Notorious Pleasures (10 page)

He might still.

“Two old women were taken last week by the Duke of Wakefield’s informers,” Freddy was saying. “Makes the others fearful-like.”

“Have any given up their carts?” Charlie asked gently.

Freddy shrugged, his eyes fixed over Charlie’s shoulder. “Not yet. They’ll sell gin as long as it makes ’em money, but with the informers about, they ’ave to watch their step, move more often.”

“It’s costing us money.”

Freddy shrugged again.

Charlie picked up a pair of carved bone dice from the tabletop, idly rolling them between his fingers. “Then we’ll have to see to the informers, won’t we?”

Freddy nodded, his gaze glancing away.

“What about our plans for St. Giles?”

“MacKay has left London.” Freddy straightened a bit as if glad to be the bearer of good news. “And I ’ad word this morning that Smith was inside ’is still when we blew it. ’E’s alive, but the burns are bad. They say ’e won’t live more ’n another day or so.”

“Good.” Charlie opened his hand to stare at the dice in his palm. “And my lord Reading?”

“ ’E’s put all ’is business into one building.” Freddy scowled. “It’s got an outer wall, and ’e ’as armed guards inside. It’s going to be ’ard as ’ell to attack.”

“Yet attack it we will.” Charlie let the dice fall from his fingers. An ace and a
sice—
a six. Seven was always a lucky number. He grunted, pleased. “Tonight, I think.”

She, Mandeville, and Phoebe had traveled together to one of the stairs leading down to the Thames. Harte’s Folly lay south of the river, and they’d need to take boats to arrive there. Lady Margaret, Lord Bollinger, Lady Caroline, and Lord Huff, arriving in a separate carriage, had already descended the stairs and were no doubt entering a boat right now.

The carriage lanterns cast pools of light that were reflected on the wet cobblestones. It had rained earlier in the day, but the sky was clear now, a few stars already lighting the night. It was unseasonably warm for October—perfect for visiting a pleasure garden.

Hero tilted her face to look up at the moon flirting with a wispy cloud. “He said he’d meet us by the steps. I should think he’ll be here soon.”

“My brother often has business of his own,” Mandeville said neutrally. “Please don’t be disappointed, Lady Phoebe, if he does not join us.”

“Oh,” Phoebe said, looking downcast despite Mandeville’s admonition.

Hero felt a spurt of anger. How dare Reading disappoint Phoebe? No doubt he was in some woman’s bed even as they stood here waiting for him.

“Come, darling,” Hero said briskly. “Let’s walk down to the river. It’ll take a few minutes to ready the boat, and Reading may yet arrive.”

“A sensible plan.” Mandeville smiled in approval. “The stairs are slippery. Will you take my arm, Lady Hero?”

He proffered his arm, but she backed up a step, frowning. “Please take Phoebe. I’ll follow behind.”

He looked at her quizzically. “As you wish.”

He offered his elbow to Phoebe, and she took it, shooting Hero a smile. Hero breathed a sigh of relief. Mandeville gestured to a footman with a lantern to precede them, and they started down.

Hero lifted her skirts to peer at the steps underneath as she began her own descent. The stairs were medieval, narrow, and built against the river wall, completely open on the other side. The wind shifted, blowing the smell of the river at her: rotting fish and wet mud, and beneath that the scent of ancient water flowing endlessly to the sea.

Both she and Phoebe wore feathered half-masks and colorful gowns. Phoebe was in a delicious orchid and cream while Hero felt rather daring in bright red with ruby underskirts and decorative bows. Mandeville in contrast was in a black domino and half-mask.

Hoofs clattered on the cobblestones above them. Hero turned to peer over her shoulder, her hand braced against the slimy wall. She wobbled as her heel caught on the edge of the step, her foot twisting and her weight dipping as she lost her balance. Her heart swooped into her belly.

“Careful!” Large, masculine hands grasped her arms, pulling her back against a hard chest. “That’s a long way down.”

“Thank you.” Hero’s pulse still fluttered in her throat. “I’m fine now.”

“You’re sure?” Reading’s voice was deep and somehow intimate in the still night air. He hadn’t loosened his hold on her.

Below them, Mandeville and Phoebe had halted on the small platform where the stairs turned.

Mandeville looked up. “Coming?”

His face was shadowed in the dark, but Hero caught an edge to his voice.

She pulled and Reading let her arms slide from his grasp. “Yes, we’ll be there soon.”

Mandeville nodded, turning and continuing down the stairs.

“You’re late,” Hero murmured as she carefully stepped down.

“Why must everyone tell me that?”

“Because you seem to be continually late?”

“Don’t you think I’m aware of the time and my tardiness?”

“No,” she said clearly and distinctly as if speaking to a slow child, “because if you
knew
the time, you wouldn’t be continually
late
.”

Behind her Reading exhaled a laugh. “Touché, my Lady Perfect.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” His breath seemed to stir the small hairs at the nape of her neck. “Are you not perfection itself?”

She repressed a shiver. “Whether I am or not, I’m certainly not
yours
.”

“Pity,” he whispered.

They were at the turning in the stairs and she stopped suddenly. “
What
did you say?”

“Pretty.” He raised innocent eyebrows at her. “You and your sister are very pretty tonight.”

She stared at him and for the life of her didn’t know what to think. His pale green eyes were shadowed behind a black half-mask and domino, and what she could see of his expression was relaxed—but his hand was fisted by his side. Suddenly she was out of breath, the sensation of falling making her sway.

“Careful,” he whispered tenderly.

Her eyes dropped to his lips, wide and sensuous, framed by the black of the mask covering his upper face, and she wondered wildly what he tasted like.

“Do hurry, Griffin!” Lady Caro called from the bottom of the stairs.

Hero turned jerkily, glad the dark hid her face from those below. She descended the remainder of the stairs, very conscious all the while of the large male shadowing her.

“Glad you could join us, Griffin,” Mandeville drawled when they reached the bottom.

The rest of the party was gathered by the stone dock where two low boats were drawn up. Lady Caroline wore a sapphire dress and half-mask that complemented Lord Huff’s deep blue domino. Lady Margaret wore yellow with pink embroidery and bows. Her escort, Lord Bollinger, a slight young man, was in a black domino.

“Phoebe, this is Lord Griffin Reading,” Hero said rather breathlessly. “Lord Griffin, my sister, Lady Phoebe.”

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” Reading said as he bowed gallantly over Phoebe’s hand. “Please forgive me.”

“Not at all.” Phoebe darted a nervous glance at Hero. “There’s nothing to forgive. You’ve arrived just in time.”

“Then let us proceed,” Mandeville said. “Huff, would you like to take my sisters and Lord Bollinger in that boat and we’ll take this one?”

Lord Huff nodded once. “Good plan.”

“My dear?” Mandeville held out his hand to Hero.

She took his hand and stepped gingerly into the barge. Lanterns were affixed to tall posts at either end of the boat, and the long benches were covered in soft cushions.

“Comfortable?” Mandeville asked her.

“Yes, thank you.” Hero smiled at him. He really was quite solicitous of her welfare.

“Watch your step,” Reading said as he helped Phoebe inside. “Wouldn’t want you to have to swim the river.”

Phoebe giggled as she sat next to Hero. “Oh, this is wonderful! The river is like a fairy kingdom at night.”

Hero looked over the water. Lights lit it here and there, coming from boats like theirs, the lanterns reflected in the water. The oars squeaked and splashed as the two wherrymen labored at the stern, and the sound of distant laughter, high and light, floated over the water. Despite the strong river stink, it was rather magical.

“Will there be fireworks, do you think?” Phoebe asked.

“Guaranteed,” Reading said.

He and Mandeville sat across from them. Their black dominos made them nearly look alike in the dim light. But where Mandeville sat upright, his hands braced on his knees, Reading sprawled, legs spread wide apart, arms crossed on his chest.

Hero hastily looked away from him, though there was no way to ignore him in such a small space. She thought of that breathless moment on the stairs when her eyes had locked with his. Of the fact that only yesterday he’d helped her with the home and discussed Herodotus with her, and the day before that she’d agreed to let him accompany her every time she went into St. Giles. She felt a dangerous unsteadiness as if she were still on the stairs about to fall. A trembling giddiness made up equally of expectation and guilt.

“Your mother and I took tea this afternoon,” she said to Mandeville. “She showed me the menu she has devised for our wedding breakfast.”

“Indeed?” He smiled indulgently as Reading glanced away at the water. “I hope it met with your approval?”

“I…” For some reason, she looked at Reading. As if he felt her gaze, he turned back to watch her. He widened his eyes mockingly at her. Hero inhaled, hoping the night hid her blush. “Yes. Yes, she’s planned a lovely celebration of our nuptials.”

Reading rolled his eyes.

“Good,” Mandeville said. “I’m so glad that you and Mother have become friends.”

“It would be hard not to.” Hero smiled with genuine warmth. “Your mother is lovely.”

Reading’s lips curled in amusement at that and he looked away.

“We’re nearly there,” Phoebe said. All this time she’d been peering out over the water. “That’s the dock, isn’t it?”

She glanced at Hero for confirmation.

Hero was aware that Reading’s attention was caught. He was staring at them curiously.

“Yes, dear,” she said, catching Phoebe’s hand. “That looks like the dock.”

But “dock” hardly did the landing area justice. A platform over the river was ablaze with lights, strung on poles. As they neared, Hero could see footmen in fantastic livery helping the rest of their party from their boat. Each footman wore a purple and yellow costume, but each was different: One man was in a striped coat with checkered stockings. Another wore a saffron-colored wig and a purple coat with yellow ribbons. And yet another had a bright yellow coat over a purple spotted waistcoat. They were all whimsical variations on a theme.

Their boat pulled into the dock, and a fellow in a lavender-powdered wig bent to help her from the boat. “Welcome to Harte’s Folly, my lady.”

“Thank you,” Hero said as the rest of her party disembarked.

Phoebe came to stand beside her. “Did you see the primrose in his wig?”

Hero turned and saw that indeed the footman wore a bright flower over his ear.

“I do hope that’s not a catching fashion,” Reading murmured. He caught Phoebe’s eyes. “I’d look rather foolish with tulips about my ears.”

Phoebe smothered a giggle with one hand.

“You’d look a right ass,” was Huff’s pronouncement.

“Thank you, Huff, for your opinion,” Reading said gravely.

Huff snorted.

Mandeville cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

He offered his arm to Hero, and she took it as they entered a wooded path. The trees about them were hung with fantastical fairy lights. Hero peered closer and saw that each was a blown glass globe, no bigger than her palm, encasing a light. Music drifted through the decoratively trimmed trees and hedges, growing louder as they advanced. The path suddenly opened, and they emerged from the trees into a wondrous theater.

A paved area spread out before them as if sprung from the forest floor. Behind that were artfully decaying ruins. If one looked closely, one could just see the orchestra playing between crumbling pillars. On either side, luxurious boxes rose, four levels high, some open, some curtained to give the occupants privacy.

A pretty maidservant, her hair intertwined with lavender and primrose ribbons, led them behind the boxes and up a carpeted stairs to a high box right on the stage.

“I say, this is cracking,” Lord Bollinger exclaimed. He was a quiet young man who seemed slightly overawed by Mandeville’s rank.

Lady Margaret squeezed her escort’s arm. “It’s simply wonderful, Thomas.”

Mandeville grinned, suddenly looking boyish. “Glad you’re pleased, Meg.”

Hero smiled up at him as he held a chair for her. “Thank you for arranging this evening.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He bowed, but as he rose, his eyes went over Hero’s shoulder and he seemed to stiffen.

The curtains parted at the back of their box, and a troop of servants entered with supper. Mandeville settled into the chair next to Hero as thinly sliced ham, wine, cheese, and prettily iced cakes were laid before them.

“A toast,” Huff mumbled, raising his glass. “To the beautiful ladies present tonight.”

“Oh, Huff,” Lady Caroline said, but she was blushing as she drank.

Hero smiled and sipped her own wine, but she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder as the others bantered. In the box opposite sat a lady with striking deep-wine-red hair. Three young and handsome gentlemen surrounded her, but the woman’s eyes were fixed on their box.

Hero followed her gaze. Mrs. Tate was watching Mandeville.