Page 35 of Sinfully Daring

The gardens at Dern Palace were always magnificent but now, on a perfect summer’s day with flowers blooming all around them and the five hundred members of the ton arrayed in their finery, it seemed like something from a fairytale. There were marquees set up with tables and chairs, each one decorated with silver and crystal and flowers and fine linen tablecloths. There was boating on the lake and music from an orchestra, games for all ages to enjoy and entertainments from jugglers to magicians, to poetry recitals and readings from famous authors.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Aggie admitted, her eyes wide with wonder.

Cat linked their arms together as they strolled among the guests. With summer dresses in jewel tones and pastels, the glamorous society women looked like exotic butterflies, their skirts rustling like wings as they admired the gardens and each other, not to mention the men. As it was an event meant for families to attend, the place was thronged with children, which was a wonderful thing as it meant Cat and Aggie and their friends got to be a part of the fun for once, instead of watching from a distance before being ushered off to bed.

“Shall we get something to eat? There’s such a marvellous amount of food, every delicious thing you could think of,” Cat said with a laugh.

“Strawberry scones?” Aggie asked hopefully.

“Yes, of course! I asked especially as I know they’re your favourite.”

“You did?” Aggie stared at her with delight. “Thank you, Cat. You are a wonderful friend.”

“Of course I am. I am the very best of best friends, but only because you are too.” Cat grinned at her and then stopped in her tracks with a little gasp, her heart giving an erratic thud in her chest.

“What—?” Aggie began, but Cat clapped a hand over her mouth, smothering her question.

“Hush.”

Aggie’s eyes widened with surprise, but she turned her head to follow Cat’s gaze. Cat’s hand fell away, and she gave a wistful sigh.

“Oh, would you just look at him? Isn’t he magnificent?”

Aggie frowned, a sceptical expression on her face but Cat didn’t care. To her eyes, the Marquess of Kilbane was everything the villain ought to be, before the heroine redeemed him, anyway. Tall and dark and compelling, he moved through the crowd like a predator, all lean grace and danger.

“He’s a bad ’un,” Aggie observed frankly, folding her arms. “You ought to stay away from him.”

“He’s a bad one,” Cat corrected gently, having promised to help Aggie with her diction. “Though really one ought to say, he’s ‘no gentleman.’”

“Hmph. Whatever you call him, I should keep well away.”

“Oh, don’t be a bore, Aggie. Let’s follow him!” Cat said, suddenly inspired by the idea.

“What? No!” Aggie shook her head, appalled.

“Oh, please. Pleeease,” Cat cajoled, jumping up and down. “I want to see who he talks to and hear what they say. Most respectable people won’t give him the time of day, which he probably says is just how he likes it, but I think it must be rather lonely, don’t you?”

“Cat,” Aggie said, her voice stern. “You’re getting romantic notions about the villain again, aren’t you?”

“So what if I am?” Cat retorted, a little indignant.

“Ugh! You’ve got to stop falling in love with the baddies. They always come to a sticky end, you know that! And any heroine who gets tangled with them gets into a dreadful fix.”

“Oh, pish. That’s just in the stories, and you hardly ever find a heroine with an ounce of pluck. Why they must go swooning five times a day is beyond me. I wouldn’t swoon if the villain carried me off.”

“No, you’d probably suggest a more efficient way of doing it,” Aggie replied darkly.

Cat shrugged. “The only decent heroines are the ones by the Duchess of Bedwin, and the mysterious author of those two books, and I shall discover who that person is, you mark my words.”

Aggie sighed.

“Oh, come along, he’ll be lost in the crowd if you don’t move,” Cat pleaded, taking Aggie’s hand and towing her behind as she hurried along.

Rosamund sipped at the chilled glass of lemonade, relishing the tart sweetness. It truly was a splendid garden party. Though Lady Montagu’s parties were always the highlight of the year, it was rare for her to entertain at Dern. The marquess guarded his privacy fiercely and did not enjoy opening the magnificent place to the public. This, naturally, had made it the most anticipated event of the summer.

Searching the crowd, Rosamund hoped she might glimpse Evie, who ought to be here somewhere, though she despaired of finding anyone on purpose. The guests were simply too many to expect to find a particular person, so one simply strolled about and waited to see who appeared.

Beside her, Rosamund’s sister, Eliza, was chatting to her friend, Elspeth, Lady Roxborough, and cooing over her baby son, Samuel. Lord Roxborough, known universally as ‘Dare’, was trying his best to soothe their two-year-old daughter, Araminta, who was wailing about something and refused to go to her nanny.