“Vauxhall Gardens!” Katrina looked at Frankie in utter astonishment. “The duke and Lord Nate have offered to take us to the gardens and you have agreed?”
“I thought you had your heart set upon going.”
“And I thought you were adamantly opposed to the idea.”
Frankie smiled. “I’ve had a change of heart.”
Katrina frowned. “You told me they are not open at this time of the year.”
“They are not. Not to the public. But there is to be a private masquerade there tomorrow—”
“A masquerade?”
Katrina nibbled her index finger, excited at the prospect but racked with indecision. She hadn’t even considered including something quite that risqué on her list. The thought of attending one, of hiding behind a mask and pretending for a few brief hours to be anyone she wished to be was a forceful incentive.
Her thoughts turned to Papa and his likely reaction if he found out what she had done, or that she had even considered doing it. But a moment’s reflection was all it took for her to realise that he would not find out. Who would know she was there and be mean-spirited enough to tell him even if they did happen to recognise her? It was hardly the type of occasion that would be graced by the strict patronesses of Almack’s. Everyone attending would have their own reasons for being there and discretion would be their byword.
Besides, she would be with a duke and his brother. They would protect her, although why they had suggested the excursion was less clear. However, they had offered to escort her and Frankie and she might never get another chance do anything so…well, so recklessly daring. Katrina hadn’t realised how much sedition had been building up inside her over the years and it was past time to redress the balance.
“You clearly have doubts,” Frankie said. “I thought you might and it’s probably for the best. I shall ask the duke to excuse us.”
“No,” Katrina said firmly, coming to a decision. “I would love it of all things. But…that was what you meant earlier when you said to Lord Nate that we would take all the necessary precautions, I suppose.”
The ladies were fortifying themselves with tea and cake following the rigours of the skating expedition. Katrina had been disappointed but not surprised when Lord Nate declined to join them, claiming a prior engagement. He probably thought Katrina had almost come to grief on purpose, just so he could rescue her, giving her a legitimate excuse to lean against that broad shoulder of his until she recovered her composure. Ha, as though she could be so calculating!
“Yes, we can’t risk being recognised. Well, you cannot. For my own sake it doesn’t matter quite so much. But that of course is the point of wearing masks.”
“Who is holding the masquerade?”
“Lord Everton, I believe.” Frankie smiled. “He is the most notorious rake in all of London and his parties are reputed to be wild. I have never been to one so I can’t speak from experience. Just be sure not to stray from the rest of us. It’s easy to get separated at these events, I would imagine. The usual rules don’t apply and just by being there, certain elements will assume you are…” Frankie looked rather flustered, which was unusual enough to garner Katrina’s full attention. “I need to be sure you understand what you are committing yourself to.”
Katrina gulped. “I believe I do.”
“Don’t look so worried. Just don’t venture outside the rotunda with anyone…well, anyone expect Lord Nate,” Frankie added with a capricious smile, “and you will be perfectly safe.”
“I am so excited,” Katrina said, pushing the few misgivings that kept slipping past her guard firmly to the back of her mind. “Thank you so much, Frankie.”
“We have this evening to get through first. I thought we might look in at Mrs. Gibson’s party. There are a couple of balls as well, but neither appeal.”
“Oh, I shall be quite content with a party.”
And she was. She refused to allow the depression brought on by her father’s unjustified reprimand to spoil her enjoyment of it, vowing to make the most of every moment of the freedom still available to her. By the time Papa returned she would have experienced all the pleasures of a London season that she could possibly pack into her busy days…and nights.
And after that she would be content to be the dutiful, obedient daughter in whom he took so much pride and wouldn’t give him a minute’s cause for concern.
She absolutely would.
Frankie and Katrina left the party early and were back in Park Street before midnight. The following morning was taken up by a shopping expedition since Katrina needed to purchase a half mask that would complement the gown she intended to wear to the masquerade. Frankie knew the only establishment in London that could provide exactly the right one. And so it proved to be the case.
With excitement bubbling away inside her, Katrina watched the hands on the clock slowly sweep around as the afternoon saw a steady stream of callers at Park Street, including Lord Avon. She had thought at first that his regard for her was imaginary; that he merely looked upon her as suitable wifely material. But he became increasingly intent each time she saw him and she began to think his feelings might be genuine. That was unfortunate since it must be obvious to him that she did not return them. Feeling sorry that she might cause him pain, she made a point of smiling at him far more regularly than she normally would.
Finally Lord Avon, the last of their visitors, left and it was time to dress for their escapade.
Katrina had selected an evening gown she had not worn before in a colour she had never imagined wearing. Frankie had persuaded her that it would suit her and she was now glad that she had. In scarlet net worn over a satin slip, the colour in perfect accord with the wickedness of their engagement. The neckline was low, trimmed with pretty scarlet and white points and the hemline was heavily adorned with similar flounces. Her headdress was of moderate height in scarlet satin, ornamented with a plume of heron’s feathers. Her half-mask, dangling from her gloved fingers, was sparkling silver.
“How do I look?” she asked Frankie anxiously as she skipped into the drawing room. “Is it too…well, provocative?”
Frankie studied her for several seconds, then grinned and shook her head. “Poor Lord Nate. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
“What does that mean?” Katrina asked, alarmed. “Should I wear something more modest?”
“You look delightful,” Frankie assured her, chuckling. “A little too delightful perhaps, but then that is the whole purpose of a masquerade.”
Before Katrina could demand clarification on that point Evans entered the room, informing Frankie that the duke and Lord Nate had arrived. Katrina’s heart beat at twice its regular rate as she waited for them to enter the room. Lord Nate stopped dead in his tracks when he observed her in her scarlet finery. Perdition, she’d shocked him. Worried that she might look like a harlot, the rebellious side of her nature was glad to have extracted such a stunned reaction from him. Did he imagine she had thrown down a challenging gauntlet? If so, he had no one to blame for that but himself. It was he, after all, who had suggested this expedition. Did he really expect her to dress like a nun for the occasion?
“Good evening,” he said, taking her gloved hand in his and kissing the back of it. Heavy-lidded and seductive, his gaze lazily roved across her person and the wicked light in his eyes suggested he approved of what he saw. “I have come upon you in a hedonistic mood, I think.”
She laughed. “Hardly that, but this seemed…well, fitting.”
The duke took her hand and smiled. “Don’t believe everything you’ve heard about Vauxhall Gardens,” he said.
“I shall look upon it as an educational experience. After all,” Katrina said with a mischievous smile, “Madame did encourage us to broaden our minds at every opportunity.”
Lord Nate laughed. “I doubt one of Everton’s masquerades is what she had in mind. Still, I think I can safely guarantee that it will open your eyes to a different aspect of society.”
“In other words,” Frankie said, focusing her gaze on the duke in his impeccable evening attire as she spoke. “The tonnish elite know how to misbehave.”
“Every dog must have his day,” the duke replied, a small smile flirting with his lips.
“What a charmingly apposite analogy,” Frankie said.
“If you are ready, ladies, we ought to be on our way,” the duke said, looking away from Frankie rather abruptly.
Katrina permitted Lord Nate to assist her with the long, enveloping cloak that completely concealed her person from inquisitive eyes.
“How long does it take to get there?” Katrina asked once she was seated beside Frankie in the duke’s carriage and he ordered his coachman to drive on.
“We have to cross the river,” Lord Nate explained. “We could of course take the new Vauxhall Bridge but where would be the fun in that?”
“We are to go by boat?” He nodded. “Oh, is there a public ferry?”
“I doubt whether dukes travel by such lowly means,” Frankie said in a teasing tone.
“Nothing but the best for you, my lady,” His Grace replied with a grave inclination of his handsome head. But Katrina thought he was fighting against a smile.
The carriage came to a halt at Westminster where, sure enough, a private vessel was waiting to convey the duke’s party to Vauxhall Stairs on the south bank.
“Put your masks on, ladies,” the duke said before they left the carriage.
Katrina dutifully did so but noticed that neither gentleman had so far bothered to don his. It was all right for them to be recognised, she supposed. Their presence at the masquerade could only enhance their reputations, whereas it could potentially destroy hers. That seemed rather unjust but such was the way of the world.
Several other small boats also undertook the short voyage, full of elegantly attired ladies and gentlemen, all of whom appeared to be in lively spirits. When they arrived at the far bank the duke stepped from the boat first, followed by Lord Nate. Both gentlemen held out hands to assist the ladies.
“That is Lambeth Palace,” Lord Nate told Katrina as she placed her hand on his sleeve and looked about her with interest. He had now put his mask on and looked suitably mysterious, exuding an aura of danger that excited her. “We are about to go through the main entrance to the gardens. Ordinarily lines of people would wait here to pay their one shilling entrance fee.”
No one was checking invitations as the boats disgorged their passengers. Katrina remarked upon that.
“Surely anyone could gain admittance.”
“They could certainly try,” Lord Nate replied. “But we are being watched discreetly. Anyone not wearing the right sort of clothes, or not behaving in a particular way, would stand out and be asked to leave.”
Katrina wondered how anyone could possibly make that distinction but was distracted by the sight that greeted her.
“Oh!” She gasped as they entered the gardens and found the entire space lit up by thousands of lanterns, turning the crisp winter’s night into a mystical wonderland. “It’s magical.”
“That it is,” Lord Nate agreed. “But if this impresses you, you would do better to come back in the summer. There is a ritual to lighting the lanterns then. At nine, when darkness falls, a whistle sounds and then all the lights are ceremoniously lit.”
“I doubt I shall get the opportunity,” she said, aware of the regret in her tone. “But at least now, when I hear it spoken of, I shall be able to imagine it.” She smiled up at Lord Nate, already feeling the weight of social mores lifting from her shoulders, thanks to the anonymity provided by the protection of her mask.
“This is the main grove,” Lord Nate told her, “and you can see that supper boxes line the walkway on both sides.”
“A perfect location from which to see without necessarily being seen.”
“Precisely.”
The grand walk led to a golden statue of Aurora which Katrina gasped at with open delight. Her head turned in all directions as she marvelled at everything she saw. There was an air of…well, Katrina wasn’t precisely sure what. Expectancy? Promise? Or was it more a case of her being too fanciful, her imagination running riot and playing tricks on her?
“And so we come to the rotunda,” Lord Nate said. “The central location for the masquerade, although of course a very great deal more of the activity will take place in the groves.”
“In this weather?” Katrina asked, surprised.
His rich, warm laughter touched her soul. “How delightfully naïve you are,” he said.
Katrina wondered if she ought to be offended by that remark. She was not the child he appeared to be implying that she was. She had seen and done all manner of things in Europe and found herself in situations that most ladies of her age wouldn’t know how to handle. But just for tonight she wanted to be admired for her sophistication and entrance her suave escort with her sensuality and air of mystique.
She marvelled at the sight of the already crowded rotunda with its fine works of art. There was music, buffet tables groaning beneath the weight of the food piled onto them and waiters circulating with trays of champagne. For some reason that Katrina failed to understand, all the waiters were dressed as Roman centurions. There were entertainers scattered about the place: jugglers, tumblers and incredibly, a tight rope walker. Katrina gasped. Surely he would fall from such a height and break his neck. But he did not and his efforts were applauded.
“Thank you, Lord Nate,” she said, turning towards him, eyes wide with appreciation, forgetting about being suave and sophisticated in the face of her growing excitement. “Thank you so much for suggesting this excursion. If I never do anything half so thrilling for the rest of my days, I shall always look back upon this night and think myself the most fortunate.”
Riveting dark eyes glistened from behind his mask and his sculpted lips curved into an intimately seductive smile. “My lady,” he said softly, “the night is still young.”
***
Cedric didn’t know what to think when a Sheridan carriage arrived at Park Street yet again. This time the duke was with his brother. Shortly after entering the house they emerged from it again with Lady Katrina and Lady St. John and the carriage immediately drove off.
“What the devil…”
He ran to the livery yard, claimed his horse and followed the Sheridan carriage to Westminster, by which time he had a fair idea where the party was headed. Who would have thought Lady Katrina could be so wanton? No wonder Brown wanted her kept under close observation. He could tell from the attire of others waiting to board boats, many of them wearing masks, that they were bound for one of the infamous private masquerades held periodically at Vauxhall Gardens. He chuckled, rather admiring Lady Katrina’s nerve. That dry old stick Heston would have a seizure when he discovered what she had done.
If he discovered, Cedric thought, glad that on this occasion there was a convenient tavern in which he could await the return of the duke’s party. The thought of following them across the river didn’t occur to him. Not only was he not dressed for the occasion but he would be spotted as an interloper immediately. No, he would wait in this very comfortable tavern, spend some of the blunt Brown had reluctantly advanced him, and see what developed. Brown had been damned parsimonious, Cedric thought mutinously—which was another reason why he didn’t feel any particular loyalty towards him or Heston.
“Who’s hosting the masquerade?” he asked a liveried coachman who walked past his table.
“Lord Everton,” the man replied. “There will be high jinks over there this night, you just see if I’m not right.”
Everton? Cedric knew all about his reputation and Lady Katrina’s stock had just increased in Cedric’s mind as a consequence. As had the cost of revealing the information that he now possessed to Brown. It was worth much more than the paltry sum that cove had so far offered him. Not trusting the arrogant sod further than he could throw him, Cedric wouldn’t tell him a thing until he’d seen the colour of the man’s money.
And perhaps not even then.
He settled down to wait, watching a few ladies of the night, early arrivals at the tavern, swigging cheap gin as they waited for the customers who would appear as soon as darkness fell. After standing around in the perishing cold for several days Cedric had earned himself a treat. He appraised them speculatively, thinking perhaps he would avail himself of the services of one of them, just to help pass the time. Not that he really needed to wait. He’d bet a guinea against a farthing that the duke’s party wouldn’t be returning until the early hours, and then they would be going straight home.
But he was comfortably ensconced here so he might as well stay where he was.
***
Zach’s party found seats in a quieter part of the rotunda in which it would be harder for curious revellers to approach the ladies. Harder but by no means impossible. With plates of delicacies delivered to their table at a flick of the ducal fingers, all four of them ate and drank the excellent vintage wine—Everton never stinted on the refreshments he supplied for his guests—and watched the passing parade of humanity.
It never ceased to amaze Nate just how quickly people shed their inhibitions when fuelled by champagne and protected by flimsy masks that often failed to hide their identities. Katrina’s eyes widened at some of the as yet comparatively mild activities on display. He wondered how much more shocked she would be if she knew that the lady engaged in a passionate embrace with a man in knee breeches was a countess, the man, her footman. Or that the two men in close conversation just behind them would soon be embracing one another just as passionately.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring her. They intended to leave before midnight, after which time masks were removed and no holds were barred, but even so… He seldom bothered with these events anymore and had forgotten just how quickly good manners could give way to lewdness and…well, debauchery. He was suddenly filled with an urgent desire to protect Katrina from such spectacles. The aristocracy was, after all, supposed to lead by example.
“Are you all right?” he asked Katrina. “We can leave any time you like. I didn’t bring you here with the intention of shocking you.”
“Leave? I wouldn’t hear of it. This is very interesting indeed.” Her eyes sparkled as she watched a man wielding a whip chase a laughing woman through the throng, shouting, ‘Tallyho!’ “Oh my!”
“Not that you would know it from their behaviour,” Nate said, giving voice to his earlier thought, “but tonight this place is full of some of the country’s leaders.”
“We are all God’s creatures, with the same instincts and desires,” Katrina replied, watching the activities unfolding in front of her rather than giving Nate her attention.
“And instinct trumps regulation every time,” Nate replied sardonically. “However, I wouldn’t have you think Vauxhall is always like this. In the summer it’s a very different matter. People from all walks of society are welcome to mingle and enjoy the entertainments provided they can pay the shilling entrance fee. The gardens are a place free of social constraints.”
“I can well imagine.”
Zach leaned nonchalantly back in his chair, watching the passing parade of people but seeming to watch Lady St. John just as assiduously. Perhaps Nate had done his brother a favour in suggesting this outing. If the wicked pleasures of a Vauxhall masquerade enjoyed in Lady St. John’s beguiling company didn’t resolve the nature of their tempestuous relationship then nothing would. There was an undefinable something in the atmosphere that, as Katrina had just implied, would cause the most reserved of men to throw caution to the wind. Zach might take his responsibilities seriously but no one could ever accuse him of being immune to an idealistic ambience or the charms of a beautiful woman.
And they didn’t come any more beautiful than Frankie St. John.
Nate laughed as Katrina kept up a constant stream of chatter, having something to say about everyone who passed their table and appearing entertained rather than shocked by some of the risqué comments that drifted towards them. She sipped at her champagne and enthusiastically consumed the fare on offer: ham, cold meats, salad, cheeses, custards, tarts and cheesecakes. Katrina’s attention was focused primarily upon the latter. People swarmed around them, as Nate had known would be the case, but none of the gentlemen had so far tried to prise Katrina away from him.
The orchestra struck up while they were eating and couples swirled onto the floor in an array of lascivious embraces that would have seen them permanently barred from Almack’s and given that establishment’s patronesses a communal case of the vapours. Nate ran one arm casually along the back of Katrina’s chair but resisted the urge to actually touch her or ask her to dance. The male revellers would not be so circumspect about touching her and Nate wasn’t prepared to take that risk.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked. “Would you like more champagne?”
“What I would like is some lemonade,” she replied. “Champagne seems to make me thirsty.”
It was impossible to attract the attention of a waiter. Nate would have to get her lemonade for her. She would be safe enough with Zach and Lady St. John beside her.
“I will be but a minute,” he said.