Chapter Three

THE PAST

August 1803

Louisa scrambled down the grassy hill, her dress the worse the wear for her headlong flight and her bonnet sliding half off her head. After her governess had agreed to escort her to the Bath Vauxhall Gardens, she had planned her escape perfectly, waiting for poor Miss Huxley to be distracted by the delights of the artificial rural scene—clockwork figures moving with mechanical precision—and making a dash for it.

Now, she straightened her bonnet and squared her shoulders. There was only a matter of time before she was caught, and she was sure her mother would send her to her room without supper. But it was worth it for these few moments of freedom.

A warm breeze tickled her cheeks, brushing the few loose curls back from her face with a lover's hand. At seventeen, she had never had so much as a kiss from a lover, but she could imagine he might touch her in much this same way.

Hope swelled in her chest.

One day, perhaps when she was married, she would be able to come to places such as this without fear of repercussions. She would enjoy the feel of sunlight sinking into her skin, the bright bobbing flowers, and the rustle of leaves in the far-away trees without the thought of imminent capture.

She picked up her skirts, passing the bowling green and making her way to the maze. Perhaps if she was very lucky, Miss Huxley would agree to keep her dash for freedom strictly between them.

Unlikely. But she would endeavour to try.

The maze came into sight. At night, she knew it would be lit with torches, lovers seeking refuge in its anonymity. She had never been to London's Vauxhall Gardens, but Miss Huxley had once been tricked into listing all the dangers a young lady might fall into if she visited without a chaperone.

In Louisa's opinion, those dangers sounded positively delicious.

What young lady didn't want to steal kisses with handsome strangers? So long as no one else was privy to it, her reputation would remain untarnished, and she would have another experience to add to her collection. Experiences, as far as she was concerned, were things to be kept and cultivated, trapped like shiny pebbles in a glass so she could examine them in the future.

A kiss would be a rather spectacularly shiny rock.

A matronly lady gave Louisa a disapproving look, but there was no one else around as she entered the maze, and finally she heaved a sigh of relief. At least now Miss Huxley wouldn't be able to find her; her governess would not be prevailed upon to enter the maze by herself, even if her charge were known to be inside.

As a general rule, she was not especially flighty, but she was in possession of an active imagination, and although it was deeply unlikely she would find a handsome pirate—or, at a pinch, a roguish highwayman—she fancied her luck was higher in the maze than at the Upper Rooms. The young ladies there were all united by their inclination to find a good match, but Louisa had never yearned for a house and children. She longed for adventure. She was not on the hunt for a husband; she would far rather find herself a lover.

Unfortunately, as she wove her way deeper into the maze, she did not discover anyone at all disreputable. In fact, when she finally stumbled across a young gentleman, he looked respectable to the point of staid, with his cravat neatly but plainly tied and his waistcoat an ordinary blue, its buttons small and undecorated. When he saw her, his expression transformed from surprise to shock to horror, and a flush started on his neck, rising to his cheeks.

Which brought Louisa to his one saving grace: how very startlingly handsome he was. Almost frighteningly so, the chiselled lines of his face and sensual mouth only enhanced by the stern look that clenched his jaw. His eyes were the crisp, cold blue of a frozen sky.

"Hello," she said cheerfully.

He cleared his throat. "You're alone."

"Yes. So are you."

"Yes," he said, and the corner of his mouth twitched before he wrestled it back under control. "But I have a feeling you should not be."

"How fortunate it is that you have found me then." She grinned at him, and he folded his arms as he looked back at her.

"I'm not your chaperone. And I wouldn't be a very good one, either."

"Why is that?"

"Being found with me would be worse for your reputation than if you were merely found alone."

"Then we should endeavour not to be found." She stepped closer, enjoying the way his gaze swung across her face and down her body before returning to her eyes. "What's your name?"

"I think perhaps it would be better if we remain strangers," he said dryly, arms remaining firmly folded.

"Why?"

"So I may maintain plausible deniability."

She stepped closer still. "You wish to deny meeting me?"

"In this manner? It would be wise." He didn't back away as she approached, looking down into her face with another of those half-smiles. It truly was a shame he was not a pirate, but perhaps she could persuade him to kiss her anyway.

"Then it hardly matters what passes between us," she said. Now there was very little space between them. "What are you doing here all by yourself?"

The pause that followed her question made her think perhaps he would not answer, but then he tilted his head as he looked down at her. "Avoiding my family," he said with more of that dryness. She suspected he was not without humour, but this statement seemed more to conceal some kind of pain. "They are breakfasting in the gardens."

That statement intrigued Louisa enough to postpone her thoughts of seduction. "Are they so bad?"

"Perhaps not to a stranger, but suffice it to say that my father and I do not see eye to eye."

"My father is delightful," she said with a sympathetic smile. "Truly, the best of men."

"Then you are very lucky."

"My mother, however, is a tyrant."

He coughed, and she suspected it was concealing a laugh. "That is less fortunate. What makes her so disagreeable?"

"Nothing much, save that she has no designs for me other than that I enter Society, find a husband and bear children."

A flicker of interest sparked in those clear blue eyes. "That is not what you want?"

"I suppose a husband is inevitable eventually, but I'm in no rush. Papa has enough money to support us, and there is so much of the world to see." She put a finger to her cheek and smiled, forgetting her bid to be flirtatious in her thoughtfulness. "And I should like to paint."

"Can you not paint now?"

"Watercolours," she said scornfully. "I should like to paint with oils and become one of the great artists."

The young man looked at her as though he had never seen a woman before, but although she had half expected to see scorn there, there was merely curiosity. "I have never met anyone with such an ambition."

Louisa opened her mouth to reply and educate this young man about the things women could be capable of if they were given the opportunity, but voices interrupted them. A giggling lady and a young man murmuring something to her.

She froze. The gentleman opposite looked at her with something approaching dawning panic, and he pressed a finger to his lips. All her ire disappeared as he took her arm and drew her a little further into the maze.

"Stay quiet a moment," he whispered. "They will soon pass."

Louisa looked up into his face, lingering on the strong line of his jaw. He could not be more than a year or two older than her, but he was already so tall, dressed as though he had taken his place in Society already.

"Would I ruin your reputation if you are discovered here with me?" she murmured, her heart beating fast as he urged her into the prickling hedge. A branch caught her hair but she made no move to free herself. For all her talk, she did not want to be discovered with a strange gentleman. Especially if, after all that, he was not inclined to kiss her.

He looked down at her again, the concern on his brow dissolving into reluctant amusement. Something about the way he looked at her, as though he wanted to disapprove but found himself unable to, made her oddly eager to break down his walls.

"Indubitably." His breath gently brushed the curve of her neck. His hand was still on her arm, and although they were not touching in any other place, her skin felt sensitised under her clothes. "My reputation hinges, in fact, on not being seen seducing a young lady of dubious morals."

"Dubious morals?" Her whisper was almost a shriek.

"Be quiet, or they will hear us." He leant away, his hand dropping from her arm as though he had not so much as noticed it remained there, and disappointment stung her. "And may I remind you that you were the one who came upon me unchaperoned and, it would seem, on the run from respectability."

If she had not seen the dimple at the corner of his mouth that bespoke the presence of another near smile, she might have been offended. As it was, she freed herself from the hedge with a disgruntled sigh.

"I had been hoping to come across a hardened rake," she said, only half teasing, "and instead I came across you, a paragon of propriety."

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced back at her. "A paragon of propriety would not be hiding in a hedge maze with you."

"No?" She adjusted her gloves. "Then what are you?"

"Making a mistake," he muttered, looking once more at where the other couple were now hiding and giggling. "Are we going to have to remain here until they leave?"

The couple's voices lowered and disappeared completely, replaced instead by the lady's low moan.

Louisa folded her arms pettishly. "I cannot believe someone else is performing an assignation while I am reduced to hiding."

The gentleman sent her an incredulous look. "That is your preferred method of spending your time?"

"I imagine it would be if I were given the opportunity to try it." She pouted. "I don't suppose you would be so kind?"

There was another long silence as he looked at her. The space between them yawned, but beyond the puzzlement in his face, she was sure she saw a flash of longing that matched her own, deep in her belly.

"You want me to kiss you?" he asked in a low voice that seemed to rumble through her.

"If you would not object."

He swallowed, throat bobbing. "And if I would object?"

Now she really was offended. "What about me is displeasing?" she snapped under her breath. "Am I not pretty enough for you? Or perhaps you dislike the colour of my dress? My hair?"

A dimple appeared at the opposite corner of his mouth this time. "I daresay you know precisely how pretty you are."

"Then why will you not kiss me?"

His finger touched her chin, a fleeting pressure that made her insides feel like liquid. "Because," he said with a solemnity that quelled her flash of hurt, "I intend to only ever kiss my future bride."

Louisa did not know precisely what she felt, only that he had taken the source of her anger and tugged it free, like removing an embedded thorn from her skin. He was looking at her with a gravity that seemed beyond his years, and beyond her understanding.

"But I cannot conceive why you might want to. From what I understand, kissing is fun ." Another enthusiastic gasp from the party nearby seemed to confirm her claim. "And your future bride will not mind, I am sure."

His dimple deepened into a lopsided smile. "Is that so?"

"I know I certainly should not."

"And yet," he said gravely, "you have fled your chaperone in order to find a stranger in a maze who might kiss you, and you have aspirations of being a painter. Forgive me for my impertinence, but I do not think you resemble the typical young lady."

Louisa tossed her head. "I have no wish to resemble a typical young lady."

"So I am coming to understand." He hesitated, glancing in the direction of the other couple, who seemed to be increasingly amorous, and beckoned Louisa further into the maze.

"Have you truly never kissed another young lady?" she persisted, following him and wishing she had thought to bring a parasol to shield her from the sun. "Not even a maid?"

"No."

"When do you intend to marry?"

"Not for some time yet, I would imagine."

"Hmm." Louisa pursed her lips at the back of his head. "That is a rather singular decision. Will you be able to resist?"

"I have so far," he said dryly.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

That meant he was probably at Oxford or Cambridge. Louisa did not know what occurred at such establishments, but she suspected studying often came second. "I think you are making a mistake."

"Yes," he said from ahead. "You are not the only person. But I doubt you can change my mind even if you wanted to."

Louisa decided then and there that she would charm this young man into giving her a kiss if it was the last thing she did. But before she could act on it, there came a very familiar scream of outrage from behind her.

"Goodness gracious," Miss Huxley squawked, presumably on discovering the amorous couple. "Have you no shame?"

So her governess had ventured into the maze after all. Wonders would never cease.

A giggle bubbled from Louisa's lips. "Quick," she said, taking the gentleman's arm in hers now and breaking into a run. "That's my governess. Run for your life or you shall find yourself married long before you ever intended."

To her delight, he caught her hand in his. "This way," he said, navigating the maze as though he knew every corner like the lines on his palm. "There is a gap in the hedge. In a pinch, you'll fit."

Laughter and breathlessness vied for prominence as she allowed him to sweep her along, but before she squeezed through the narrow gap in the fence, which would utterly ruin her dress and have Mother up in arms about her appearance, she twisted so she was practically in the young man's arms.

"Before I go," she panted, "pray tell me your name."

Blue eyes blazed into hers, and her toes curled in anticipation as he finally said, "Henry. Henry Beaumont."