Chapter 16

Dalton welcomed the cool breeze that cooled his feverish skin. It was a balm, and he savored it. He withdrew his gaze when her aunt leaned forward, shooting him a scathing look. "Gemma!" he heard her huff, "Lord Neville, do tell my niece again what you've just told me. Gemma ."

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Gemma start and acquiesce. "Forgive me, Aunt Philippa."

His stomach turned at her deferential tone. All of London spoke of Miss Hayesworth's burgeoning courtship with Lord Neville, how the old fellow was hopelessly besotted. Clenching his jaw, he withdrew his pipe and lit it, taking several deep draws. Down the boat, Aunt Philippa's voice rang out. "Pipe-smoking—such a revolting habit." She had fully intended for him to hear that. He stared down into the deep green waters of the Thames, wondering how many debtors rested in the river's bed. A gruesome thought, no doubt. But he could ascribe that to his melancholy as of late.

At last the boat docked at the Vauxhall Gardens, and everyone deboarded. Uncle Ernest hurried Dalton and Celeste down the path to a private dinner box he had reserved, and once within it, servers arrived with platters of food. Today, Mother's poor spirits plagued her, and she had remained abed, her voice back to that thin whisper, her vitality of a few days earlier drained away. Not for the first time, Dalton wondered if he should simply turn his uncle and cousin out of the house. But his mother's tearful eyes flickered through his mind, her rebuke of his ill-faith in Uncle Ernest. He's your father's brother, my dear , she had once scolded him.

And perhaps he was a relation. It didn't excuse what he might have done, to seize the estate, to claim what he'd always believed to be his. Even though he had not drank for several days, his stomach churned as he jerked away from that train of thought. If he dwelt on it too much, he would go mad. He would suffer nightmares again. And he had just got those under control. Though the bursts of agitation returned time and again. Nothing the physician could do, unless he wished for laudanum. But Dalton did not wish for that.

Father had always instructed him to forbear the drink and medicinal soothing. Dalton had succumbed to drink, but he would not take laudanum. At the very least he could manage that.

***

Gemma could hardly eat, her stomach flipping over and over again as she sat beside Lord Neville in the dinner box he had reserved. The food would have been delightful if it weren't for her glaring aunt across her, chattering with the Ashtons, who had joined their party by another boat.

"What should you think of seeing elephants?" Lord Neville murmured close to her ear. Too close.

"I should be most intrigued."

"Capital!" Lord Neville sipped his wine. "We shall depart once we have finished dining, then."

"I shall remain here," Aunt Philippa called over, undoubtedly straining to hear every word spoken between them.

"Are you very certain, Lady Kenway?" Lord Neville inquired, though Gemma could tell he was pleased by her aunt's eagerness to give them privacy.

"Oh, but of course. I have ever so much to catch up on with Lady Ashton."

Gemma forced herself to swallow a bite of food.

"The beasts are but a short distance from our box," Lord Neville informed her softly, searching her eyes closely. Gemma lowered her gaze again, hoping it appeared demure rather than avoidant. "And after that, I must entreat you to a dance in the Pavillion."

Gemma nodded, and dazedly stirred her fork through the rest of her food. She didn't have the appetite for another bite. Every second, her fate drew closer and closer. Her fate decided for her by Lord Neville, and Mama, and Aunt Philippa. The rest of the world faded away and she strove to retreat within herself, scarcely uttering a word until Lord Neville rose, extended his hand, and led her towards the elephants.

But Lord Neville was most eager to dance with her, and after briefly viewing the elephants, great lumbering creatures with flapping ears and trumpets for snouts, he led her back to the Pavillion. There, he led her in the dance, and the candle lights hanging overhead spun faster and faster. She tried to pretend they were stars, and like her life, they spiraled too quickly to grasp, to hold onto. Gemma tried to smile up at Lord Neville but something caught her attention across the Pavilion. Lord Blakemore and his cousin Celeste danced as well, her golden hair glinting under the candle light and faint sun glowing through the clouds.

They made a very handsome pair, Gemma thought dismally, as Lord Neville guided her away from them.

Her heart leapt when Lord Blakemore turned and espied her, his face flushing. His vivid eyes remained locked with hers as the dance commenced, and Gemma was dizzy now, not from getting rushed about the floor by Lord Neville, but from Lord Blakemore's stare across the room.

"Does something trouble you, Miss Hayesworth?"

"Oh, no. Not a bit." What troubled her was her inability to escape Neville. She just wished to be in Lord Blakemore's arms. That was what she longed for.

"No?" Lord Neville smiled softly. "I just can't help but think that you are leagues away apart from me. In an entirely different universe."

"Perhaps a bit. I think," Gemma murmured, "I think I need a bit of fresh air."

"Ah, certainly. Certainly." Taking her hand, he led her off the stage towards the grass knoll nearby, where he led her closely in a stroll.

"Suitable?" he inquired.

Gemma nodded. "Very. I thank you."