Diane Gaston - Regency Improprieties - Innocence and Impropriety / The Vanishing Viscountess

Flynn.

He was still talking. ‘Lord Tannerton would be good to you, Rose. I would stake my life on it.’

But she did not love Lord Tannerton. That was the thing.

With such a lofty man, she could never have what Miss Hart had with Mr Sloane.

She needed time. ‘I will think on it some more, Flynn.’

Langley Street was empty in front of her building. He jumped down from the curricle and held her waist as he lifted her down.

She rested her hands on his shoulders a moment longer than necessary, not wanting to say goodbye to him. Wanting to see him again. ‘I.I will be singing at Vauxhall tonight. If you’ve a mind to come.’

He stood still, but it seemed as if his eyes were searching hers. ‘I will be there.’

‘Come to the gazebo door. You’ll be admitted, I promise.’ Her spirits were soaring again. He wanted to see her. Her.

He grasped her hand and held it a brief delicious moment. ‘Tonight, then.’

Feeling joyous, Rose entered the building and climbed the stairs to her father’s rooms.

When she opened the door, Letty stood there, hands on her hips. ‘Were you with that Flynn fellow? Has he given you a meeting time with the marquess?’

She ought to have been prepared. ‘It is not set, Letty. But soon, Mr Flynn tells me.’

‘Where did you go, Mary Rose? I was wondering.’ Her father sat in the chair near the fireplace.

Rose walked over and gave him a kiss on the top of his bald head. ‘A drive in the park, is all.’ She headed for her room.

Letty blocked her way. ‘This Flynn. Did he tell you how much the marquess will pay?’

Rose looked her in the eye. ‘I thought you would be proud of me, Letty. I put him off. Did you not say that would increase the price?’

‘Well, I—’ Letty began, but Rose brushed past her to disappear into the little room that was her bedchamber.

Returning from the mews where he’d left Tanner’s curricle and horses, Flynn ran into Tanner walking back from St. James’s Street.

Tanner clapped him on the shoulder. ‘How fortuitous! You have been on my mind all the afternoon. What progress, man? Do tell.’

Flynn had nothing to tell.

‘Out with it, Flynn. What the devil happened?’

As they walked side by side, Flynn used what Rose had called his silver tongue. ‘You must trust me in this matter, my lord. The lady is not the usual sort. You were correct about diplomacy being required.’

Tanner put a hand on his arm, stopping him on the pavement. ‘Do not tell me she disliked the emerald ring!’

Flynn had forgotten it was in his pocket. ‘I did not present it to her, sir.’

‘You did not present it?’ Tanner looked surprised.

It was difficult to face him. ‘She would have refused it.’

Tanner started walking again. ‘My God, she is a strange one. What woman would refuse such a gift?’

One who bewitches , thought Flynn, but he replied, ‘She is a puzzle, I agree.’

‘You do not think she prefers Greythorne, do you?’ Tanner asked with a worried frown.

‘She was unaware of Greythorne’s interest.’

Tanner looked aghast. ‘And you told her of him? Now she will know there is competition!’

Flynn countered, ‘Now she knows to come to us to top any offer he makes.’

After a few paces, Tanner laughed. ‘She is a rare one, isn’t she? I am unused to exerting myself. This is capital sport.’

Tanner, of course, had not exerted himself at all beyond charging Flynn with the work. ‘I need some time to gain her trust, I think. I shall see her again tonight at Vauxhall.’

Tanner clapped him on the shoulder again. ‘Excellent! I have a previous engagement, otherwise I’d join you.’

Flynn felt only a twinge of guilt for being glad of Tanner’s previous engagement.

‘Did you discover anything about Greythorne?’ Flynn asked.

‘Not a thing,’ replied Tanner.

Later that evening when Flynn strolled down the Grand Walk of Vauxhall Gardens, he thought about Greythorne, trying to place his finger on who’d spoken ill of the man.

He had at least an hour to ponder the puzzle before the orchestra played. He knew she would have arrived by then, and he could then present himself at the gazebo door.

He thought about simply knocking on the door now, but he really did not want to chance encountering her father, or, worse, being plied with questions about Tanner by Miss Dawes.

Flynn stopped at one of the restaurants in the gardens instead. Sitting at an outside table, he sipped arrack amid the laughter and buzz of the people walking by. He could feel the velvet box containing the emerald ring still in his pocket. It kept him grounded. A reminder of Tanner, of Greythorne, of what his duty must be.

As he idly watched the passers-by, he let his mind drift to how it had felt to walk through the gardens with her, her arm through his, how the illuminations lit her face, how tempting her lips had been.

He took a longer sip of arrack.

‘Well, look who is here!’

Flynn glanced up to see Rose’s friend, Katy, striding his way.

‘Mr Flynn! Fancy meeting you here again!’ She flung herself into a chair even before he could rise. ‘You must be here for Rose. Imagine, our little Rosie catching the eye of a marquess! Not that I’m surprised. She barely needed lessons with that face and figure. Just enough to get rid of the accent and learn to put herself forward.’ She reached for his glass and took a sip.

Flynn felt as if he were caught in a whirlwind. ‘Lessons?’

Katy laughed, patting his arm. ‘Never mind that.’

Showing no signs of leaving, she commandeered his glass for herself. He signalled for more for both of them.

She rested her elbows on the table. ‘Tell me about this marquess. Sir Reginald says he is an important man.’

Flynn pursed his lips, wishing he’d said nothing to Sir Reginald. ‘You must understand, Miss Green, this is not a matter I am free to discuss.’

‘Miss Green?’ She laughed again. ‘Well, aren’t you the high-and-mighty one! Call me Katy. Everyone does. I tell you, it’s a marvel how well Rosie’s done. Here I thought I was the only one. Not that Sir Reginald is anything. He takes me around and I meet people. I’m going to rise higher myself, I am.’

Katy’s words were like puzzle pieces scattered on a table. They made no sense. ‘How do you know Miss O’Keefe?’

‘Rose, you mean?’ She grinned, then tried to compose her animated face. ‘You might say we were … schoolmates.’ Her voice trembled with mirth on this last word, and she dissolved into gales of laughter, slapping the table and causing several heads to turn their way.

He raised his brows, but she did not elaborate. Their arrack came and she finished his first glass before reaching for the next one.

‘Are you here to see Rose?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he answered, somewhat reluctantly.

‘And where is this marquess? I’ve a fancy to set eyes upon this paragon.’ She looked around as if Lord Tannerton might suddenly appear.

‘He is not here.’

She shrugged, taking another gulp of arrack. ‘I’ll be on tenterhooks ‘til I see him, I expect. I might fancy a marquess myself, though I didn’t aim to look so high. Miss H—Well, I mean, we were told to think high of ourselves, but I keep my feet on the ground, so to speak.’

Flynn was no closer to understanding her. Rose and Katy schoolmates? Not in Killyleagh.

The discordant chords of the orchestra tuning up reached his ears, and he interrupted Katy’s unrestrained volubility. ‘Forgive me, Miss Green. I must go.’ He stood.

‘Go?’ She rose as well. ‘Where are you off to, Mr Flynn?’

He hated to tell her, but feared she would follow him no matter what. ‘Miss O’Keefe said to meet her at the gazebo.’