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

She’d been so disappointed at Lord Tannerton’s appearance the night before, forcing her to forgo Flynn’s company. She’d had girlish fantasies of walking with Flynn down the Dark Walk, where lovers could be private, where lovers could kiss. Tannerton had spoiled it.

She was determined Tannerton would not spoil this evening, even if Rose must talk about him with Flynn. She intended to spend some part of the evening merely enjoying being alone with him. In school she’d learned it was not proper to entertain a man alone in one’s lodgings, but here in Covent Garden no one expected proper behaviour. She planned to take advantage of that fact.

While she checked the kettle to see if there was water enough to heat for tea, the knock sounded at the door. Rose wheeled around, pressing her hand against her abdomen to quiet the flutters. She hurried to the door and opened it.

Flynn stood with a small package in his hand. ‘For you, Miss O’Keefe.’

She hesitated. Another present from Tannerton. Letty had already discovered the ring and was at this moment wearing it on her finger. Rose took the package into her hand and stepped aside so Flynn could enter.

Flynn placed his hat and gloves on the table near the door and turned to her, pointing to the package. ‘It is a token,’ he said. ‘From me.’

From Flynn? That made her happy. She eagerly untied the string and opened the box. Inside was an assortment of sweetmeats, all prettily arranged. She thought she had never seen anything so lovely, nor received such a wonderful gift.

She smiled at him. ‘Thank you. I will serve them with our tea.’ Or leave them untouched to treasure for ever. ‘Please come to the table.’

She poured him a glass of Madeira. ‘I know it is customary to have conversation before dinner is served, but I thought it best for us to eat right away.’

‘Whatever you desire, Rose,’ he said, still standing.

He waited until she had fetched the meat pies from in front of the fire and placed them on the plates, then held her chair for her. She smiled up at him.

‘Our meal is rather plain,’ she apologised.

‘I do not mind.’ He settled in his seat and took a forkful. ‘I do not know when I last ate meat pie.’

She felt her cheeks warming. ‘I am sorry to serve you such poor fare.’

‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘I meant it is a rare treat.’

She gave him a disbelieving glance. ‘There goes your silver tongue again.’

‘Truly, Rose.’ He looked so sincere she was tempted to believe him.

She glanced back down at her plate. ‘You know, in my grandparents’ house this would have been a luxury. There’s more meat in my pie here than they ate in a week sometimes.’

A faint wrinkle creased his brow. ‘Their lives must be difficult.’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘they died a long time ago, soon after my mother. After that my father put me in school in Killyleagh.’

He glanced up again. ‘You had other family, certainly.’

‘Not of my mother’s family, but there are plenty of O’Keefes.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘My father’s family never was accepting of him being a musician, so I never really knew them.’

Flynn took another bite of the pie he was truly enjoying. He remembered how poor some were in Ireland. He had not realised she’d been one of them. Tanner’s generosity could give her a secure, comfortable life. This was the perfect opportunity to convince her of the advantages of accepting his offer. If he could even convince her to meet Tanner, she would learn this for herself.

‘We need to discuss your meeting with Tannerton, Rose,’ he ventured.

She stared down at her plate. ‘Yes. I have promised you we would do so.’ She looked up at him. ‘So speak. I shall listen.’

The force of her eyes drove all words from his mouth. ‘Perhaps after our meal,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘Tell me more of King’s Theatre, then. Tell me of its interior.’

So he talked of King’s Theatre, Drury Lane, Covent Garden, as well as other smaller theatres he’d attended. He told her of the sopranos he’d seen: Catalani, Camporese, Fodor, among them. She listened, eyes dancing in delight at his descriptions, and he found himself wishing he could share such experiences with her.

She served him a simple dessert, strawberries and cream, and after she cleared the dishes away, she said with a twinkle in her eye, ‘Shall we retire to the drawing room, then?’ She gestured to the two cushioned chairs near the fire. ‘I’ll make tea.’

He sat while she poured hot water from the kettle into a teapot. Though their conversation had been comfortable before, they now lapsed into a strained silence, broken only by her questions of how he took his tea.

She sat opposite him and poured, placing one of the sweetmeats he’d given her on the saucer.

‘Rose …’ he began.

She attempted a smile, but it vanished quickly. ‘I know. We must talk.’

His brow furrowed, and he felt like whatever silver tongue he might possess had been badly tarnished. ‘Let me arrange a meeting with Lord Tannerton, Rose, before Greythorne becomes more of a problem.’

She frowned at him. ‘Do you mean meet Lord Tannerton, or something else?’

He picked up the sweetmeat, but could not bite into it. He returned it to the saucer. ‘A meeting only. You are not obligated for more.’ It was becoming torturous to think about the more that would eventually transpire once she accepted Tanner.

She stared into her teacup. ‘And later?’

He could not look at her. ‘If you find him … agreeable, there is no limit to what he might do for you.’

‘Ah, but it is what I must do.’ she murmured, her voice trailing off.

He gave her a puzzled look. What was her reluctance? She was not without experience in such matters. She was friends with Katy Green, after all, whose station in life was very clear. Katy seemed to take the marquess’s interest in Rose as nothing unusual. And Rose had alluded to other liaisons—those gentlemen who drove her in Hyde Park, for example. A connection with a wealthy marquess ought to be eagerly sought after. Unless.

He straightened his back. ‘Rose, is there another man.?’

‘Interested in me, do you mean?’ She pointed to a tray of cards on the table where he’d placed his hat and gloves. ‘Those fellows, I suppose.’

He shook his head. ‘I mean a man who interests you.’

‘Me?’ It took a moment for comprehension to dawn. ‘Oh!’ She blinked rapidly, then raised her liquid emerald eyes to his. ‘No, Flynn,’ she said in a soft, low voice. ‘There is no one else.’

He stopped breathing.

Finally she averted her gaze. ‘Why do you ask such a thing?’

He picked up his cup. ‘You have persistently avoided talking about the marquess.’

‘So you thought it must be another man.’ She regarded him with an ironic expression. ‘‘Tis not enough I might not fancy being bartered like some fancy item in a shop.’

He stared at her. ‘You are not being bartered.’ Though he feared she had captured the essence of the matter.

‘Of course I am,’ she said, her tone pragmatic.

But why did she dislike it, if she would come out the winner?

She stood. ‘Never mind it. I’ll meet your marquess.’ She crossed the room. ‘Tell me when.’

He walked over to her, making her look at him. ‘Are you certain?’

She cocked her head. ‘I’m certain. But I’ll not be obligating myself further than that. And I’d prefer Letty and my father not be a part of it.’

He had no difficulty agreeing with that.

‘And no gifts, if you please.’

That was unexpected, but easily done.

‘And you must be present.’

He gave her a surprised glance. ‘I?’