Chapter Thirteen

H enry glanced around him, feeling on edge. Everywhere he looked couples strolled arm in arm, their faces obscured by the masks they wore and the darkness of the gardens. Now he was regretting his decision to meet Miss Shepherd here, rather than pick her up in the carriage.

He’d thought it would be the safer option, given how they had lost control in the carriage the day before, but now he was doubting whether Miss Shepherd was going to turn up and, if she did, whether he would see her.

Earlier in the day he had sent a note to her lodging house suggesting they meet at Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens at eight o’clock. He had included a ticket for the gardens, given it was a special evening event with the masquerade, and packaged up a pretty mask for Miss Shepherd to wear.

Now he was standing a little inside the entrance, watching the guests coming in. Everyone was merry and in high spirits, as often happened with a masquerade. There was an air of mischief, as if the flimsy demi-masks could completely conceal people’s identities, and they may engage in more scandalous behaviour than normal.

It was about a quarter past the hour when he saw her. She was the only person coming through on her own, but she did not hesitate. It must have been the first time she had been anywhere like the pleasure gardens, yet she stepped forth with confidence. That was one of the things he admired about Miss Shepherd the most. Whatever the situation, she did not turn away or hang back. She dived in head first, whether that was visiting Southwark for a boxing match or sneaking into Shrewsbury House via a first-floor balcony door.

She looked around her, taking in the glowing lanterns that lit the paths, the women dressed in fine silk and satin dresses. Tonight she was in the same dress she had worn that first night he had met her. It was simple and elegant, and although it probably cost a fraction of what most of the dresses on display here tonight did, he found his eyes were drawn to it.

He shook his head as he corrected himself. His eyes were drawn to her .

The attraction fizzed and surged inside him as he fought to restrain it. Even from this distance he was mesmerised and, despite the disaster in the carriage yesterday, he knew he would have to tread carefully so he did not lose control tonight.

‘Good evening, Miss Shepherd, I trust you are well?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, her tone clipped and cool.

‘You look exquisite tonight.’

Even from under the mask he could see the admonishing look she gave him.

‘I do not think you should speak to me like that.’

‘My apologies. I never meant to cause offence.’

‘It is not offensive. Merely unnecessary.’

He understood why she was being so formal towards him, why she was trying to keep him at a distance. Twice now they had been overcome with desire for one another. Twice he had risked ruining her, and done nothing about it. He was thankful she was such a reasonable young woman. She’d demanded nothing from him, but tonight she was keen to show him she would not allow herself to slip a third time.

He squashed the surge of disappointment he felt at the thought of never kissing Miss Shepherd again. Her lips were soft and inviting and tasted ever so sweet. His eyes drifted down to where they were set in a firm line, and quickly he remembered himself.

‘Shall we take a stroll through the gardens? It would be a shame not to make the most of the entertainment on offer tonight. I understand it is to be quite the spectacle.’

He offered her his arm—she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow after a moment’s hesitation.

‘What did you find out?’

He had to bend in close to hear her over the sound of the music and the people talking, and he didn’t answer for a second. After everything that had happened between them, he understood her desire to discuss the matter at hand immediately. Once he had imparted everything he had found out it would mean she could make her excuses and leave.

Inside his chest he felt a sharp pain at the thought. After tonight there would be no reason to see Miss Shepherd again, not if she got her way. Even if she agreed to let him help her for another couple of days, it was not long before she would leave London for ever and be for ever out of reach.

The rational part of him knew it was for the best. Whilst Miss Shepherd was here in London she would dominate his thoughts. Once she left he hoped the desire he felt—this urge he had to seek her out—would fade, and he could return to his normal self. These last few days he had hardly thought of his plan to find a respectable woman to marry. He felt guilty about it. For the past two years he had vowed to put aside his own wants and focus instead on helping Sophia, yet he had allowed himself to be distracted.

They strolled down a narrow path that opened out after a few hundred yards in a clearing. Trees surrounded the central space, heavy with blossom, illuminated by lanterns so it glowed and looked as if it were something from a magical realm. A string quartet played softly at one end, and couples danced in the middle under the light of the moon.

Miss Shepherd paused as they stepped into the clearing, looking around her in wonder, clearly forgetting for a moment her resolve to be as direct as possible.

‘It is quite the spectacle, is it not?’

‘It is beautiful,’ she conceded as she took her time looking around. Her eyes lingered on the dancing couples, and he thought he caught a hint of wistfulness there.

He wanted to ask her to dance, but he did not wish to scare her off. Instead he led her to an empty set of chairs laid out close to the dance floor. The hour was still early—the pleasure gardens were not too busy. There were only a few couples on the dance floor and a half dozen more dotted around the edge. As the night went on it would no doubt get much more crowded, as guests ambled through the rest of the pleasure gardens and made their way back here.

‘I have some news,’ he said quietly. ‘I do not wish to get your hopes up, but I spoke to some of the staff at the gentleman’s club. One remembered your sister.’

Miss Shepherd’s whole body tensed as she waited for him to continue.

‘He was the one Selina spoke to?’

‘Yes. He was reluctant to talk to me at first. I think he was worried he would get in trouble for discussing the members. I assured him all I wanted was information.’ He had paid handsomely for those scraps of information, but it was worth it if it led to Miss Shepherd finally finding her sister.

‘What did he say?’

‘As we thought, your sister tried to gain entry to the club a few weeks ago and was quickly thrown out. She was told that admittance was for members only and their guests, but certainly no women. He said she went away that day without too much fuss, but returned a few days later.’

Miss Shepherd reached out and gripped his arm, her fingers surprisingly strong.

‘When she returned she wanted to know who Mr Peterson was. She approached the waiter discreetly, waiting outside until he finished for the day. She told him she would pay if he would just point out Mr Peterson to her.’

‘She paid him?’

‘Yes. He smuggled her in through the back door when it was quiet and pointed Mr Peterson out to her. I gather your sister then waited for Mr Peterson to leave and confronted him in the street.’

‘That fits with what Selina said in her letters.’

‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it.’

‘There’s more?’

‘Apparently your sister came back a third time, a couple of days after she confronted Mr Peterson. She waited for the waiter to finish work again, and this time she asked about Mr Peterson and who he spent his time with at the club.’

‘She was thinking she might identify our father that way, I suppose many people keep the same set of friends throughout their life.’

‘Yes, especially people of aristocratic origins. Our world is very small, and there are only about fifty families that socialise together here in London.’

‘Did the waiter tell her?’

‘From what I gather he was reluctant and refused any more of her money, but then your sister threatened to reveal to his employer that he had accepted money in exchange for information about the clientele. Sharing information about the gentlemen is strictly prohibited.’

‘What did the waiter say?’

‘You are sure you wish to know?’

‘You think this man that was named could be my father?’

‘I think there is a very good chance. He is the right age and has a reputation for being a hard man. I can see he would have been attractive to an impressionable young woman in his youth, but he does have a ruthless streak.’ He grimaced. ‘He is friends with my father, as far as two deadly snakes can be friends.’

Miss Shepherd sat looking into the distance for a moment, her eyes glazed, then she nodded decisively.

‘Yes, I wish to know.’

‘Sir William Kingsley. He was granted a knighthood a few years ago. He’s very wealthy.’

‘Sir William Kingsley,’ Miss Shepherd repeated. Her face was pale, and he realised she had never expected to find out the truth of her parentage. Of course there was still a chance they had the wrong man, but Henry did not think so.

‘He went to school with my father and Mr Peterson, and in his youth was briefly entangled with Miss Otterly before she married and became Mrs Hiltshire. Which could explain the mention of her mother, Mrs Otterly, in your father’s letters. He was also briefly entangled with Lady Pryce, a widow who had a bit of a scandalous reputation back then, although I am not sure why he would mention her in his letters to your mother.’ He paused, resisting the urge to reach out and take her hand. ‘I really think this could be your father. I do not know if it brings us any closer to finding your sister, but I suppose there is a chance she discovered his identity too and decided to confront him.’

‘We need to see him. Immediately.’ Miss Shepherd rose from her seat as if planning on storming his residence straight away.

All thoughts of abandoning his help seemed to be forgotten, and he found he was inordinately pleased. Deep inside he knew his reaction was two-fold. Firstly, he wished to spend more time with Miss Shepherd, even though it would make it harder when she did finally leave his life. Secondly, it meant he had a few more days before he had to start his search for a wife in earnest. He could not send Miss Shepherd out alone now, not when they were so close.

‘I hardly think banging on Sir William’s door this late in the evening is going to produce the best result.’ He caught hold of her hand and her eyes met his. ‘I will take you there first thing tomorrow morning, but you will not achieve anything tonight, except upsetting the people you want to ask for help.’

For a moment she stood, contemplating his words, and then she sighed.

‘Very well,’ she said, ‘I expect you are right. You promise to take me first thing tomorrow?’

‘Yes.’

She sank back down into her seat and smoothed out her dress. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

‘I am glad I could help.’

It said a lot about her character that she could be gracious in her thanks when she was clearly annoyed at him.

‘Perhaps in the spirit of putting aside your worries until the morning you would like to dance?’

Miss Shepherd looked at the dance floor, uncertainty blooming on her face. He could tell she was remembering their first dance, the waltz in the semi-darkness of the library, whilst music floated up through the open window.

‘Lord Routledge, I am not sure that is a good idea.’

‘It is a dance, nothing more. I will be on my best behaviour.’

Still, she did not look convinced. ‘Why do you wish to dance with me?’

He was about to give some glib response when he saw her expression. This answer mattered.

Suddenly he felt as though his cravat was tightening around his neck, and the air had increased in temperature by a few degrees.

‘Why do you wish to dance with me, my lord?’ she repeated.

He leaned in and lowered his voice, even though there was no one else close by. ‘I know that after tomorrow our paths have to diverge. I understand that it needs to happen, yet I find the idea of never seeing you again painful.’

‘It is your choice never to see me again.’

‘That is not true.’

‘It is. I might have put into words the need for our relationship to be limited, but that was necessary to protect my heart. I cannot be around you much longer without acknowledging the feelings I have.’ She sighed. ‘But I am not the one who is still in mourning and is unable to open his heart or mind to anything other than a convenient, loveless marriage.’

He could not believe they were speaking of these things so openly. They had only known one another a few days, but those few days had been some of the fullest and richest of his life.

‘I am not still in mourning.’

‘Perhaps not for your wife, although I do not wish to minimise the pain you felt at losing her, but I do think you are mourning the loss of your former self.’

‘I am not sure one can mourn losing a part of oneself.’ He tried to keep his voice light, but he felt something heavy pulling deep inside, threatening to drag him into an abyss.

Miss Shepherd looked at him intensely. ‘This conviction you have that you have to sacrifice any possible future happiness, that you are not worthy of wanting things for yourself—it is very noble to want to rescue your sister, and I think it is a wonderful thing to do, but I wonder if, as well as wanting to build a relationship with her, you have found a way that you never have to risk your heart again.’

‘You think I am scared to love?’ The idea was preposterous. He wasn’t scared, but his experience of giving his heart to a woman had ended in pain and heartache for both him and her.

‘I think you were hurt terribly by your first wife. You loved her, and you dared to go against convention and marry her, even though you knew it would mean losing many things in your life. You took that risk, and then you found out everything you had believed was a lie. Then you were forced to live with your mistake and all the terrible consequences for four years, trying to make the best of it. I do not know how I would feel in that situation, but I suspect sometimes you hated your wife and hated your own life.’

He swallowed. It was impossible to ever say that you hated someone who had died tragically, but Miss Shepherd was right. When Anne had told him that she had never loved him, that she had only married him because of the life she thought he would give her, it was the closest he had ever come to hating a person who wasn’t his father. What made it worse was that he still loved her at the same time.

‘Then there was the fire, and I suspect ever since you’ve been wracked with guilt, because you wished for a way out of your unhappy marriage and the fire made that wish come true.’

‘I never wanted Anne to be hurt. All I wanted was my freedom.’

‘You have suffered more than one man should have to suffer in a lifetime,’ she said softly, ‘but it has made you wary. That is not a bad thing in small doses, but you have constructed a scenario where you cannot get hurt.’

‘That is unfair. This battle with my father is not of my making.’

‘I know, but you have chosen to engage with him. For years you refused to toe the line. It meant estrangement, surviving on very little money, having to find your own way in the world. I understand you feel there is no other way to build a relationship with your sister, and you may be right, but choosing this path means you will not have to risk your own heart again. You will be married to a woman you do not care about, who therefore will not be able to hurt you as your first wife did.’

If he had not been sitting, Henry would have staggered back at this point. He had told her all the details of his past so she might understand his position better, but here she was analysing his every action and accusing him of choosing an easy path.

He felt his emotions rise, his voice thick with suppressed anger. ‘None of this is easy.’

Her face crumpled. She reached out and touched his hand ever so lightly with her fingertips, not caring for a moment who saw the overly familiar gesture.

‘No, none of it is easy,’ she said, her voice warmer now. ‘You’ve had the worst few years, your heart has been battered and bruised again and again.’ She took a deep breath, her lips moving without making any sound—she was trying to find the right words. ‘I do not mean to accuse you of taking the easy path. I do not think any decision you’ve had to make in recent years has been easy.’

He felt some of the anger simmer and then recede, but his body was still stiff, as if his tense muscles could protect him from the words that were yet to come.

‘Will you look at me, Henry?’ She spoke softly, his given name like honey on her lips. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet hers. ‘I think you are the best man I have ever met. You are kind and generous, despite everything you have been through. I would hate to see you condemn yourself to a life without love because of what happened with your first wife.’ She bit her lip, searching his eyes. He could see she was desperate for him to understand that she wasn’t saying this out of malice. ‘You deserve love and happiness, not marriage to a woman you do not like to satisfy someone else’s demands.’

It was too much to take in and Henry slumped back in his chair. If anyone looked over and focussed their attention on them right now, they would not see the composed Viscount and his companion who had entered the pleasure gardens. Henry was glad of the little protection the mask gave him.

‘Please say something,’ Miss Shepherd whispered.

‘What do you wish me to say? That the idea of ever trusting someone again with my heart seems completely and utterly impossible. Why would I do that to myself again? Or that it seems a little hypocritical that you have put your own future at risk to come to London to find your sister, but you counsel against me risking mine for the sake of Sophia.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘Miss Shepherd...’

‘Sarah,’ she interrupted him. ‘Please call me Sarah.’

He only wished it was that easy to throw propriety aside. To throw expectation aside—that of his father and of society.

‘Miss Shepherd, I have tried marrying for love. It did not work. Marrying for duty may produce a more favourable result.’ It was petty to continue to be so formal with her, a horrible way to lash out and hurt her. He regretted it almost immediately when he saw the tears forming in her eyes.

‘You will be unhappy,’ she said, gripping his fingers tighter. ‘You are already unhappy.’

‘Who is to say I will be unhappy. Hundreds of marriages are arranged every year between couples who barely know one another. Some are unhappy, but most are tolerable.’

‘You deserve more than tolerable.’

‘Perhaps tolerable is all I want.’

She looked at him then, and it was as if her eyes were burning into his soul, teasing out every little secret, every hope and desire.

‘Is it?’

He searched for an answer, forcing himself to consider the question instead of just lashing out, but before he could form a cohesive thought they were interrupted.

‘Good evening, miss. I wonder if you would care to dance? I think the musicians are about to play a quadrille.’

Henry had never snarled at anyone in his life before, but his expression must have been terrifying—the young man recoiled as Henry looked up at him.

‘She is otherwise engaged,’ he growled.

The other man was much younger than him, likely no more than twenty-two or twenty-three, but he stood his ground despite his discomfort, leaning in so he was a little closer to Miss Shepherd.

‘In truth, I couldn’t help but notice how tightly this gentleman was holding your hand, and I wished to ensure you did not need any help.’

Henry glanced down in surprise—his hands had moved, from underneath Miss Shepherd’s delicate touch, to him gripping her so hard the tips of her fingers had turned white. With great effort he relaxed his grip.

‘Thank you for your concern, but I am perfectly fine,’ Miss Shepherd said, managing a small smile to reassure the young gentleman.

He looked between them uncertainly.

‘She said she was fine,’ Henry said firmly, standing up. ‘In fact, she has promised me this dance.’

The young man took one final look at Miss Shepherd and then backed away, holding up his hands as if in surrender. Miss Shepherd looked stunned as Henry took her hand and led her to the dance floor, where half a dozen couples now congregated.

He held her stiffly at first, ensuring there was the proper distance between them, but as the first few notes sounded he found himself pulling her just a fraction closer.

Henry did not look at her as they danced, even though he could feel her eyes searching for his. Instead he fixed his gaze over the top of her head, his expression serious. He felt every brush of her hand, every swish of her skirt as she danced the lively steps of the quadrille. It was torture, but perhaps all he deserved was torture right now.

For four minutes they twisted and twirled, until the music started to quieten then fade. At the end he glanced down at Miss Shepherd to see her looking completely devastated, her hand resting on top of his but she pulled it away as soon as was acceptable. He said nothing, still trying to work through everything she’d told him a few minutes earlier, as her face crumpled.

As the other couples began to move away from the dance floor Miss Shepherd spun, wrenching herself out of his grip, and fled, darting into the darkness beyond the clearing.

For a moment Henry was so surprised he could not move. Then he cursed loudly, drawing curious glances in his direction. He didn’t care, instead thinking of Miss Shepherd running, upset and unthinking, to a deserted part of the gardens, where dangers might lurk in the shadows.

Quickly he followed her, hoping to see a swish of fabric or a glimpse of her retreating form, terrified he might lose her in the maze of paths.