She smiled back. ‘I usually am at this time of day.’
‘I take it Bonham has come and gone, already,’ he said, glancing at the papers in her hand.
‘He left me with the story of Tom Smith,’ she said shaking the notes at him. ‘Apparently, I’ve had a lovely Season. It is a shame I do not remember any of it.’
Percy laughed. ‘I would never have encouraged his suit if the man did not treat you well.’
‘He was only in town for two weeks. But we went riding in Hyde Park, to the menagerie and to Vauxhall Gardens two nights in a row.’ She frowned at her brother. ‘You have never taken me to Vauxhall once and it has been years.’
‘I haven’t?’ The innocent look he gave her was probably meant to hide the sort of women who usually accompanied him on such visits. The place was not disreputable. But the crowds that mixed there were more varied than the ones she’d met at gatherings of theton.
‘You haven’t,’ she replied. ‘But we are not gone from town, yet. And you have no engagements tonight, do you?’
‘I do not,’ he agreed. ‘Most of the regular crowd has left for the country, already. You might not know anyone there.’
He said that as if it was a disappointment. To her mind, it would be a relief to spend an evening without having to pay attention to gentlemen who had no interest in speaking with her.‘The Gardens have not closed, have they? There are still jugglers and music and fireworks?’
‘And overpriced food. And stifling crowds of ruffians, cutpurses…’
‘Percy!’ She was not the sort of girl to stamp her feet and pout, but today she was sorely tempted.
‘I will call for the carriage at eight,’ he said, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘Be ready. Wear comfortable shoes. We will see if the place lives up to your expectations.’
It was nearly nine when Thomas arrived at the gates of the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens and paid his two shillings at the gate. He had planned for a quiet night at home, since there were few of them to be had before he set off for Wiltshire with the Skeffingtons. But a late afternoon note from Percy had changed his plans.
T.
Hope you enjoyed your walk with my sister. Because of Tom Smith, you shall have to have another. She’s read all about her courtship and now I must take her to see Vauxhall.
Meet us at the Pavillion for supper.
P.
He made his way through the crowds to the place Percy had suggested and scanned the space for an empty supper box. As it usually was, the place was crowded, noisy and a bit tawdry. After months of tasteful balls and carefully arranged dinners, the excess was a shock to the system.
Once he was satisfied that he could find seats, he turned back to look for his friends. A moment later, a woman who was obviously too focused on the chaos around her to watch where she was going, crashed into him with such force she nearly knocked herself to the ground.
He grabbed her automatically, set her back on her feet and reached up to straighten her crooked bonnet.
Her head tipped up to look at him. ‘Oh.’ She tried to straighten her own bonnet, only to move it back to the awkward slant he’d corrected. ‘Excuse me, Your Grace.’
‘Thomas,’ he reminded her. ‘Take care, Louisa.’
Behind her, Percy smiled and shrugged.
‘I was…’ She looked around her and made an expansive gesture. ‘It is just too wonderful. The lights…’ She waved up at the hundreds of coloured lanterns, leaning so far back she almost overbalanced again.
He took her arm, steadied her and recorrected her bonnet. ‘You have never been here before?’
She shook her head and the bonnet wobbled again. ‘There is a statue of Handel. And a prancing horse. All in the same place.’
‘We must get the girl one of those miserable ham sandwiches,’ Percy said with a sigh. ‘That will anchor her to Earth, again. She is impressed by far too little.’
‘Because you never take her from the house,’ Thomas said with a smile. He had meant it as a joke. But she was still looking around her as if she suspected the lanterns were filled with actual stars. Her mood did not change when he led her to the supper box he’d found for them.
As Percy ordered them a chicken, a bottle of champagne and a plate of custard tarts, Louisa stared at the paintings decorating the walls. ‘A Hogarth,’ she whispered.
‘It is shockingly maintained,’ Thomas replied. ‘But I believe you are right.’
