By the time he went into the salon for the arranged meeting with the awaiting Penelope who reclined upon a divan, he no longer had an interest in tupping her. Instead, he did nothing more than tell her she ought not to meet alone with a man of his character.
Undeterred, she’d pouted her lips and argued with him while drawing her skirts up her legs, inch by glorious inch. For all he knew, some other man had ruined her and she thought he was her way out, just like Miss Waltham.
“If you hope to tame or trap me, my lady, by offering your body, you are to be sadly disappointed. I bid you go back to the party before you are missed.”
Ignoring the surprised and hurt look on her face, he’d returned to the dining room to finish his brandy. A few of the other men gave him knowing looks. He nodded, but wanted to roll his eyes.
What foul creatures his fellow sex were!
Long after he’d seen Miss Bright depart with her father, she’d flitted through his thoughts. Actually, she’d lingered there!
He knew he ought not desire her as he did. He should try to think of her as his ward for the next few weeks or even like a sister, and not as a luscious woman. Yet she was precisely that — warm and soft, full-breasted and, as his hand had discerned, she had a perfectly round arse meant for squeezing.
“Fool,” he muttered aloud, having undressed down to his stockings, which he now removed before falling back onto his splendidly comfortable bed. She was his ticket to a lucrative brandy endeavor and was the only thing that stood between him and Miss Waltham’s machinations.
Therefore, although Miranda was charming, sweet, and clever — not to mention alluring as any Cyprian — she was also innocent and naïve. And he must stop obsessing about her.
Groaning, Philip closed his eyes and tried to forget the taste of her and her fragrance. Mostly, he tried to banish her face from his mind. He ought to have tupped Lady Penelope.
Better yet, he ought to have stopped at one of his favorite houses and let a professional see to his urges, one who would neither point a finger at him, nor worm her way into his affections.
Too late!As usual, the bliss of clean sheets and a soft pillow stole him away to the land of nod, where he dreamed of a hazel-eyed beauty.
Chapter Nine
Miranda had hardly been able to sleep the night before or think of anything all day except for Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. Even the name seemed mysterious and thrilling.
Before Lord Mercer arrived at seven, she had already kissed her father’s cheek, promised to be careful, and made sure her aunt was entirely ready. Accordingly, the baron had barely taken a step into the foyer when Miranda entreated, “Let us get going!”
Once settled in his carriage, she decided to pretend the indiscretion at the Hartwells’ dinner party never happened. She’d written down every moment, and it was time to move on from his “lesson.”
“Lord Mercer,” she said to catch his attention since his gaze was fixated on the window and the view beyond. It couldn’t be that he didn’t want to look her in the eyes.Could it?“Will we go by boat?”
Aunt Lucinda gave a deep sigh, nearly a groan. A river crossing was obviously not her preference, but Miranda was keen for the short voyage across the Thames to Lambeth.
Lord Mercer dashed her hopes. “It will be quicker and more comfortable to go by carriage over the Regent Bridge.”
Miranda supposed getting there more quickly was a fair trade. Perhaps they would go again another evening and she could insist upon the full experience of going by boat from the Thames northern shore.
“Although despite Prinny’s pleasure at the bridge’s name,” Lord Mercer continued, “I believe it shall swiftly be renamed Vauxhall Bridge since that’s all anyone is calling it.”
When they crossed the newly built bridge, the view did make it an adventure, and soon, they were on the south side with Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens directly at hand.
Miranda was trembling with excitement. Off to the side, she could see some people arriving in wherries from the dock at Westminster or from London proper. She shook off her envy and entered through the proprietor’s house. They didn’t dally long inside, although she was shown a retiring room should she need it.
Then they stepped out the back of the house into the gardens. People ambled everywhere creating a gentle hum of noise, and wherever her gaze landed, there were prettily painted buildings and sculptures, arches and columns. Music floated from a round building that seemed to be in the center of the treeless area to her right.
“Gracious! It’s the most wonderful thing I have ever seen,” she said, only realizing she’d stopped in her tracks to gawk when Lord Mercer took her arm and urged her forward.
He gave a short laugh. “You haven’t really seen much yet, Miss Bright. I will give you the grand tour, but first we must claim our supper box and order our meal.”
Glancing behind to make sure her aunt was following, she let him lead her on.
“I believe I can smell the supper already. Eating outdoors at a proper table,” she said. “How divine!”
“You’re currently on the Grand Walk,” Lord Mercer told her. “It continues all the way to the end of the establishment to the stone wall in the distance.”
However, Miranda wasn’t looking to the far end, she was glancing right and left at all the hundreds of people milling around.
