Page 10 of The Lady
“You think it likely there will be eligible females here tonight?”
She had been too busy staring at his shadowy eyes. Too enraptured by his movements. There was a wildness, boundless energy within her, and those prior theories of revenge, that girlish desire had been replaced with something more urgent and adult. “I beg your pardon?”
“Our purpose tonight was to ascertain and locate a suitable woman for me to court.”
“Of course, of course,” Flora was grateful to be able to sink back amidst the darkness of the carriage. “I am certain we shall see many ladies who could be deemed as a potential bride for you.”
To her surprise, Caton started speaking about the past. He harked back to their initial encounter and then to their subsequent interactions. “I do not believe I behaved as was your due, Lady Flora. I suspect it was the arrogance of my youth, and if you will forgive me a somewhat dismissive attitude towards aristocratic ladies.”
“A feeling you no longer hold to?” Her question was meant to prod the rumours that circulated around his many lovers, but Caton did not take it in this way.
“It was an unfounded bias on my part. My mother is…” He trailed off. “She is a hard woman who is held to the standards of our time and blames me for the pleasure of it. I feared you might be of her ilk, or disposition. Certainly, a woman born to the privilege and opportunities you have had?—”
Annoyance flared through Flora, she might be the sister of a duke now, but nothing about her traumatic childhood had been easy. Neither the early deaths of her parents nor the cruel treatment of her Ashmore heritage had made her position an enjoyable one. “You do not know the whole story of my life, sir.”
“I see that—I misspoke,” Caton said. “I saw that just a few months after we had met, and your sister-in-law, the duchess, told me what torments had been your lot down in Cornwall. Of your loss, and the anguish you endured at the hands of the people who should have cared for you… I cannot possibly imagine, and I feel shame that I did not bring it up sooner or treat you with the kindness you deserved earlier.”
Shock twisted through Flora’s body. She never made mention of her childhood, nor of the distant Cornish Manor house, where the servants had bullied and terrified her to silence. And yet it seemed as if Caton knew everything already. There was no judgment in his words. In fact, he felt compassion for her.
The carriage started to slow, and Caton reached for her hand, seemingly to help her from the vehicle. Instead, he interlinked her fingers with his and said, “I can only apologise, and I see what a great lady you are, given your generosity in helping me seek a bride now. Will you forgive my earlier error?”
Unable to find the right words, Flora muttered a hasty, “Indeed, there is no need.” And the two of them descended the carriage, into the darkness of Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. There was something solid and dependable in his stance and way of moving, and whether it was his words said in the shelter of the carriage or his protective stance now, Flora was delighted to be pressed to his side.
It was far busier than she might have possibly imagined. Crowds from across London had descended in raucous excitement. The night was alive with excited voices. It was notmerely made up of the wealthy but of an assortment of peoples from far and wide. Brightly dressed matrons, widows and the like hurried past, gaudily gowned, and envy bloomed through Flora’s chest in case Caton might look their way.
Stalls manned and selling delicious food spilled out in front of them on trestle tables. Alongside neatly ordered ponds, she could make out the waterfalls, mazes and lakes in the distance, and all around them were high reaching trees filled with colourful floral garlands. Not far off were the secretive stretch of mazes where a couple might steal away for a kiss. High above them the night’s sky was a magnificent navy, decorated with glittering silver stars. Soon, all too soon the darkness would be ripped through by fireworks.
They made their way towards the stalls of food, Flora delighted in buying thickly cut shards of coconut ice and then peeling off her gloves to eat the delicious sweetmeat with her fingers. The sweet sticky taste exploded on her tongue and sent an appreciative shudder through her body.
“Would you care for some?” She offered Caton some from the tips of her fingers since he was watching her with such an arrested expression that unsettled her. It was nice they both had a sweet tooth.
“No, no.” His answer was abrupt, although his eyes continued to follow her movements as she finished her treat. She tried to encourage him towards other sugary delights, but the good doctor kept refusing despite his previous claims of possessing a sweet tooth.
The company was similarly hidden by masks, and as they milled through them, Flora pretended to keep her eyes peeled for someone suitable for Caton. The problem was, and she was reluctant to admit this even to herself, that she had no desire to find him a match. All thoughts of revenge had dissipated, and she was feeling surprisingly possessive of her charming doctor.
“Shall we go through the maze?” His question startled her out of her reverie.
“Has someone caught your eye?” She looked around at the gathered throng of women, whose colourful attire and boldly dyed hair must present a noticeable attraction. Perhaps one of the women had broken away from her friends and might wish to be pursued by Caton.
“I truthfully find it rather too intimidating and thought the quiet peace of seclusion before the fireworks display might well be welcomed.”
Lady Flora saw where Caton was looking, and it was not at any of the gathered, laughing women. No, his gaze had fallen on a dark-haired nobleman, who was laughing loudly with a thin red-haired woman dressed in wine-coloured silk. The pair of them created a striking image in the dark. Both seemed very aware of the attention they attracted and were eager for some more. With a small gasp Flora turned away, hiding her face. The nobleman had been her one-time fiancé before he had bolted off with Miss Brown—who was not Lady Gilbert.
“By all means.” Flora let herself be led into the high reaching walls of the maze. Its twisting foliage was pleasant, muffling the noisy chatter, creating a dense wall of greenery, and offering the sweet smells of earth and fens despite the proximity to the gathered throngs.
“I am sorry you witnessed the exchange.” Caton sounded angry as he led her deeper into the maze.
“It was a good number of years ago.” Flora said. Which was true. And any lingering disappointment had faded, as had any affection she had felt for Lord Henry Gilbert. It was strange to think she might have been his wife. Odd to imagine another circumstance when she was walking beside Caton, when he was all that had consumed her thoughts. Lord Gilbert was welcome to his bride.
Deep as they were into the maze, there were only stars and the moonlight to guide them, but Flora saw illuminated in the silvery gleam a bench.
Her hand reached out and slowed Caton with a single touch.
Caton looked down at Flora’s ungloved hand resting on his own. “I was glad to remove you from his lordship’s presence.” His fingers interlocked with her own and they walked to the bench. “It may have been an old rumour, but it was not the actions of a gentleman. I—I—am not acting like myself. I wished to strike Lord Gilbert when I saw the look on your face at the sight of him, not that it would have been my place to do so.” His voice was husky, thick as treacle, and it made Flora feel like her stomach was quite ready to float away.
“I, too, was surprised by his return, although I had heard he was visiting his uncle, now he has come into his title. But Lord Gilbert is welcome to his happiness. He no longer has any claim on my affections.” Flora settled more comfortably on the bench. Their hands were still clasped.
Now that they were deep inside the maze, all the surrounding voices were dulled or silenced. It was wondrous to be in the centre of such a magnificent town but to feel as if it were only them.
