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

‘Oh?’ She clapped her hands. ‘That is splendid. I’ll go with you. Give her another hello.’

So, with the gaily dressed, red-haired young woman hanging on his arm, Flynn strolled to the orchestra’s gazebo.

Miss Dawes opened the door. ‘Mr Flynn! Come in. Come in.’ She noticed Katy behind him and gave a scowl.

Katy grinned at her. ‘How do you do?’

Some mischief took hold of Flynn, making him give precedence to the obvious harlot, Katy. ‘Miss Green,’ he said in his most formal voice. ‘May I present Miss Dawes, a friend of Mr O’Keefe’s.’

Miss Dawes looked like thunder, but Katy rose to the occasion. ‘A pleasure, ma’am,’ she said in an uncannily ladylike voice.

Miss Dawes ignored her. ‘I’ll fetch Rose.’ She huffed out of the room, almost tripping over a jumble of instrument cases the musicians had left.

A minute later Rose walked in, the lamplight softening her lovely features.

‘Katy!’ she said in surprise.

Katy danced up to her and gave her a hug. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Rosie. I talked Mr Flynn into bringing me here. Met that dragon, Miss Dawes, too. Who does she think she is?’

Rose looked bewildered. ‘Are … are you here with Mr Flynn?’ Her glance slid over to him.

Katy laughed, but it was Flynn who answered, ‘She merely wished to say hello to you.’

Katy released her. ‘That I did.’ She chattered on about Miss Dawes and how all the men would admire Rose when she sang.

Rose turned to Flynn, anxiety in her eyes. ‘If you wished to spend time with Katy—’

‘Goodness!’ Katy exclaimed. ‘I am meeting Sir Reginald, who has promised to introduce me to some rich fellow.’ She swayed up to Flynn and pressed herself against his arm. ‘Unless that marquess would be interested in me?’ Without waiting for his reply, she returned to Rose to give her a peck on the cheek and flounced out of the door.

Rose looked at him. ‘I.I thought you were with her.’

‘I was not,’ Flynn said.

Her face relaxed. ‘Would you like to stand in the balcony while I’m singing?’

‘I should like that,’ he responded truthfully.

They talked of inconsequential things until she was called to perform. Flynn stood in a dark corner of the balcony, able to see her in profile, though she turned to smile at him before beginning her first tune, an old Irish ballad he remembered his sisters singing as a duet. She continued with ‘O Listen to the Voice of Love.’

His gaze wandered to the audience. It was still light enough to see the people staring spellbound as she sang. She captivated them all, he thought, scanning the crowd.

He caught sight of Lord Greythorne and scowled. But Greythorne was not looking at Rose. Flynn followed the direction of the man’s gaze across the span of people. He froze. At the edge of the crowd stood a familiar tall figure, arms crossed over his chest, face tilted toward the lovely Rose O’Keefe.

Lord Tannerton.

Flynn listened to Rose’s final notes drift into the night air and watched her take her final bow. Tanner’s ‘Bravo!’ sounded above all the other voices.

It was good he was here, Flynn told himself determinedly, because Flynn needed to remember that his task was to get Rose to accept Tanner’s protection. He needed to be certain Tanner won her over Lord Greythorne. The more time Flynn spent alone with her, the more bewitched he became, as if he were also vying for her regard.

Rose came over to him, smiling. She grasped his hand. ‘We must go below.’

He let her lead him to the room below stairs.

‘How was I?’ she asked him, as the voice of Charles Dignum reached their ears. ‘I felt myself straining here and there. Was it noticeable, do you think?’

She still held his hand. He stared at it a moment before answering. ‘I noticed no imperfection.’

She smiled and squeezed his fingers. ‘What shall we do now? The night is lovely and I must wait for my father and Letty. I know you wish to talk to me, but could we do so while we explore the gardens again? Go see the hermit?’

The hermit illusion was located at the far end of one of the darker, less crowded paths well known for dalliance. Flynn could just imagine leading her into one of the private alcoves, holding her in his arms and finally tasting her lips.

He forced himself to face her. ‘Lord Greythorne is here,’ he said. ‘As is Lord Tanner.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘Lord Tanner? You did not tell me he would be here.’

‘I did not know,’ he quickly explained. ‘He was engaged elsewhere, but I saw him in the audience. He is here.’ Flynn held her shoulders. ‘Allow me to present you to him. You might see for yourself the man he is.’

She stared into his eyes. ‘Oh, Flynn.’ It took her a moment to go on. ‘Not so soon. I mean, I.I am not ready to meet him. I have not decided yet that I should.’

He tilted his head toward the stairway leading to the orchestra’s balcony, to where her father played his oboe. ‘Your father wishes it, does he not? The marquess will not wait for ever, and Greythorne is very willing to step in.’

Her eyes turned anxious. ‘Time, Flynn. Can you be procuring me a little more time?’

He nodded, knowing he should not.

Tanner would take care of her. Take her away from the unpleasant Miss Dawes and the drab set of rooms shared with her father. Tanner would protect her from men like Greythorne, anyone who might mistreat her. It would be best for her to simply meet Tanner. See the man he was, and make her decision. Then Flynn could go back to a sane life.

‘I shall see you have more time,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’ She grasped his hand. ‘Call on me tomorrow, Flynn. Share supper with me. I do not perform tomorrow. You could come after my father and Letty leave. I will be more prepared to think.’

He stepped closer to her. What could one more day matter? Her beautiful face turned up to his. It seemed natural to slide his hand down her arm, lift her hand to his lips. Even through her glove he could feel its warmth, taste the allure of her.

He released her. ‘I will call tomorrow, then.’

‘Eight o’clock? Papa and Letty will have left by then.’

He nodded.

He walked over to the door, but before he opened it, he turned back to her. ‘I had forgotten. I must give you this tonight. From Lord Tanner.’ He pulled out the small velvet box from his coat pocket.

She held up her hand to refuse it.

‘Accept it, Rose. It is a trifle to him, but I can no longer find excuses for not giving it to you.’ He placed it in her hand.

She opened the box, revealing the ring, a sparkling emerald surrounded by tiny diamonds, in a setting of carved gold. ‘This is not a trifle, Flynn,’ she said, trying to hand it back to him.

‘It is to Tannerton.’ He closed her fingers around it. ‘Take it, Rose. It does not obligate you to him, I promise.’ He kept his hand over hers for too long. ‘I must leave.’

He quickly pulled away and opened the door.

‘Goodnight, Flynn,’ he heard her say as he hurried through the doorway into the night.

Adam Vickering, Marquess of Tannerton, sat in a supper box with his friend Pomroy and the party of high flyers and dashers Pomroy always seemed to collect.

Pomroy filled his glass with arrack. ‘You’re like a besotted fool, Tan—’ He paused to belch. ‘Never thought you the sort who let a woman lead him by a string.’

Tanner gulped down half his arrack. ‘I’d be dashed pleased to be led by this one, if I could only get near enough to secure her.’ He looked heavenwards. ‘You heard her, Pomroy. She is an angel.’

‘Ha!’ his friend barked. ‘I’d say she’s devilish crafty. Has you eating out of her hand and all without speaking a word to you. She’s going to play you against Greythorne, you know, like bidders at Tattersalls.