The Wedding Game(24)

She lowered her fan and studied him carefully, as if trying to decide whether to change her opinion. Then she shook her head. ‘I am not seeking a perfect man for Belle, Mr Lovell. I am seeking one with the correct set of flaws.’

The conversation grew more curious the longer it continued. ‘Tell me what you seek that I may mould myself into that man.’

Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Your character sounds exceedingly malleable.’

And once again, he was nagged by the desire for confession that sometimes took hold of him as he looked into her eyes. Did she really deserve to know just how changeable he was? He shook off the urge. ‘Any man’s character must be changeable for the better. But my heart remains constant.’

‘Oh, I believe that, Mr Lovell. Your heart, if you have one at all, remains fixed on your own needs and desires. Since you have barely met Arabella, do not try to convince me that it is set on her.’

His needs and desires were synonymous with Arabella, since she was a means to an end. Put thus, even he could see how cold it was and how unworthy it would be in the protean eyes of the woman in front of him. Perhaps it was the straightest path to gain the power and admiration he wanted. But was it the right way?

Easiest was not always best. He knew from experience that what seemed pleasant often came with a price. It was one thing if he suffered. But suppose Amelia was right and her sister’s future would be better with someone else in it? At the very least, the situation deserved more thought than he had given it.

‘Miss Summoner! Miss Summoner!’ The stout older woman who had been with the girls in Bond Street was hurrying down the path towards them, a look of panic on her reddened features.

‘Miss Watson?’ Amelia turned to her, instantly alert.

‘Miss Belle is missing.’





Chapter Ten

Belle was lost.

Amy struggled to take her next breath. It felt as if she’d been holding it for a lifetime. But that could not be. Everything had been normal, only a few seconds ago. Then, suddenly, her lungs had turned to iron and her throat had become a narrow glass tube that would shatter at the first gulp of air.

It had been her job to care for her sister. Her only, her most important job. And just as she had known some day she would, she had failed. Had Belle wandered away? Had someone taken her by force? Or had she been coerced?

It would take little more than a smile and the promise of a dance to lure her away from her chaperon. On a starry night, in a pleasure garden full of secret grottos and dark paths, anything might happen to her. Amy knew from experience that not all men who claimed to be were gentlemen and protected herself accordingly. But Belle was as innocent as a babe.

And Amy had wasted the evening sparring with Benjamin Lovell. It was a mere pretence that talking to the man had been about protecting her sister and not the pleasure she felt in a battle of wits. If she had truly been thinking of Belle, she’d have been at her sister’s side and not indulging in distractions. Then she would not have disappeared.

What was she to do now? Miss Watson was frantic and she herself could barely manage to speak, much less to act. She turned to scan the crowd, eyes darting so fast between faces that she could not tell one from another. So many people and so many places to look. What was she to do?

‘We must find her. Before...’

A hundred possibilities flashed through her mind, each more awful than the last. Before she could stop herself, a whimper of desperation escaped her lips.

‘Really, Miss Summoner. We are in Vauxhall Gardens, not Whitechapel. A few moments’ absence is not the end of the world.’

‘But Belle is my responsibility,’ she whispered. ‘If anything happens to her...’

Mr Lovell held up a hand. ‘Say no more.’ He turned to the chaperon, his voice calm but commanding. ‘Where was she when last you saw her?’

‘By the trained dogs.’

‘And where have you been so far this evening? Was there any spot she was loathe to leave that she might have returned to alone?’

‘She likes dancing,’ Amy managed at last.

‘Then, Miss...’ Mr Lovell gave a pointed look to the chaperon.

‘Watson,’ Amy supplied.

‘Then, Miss Watson, please return to the pavilion to check the dancers. If you do not find her there, proceed systematically towards the east. We will search west and enlist any friends we find along the way to help us. We will find her in no time, I am sure.’

His voice was like a soothing balm on Amy’s nerves. On some level, she had always enjoyed the rumbling bass sound of it, as he had argued with her over every small thing. But now it was even and calm. With each word it loosened the grip of the panic that had taken her.

He reached out to take her arm. ‘Come, Miss Summoner. Do not distress yourself. Let us locate your sister and set your mind at rest.’

For a moment, she hesitated. If she accepted his help and they found Belle in some unfortunate or compromising situation, would he use it to his advantage?

He sensed her misgivings and answered the question she hadn’t asked. ‘Let us worry over our previous conversation at a later time. For now, we must locate Miss Arabella. It is probably nothing, you know. In any case, I am the soul of discretion and you are in need of a friend.’

‘Thank you.’ She felt the last of her fear dissipate, replaced by confusion. She had always longed for a friend to share some of the burden of caring for Belle. But she’d never have thought such aid would come from Benjamin Lovell. Now he was leading her deeper into the park, stopping at each attraction to search the people assembled there.