Dawn in My Heart Page 11

  Though he still felt weak, Tertius was determined to let on to no one. He’d organized this party to Vauxhall Gardens for the masquerade and he was going to see it through to the end.

  His party consisted of Delaney and two other friends from the old days. Gillian and Templeton and a couple of friends of Gillian’s to even out the numbers. He’d even thought to include his father’s secretary to escort Miss Templeton.

  He watched the two now strolling along the tree-lined promenade. Seeing was a little difficult with only one eye. The other was covered with an eye patch. Coming from the West Indies, he thought it appropriate to don a pirate’s costume to the Gardens.

  He glanced at Gillian beside him. She was dressed in a medieval gown with conical headdress and trailing veil. He noticed the absence of the necklace on her graceful, low-cut neckline.

  “Did you receive the gift I sent you?” he couldn’t help asking when she said nothing about it.

  “The necklace and earrings? Yes, I received them.”

  “Did they not find favor with you?”

  “Oh, they were pretty enough,” she said in a careless tone. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he answered mildly.

  They were soon separated from the other couples. Skylar took Gillian to the Rural Downs to view the river. From there they toured the grottos and waterfalls and man-made caves. Sky noted that for someone who had never been to Vauxhall, Gillian was not showing her normal enthusiasm. She seemed unusually quiet.

  “How is the dog?” he asked at one point.

  “Sophie?”

  “Is that what you call her?”

  “Yes. She is settling in nicely. Mother seems resigned to her presence in the house. I must next get her accustomed to my two cats. She’s a very docile animal, though, so I believe I shall succeed, although they are not so friendly.”

  “Your two cats don’t inhabit the house?”

  “Mother doesn’t even know about them. They are in the mews, and I sneak them into the house every morning for a couple of hours.”

  “Your menagerie can have free rein in our home when we’re married.”

  She turned away from him then, not even giving him a smile of thanks.

  He observed her closely during the course of the evening. Something was wrong. At first he attributed it to pique at his disappearance of a few days, but now he believed it to be more deeply founded.

  “Your mother informed you of the new date for our wedding?” he asked her, wondering if that might be the cause of her coolness toward him.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you any objections?” he asked, still trying to feel her out.

  “Would it matter if I did?”

  Her tone was cold. The news must not have set well with her. “It would matter to me, but as to my father or your mother, I don’t believe they will relent.”

  She turned to him. “And are you so powerless that you must do everything they say? Can’t you stop it?”

  “No, I’m not so powerless,” he said, stung despite himself at her contemptuous tone. He wished he could tell her the truth. It was more than his father’s prohibition, however. Pride held him back. Pride and reticence toward describing his own weak condition. “Let us say that in this case there are compelling reasons for moving up the wedding date.”

  “Such as?”

  He shrugged. “I explained to you…I am five-and-thirty. Sometimes…” He hesitated. “Sometimes I think time is running out for me.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “Sometimes I feel as if life has not even begun for me.”

  He stared at her, wondering at the remark in one so young. “You know you don’t have to marry me if you don’t wish to. I can tell my father it’s off for good. All he has to do is find me another young lady of the ton,” he ended dryly.

  She did not respond for some minutes as they promenaded under the trees lit by thousands of little gaslights. It was a magical place. They should be strolling arm in arm as the many other couples around them were doing. Others had escaped down secluded alleyways and into the shadowy groves.

  Finally she spoke in a voice so low he had to stoop to hear her. “I don’t think it can be called off now. It has been published in the paper. The date has been set.”

  The reply was far from satisfactory. “None of those reasons is sufficient if you truly don’t want to be married to me. You must let me know soon what your decision is.”

  She sighed but said nothing.

  After a moment he said, “People will say we married in haste because you are in a family way. I suppose it doesn’t matter what they say. You soon will be anyway.”

  “Must you forever bring that up?” she retorted, quickening her pace and walking ahead of him.

  What kind of wife and helpmate would Lady Gillian make him if she already seemed to view anything physical with such distaste?

  They headed back to the center of the gardens toward the gilded bandstand where a group of fiddlers was playing. They spotted Templeton ahead of them, walking with Mr. Scott.

  “I’m surprised you included Templeton in our party,” commented Gillian.

  “I thought she needed an outing.”

  “You even provided her with an escort,” she said in amusement.

  Heartened at her first show of pleasure, he explained, “Scott is my father’s secretary. A humorless sort. I thought he and Miss Templeton might cancel each other out. Either that or your companion can liven him up.”

  Gillian laughed and Sky was encouraged once again that things would sort themselves out between the two of them.

  At that moment, an attendant handed Tertius a note. He frowned, wondering who would know he was here.

  You are needed at your carriage. There has been an incident.

  It was signed by the manager of the gardens.

  Sky looked at Gillian.

  “It seems I’m needed where I left the carriage. Let me escort you to Templeton, before I leave.”

  “I can do so, my lord,” the attendant answered immediately.

  “That won’t be necessary,” he replied.

  “I can go with him,” said Lady Gillian. “Templeton is right there within view.”

  “Very well,” he agreed reluctantly. “I shan’t be long.”

  As soon as he was out of sight down the main promenade, the attendant turned to her. “I was to take you to meet a gentleman.”

  Gillian’s eyes widened and her heart began to beat. Gerrit! He had managed it after all.

  Even as she knew what she was doing was wrong, and the consequences if she should be discovered, she was following the attendant quickly down the most secluded promenade denominated “Lover’s Lane.”

  She gave a quick glimpse over her shoulder. Good, Templeton’s back was still turned to her, and Lord Skylar was nowhere to be seen.

  The attendant left her at a stone bench under the immense branches of a plane tree. As soon as he’d departed, a tall man dressed in a flowing burnoose, his head covered by a turban, the lower part of his face draped with a scarf, stepped out from behind the tree.

  “Gerrit!” She would know those twinkling eyes anywhere.

  “My dear Gillian,” he said softly, pushing aside the scarf.

  “What are you doing? Did you send that note to Lord Skylar?”

  He chuckled, a low seductive sound. “Clever, wasn’t it?”

  “Dangerous,” she admonished. “If anyone should see me here, I would be ruined.”

  “You already are.”

  She stared at him. What did he mean?

  “I have ruined you for any other, just as you have ruined me for any other,” he replied smoothly.

  He took her hand and kissed the back of it.

  “I told your companion I would be here, didn’t I?”

  “I don’t think this is what she anticipated.”

  “Your Lord Skylar made it all the more convenient for me by providing her with an escort.”

 
“We were just commenting on the fact,” she replied. “How long have you been observing us?”

  “Long enough to know when to interrupt your tête-à-tête with your lord.” He touched her cheek. “Do you love him very much?”

  “Of course not!” she replied immediately.

  “I carried you with me in my heart into every campaign,” he told her.

  She gazed at him, wanting so much to believe him. “Mother has moved up the wedding date,” she told him.

  “You wound me with such news,” he murmured, bending to kiss her cheek.

  “I don’t know what to do. If only there were some way…”

  “To what?”

  “To postpone things. I wish I didn’t have to marry at all!” she burst out.

  He hugged her tightly to him.

  “You don’t know how much I regret not carrying you off with me to Gretna Green back then.”

  “But you said the other day, you thought it was best this way.”

  “But each time I see you anew, I begin to regret the wasted years.”

  “I am betrothed. Lord Skylar says he still leaves the decision up to me, but Mother leaves me no choice. She says I am making a brilliant match. I cannot throw it all away for something that can never be.” How much she wanted to hear him refute all her logic.

  “But must we throw it all away?” he murmured, drawing her closer to him.

  “What do you mean?” she faltered, hoping for what she knew was impossible.

  “I mean, my dear naive darling, there are ways.”

  “What would you have me do? I can still refuse to marry Lord Skylar,” she told him, straining to see his reaction in the shadows.

  His voice vibrated against her cheek as he spoke in a low tone. “That would be a very unwise move.”

  “How do you mean?” she asked carefully.

  “What would you do under such a cloud of scandal? If, on the other hand, you marry, that needn’t mean you give up our friendship. I can arrange to meet you.”

  “So…you wouldn’t marry me if I were free now?” she asked, drawing away from him.

  He chuckled, holding her fast. “You wouldn’t want me as a husband, believe me. I make a much better lover.”

  Those weren’t the words she wanted to hear. “But you said you wished we had eloped…” Her voice trailed away.

  “Then. I was a young boy. Now, I have aged too much and am far too cynical to make you any kind of husband.”

  Gently she pushed herself away from him, more disappointed at his words than she had imagined.

  “It doesn’t mean we can’t manage to amuse ourselves. All the best ton does it.”

  “And if I don’t want that?” she asked lightly, hiding the acute dismay she felt.

  “You would be missing out on a vastly entertaining time. Your Lord Skylar looks to be a dull sort.”

  She eyed Gerrit with a sense of sorrow. What had she been hoping? For a last-minute reprieve? A knight in shining armor to carry her away and promise her true love?

  He moved his lips toward hers, but she broke away. “No, I mustn’t. I am betrothed. You mustn’t contact me again this way.”

  He made no effort to detain her. Was she sorry? Had she expected him to? What would she have done if he had?

  But he hadn’t. She took herself to task sternly. No help lay for her in that quarter.

  Her heart brimming with unfulfilled longing, she hurried back to the colonnaded center of the gardens. Glancing in every direction, she finally spotted Templeton seated at a box. Thankfully, Lord Skylar hadn’t yet returned, but Lord Delaney and her friend Charlotte were joining Templeton at the box where they would all have supper.

  Gillian smoothed down her hair and gown and adjusted her veil and cone hat, then slowed her steps to a stately walk as she neared the table.

  When Tertius returned to the party, he looked serious.

  “Where were you?” Delaney asked with a smile. “Leaving Lady Gillian all alone?”

  “Oh, some foolish prank.” He looked at Gillian as he explained, taking his seat across from her. “There was no one at the carriage when I finally got there. Were you all right? I’m sorry to have left you like that.”

  “I was fine. Think nothing of it,” she answered hurriedly, glad Templeton’s attention was engaged at the moment by Mr. Scott.

  Later, when the two found themselves alone once again, Gillian turned to Lord Skylar. “You told me earlier that the decision to marry was up to me.”

  “Yes, I did. Have you come to a decision?” He was looking at her so intently it made her nervous and she lowered her eyes.

  Licking dry lips, she finally replied, “I will marry you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, knowing there was no other way left for her. She wouldn’t waste any more years waiting for something that was not to be.

  Tertius spent at least three afternoons a week at Gentleman Jackson’s boxing saloon or at Henry Angelo’s fencing academy. He hoped the exercise would build up his strength. He realized he had lost a lot of his stamina since the last fever, and he had a long way to go to regain any measure of it back.

  He was removing his coat and waistcoat at the academy, when a young gentleman approached him. He recognized him as the officer at the Regent’s fete.

  He nodded curtly at the black-haired man.

  “Lord Skylar,” the man said with a smile that had something insolent about it, “might I challenge you to a match?” He raised his foil in question.

  Sky considered. He was accustomed to using one of the trainers. But an officer lately returned from Spain? The exercise would certainly be a rigorous test.

  “Very well, Captain,” he replied, handing his garments to Nigel and bending to remove his boots.

  The two positioned themselves in their stocking feet and shirtsleeves on the long space reserved for fencing matches.

  “En garde!”

  They began their silent match, stepping forward and back with the rapidity of sandpipers on the sand. Thrust and parry, back and forth. For a time Sky was heartened, seeing he hadn’t lost all his skill. He was even able to manage a riposte or two. But then he began to tire.

  The young captain showed no signs of fatigue. He was like a barrage of artillery, strong and relentless. The slight smile that played along his sensual lips and around his deep blue eyes never wavered. Tertius had to fight to keep them from unnerving him.

  The man seemed to be playing a game, and Sky couldn’t fathom what it was. He didn’t know him, hadn’t ever seen him until that night at the Regent’s—

  Sky parried but was a split-second too late. Captain Hawkes’s foil touched his breast. Sky recovered but had lost ground, his concentration distracted by his puzzlement.

  He focused once more on the match. His muscles didn’t respond as he wanted them to. They ached with the strain.

  Finally the captain had him pinned against the wall.

  “Touché, my lord,” the captain said softly, that smile still hovering around his mouth.

  How Sky would love to wipe it off his handsome face, but it was not to be this day, he admitted, giving the man a nod.

  “What is it they say? A man’s skill with the foil matches his skill as a lover?”

  Sky narrowed his eyes at the man. What did he intend with the remark?

  “My congratulations on your nuptials. You are a lucky man. Lady Gillian is exquisite.”

  The familiarity with which he said her name made Sky want to call the captain out.

  “You know Lady Gillian?” he asked coldly.

  Captain Hawkes held his foil upright and plucked at its tip. “We were thrown together as youngsters to learn the quadrille.”

  A group had gathered to watch the match and now they congratulated the captain.

  “You must have gained a lot of practice over on the Peninsula against the Frogs,” they told him, slapping him on the back.

  “I relied more on Brown Bess,” he answered,
referring to his musket. “We seldom engage the enemy with bayonets. They usually run before then,” he joked. As their laughter died down, he added more seriously, “It’s a good thing, since they give us flank company officers nothing but sabers. Those curved blades make it dashedly difficult to kill a man. First you must slash his face to ribbons before any damage is done.”

  As they continued plying him with questions about the action he had seen, Sky took the towel Nigel handed him and wiped the sweat from his face.

  He slipped back into the waistcoat and coat his valet handed him and combed his hair.

  He barely glanced at himself in the glass, loathing the haggard man that looked back at him. His attention was caught by the captain’s reflection in the glass. His head was thrown back in laughter at someone’s jest, his shirt was open halfway to his waist, and his virility mocked Sky’s own wasted frame.

  “What I need is a drink,” he told Nigel as he turned to leave the fencing academy.

  Gillian was lying on her bed, stroking Sophie’s glossy fur, when a maid knocked on her door.

  “This parcel was delivered to you, miss,” the girl told her with a curtsey.

  Gillian sat up and took it from her. “Thank you.”

  She looked at it curiously. More jewels from Lord Skylar? She still felt uncomfortable since her evening at Vauxhall. When he’d returned, he had not seemed suspicious at all, only annoyed at being led on a wild-goose chase. She had promptly assured him that she had been well occupied; after all there was so much to see at the gardens.

  Now she stared a moment at the parcel before opening it. Would another jewel add to her guilt? Finally she ripped the paper open and opened the box.

  She gasped. Inside the tissue paper lay a tooled, red Moroccan leather dog collar. A folded piece of paper was tucked beneath it. She unfolded it and read:

  I hope this collar finds more favor with Sophie than the emeralds did with you. Sky

  No “Dear Gillian” no “Your servant,” or “Fondly” or any other sign of endearment. And he’d remembered her dog’s new name.

  She dropped the note and picked up the collar. It was beautiful. “Look at this, Sophie.” She held it up against the dog’s fur. “Aren’t you going to look elegant? Better than any other dog around the square.”