Page 57

Equally, there were opportunistic fops and fools who came to ogle the women and grasp whatever diversion might come their way, and the pickpockets and tricksters inevitably drawn to every crowd. The performers too, singers, dancers and acrobats, along with the itinerant musicians who entertained the guests, all dressed in their fantastic costumes, drifted in gay knots among the guests.

Suddenly, through this kaleidoscope of humanity, Sybella noticed the tall dark figure of a man she knew, who had begun to feature prominently in her thoughts. Mr Brabazon was strolling with a beautifully dressed woman on his arm. She felt her throat constrict as she watched them approach, he inclining his head to hear his companion’s words then smiling down at the lovely face tilted towards his gaze. Mr Brabazon’s usually sardonic, rather forbidding expression was lighter and more relaxed as if he was entirely at ease. Sybella disliked feeling that she was intruding on something private but disliked more the sickening clutch round her heart. Was this powerful emotion that gripped her an unaccustomed jealousy? And if it was, why? She had no rights over this man who puzzled and disconcerted her, whom she felt she was only now beginning to know.

As the couple drew alongside the supper boxes, Sybella realised this woman was not Mrs Markham, who had been flaunted by Lord Rockliffe at Lady Godley’s party. She was younger, with hair the colour of dark corn, and Mr Brabazon seemed so relaxed in her company it suggested a long, affectionate acquaintance. This distressed Sybella all the more. The lady was not just a passing fancy. At the point of recognition, Sybella had tried to withdraw out of sight to the back of the box, but Mr Brabazon’s glance suddenly met her shocked eyes. He too, looked taken aback and then amused. For a moment, it seemed as if he was about to stop and greet her, but Sybella shook her head almost imperceptibly, desperate that he should just pass on by.

She stood up, determined to find Lady Godley in the Bedford supper box opposite. She was in need of a walk to explore the Gardens more. As she left, a single drop of the rain that had threatened all day splashed on her cheek, but she was distracted by her teeming thoughts. In a hurry, she almost ran from the box, straight into Lord Rockliffe.

‘My dear Mrs Lovatt. We meet again.’ His voice as smooth as his appearance. As usual, he was dressed all in black and his handsome dissolute face suddenly seemed rather more attractive than Sybella remembered.

‘Oh, Lord Rockliffe, how good to see you.’ She was a trifle breathless.

He looked rather surprised at the warmth of her welcome and offered his arm with a bow. ‘May I escort you anywhere, Madam?’

‘I was hoping to see more of the Gardens. It’s an age since my first visit and I’ve only seen a small part of what seems to be an even more extravagant show.’

‘You don’t know what you’re missing, my dear. This place offers a veritable cornucopia of pleasures.’ He had leaned in to talk quietly through the noise and Sybella felt the hair rise on her neck in a frisson of excitement and fear. She had been unsettled now for more than a week and this evening had unmoored her further and made her reckless. Tired of being sensible and reliable, she wished above all to experience what these famous Gardens had to offer, before she left London to return to her old life in Wiltshire: having the rather devilish Lord Rockliffe show her the diverse wonders of this world offered a different appeal from that of surveying them with Lady Godley, as she had intended.

He sauntered with her on his arm down the Grand South Walk where they drew not a few interested quizzes. Lord Rockliffe’s reputation was a wanton one and he was a fruitful subject of gossip. He seemed quite unconcerned and turned to her with his raffish smile. ‘After a while, we come to the triumphal arches,’ he said, pointing to some rococo edifice hung with lights.

‘I think I find the splendid brightness of the illuminations the most remarkable thing of all. We are so used to candlelight, these coloured globes are almost magical.’ Sybella was gazing up at the garlands of lights strung on brackets between posts like festoons of glowing fruit.

‘If we turn to the right here, we come to Druids Walk.’ Without warning, they were in a much less well-lit area of trees and temples, mysterious in the shadows.

There was a sudden flash of lightning which for a moment dazzled the night sky, quite overmastering the lights of Vauxhall Gardens with its supernatural brilliance. Startled faces looked upwards. Stifled cries were heard. This precursor of the storm was followed quickly by a distinct and rumbling thunder that seemed to be rolling round the heavens, just overhead. The heavy rain drop that had fallen as Sybella left the protection of the Duke’s supper box suddenly became part of a torrent.

‘Oh, no! I should have brought my pelisse with me.’ She put her hands up in a vain attempt to protect her hair.

‘Nothing’s going to protect you from this, I’m afraid. Quick, come this way.’ Lord Rockliffe took her hand and ran with her into a small grotto hidden among the trees. Sybella was whisked into the shelter with a practised arm around her waist. She fell back against the shell-encrusted walls, laughing with surprise and relief at being safe from the storm.

Lord Rockliffe and Sybella looked at each other across the dim interior, their faces wet with rain. His bore an odd smile of triumph and desire that alarmed her. Her adventure into recklessness had been enjoyable for a very short while. She watched him slowly take out a linen handkerchief and offer to dry her face. Wordlessly, she shook her head, dashing her hand over her cheeks. She looked down at her lovely silver dress and was horrified to see it ruined, hanging limply and rather too clingingly to her form. She saw his eyes follow hers.

‘What shall we do, my beautiful widow, to while away the time until the storm passes?’

‘I think I should be getting back to the Duke of Ely’s supper box before they miss me.’

‘They’ll all be sheltering. It will be quite a while before anyone will be going anywhere.’ His voice was gentle and insinuating as they both looked out at the sheet of water hammering out of the sky. Sybella was suddenly very cold. She thought she could make a run for it, but Lord Rockliffe’s tall frame blocked her escape, and she was not aware of which way they had come and how to find her way back.

She made out two spindly chairs and a small card table in the ill-lit grotto. ‘Come and sit down. Let’s talk. I have been meaning to ask you why you and Mr Brabazon do not like each other.’ Her voice was rather high and breathless, she knew, but she wished to use whatever guileful wit she possessed to find her way out of this threat. She sat down and pulled the table close.

‘Mrs Lovatt, let’s not insult each other’s intelligence.’ He was standing over her, leaning on the table. ‘You know I’ve found you devilishly attractive from the moment I first saw you.’

‘You may not have insulted my intelligence, but time and again, you’ve insulted my person!’ Her voice had risen in outrage and immediately she regretted showing any passion as his eyes glinted with the thrill of battle.

‘I think you have forgotten what it feels like to be desired,’ he murmured as he lifted her chin with an inexorable hand. Her defiant eyes met his coldly mocking gaze. Sybella felt anger surge in her as her hand swung up to slap him. But she was not quick enough and Lord Rockliffe caught her arm and pulled her to her feet. In an instant, his right arm was tight around her waist and he lifted her effortlessly from her place of safety. Expertly he had clasped both her hands behind her back and crushed her hard against his chest.

His other hand irresistibly tipped her face close to his. ‘Let me go!’ she said fiercely. ‘I will scream if you don’t let me go.’

‘I’m afraid, my dear, with this rain there’s no one to hear you.’ He bent his head to press his lips urgently against hers.

The warmth of him and the intimacy shocked her. She pulled her head free. ‘How dare you!’

‘Very easily, my dear, very easily indeed.’ He smiled down at her with an odd sneer. ‘You disappoint me. I didn’t think you’d be quite so prim and prudish.’ His lips began to travel lightly down her neck and across her collarbone. Sybella was trapped in his vicelike grip but suddenly saw the possibility of resistance. His dark head was moving down to her breastbone and by turning her head, she managed to grasp his ear between her teeth and clamp down hard.

Lord Rockliffe pulled back in shock and his grip on her hands momentarily loosened. She twisted free and dashed towards the exit, but he blocked her way with his arm and an extended boot. She turned to face him, her eyes blazing.

‘You’re not such a demure miss after all!’ he said appreciatively as he put his hand to his injured ear. ‘Not a beautiful widow, in fact, more a hellcat! Devil take me, but I enjoy a fight.’ He grabbed her round the waist and swung her off her feet. Just as Sybella scratched his cheek with a frantic hand, she noticed a dark figure at the entrance, blocking what light there was.

Suddenly, Mr Brabazon sprang forward and, tackling Lord Rockliffe from behind, clamped his arm across his throat. Her assailant let out a startled cry, which was silenced by the pressure on his neck. Mr Brabazon released him and the two old adversaries faced each other.