As they ate their food, Louisa continued to chatter, which was quite out of character for her. She seldom carried the conversation when he dined at Percy’s townhouse, nor was she overly talkative when he saw her out at the many gatherings of the Seasons. But if she’d never been to Vauxhall, there was much to see and all of it was rather remarkable on the first viewing. It was strange to find a girl so inexperienced, especially when he knew Percy held a season ticket to the place. ‘I suppose you have never seen the cascade,’ he said, when she stopped to take a breath.
Her nutmeg-brown eyes grew wide, and she gave her brother an expectant look.
He shrugged, again.
‘You have been neglecting your sister,’ Thomas said, cocking his head in the direction of the back of the park.
‘Couldn’t exactly bring her along the last time I came here,’ Percy replied with a grin.
‘Because you brought an opera dancer,’ she added, sipping her second glass of wine.
‘You are not supposed to know of such things,’ Percy chided.
‘You let slip more about her than you ever did about the attractions here,’ she said, draining her glass. Then, she turned back to Thomas. ‘What is the cascade?’
He shook his head. ‘It is better you see it than I try to describe it.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘The bell will ring at ten. We do not have much time.’
Percy leaned back in his chair and poured the last of the bottle into his glass. ‘You take her. I’ve had more than enough fun for the evening.’
For a moment, the usual Louisa returned and she gave him the same doubtful look she had that morning. Before she could ask about the need for a chaperone, he poured the remainder of his champagne into her glass and said, ‘Drink up.’
She looked surprised, as if she could not quite understand how she’d got more wine. Then, she drank. He stood and pulled her out of her chair. ‘Come along, little one. And prepare to be amazed.’
They moved with some difficulty through the mobs gathering towards the back of the park to the platform with the black curtain that contained the attraction. Their progress was slower than it might have been, for his companion was easily distracted and delightfully bosky.
He had never seen her drink more than a small glass before. She had always been cautious around him—
polite and cheerful, but reserved. But that had been during the Season, where everyone around her was watching her behaviour, ready to judge her against the other young ladies on the marriage mart.
She would probably be embarrassed tomorrow if she remembered. But there was no harm in it. She was perfectly safe in his company and there were no familiar faces in the crowd that might mock her for the lapse.
As the bell rang to signal the beginning of the display, he turned her gently towards the attraction and watched as they pulled back the curtain. The tableau was a painted backdrop of a woodland clearing with a bridge and a realistic mannequin of an old man whose pipe let out puffs of smoke. After a time, the song that played to accompany the scene gave way to the tinkling of bells to represent the running water of the cataract.
Beside him, Louisa let out a gasp of amazement as cleverly arranged sheets of tin, rattled and twisted into place, forming a waterfall cascading down the painted cliffs and under the bridge. ‘A clockwork,’ she whispered. ‘It is marvellous.’
He had seen it many times before. But tonight, he watched her watching it, the light sparkling in her eyes and her face transfixed. ‘Yes, very beautiful,’ he agreed quietly.
They watched it to the end, for it took just fifteen minutes from start to finish. As the crowd dispersed, she looked around them at the place where the lanterns were less numerous and the paths gave way to shady grottos. She looked up at him, nibbling on her lip.
He watched as her normally quick mind considered what she was about to say. Then she looked back into the gloom. ‘Are those the dark walks I have heard about?’
‘Yes,’ he said, reminding himself that, if she was safe with him, they should not be having this conversation. ‘And now, it is time to go back to your brother.’
‘Do not worry,’ she said with a deliberate nod. ‘I am not going to ask you to show them to me. That would be very improper.’
‘It would,’ he agreed with no small amusement.
‘But they were not mentioned in your little story about Mr Tom Smith,’ she said with the careful enunciation of one who wished to seem much more sober than they actually were. ‘Would he have taken her—I mean me—down that path, do you think?’
‘Would you have allowed him to?’ he asked, honestly curious.
She looked up at him, wide-eyed. ‘I do not know. No one has ever tried such a thing before.’
‘Never?’ he said. ‘No one has stolen a kiss from you in the moonlight at a ball. Or coaxed you down a dark hall at a house party?’
She scoffed, then dissolved into a giggle as light as a champagne bubble. ‘Certainly not. After three Seasons…’ She reached out a gloved finger and gave him a series of pokes to the chest. ‘Not a single kiss. It is probably some sort of a record.’ Then, she looked up at him and smiled.
That was indeed a crime. If she were any other girl, he would stray just a few feet into the darkness and remedy that lack immediately. If anything, it was proof that he was rightto help her gain her inheritance and get a fresh start. Such a sweet creature living and dying without a single kiss was a crime against nature.
