When she sent the message, she’d felt confident and assured of her purpose. His words from the garden had stayed with her, folding and twisting through her mind until she couldn’t quite rationalizenothelping him. It was a simple request, after all.
If he’d been telling the truth—and she was inclined to believe he was—about his friend being in danger, it felt terribly selfish to withhold whatever information she might have that could help him.
It was just a story; a family legend. She struggled to justify a significant reasonnotto share it. In truth, she doubted it would help much, but after considering it from all angles, she decided to send Waring the note. And though she hadn’t received a reply, she was fairly certain he would be there.
And so it was that the three cousins entered Vauxhall Gardens a few steps behind Bridget’s mother, each of them full of anticipation for very different reasons. They barely made it through the main gate before Lady Greenridge glanced back at them to say, “I must pay my respects to Prinny. Go on and enjoy your evening, girls. Don’t get into too much trouble,” she added with a wiggle of her fingers. And then she disappeared.
“And that’s the last we shall see of her until it is time to leave,” Bridget muttered wryly.
The baroness was somewhat notorious for being significantly lacking in propriety and good sense. She and Bridget’s father both preferred to socialize in fast sets of the demimonde. That Lady Greenridge was one of the illustrious Fairchilds was likely the only reason the couple hadn’t been ostracized from polite society. Notmany would dare to completely shun them, though rampant gossip was fair game. For these reasons, Bridget’s parents were not often seen accompanying the younger generation of Fairchilds to social events. Their reputation could easily be an obstacle to Bridget’s own success. Though Ralston was an utter stick-in-the-mud, his superior nobility and unquestionable propriety made him the best choice as escort by far.
Tonight, however, was a different sort of entertainment. The freedom Vauxhall allowed was not be underestimated.
Eleanor, Lydia, and Bridget were quite accustomed to the baroness’s reckless behavior and had learned long ago to handle themselves without chaperonage when necessary. Linking arms, they continued through the mass of people, their expressions displaying a mix of emotions ranging from awe, delight, curiosity, and subtle wariness.
Bridget bounced on her toes as her sparkling gaze darted about them. “There’s so much to explore. I want to see everything.”
“Did you know that when night falls, the park becomes illuminated with approximately fifteenthousandlamps?” Lydia asked as they merged with the rest of a growing crowd flowing along the grand walk and could already hear soft strains of music from the orchestra not far away.
“How interesting,” Eleanor replied, accustomed to Lydia’s love for random facts.
“Shall we start with the rotunda?” Lydia asked. “Or perhaps we could try to view the many paintings in the supper boxes before they fill up. I’d love to see the works by Hayman. I understand they’re quite dramatic.”
“We could take a stroll along the Dark Walk,” Bridget suggested in a dramatic whisper.
Lydia gave a snorting laugh, clearly not taking the suggestion seriously. “Right. And put ourselves at risk of encountering any manner of cads and scoundrels.”
“Cads and scoundrels don’t scare me,” Bridget retorted with a shrug. “I’ve encountered far too many in my life to view them with too great of concern.”
Lord and Lady Greenridge frequently hosted parties for their wild set and Bridget’s home was often occupied by one or more of her parents’ lovers. They tended to forget that their only child was still a young, unmarried girl. The many times she’d had to double the locks on her door to protect against the drunken wanderings of her parents’ guests was not amusing.
Lydia rolled her eyes. “I’ve no interest in the licentious behaviors that take place along the Dark Walk.”
“Yes,” Bridget drawled in amusement. “We know. Only lofty, intellectual pursuits for our Lydia.” She leaned forward to speak around Eleanor who strolled between them. “Someday, cuz, I’m going to laugh when you find yourself yearning for darkness like the rest of us.”
While Lydia snorted in disbelief. Eleanor frowned. “I don’t yearn for darkness.”
“Really?” Bridget teased.
“Of course you don’t,” Lydia noted with a firm nod and a sly glance. “That’s exactly why you arranged to meet with the viscountafterthe sun goes down.”
“Perhaps you’ve decided he’s worthcoveting, after all?” Bridget queried with a sly grin.
Eleanor blushed. She’d decided to tell her cousins about the assignation she planned. Mainly because she knew she’d never manage to meet with the viscount alone without their assistance. And she certainly couldn’t meet with him out in the open where people would notice. There had already been gossip about them being seen talking in Hyde Park and then there was that scene yesterday at her home. The more rumor and speculation that became attached to them, the worse it would be for her when he got what he wanted and turned hisattention elsewhere.
“I told you why I’m meeting with the man. And we’ll be nowhere near the Dark Walk.”
“I imagine there are darkened corners to be found all over the park,” Bridget noted. “And I suspect Waring knows exactly how to find them.”
Though something deep inside her tingled at the thought, Eleanor quickly shook her head. “Don’t create any fantasies about the man. I told you what he wants from me.”
“AndItoldyouthat I saw something in his eyes, dear cousin,” Bridget insisted. “The viscount desires you.”
With her stomach clenching, Eleanor retorted, “If he does, he’ll get over it soon enough, I’m sure.”
“But will you?” the other woman whispered.
Choosing to ignore the ridiculous comment, Eleanor suggested brightly, “Why don’t we stroll toward the Hermitage? We shall pass by the Chinese temples and the supper boxes along the way.”
