The Captivating Lady Charlotte (Regency Brides: A Legacy of Grace #2)(12)

A thin wail came from upstairs.

His spirits sank again.





CHAPTER FIVE


Vauxhall Gardens, London

May


IT WAS ENTIRELY possible that the excitement of last month’s come-out ball was about to be surpassed. Charlotte clutched Henry’s arm as they slowly walked through the entryway. Ever since she’d woken this morning, through getting dressed, the trip across the Thames in a scull, then walking up the shallow steps to the entrance, she’d been awash with thrills. How delightful, how romantic tonight would be!

She smiled at her brother and squeezed his arm affectionately. “Thank you for convincing them. I cannot believe I’m finally here.”

“Truth be told, neither can I. Father had his reservations, and Mama has never been particularly fond of the out-of-doors.”

As if on cue, Mama’s voice came behind them, “It is a little warm, is it not?”

Charlotte sighed. Henry grinned and turned. “It will cool, and we are near the river, so that will help.”

“But there are such nasty odors,” Mama complained, fluttering her chicken-skin fan.

“Don’t know why you insisted on coming if you’re just going to moan,” Father grumbled, his expression hinting this evening’s expedition would offer him little pleasure.

“Well, I’m pleased we’re here,” Charlotte said. “I think tonight will be wonderful!”

Henry gave Charlotte’s hand a squeeze, saying in an undertone as they waited for the queue to clear, “Never mind her. You know she’s always anxious about anything out of the ordinary.”

“Henry?” Mama turned, eyeing them. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing of importance, Mama.”

“Hmph. If it’s of no importance, then why must it be said at all?”

“Believe me, Mama, I wish it did not.”

She frowned as they finally moved forward, and Charlotte’s stifled giggle escaped in a gasp. “Oh, how lovely!”

Before them stretched the pleasure gardens. A grand avenue, intersected at right angles by several other gravel walks, stretched toward a gilded statue. Lofty sycamores, limes, and elms lined the promenades. Exotic structures hinting of Arabia and the Orient competed for attention with lantern-draped trees, lamps that also festooned the cast-iron pillars of the colonnades. Fruit bushes and perfumed flowers tickled her senses, while the strains of music promised further delight. And everywhere, everywhere, beautifully dressed people strolled, their smiles suggesting she wasn’t the only one finding enjoyment in a place she never thought she’d see—until Henry’s support for her birthday plans.

“Come, we must find our box if we wish to eat something before the concert begins.”

At Father’s impatient gesture, they followed him down the gravel path. Minstrels drew near, a piper on a pan flute meeting Charlotte’s gaze, seeming to take that as an invitation to follow their party.

“I see you’ve made another conquest,” Henry murmured.

“Don’t be silly.”

“Whatever will Markham say, now that you’re being pursued by such a fellow?”

Heat rose in her cheeks, even as her insides curled with joy. “Do you think he will come tonight?”

“I cannot tell if that is a serious question or not.”

“Henry!”

“Do you really think he would dare miss such an evening?”

His words—though uttered in a wry tone—gave courage to her hopes. Ever since the magical night of her come-out ball, she had been the delighted recipient of Lord Markham’s attention. Nothing ever overt, nothing to which Mama might take exception, but the “accidental” meetings had kept her in a delightful daze these past weeks, fueling hope his notice might be leading to something more permanent.

She studied the people strolling by: elegant lords and ladies dressed in the height of fashion, next to those whose clothes proclaimed them as having lesser means—but none so poor they could not afford the shilling entrance fee.

“It is as though half the world is here!”

Everywhere the eye turned was another delight: fountains, statues, elegant arches, temples, and Chinese-styled pagodas, golden orbs of light radiating in a twinkling spectacular. She glanced up at the large bouquets of red, blue, yellow, and violet flowers hanging in the trees. “Oh!” She peered more closely. “They’re lamps!”

“Not everything is as it appears.”

They continued their promenade along the main walk, which was bounded either side with small pavilions housing tables and chairs. Henry nudged her. “We’ll have supper there soon.”

They strolled toward a large octagonal rotunda in which an orchestra performed. Beyond, just in front of the southern row of supper boxes, stood a white marble statue of a seated man holding a lyre. The familiar melodies made Charlotte long to join the couples pirouetting. She smiled, stifling the inclination. Mama would never live that down.

Before too long a whistle was blown, and a waiter drew forward, bowing to her father before gesturing to a large box along one of the colonnades. “My lord, I trust you shall find everything as required.”

“I hope so, too,” he muttered, before escorting them inside.

The small enclosure afforded a commanding view across the principal grove. Paintings adorned three sides: scenes of musicians, elegant ladies dancing, and rural idyll. “How lovely!”