Chapter 17

Vander stared after Letty and Strickleton's retreating forms, thunderstruck.

He didn't know why it hadn't occurred to him that she would be meeting with one of her suitors tonight. That was her entire goal for the next three days—to spend as much time in their company as possible, so she could decide which one to marry.

It bothered him that it was Strickleton. Throckmorton was old and dull, and they'd established last night that he was a hopelessly bad kisser. Not that he particularly liked the idea of Letty having a tete-a-tete with Throckmorton.

But he could tolerate it. Whereas Strickleton? Young, handsome, charming, effervescent Bertie Strickleton?

Vander found that he could not stand the idea of her strolling the romantic lamplit paths with Bertie Strickleton. And even worse than the lamplit paths was the thought of them venturing into the dark walks toward the back of the garden, where couples went to kiss… and more.

Vander was quite familiar with those dark walks. He knew what sorts of debauchery one got up to in the dark walks, as he'd taken advantage of them on more than one occasion.

But the thought of Letty and Strickleton making use of them…

His vision swam in an angry red haze.

"Mr. Beauclerk? Mr. Beauclerk?"

He snapped his attention back to the woman he was ostensibly supposed to be escorting tonight. "Mrs. Barret. I beg your pardon."

"It's Mrs. Barnet," she noted.

"Mrs. Barnet," he amended, bowing. "A thousand apologies."

She regarded him with an amused smile. "That's quite all right. I do wish to forewarn you, however"—she dropped her voice to a murmur—"Letty was so dear when she asked if she could introduce us tonight that I didn't have the heart to tell her no. But I have no intention of marrying again."

"That's fine," Vander said, returning his gaze to Letty and Strickleton. Just as he had feared, they were heading toward the back of the gardens…

"Then there is the fact that you are a scoundrel of such repute that you were featured in the Rake Review." She gave a humorless laugh. "I know that many women find rakish types terribly dashing. But my former husband was a rake, you see, and I have had more than my fill of them."

"Quite understandable," Vander said, craning his neck to track Letty and Strickleton's progress.

They had just reached the edge of the grove. A few more steps and they would be out of his sight.

He turned to his companion. "Do you wish to stay and watch the Cascade?"

One corner of her mouth twisted up. "I've seen it before if you would prefer to go somewhere else."

"If you don't mind," he said, smoothly taking her arm and striding after Letty. "There are some very nice sights in this direction."

"Is that so?" she asked, giving him an arch look. "Here I had formed the impression that most of the attractions were toward the front of the garden."

"That is true, generally speaking, but there are the… the…" He combed his mind for anything of interest this far back in the gardens, other than Letty's retreating form. "The trees," he finally said. "There are some lovely trees."

"So, we will be looking at trees. In the dark," she added.

"Er…" Letty and Strickleton had reached a crossing. He needed to hurry or else he would lose sight of her.

"The lamps!" he said, recalling that she was still waiting for an answer. "Some of the best, most colorful lamps are back this way."

"Colorful lamps. In the dark walks. How fascinating."

Speaking of the dark walks, Letty and Strickleton had turned left, meaning that was directly where they were headed. Vander quickened his pace.

"So, Mr. Beauclerk," his companion ventured, "I understand that you enjoy boxing."

"Yes," Vander replied. His stomach was twisting into a knot at the thought of Letty getting up to… well, the things one got up to in the dark walks… with Bertie Strickleton…

"And what is it that you enjoy about boxing?"

"Um…" Vander craned his neck, struggling to keep Letty within his sight. "Mostly, you know. The boxing."

"And here I'd heard you were a scintillating conversationalist," she muttered.

Vander should probably apologize, but Letty and Strickleton had just rounded a corner, meaning that she was out of his sight. He quickened his strides, a clawing sort of desperation rising in his chest.

"Mr. Beauclerk!" His companion tugged him to a halt. "Are you even attending?"

He shook his head to clear it. "I apologize, Mrs. Barnard—"

"Barnet."

"Mrs. Barnet," he hastily amended. He fought the urge to stare down the path where Letty had disappeared. "I seem to be a bit distracted this evening."

She peered up at him, brow wrinkled. "You, Mr. Beauclerk, are not at all what I was expecting. Come"—she pulled him forward, following in Letty and Strickleton's footsteps—"let's look for those lamps of yours."

When they reached the crossing, Mrs. Barnet unerringly pulled him in the direction Letty and Strickleton had gone. He could just make them out some fifty yards away, and Vander breathed a sigh of relief.

That sigh turned into a growl in the next instant when Strickleton bent his head to kiss her hand—the palm of her hand…

The sound of feminine laughter pierced his angry red haze. He glanced at Mrs. Barnet, wary.

"Are you truly one of London's most notorious rakehells? Because you're doing a remarkable impression of a lovesick schoolboy."

Damn. He'd been caught. But although Mrs. Barnet was laughing at him, there was sympathy in her eyes.

Vander sighed. "Perhaps a bit of both."

She tutted, but not unkindly. "You've got it bad, don't you?"

He cleared his throat. "So it would seem."

"Why not just tell her?"

Vander shook his head. "It's like you said—I've got this terrible reputation. Which is deserved," he hastened to add. He ignored the pang in his chest as Strickleton reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind Letty's ear. "But Letty deserves better than the likes of me. She deserves someone like Bertie Strickleton."

Seizing his arm, Mrs. Barnet pulled him forward. "Oh, no, she doesn't. Bertie Strickleton is a dead bore."

"Is he?" Vander asked, surprised. "But he's a nice sort of chap, isn't he?"

Mrs. Barnet answered with a snort. "He's affable enough, but he's also selfish and spoiled. I can tell you this much—Bertie Strickleton isn't interested in pleasing anyone but himself."

They'd covered half of the distance separating them from Letty and Strickleton. "What are you doing?" Vander hissed. "We can't just go charging up there and… and…"

"For some inexplicable reason, I've decided to help you," she whispered. "Not because I'm entirely sure about you. Lord knows, I'm not. But I like Lady Leticia, and you're bound to be better than Bertie Strickleton. At least you were interesting enough to get featured in the Rake Review. Besides, there's something delicious about the notion of one of London's most notorious rakehells being laid low by the girl next door."

Vander peered at her skeptically. "And how, exactly, are you going to help me?"

"You'll see." Her eyes filled with poison. "But if you hurt her, know that I will start the vilest rumors about you!"

Abruptly, her face settled into an expression that was serene and gracious. Waving a hand overhead, she called, "Lady Leticia! Oh, Lady Leticia!"

Letty and Strickleton paused and turned.

Mrs. Barnet rushed up to them. "Would you happen to have a pin? I just noticed a tear in my hem, and I fear it will fray to pieces if I don't see to it right away."

"Oh, of course," Letty said, opening her reticule. She pulled out a short strip of paper holding a half-dozen pins. "Here, take all of these. Who knows how many you'll need."

"Thank you ever so much," Mrs. Barnet said, voice trembling with relief. She glanced back toward the front of the gardens, and her face suddenly fell. "Oh, dear. We've made so many twists and turns, I'm not entirely sure I can find my way back to the front of the gardens."

Vander almost snorted, because finding your way out of Vauxhall was not a complex matter. The paths were straight, and the front of the garden was lit up like the Battle of Trafalgar with several thousand glowing lamps, which became scarcer and scarcer the deeper you ventured into the gardens. All one had to do to find the exit was to head toward the light.

Strickleton did not seem to question Mrs. Barnet's professed poor sense of direction. "What you want to do is head back this way, then take a left at the first crossing, then a right at the next one…"

Once he had finished, Mrs. Barnet said, "I think I have it—right at the first crossing, then left."

"It's actually left, then right," Strickleton explained.

"Oh, dear." Mrs. Barnet's face was a portrait of confusion. "I'll never remember the way." She surged forward, seizing Strickleton's arm. "But you'll show me. Won't you?"

"Er…" Strickleton frowned, gazing at Letty. "Maybe Beauclerk here could do it."

Angling her head so Strickleton couldn't see, Mrs. Barnet fixed Vander with a ferocious glower he interpreted as, don't you dare.

"Oh, er—I'm not entirely sure myself," Vander lied.

Mrs. Barnet was already towing Strickleton along the path. "Come. The sooner we depart, the sooner you can return. Why, I wager it won't take us even five minutes, given your superior sense of direction."

This flattery seemed to soothe whatever qualms Strickleton was harboring. "I've always been this way," he confided. "When I was but a boy of five, I could find my way from the house to the stables."

"Could you truly?" Mrs. Barnet asked as they disappeared around the first turn.

"Vander?"

He turned and found Letty gazing up at him, eyes crinkled with confusion. She was standing beneath a lamp, its golden light falling softly upon her face, and it struck him that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

She shook her head. "If I didn't know better, I would say that Mrs. Barnet was trying to get Bertie off on her own."

"Something like that." Vander realized that they needed to move so they would be gone by the time Strickleton returned. He hooked his arm through Letty's and started toward the back of the garden. "Come on."

"Vander!" she protested. "Where are we going? If we're not there when Bertie returns, how will he find us again?"

Vander cut his eyes to her but didn't slow his stride. "Do you really want to spend the evening with Bertie Strickleton?"

Letty seemed to deflate on his arm. "Not particularly."

"Well, then." They'd entered the farthest reaches of the gardens, but instead of turning right to head for the famous dark walks, Vander turned left. He had a particular destination in mind, one that wasn't on any map of Vauxhall, and that few people knew about. Now, where was that birch tree?

"But what about you?" Letty asked. "Don't you want to spend the evening with Mrs. Barnet?"

"Not particularly." Ah, there it was. He gestured to the thicket of trees just off the path. "Do you have sturdy shoes on?"

"They're slippers, not half boots, but I can walk in them well enough. But returning to the point—what, exactly, was wrong with my choice this time?"

Vander frowned as he led Letty into the trees. The truth was… nothing, really. Mrs. Barnet was beautiful. And, based upon their very brief acquaintance, she seemed clever, wry, and somewhat jaded with the world. A few days ago, he would have been delighted to receive an introduction to such a creature.

But Mrs. Barnet possessed one fatal flaw.

She wasn't Letty.

Mrs. Barnet had assessed his situation at a glance. He was one of the most notorious rakehells in London. Hell, he'd been featured in the bloody Rake Review! He'd dallied with some of the most sophisticated courtesans in Europe.

And now, his best friend's virginal sister had him twisting himself in knots.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. He craved her company. The sight of her disappearing down the path with Bertie Strickleton had gnawed a hole in his gut.

He lifted a branch and held it up so Letty could pass beneath. This far back in the gardens, the trees were thicker, and nobody had bothered to remove the underbrush. As a result, visitors rarely ventured off the path, and, in Vander's experience, this section of the gardens was almost always deserted.

Which was precisely how he wanted it.

"Vander?" Letty pulled him to a halt. "Are you going to answer my question? What, precisely, was wrong with Mrs. Barnet?"

They came around a large yew tree, and a familiar clearing opened before them. Perfect. He'd found it.

He turned to face her, grinning. "There wasn't anything wrong with her. I didn't pay her too much attention. I wanted to show you this."

"Show me what?" Letty reached down to tug her skirts free of some bramble. "An overgrown… Oh!"

Vander grinned as she noticed the swing. It was simply made, just a plain board suspended by two ropes, hanging from the branch of an oak tree. But by the light of the full moon filtering into the clearing, it took on an enchanted quality.

Letty wandered across the clearing, entranced. She reached out hesitantly and touched one of the ropes. "I've been to Vauxhall dozens of times. Why did I not know this was here?"

"Few people do. As you can see, it's not an official feature. Most of Vauxhall's accoutrements tend to be more elaborate than a plain wooden board."

The corner of her mouth turned up, drawing his gaze to her lips. "Most of Vauxhall's accoutrements are nothing more than plain wooden boards with a little paint slapped on."

He grinned. "True. But I think you'll agree that they place a great premium upon the appearance of grandeur."

"That they do. So, how did this get here?"

"I don't know. I suspect some miscreant sneaked it in and strung it up one night for their own amusement." He took hold of one of the ropes and held the swing steady. "Climb aboard. I'll push you."

She tugged one of the ropes, her face skeptical. "Why don't you go first?"

Vander shrugged. "Seems only fair."

He climbed aboard and pushed back. After a few tentative passes, he began swinging in earnest. "It's fine," he said, bouncing on the seat to make sure. "The ropes are newer than they look."

He could tell Letty wanted a turn but was trying not to look overeager. "I suppose I could give it a try."

"All right," Vander said, but instead of yielding the seat, he waited for an upswing, then caught her about the waist, pulling her into his lap.

Letty shrieked, clinging to his neck. "Evander Beauclerk! This thing had better not break."

"If it does, I'll get the worst of it." He brought his lips to her ear. "Relax."

After they made a few circuits back and forth without the ropes snapping in two, Letty did just that. She looped her arms around his neck and let her head loll against his shoulder, basking in the moonlight.

And it was perfect. The anxious moments that preceded this, when he knew with a gnawing certainty that it would be Bertie Strickleton sneaking her off to the dark walks, were forgotten. Letty was here with him—in his lap, in his arms, in his life, and it seemed to follow that all was right with the world. The cool night air was delicious on his face as he swung back and forth. It occurred to Vander that he was happy, happier than he'd been in months. He could spend all night here with Letty, doing nothing more than innocently swinging back and forth, and be perfectly content.

Although… having Letty in his lap was… tempting. In their current position, her right breast nudged his chest each time they swung forward. She smelled so good, like lily of the valley. And he could feel her bottom, which was the perfect mixture of soft and firm, pressing against his cock.

Make that his rapidly hardening cock…

Vander couldn't resist pressing a kiss against the delicate shell of her ear. She made the most wonderful sound, a startled moan, and shuddered against him. Encouraged, he began exploring her ear with his tongue.

He trailed his lips down her neck. His hands had left the ropes, all thoughts of swinging forgotten, although their momentum kept them going. He threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, gently tipping her head back to give him better access.

He brought his lips up, trailing kisses across her jaw, but his hands down. By the time he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, Letty was breathing hard, and when he brought his thumb around to graze one of her nipples through the silk of her dress, she gasped.

He claimed her lips then, and she opened for him at once, threading her fingers into his hair as she tangled her tongue with his. Vander found her artless ardor more thrilling than the practiced kiss of the most skilled courtesan. It struck him how different it was kissing Letty, compared to the many women he had dallied with over the past year. With those kisses, he had desired them physically. But tonight, he was chasing more than just a physical release. He wanted Letty to think about him as much as he'd been thinking about her the past few days. He wanted her to long for his company in the same way he longed for hers. And he wanted all of her—every smile, every whispered jest, every second of her time. Not just her body.

This kiss was real in a way that all those other kisses had not been. Oh, but he was on dangerous ground, coveting the one woman he could never have. He knew he should stop, yet he couldn't.

He traced his tongue around the rim of Letty's lips, eliciting a gasp. His hands were now discovering the delicate shape of her breasts through the silk of her dress. He could tell her nipples were exquisitely sensitive by the way she squirmed in his lap whenever he gave them the slightest brush.

He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't resist slipping a hand inside her bodice. Her skin was as soft as rose petals, and the only thing more perfect than the feeling of it beneath his fingers was the cry of pleasure she gave in the moment his fingers found her sensitive bud.

She tore her mouth from his. "Vander," she gasped. "That feels so… so…"

He rolled her nipple lightly in his fingers, and she broke off with a cry, burying her face in his neck. Tugging her dress low on her shoulders, he eased the bodice down and lifted her breasts from the cups of her stays, exposing them to the moonlight.

She was perfect. Pert. Delicate. Gorgeous. With a groan, Vander lowered his head and sucked one of her rose-pink nipples into his mouth.

Letty gave a strangled cry, her fingernails scouring his scalp, holding his head in place. By now, she was squirming helplessly in his lap, which was having a predictable effect on his cock, which was standing up, demanding some attention.

Suddenly, Letty surprised him by hiking up her skirts and swinging one leg over so that she was straddling him. She looped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him, but just as her lips were about to meet his, the swing reached the end of its arc and pushed forward, bringing the hardness of his cock into contact with the softness between her legs. There were still a few layers of wool and muslin separating them, but Vander could feel her, and, judging by the glassy look that came into her eyes, she could feel him, too.

"Vander?" she whispered. "That feels…"

The swing completed another arc, and she rocked against him again. "Vander!" she gasped.

He should have stopped things right there. A gentleman would have stopped, but Vander was no gentleman, and the notion of bringing Letty to climax in the moonlight suddenly seemed nigh irresistible.

He brought one hand down and started teasing her nipple again. "Do you know what's happening?"

"N-no." Her eyes were closed, and there was a trace of desperation in her voice.

"Then you've never played with it before? The little bud between your legs?"

She opened her eyes then, and they were dilated with pleasure. "What b-bud?"

"You've never touched yourself between your legs?" he asked, voice husky.

She looked startled by the suggestion. "N-no. My mother told me I wasn't allowed to touch myself there, except for washing, and even then, I had to do it as briefly as possible."

It was too sweet—he was going to be the one to give Letty her first taste of pleasure.

He pressed a kiss against her temple. "Do you want me to show you why that spot was forbidden?"

"I… I think so. I definitely don't want you to stop."

That was all he needed to hear. He started swinging in earnest, so that she was thrust against him hard, and the rest of her sentence was cut off by a desperate cry.

He positioned his hips so she was perfectly aligned against his cock. He kept swinging, kept stroking her nipples with his hands, and brought his lips down upon hers.

Letty, poor innocent, didn't stand a chance. She had no choice but to grind her hips against him, crying out when she still couldn't find the relief her body needed.

"Vander!" she gasped, tearing her lips from his. "I… I don't know what's happening…"

He kissed her throat. "It's all right. I do."

Her breath was coming in pants. "I need… something…"

He pressed a kiss against her temple. "Don't worry. I'll help you. I'm going to make it so good for you, Letty."

He hadn't meant for things to go this far, had only meant to steal a kiss or two in the moonlight, as he had done last night.

But his sweet Letty had managed to get herself painfully aroused.

He could never leave her in this state. The only gentlemanly thing to do was… the least gentlemanly thing he could possibly do.

Oh, well. He was the biggest scoundrel in London. He was obviously going to do it.