He grinned. “I’ve never seen a young lady attack cider so ferociously.”
Madeline flushed, and James tutted.
“For shame, cousin! Let the lady enjoy her cider. What do you think of the lights, Madeline?”
She glanced up at the countless lights strung across the terraces. Small candles were placed inside paper lanterns, suspended on ropes high above their heads. It filled the space with a buttery glow and a sense of warmth.
“They’re beautiful,” she said. “What shall we do while we wait for the fireworks to begin?”
“We could take a walk?” Dorothea suggested, eyeing the shadowy walkways dubiously. Countless paths crisscrossed the woodland around the terraces. Many of them were well-lit, but not all. Lovers with less than wholesome plans would choosethosepathways, but of course, respectable ladies would avoid them.
However, with people crowding everywhere, Vauxhall was perhaps one of the few places where a lady and her gentlemancouldwander off a little for a private conversation. Sometimes there would be hot-air balloon rides, or Punch-and-Judy shows, or singers. The entertainment was endless. There was, of course,food to be bought—gingerbread, pies, sweetmeats, sugared plums, and so on. A person could feast forever in Vauxhall.
Surrounded by sights, sounds, and smells, Madeline began to feel excited. She really had not gone to Vauxhall in a long time, and the place was so much more thrilling than she remembered.
And then a voice cut across the noise, clear and beautiful. A woman stood on a low platform a little way away, singing a tragic aria. Madeline stiffened.
“I say, they’ve got an opera singer!” James exclaimed, standing up on his tiptoes. “How glorious. She seems familiar. Who is she?”
“Miss Juliana Bolt,” Madeline muttered, not loud enough for James to hear. She felt Tristan’s eyes on her and resolved to behave as well as she could. Miss Juliana Bolt had a right to be here at Vauxhall, just like everybody else. They would avoid her; that was all.
“Tristan, do you see that stall over there with those cunningly made pieces of jewelry?” Dorothea gasped, looping her arm through her son’s. “How pretty they are! I see a delightful carved wooden pendant that a friend of mine would like. And that colored glass bracelet—Iwould like that. I think I will buy a few souvenirs. Would you escort me through the crowds? I think we have a little time before the fireworks begin, don’t we, James?”
“Of course, Aunt,” James responded. “Off you go, then. I’ll stay here with my cousin-in-law, and we’ll get to know each other a bit better. How does that sound, Madeline?”
She nodded and smiled. Tristan’s eyes landed on her briefly, then he let his mother tow him away through the crowds. The jewelry stall in question was only across the square, and so Madeline let her gaze follow them both. Being taller than just about everybody in the crowd, Tristan was easy enough to spot. That familiar warmth in her chest returned as she watched him, bowing his head to let his mother whisper in his ear.
He is so solicitous of her comfort and her health. He adores his mother. That’s a fine thing in a man, to love his mother. Papa always said that. Oh, heavens, now I miss Papa too.
I should talk to Papa about this business with Tristan.Not, of course, about what happened at the opera, but I could tell him that I feel drawn to him, and I believe that he is fond of me. Perhaps he can shed some light on what I ought to do next. I fear that Tristan will soon lose interest in me and leave my company for someone else. But perhaps I am being silly. Perhaps Papa thinks otherwise. Maybe…
“I hope you don’t mind my engineering this opportunity for us to be alone together,” James said suddenly. “But I could really think of no other way to do it. I don’t imagine we’ll have many chances to speak privately, do you?”
Madeline froze, her fingers tightening around her mug of cider. She glanced warily up at the man, trying to assess what wasnow going on. He didn’tlooklike he was about to do something ridiculous, like declare his love for her and threaten to challenge Tristan to a duel, but how else was one supposed to interpret such a speech?
“And why are you so keen to speak to me alone?” she managed at last, feeling that clarity was the best way to get to the bottom of all this.
James sipped his cider and shot her a wry smile.
“Not for the reason you think, I imagine. You seem like an excellent sort of person, Madeline. Any fellow ought to be thrilled to see you marry his beloved cousin. But then, of course, not every fellow hasTristanas his cousin.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “I know Tristan well. I know his… his habits. I’ve been acquainted with most of his mistresses. Do forgive the vulgar reference to those women, but you cannot be unaware.”
Madeline swallowed, staring down into the murky depths of her cider.
“I am not, but Tristan and I have agreed not to embarrass each other. He wants me to trust him.”
“The trouble with Tristan is that, at the moment, he thoroughly means a thing,” James said slowly and tensely. “He might tell awoman he cares for her, or that another woman means nothing to him, or that he wants them to trust each other fully. At the moment, he really does mean it. But then the moment passes. I… I have never known Tristan to keep such promises, no matter how often he makes them. It’s all his father’s fault, you know.”
“His father?”
“Oh, yes. The old duke was a selfish, self-serving fool who took pleasure in cruelty. He was keen to raise his sons the same way, and for the most part, he succeeded.”
Madeline swallowed dryly. “Tristan does nottake pleasurein cruelty.”
“Take pleasure in it? No, no. But he does not recognize cruelty when he sees it. It is just ordinary to him. He watched his father humiliate and betray his mother, over and over again, as if it were as ordinary a thing as taking supper together. He does not feel the sting of betrayal the way he should. Tonight, for example, he might sneak off for a trystwith that opera singer of his and think nothing of any promises he made to you. I imagine he might try to make sure you don’t find out, but that would be all. I suppose,” he added, with a dry laugh, “if you and I could do as we liked with no repercussions, the way the Duke of Tolford can, we would probably exercise that right, don’t you think?”
