“I believe there are still excellent fireworks and other events,” Mercy said, determined to enjoy herself.
Mama’s brow creased as a drunken man careened past. “Yes, but I’ll be glad when your father arrives.”
A lady in purple with tightly coiled grey curls approached the box. “Lady Baxendale, Lady Jane, such a pleasant evening is it not?” She ran her sharp eye over Mercy and Arabella. “I hope the young ladies enjoy the entertainments. I’m with Mrs. Jessop’s party, which is over there.” She waved her hand in a vague direction. “We have dined. The supper was delicious.”
“Lady Fountain is the worst gossip in theton,” Lady Jane said after the woman returned to her party. “It’s said that she is behind that pamphlet,Scandalous. Not even Byron was safe.”
“A good thing we have done nothing to warrant notice,” Mama said with a glance in Mercy’s direction.
Their supper was tasty, the chicken tender, the ham sliced thin, and the champagne chilled, which mollified her mother somewhat. She and Lady Jane were soon discussing the Season’s routs and balls yet to be held.
“And what do you think of Vauxhall, Lady Mercy?” Lord Northcliffe asked, leaning back and crossing one long leg over his knee.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Mercy replied. “It is exciting and yet, somewhat alarming at the same time.”
“You have four sisters I believe?”
“Yes. All married.”
“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Her Grace, Duchess of Harwood and the duke.”
“My sister is a renowned portrait painter,” Mercy said with a flush of pride.
He nodded. “Remarkable.”
Mercy raised her chin. “Is it remarkable for a lady to have a vocation? Or do you refer to her work?”
“I have not had the pleasure of seeing her art.” His handsome mouth quirked at the corners. “You have no need to snap off my head. I appreciate talent from both sexes.”
Lady Jane placed a hand on Arabella’s shoulder. “Lady Baxendale and I wish to view the Hogarth paintings. We shall be but a moment.”
They left the box and strolled away arm in arm through the Grove.
“I do hope we can dance,” Arabella said. “I wish we’d invited more gentlemen.”
“You shall have to make do with me,” Northcliffe said. “But first, you must excuse me, there is someone I must speak to.”
Mercy watched him hurry away. He seemed preoccupied tonight. As she and Arabella sat alone, the two bucks they had seen earlier appeared.
Arabella ran her handkerchief across her lips.
Mercy widened her eyes. “What are you doing?”
Arabella giggled as the two men walked over to their box.
“How d’you do.” The dark-haired man bowed. “I am Mr. Downing and my companion here is Mr. Lamont. We wish to invite you charming ladies to dance.”
“No…” Mercy had barely got the word out when Arabella rose.
“I should be delighted.” Arabella leant down close to Mercy’s ear. “Come on. One dance cannot hurt.”
“We shall be in serious trouble,” Mercy murmured. She didn’t like the look of either of the men and had no desire to dance with them. Shaking her head at the eager Mr. Lamont, she searched the grounds for her mother, but could not spy her amongst the crowd roaming the Grove.
Arabella was already leaving the box. “My brother said he’d only be a moment. He will dance with you when he returns.”
Arabella walked away through the throng, her hand tucked in the crook of the gentleman’s arm. Mercy sat for a moment alone, concerned about her friend. Should she have gone with her? After another moment of indecision, she left the box, and hurried to keep sight of her friend’s daffodil yellow gown, but she was quickly swallowed up by the crowd.
Mercy had stopped, unsure what to do, when a voice sounded close to her ear. “May I assist?” Mr. Lamont asked in a silky tone.
