16
Richard strolled at a measured pace along the graveled paths of Vauxhall Gardens, his hands clasped behind his back, the soft crunch beneath his boots a quiet counterpoint to the distant strains of music and laughter. Colorful glass lanterns flickered above their heads, suspended like stars caught in a whimsical net of wire and silk. He watched Miss Theodosia with veiled intensity, noting the way her eyes shimmered with unabashed wonder as she took in the fantastical scene around her.
When his mother had first suggested that he accompany Olivia and Miss Theodosia on this excursion, he had scoffed. The very idea had seemed absurd. He had more pressing matters to attend to—accounts to review, correspondence to manage, and Mr. Smith to unmask. But then he had recalled the gleam in Miss Theodosia’s eyes when she spoke of Vauxhall Gardens, and against his better judgment, he had agreed to go.
And here he was, entirely at odds with himself.
Botheration.
His heart was becoming far too entangled with Miss Theodosia. It was dangerous—foolish. Perhaps the wisest coursewould be to send her away altogether, to sever this growing attachment before it bound him too tightly. But that would also mean forfeiting the only remaining link to Mr. Smith. No, he needed her still. At least until Smith returned to claim her. And Richard would be waiting.
Miss Theodosia might present the image of innocence, all bright smiles and eager curiosity, but Richard remained unconvinced. She knew more than she had admitted. He was certain of it. It was only a matter of time before he would uncover the truth.
His thoughts were interrupted by Olivia’s voice. “You are being awfully quiet, Brother.”
“I am merely enjoying the gardens,” he replied, keeping his tone light in hopes of deflecting her scrutiny.
Miss Theodosia turned towards him, her face alight with excitement. “Aren’t they magical? I have never seen anything quite like them.”
“They are rather extravagant,” he admitted, though his eyes lingered more on her than their surroundings. “But you’ve yet to see the stone and thatched pavilions. They are quite a sight.”
She pointed towards a nearby sham castle, where ladies swung from ropes and umbrellas were tucked neatly beneath ivy-laced trellises. “Look at that! And those umbrellas—how quaint.”
“They’re for shelter,” Olivia explained with a smile. “In case of sudden rain.”
But Miss Theodosia barely acknowledged her. She had already turned her attention to the colorful lanterns strung from the branches above, their hues dancing like fireflies across her face. “I feel as though I’ve stepped into a fairy tale,” she declared.
“Wait until you see the Grand Walk,” Richard said, unable to resist responding to her delight. “A wide avenue flanked by elms, with even more lanterns overhead.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh! I must get a closer look,” she said, darting off.
Richard chuckled under his breath. “Her enthusiasm is remarkably contagious.”
“Good heavens,” Olivia muttered with a shake of her head. “We shall never leave if Dosia insists on inspecting every lantern and flowerbed.”
“I think it’s rather endearing.”
She turned a narrowed gaze on him. “I daresay you’re blinded by affection.”
He stiffened. “I do not hold affection for Miss Theodosia.”
“Of course not,” Olivia replied, feigning innocence. “You always volunteer for outings to crowded pleasure gardens. And you certainly do not hate people.”
“I do nothatepeople,” he said defensively. “Merely… most of them.”
“Mm.” Olivia raised a single brow. “It’s still telling that you’re here.”
“Mother suggested that I accompany you, for propriety’s sake,” he replied. “It was a far better option than Mother’s proposed Hyde Park excursion.”
“Regardless, do you not recall that I am a married woman? I require no chaperone.”
Richard cast a glance towards Miss Theodosia, who now stood beneath a cluster of lanterns, her hand lightly touching one as if to test its reality. “I know I don’t ask it enough, but how are you, truly?”
All humor faded from Olivia’s expression. “I am well.”
“The truth, Olivia.”
She looked away, her voice soft. “It’s been difficult… but I’ll survive.”
