of my dress, loosening, caressing.
Then his hands stroke my breasts beneath my clothing and his mouth moves to kiss my neck. I tip my head back, my skin tingling with pleasure.
His mouth drops lower to my breasts, planting gentle kisses. It is delicious. I feel my breath tightening. My body growing warm.
Edward hitches up my skirts and his fingers slide softly up my legs. And then his hand is higher, moving gently. It feels so good I accidentally gasp.
‘This is how I want you,’ he whispers. ‘Like you are now.’
I can barely speak.
‘Just like this,’ he whispers. His fingers dance lightly over me. ‘I want you to take the same pleasure I do,’ he murmurs, his hand moving softly. I feel my whole body lifting, as though my soul is rising up to meet his fingers.
‘Please,’ I gasp. ‘Please stop.’
He pauses and I sense he would like to continue his tantalising stroking. But seeing the pleading in my face, he moves his hand away so it rests between my thighs.
My body sinks slowly back to a reassuring reality.
He kisses my mouth. ‘I liked you that way,’ he whispers.
‘I liked it too,’ I admit, still hazy with the feelings rioting in my body. ‘But I cannot …’ I struggle for the words and fall silent.
I stare into his eyes uncertainly. I want him, I realise with a jolt of shock. It is the first I have felt such feelings in a long, long time.
Then we hear the movement of skirts and a loud female voice echoing along the walkway.
I open my eyes to see Edward’s gaze and I feel a stab of pain. Because I wish he would look at me that way forever.
But there is relief too. For we both know what he nearly got from me.
We both stand still, our faces inches apart, neither wanting to be the one to move away. Then the voice sounds again, coming nearer now. And I tear my gaze from his and step back, pulling the laces of my dress tight again.
When I look up again I see hurt in his face. He must see that I shall not be so easily seduced again.
I look away from him guiltily, pretending to consider the source of the sound that disturbed us.
Walking towards us are a richly dressed couple. An ageing lord and a woman who is unmistakably a courtesan.
She clings to the man’s arm, her face tipped up to his flirtatiously, in a gesture that wives do not make elderly husbands.
Her bodice dress is similar to mine, with wide skirts. Though hers is deep green and has an affected little cloak at the back, in the French style. She wears a choker of perfect pearls and a matching bracelet. Expensive gifts rather than inherited estate gems. And her curling black hair is styled high with a jaunty little ship perched in the top of it.
There is something strangely familiar about her walk and I peer closer as they close in. She is laughing in a high false trill and neither is paying any attention to the path ahead.
Then I recognise her.
Harriet.
She sees us, in o
ur broken tryst. Her face sets in surprised recognition.
‘Lizzy?’
I can hardly believe it. The green eyes. The smattering of girlish freckles across her perfect little nose. The pale perfect skin. Most mornings, at Mrs Wilkes’s house, I woke to see her heart-shaped face slumbering next to me.
‘Harriet!’ I cry, overwhelmed to see her.
I take the excuse to force myself away from Edward’s side.
I run at her and hug her tightly, knowing that she will not care that we have not made the proper greeting. Harriet never minded for aristocratic manners.
She hugs me back and I marvel at her familiar perfumed smell, pressing against her rigid scratchy dress.
We pull back, regarding each other.
‘What a wonder, to see you, Lizzy,’ she says, taking in my dress and hair with a practised eye. ‘I am surprised to find you so well dressed,’ she adds, with her usual bluntness. ‘I heard you were in Piccadilly.’
‘I was,’ I admit, my eyes sliding to Edward, who is hanging back. ‘I have a … short arrangement. This is Lord Hays,’ I add uncertainly, turning to Edward. He steps to my side and bows to Harriet. His expression is unreadable.
‘Lord Hays,’ she says airily, nodding at me as though in appreciation of a game well played.
She makes Edward a curtsy that is so half-hearted it borders on impudent. But all the while, her eyes rest tightly on his, considering what indecent acts they might enjoy together.
I had forgotten this about Harriet. She is a master at making men desperate for her.
I frown at her and she gives me a casual shrug.
You cannot blame me for trying my luck, she seems to say.
I suddenly regret Harriet’s presence. She is not beautiful in the conventional fashion, but charisma radiates out of her, sweeping along anyone in her path. Her large green eyes were much talked about by men at Mrs Wilkes’s. As was her tumult of glossy black curls, which she would encourage men to plunge their fingers into.
I have a dread that she will ask Edward to tumble her curls.
‘I have heard of your fame,’ replies Edward politely, moving a little closer to my side. Just in that moment, I feel my affections soar for him. Had he fallen for Harriet’s charms so soon after what just passed between us … I don’t know how I should have felt.
Harriet gives a feminine little peal of laughter, which echoes out from the closed hedges. ‘Of course you have,’ she says, delighted. ‘I am quite famous. Do you hear that, Teddy?’ she adds, addressing the remark to her beau. ‘You are fortunate to have snared my affections this afternoon. I do hope you shall reward me accordingly.’
The man at her side nods uncertainly. He is a short man, with dark hair turning to grey. He is in his sixties, but in that vigorous way in which aristocrats age.
Harriet hugs me again, then releases me still holding my arm, as if unwilling to relinquish physical contact.
Her eyes flick vaguely back to the man at her side.
‘This is the Duke of Buckingham,’ she says, taking his hand and patting it, while still holding mine. ‘He is my little pet for today.’
She turns to stare the duke full in the face and he seems to melt under her gaze. Harriet has always had this effect on men. She could make anyone want her.
‘Teddy, this is Lizzy, my old bedfellow,’ she announces. ‘We shared a tiny cot, if you can imagine such a thing. To see me now, in my grand bed and sheets.’
‘Did Lizzy tell you of me?’ asks Harriet, directing her attention back to Edward. ‘She and I were very close. Very close,’ she adds, sliding her hand suggestively up my arm.
I shake my head a little at her.
This is one of Harriet’s tricks. To pretend she takes girls as lovers.
Edward’s face is perfectly neutral, so I cannot tell what he makes of her behaviour. Harriet drops her hand as though she meant nothing at all by the gesture.
She pats the arm of her duke again, coming to a conclusion.
‘You must see Denny,’ she says to me. ‘I have hired him as my footman.’
‘Denny?’ I ask in disbelief. ‘From Mrs Wilkes’s? I can hardly believe she would let him go. Denny was her best servant.’
Harriet gives a catlike smile. ‘Wilkes will give me anything I wish,’ she says. ‘I still send some men to her house, so she does not dare refuse me.’
This is typical Harriet. While the rest of us struggled to avoid Mrs Wilkes’s wrath, she knew how to keep the old woman wrapped around her finger.
‘Come,’ she says. ‘You shall see Denny.’ She turns to her companion again. ‘Teddy and I were to enjoy ourselves in the gardens. But he should not mind waiting a little, should you, Teddy?’ She presses his arm. ‘I shall make it very much better for you later on.’
The duke seems to lean into her, his lips slightly parted. As though he almost pants for her.
Having assured herself of his submission, Harriet turns to me.
‘Come,’ she says. ‘Denny is by the rotunda.’
I turn to Edward uncertainly.
‘I have some business in the rotunda,’ he says easily. ‘I might attend to that while you meet your old friend. Do not be very long,’ he adds, eyeing Harriet.
‘No,’ I agree, trying to signal with my eyes that I do not want him to leave me for long. Harriet always had a way of making you do things you regret.
We walk out of Spring Gardens together and I have the uneasy feeling that Edward is unhappy. He leaves us with a polite bow and I watch him as he walks towards Fitzroy, whose showy wig can be easily seen in the crowd.
‘So tell me, Lizzy,’ says Harriet dramatically, as my eyes follow Edward. ‘You have been foolish and fallen in love?’
‘I …’ I drag my eyes away distractedly. ‘No,’ I reply, without really thinking. Then her question registers with more weight. ‘No, of course,’ I add.
Harriet’s face has wound into a knowing smile.
‘He is very handsome,’ she says. ‘You must be careful, Lizzy. For a girl could easily end up loving such a man. And that is no way to keep him.’
She turns an indulgent smile to her duke.
‘That is how we keep you men generous, is it not?’ she purrs, running her hand down his chest. ‘We make it a game for you to win our hearts.’
The duke stands motionless with lust as her hand wanders downwards. Then, just before her fingers skirt the top of his breeches, she whips it smartly away and turns back to me.
‘There is Denny,’ she announces, pointing. ‘Denny!’
A familiar face turns and lights up when it lands on mine.
‘Denny!’ I call, equally delighted.
Denny was my favourite servant at Mrs Wilkes’s. He was always ready to eject customers who proved brutish and never judged us girls.
‘Bring the wine,’ Harriet calls to Denny. ‘We shall all take a drink.’
Denny approaches holding a hamper. He is richly dressed as a footman. And the blue eyes and blond curls of his youth have settled into a decided handsomeness.
‘Look at you!’ I announce, hugging him tight. ‘I left you a boy. You are now a handsome man!’
He blushes and looks pleased.
‘You look very well, Lizzy,’ he grins.
‘Doesn’t she?’ agrees Harriet in a strange little voice. ‘Such a fine dress. And a lord for a gallant, no less. Who would have thought she might have done so well?’
Her green eyes flash at this last remark and once again I regret chancing upon Harriet. She always was prone to jealousy.
‘Pour the bottle, Denny,’ she orders. ‘Let us help Lizzy forget her fine clothes and remember we might still enjoy ourselves.’
Denny uncorks a bottle of red wine and fills four glasses, passing one to each of us and taking one himself.
‘A toast,’ announces Harriet loudly. ‘To wealthy men!’
The volume of her voice causes a number of people to turn their heads. A nearby husband and wife start, and the woman
tuts loudly, glaring at Harriet.
‘Be sure to please your husband,’ coos Harriet, with an evil smile. ‘Or I shall come to claim him. And once he has sampled my charms, he shall have none of you.’
The lady looks away with a frightened expression, tugging at her husband, who seems unable to take his eyes off Harriet.
She gives a triumphant laugh, holding her glass high.
‘To wives,’ she cries, ‘for their dullness, we owe all our income!’
She chinks her glass against the duke’s and Denny’s.
I feel my eyes drift to the far distance, where Edward is standing in the rotunda.
I start a little to see him looking directly at me. His eyes meet mine and then he looks away.
I drink a heavy sip of my wine. It is strong.
‘Drink it all down, Lizzy,’ says Harriet. ‘We shall have some more.’
She turns to her duke. ‘I am so thirsty,’ she says, chewing her lip. ‘Should we have some burgundy? Do you think? White wine is so very good for slaking thirst.’
The duke nods indulgently. ‘You shall have the best,’ he promises.
‘I shall send Denny,’ says Harriet. ‘He shall be sure to take the finest they have. Should we ask for the prestige vintage?’ she adds, with an odd simper at the duke.
He looks about to contradict her, but she carries on speaking.
‘How should I reward you?’ she ponders, intercepting his refusal. ‘I believe I know.’ She gives an affected laugh and then takes my arm once more, drawing me close.
‘It is so very good to see you again, Lizzy,’ she says. And then she moves forward, holding my arms and bringing her mouth to mine in a deep kiss.
I have been away from Harriet for so long that I have forgotten to be on my guard for things of this kind. She thinks nothing of using her friends to drive up her profit. In my surprise, and with the strong wine, it takes me a moment to collect myself and pull back.
Harriet leans towards the duke, tapping his nose with her finger.
‘I hope you are not thinking wicked things,’ she scolds, moving her face close to his. ‘For I still have a horsewhip.’
The duke’s face has darkened with some unreadable expression and Harriet smiles victoriously.
‘Perhaps one day Lizzy may visit my house while you are there,’ she adds airily.
Masquerade: Can a street-girl become a lady? Page 17