The Wedding Game(25)

‘How old were you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ He was looking ahead of them into the crowd and his question had seemed to come from nowhere.

‘How old were you when your mother died?’

‘Five,’ she said, equally distant. She had been so small. But Belle had been even smaller. From the first moment she’d seen her, Amy had known that the tiny baby with the blue-tinged skin was in need of protection.

‘Ten,’ he muttered in response.

She tightened her hand on his arm, waiting for explanation.

‘I was ten when my father died. Old enough to remember what it was like before I was forced to become man of the house.’

‘I am sorry,’ she said, in response to the familiar pain of loss she recognised in the words.

‘But you were not much more than a babe yourself. Where was your father in all this?’

‘At first, he was lost in grief for our mother. But when Parliament was in session he had the business of governance. We were too young to come to London for the Season. We were left in the country.’

‘And you took it upon yourself to be sure that things ran properly while he was gone,’ he finished. ‘You cried yourself to sleep at night, didn’t you? And woke each morning afraid to leave your bed, lest this be the day you failed in your mission and everything fell apart.’

‘How did you know?’ she whispered.

He answered with the sad smile of someone who had spoken from experience. ‘I slept better after I went to live at Cottsmoor. In time, there were new things to disturb my dreams. But when I was removed from their cause, the old fears subsided.’

‘Are you are suggesting that I let her go?’ Amy said slowly. ‘I do not know how.’ Though she wanted to resist, the idea of gaining her own freedom was more seductive than any man had been.

‘When she marries, you will have to,’ he said.

But that had not been the plan. She was not going to abandon her sister. She just needed someone to share the duties. If there was a man she could talk honestly to, who understood Belle’s difficulties and was clearheaded in crises, her life would be much easier. After talking to him tonight, it seemed that Benjamin Lovell might be just the husband she had been looking for.

The husband for Belle, she reminded herself. For a moment, she had lost sight of the goal altogether. Mr Lovell wanted to marry Belle and had just won her approval. But now that she had remembered it, why did the future feel so empty? Had she grown so used to defining her existence around the care of her sister that she could not imagine how to live life for herself?

Or was it because she took personal pleasure in leaning on Ben Lovell’s arm as they searched the park? She did not wish to marry him or anyone else. He was not the first man who had flirted with her. Whispers in darkened cupboards meant nothing to either of them. And though admirable, his help and concern tonight was no more than she’d have expected from any honourable gentleman.

But in her heart, she wanted it to be more. It was likely proof that she was becoming the frustrated spinster he’d accused her of being. None of this mattered if Belle was lost. She must not be wasting energy speculating when there were more pressing matters to attend to. She scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. ‘We have been to the acrobats, the supper rooms and down the colonnade, but no one has seen her. Where could she have gone?’

‘I think it is time that we look in the areas that are not so well lighted,’ he said, in an offhand manner.

It was exactly the place she most feared to find her sister. With their dim, winding pathways, the dark walks of Vauxhall were a notorious meeting place for young lovers. More than one gentleman had suggested the place to her during her first year out. Some had even succeeded in taking her there. But even then she had been far more worldly than Belle and knew when to call a halt to straying hands and lips.

She swallowed her dread. ‘Let us go, then. Quickly.’

He patted the hand in the crook of his arm. ‘Are you not afraid of what people will say, should they see us there together?’

‘They will probably assume you are taking your life in your hands,’ she snapped. ‘But I do not care what they think, as long as they do not suspect the truth.’

Despite the seriousness of the situation, he chuckled. ‘Take heart, Amelia. If you have the presence of mind to be sarcastic, things cannot be too dire.’ Then he led her forward, out of the light.

It was just as she remembered it. The hundreds of lanterns that hung in the trees over the rest of the park became a distant glow that disappeared once they passed the first curve in the path. The only light remaining was the glimmer of moonlight filtered through the trees above them. They paused for a moment so that their eyes could adjust to the darkness. But now he was the one who hesitated and she was the one to tug his arm to lead him forward.

‘A moment, please,’ he said, still rooted to the spot, ‘while I decide how best to go on.’

She snorted. ‘You act as if you have never been here before.’

There was a profound silence from the man at her side.

‘Really, sir? Do not tell me...’

‘If one wishes to kiss a pretty girl, it is not necessary to drag her into the bushes,’ he said, irritably.

‘Nor is it necessary to drag her into a closet,’ she replied.