Page 17 of Portrait of a Lady
Patience merely dragged Joseph along, a wicked smile splitting her red lips. The pair disappeared down the Dark Walk, leaving him as alone with Evelyn as he could be amongst the crowd of revelers. No one paid them the slightest bit of attention as he coaxed her hand into the crook of his arm, guiding her toward the tree he’d just been standing under. A bit removed from the crowd, the spot would offer them a few moments to talk before the performance began.
“Thank you for coming,” he said as they halted beneath the tree. “I thought meeting in public for the first time would be best, and I’ve never been to a Vauxhall masquerade that I didn’t enjoy.”
“I-I have never attended one,” she admitted, her gaze darting as she seemed to try to decide where to look.
At last, her stare landed on his chest and the decadent gold braid adorning his coat.
“What do you think thus far?” he asked, leaning one shoulder against the tree.
She glanced up at the lanterns hanging over them, her fingers loosening on her shawl. The garment gaped open, giving him a glimpse of her silvery skin. It was quite the most kissable patch of flesh he’d ever seen. But, if he pressed his lips there just now, Hugh imagined she might faint in his arms.
“The gardens are breathtaking at night, with all the lights and the music,” she replied.
“Yes,” he replied. “The sort of thing that can’t really be described. One must see it for themselves. Once we view the Cascade, perhaps we might walk a bit more so you can take in the rest. I quite like the Chinese temple, and the triumphal arches along the South Grand Walk are quite beautiful as well. If you’re amenable, perhaps we might find an empty supper box?”
She bit her lip, fingers toying with her shawl as she finally met his gaze. “I’ll admit to being famished. I was too nervous to eat before arriving tonight. I know Benedict informed you I’ve never done anything like this before. In fact, I feel certain that if anyone were to catch wind of this, they’d never believe it.”
With any other woman, he might have reached out to touch her—stroke her cheek, cup her jaw, take her hand. Those things had always worked well for him in the past, but he could see Evelyn was not quite ready for that. But she had just strung together three sentences without faltering, so he would keep her talking for now.
“There is no need to be anxious,” he assured her. “This arrangement is completely dependent on what you want. Your every wish is my command, Evelyn.”
She seemed momentarily taken aback, as if she had expected him to whisk her off to some dark corner of the gardens and ravish her.
“I...thank you,” she stammered.
He opened his mouth to ask her what had driven her to hire him, when he was interrupted by the chiming bell signaling that the curtain was about to lift.
“It’s time,” he said, taking hold of her hand. “Come, let’s get a little closer.”
She didn’t resist as he led her back toward the curtain, bringing them nearer to the concealed Cascade. It was his favorite thing about Vauxhall Gardens, and he made it a point to view the performance each time he came here. Along the way, he hailed a waiter moving through the crowd with a tray of filled champagne flutes. He purchased two glasses, handing one over to Evelyn before guiding her even closer, shouldering his way through the swarm of bodies angling for a closer look. He hoped the drink would go a long way toward loosening her up a bit. Their arrangement going well might depend on whether she enjoyed herself tonight, and he needed to push things along. Once she felt at ease with him, the rest would fall into place.
He managed to get her near the front of the crowd, where she could see past the people standing in front of them, just before the curtain parted to reveal the cascade. The sound of rushing water greeted them, along with a swift flash of light to illuminate the scene. Evelyn paused with her champagne flute held to her lips as she took in the scene, eyes wide with awe. He watched her instead of the Cascade, having seen it enough times to know what to expect. Just now, he found himself both amused and enchanted by her reaction to it, eyes twinkling, and lips parted as she stared in silent wonder.
Painted countryside scenery appeared real with the hidden glow of lamps shining down upon it—rolling hills and trees in the distance, with a bridge, a miller’s house, and a water mill in the foreground, all working as a backdrop for a mechanical waterfall. What looked like water flowed over a downward slope, while movement in the background portrayed wagons and soldiers on horseback moving back and forth across the bridge at regular intervals. Flashes of light preceded crashes of thunder, the effects of a storm accompanying the roar of the water cascading and rolling in a way that made it all look so real.
“Spectacular,” Evelyn murmured, her voice mostly smothered by the delighted gasps and exclamations from the crowd. She leaned a bit closer to him but kept her eyes on the waterfall. “How does it work?”
He caught another whiff of her scent as he leaned down to reply, a lock of her hair tickling his cheek. “The Cascade is formed from sheets of tin attached to rows of belts. You cannot see them, of course, as it would detract from the magic of it, but there are a team of men operating behind the painted scene. They run the mechanism that makes the Cascade move like flowing water, manipulate the lights, and produce the sounds. I told you, it really is quite something.”
She turned her head to look up at him, seeming to have underestimated just how close he was standing. Their lips brushed, the tip of her nose bumping against his. She drew in a sharp breath, flinching away as much as the crowd allowed. With the lamps blazing all round them, he could see the flush spreading over her cheeks, feel the rush of her breath against his cheek as she reacted to their near-kiss.
He suddenly wanted that kiss more than he would have thought possible. If it wouldn’t send her running through the gardens in terror, he might have done it. He might have gripped her nape and drawn her in, fitting his mouth over hers right then and there.
Taking things slowly with her was going to be more difficult than he’d anticipated.
She swiftly turned her gaze back to the Cascade, taking a large gulp of her champagne. “I cannot look away...it is quite breathtaking.”
He took hold of her hand again and gave it a little squeeze, hoping the gesture reassured her if nothing else. “We can stay and watch as long as you want; the performance lasts ten minutes.”
So, they remained to watch the spectacle while sipping their champagne, even as others came and went all around them. Hugh felt her hand slacken a bit in his hold, not quite as stiff as it had been when he’d first taken it. By the time the curtain dropped, she had finished her champagne and seemed to have recovered from the awkwardness of before.
She took his arm and allowed him to guide her away from the now quiet Cascade, as the spectators began to disperse, seeking other amusement. Without giving her a chance to succumb to her anxiety again, he quickly led her toward the Centre Cross Walk in the direction of the triumphal arches, procuring more champagne for them along the way. Evelyn had loosened up quite a bit, her hand heavy on his arm, her gait more graceful without the previous stiffness he’d noticed in her back.
He glanced over to find her sipping her second glass of champagne and studying the sights around her—the crumbled faux ruins built here and there, the colored lanterns, the pairs of lovers slipping off various pathways with hands clasped and voices lowered to whispers. He found his gaze drawn to her mouth, glistening and pink, just begging to be kissed. Since coming so close a moment ago, he found himself eager to try again, to kiss her in truth. Part of him supposed it would make her comfortable with him and get that first act of intimacy out of the way. But deep down, he couldn’t ignore the realization that it wasn’t only that. He actuallywantedto kiss her, and not just because it was now his job to please her. Hugh wanted to know what she’d taste like, what those pretty lips would feel like against his, the sounds she’d make when he found the perfect angle, the right amount of pressure.
He wanted it so badly, that as they passed under the arches so Evelyn could enjoy their beauty illuminated by the lights, he found himself plotting and planning, trying to determine the perfect moment and setting. It wasn’t only about kissing her, but about making it memorable in keeping with his reputation. She’d told Benedict she wanted romanticism, and he was obligated to deliver. It had to be absolutely perfect.
“Tell me more about you,” he coaxed as they walked along at a sedate pace. “Anything at all.”
