One Night for Love

She knew very well why she was exhilarated. Neville had indeed got together a party to go to Vauxhall Gardens three evenings hence. She would have been excited just at the prospect of going to the famous pleasure gardens, Lily thought. But… Well, it was not just the idea of going there that had her so excited she could hardly sleep. Vauxhall Gardens was the place for romance, she had heard, with its tree-lined, lantern-lighted avenues and more private paths, with its private boxes and concerts and dances and fireworks displays.

And she would be going there within a few evenings with Neville. The party was to consist of eight persons, but that fact meant nothing to Lily. She knew that he had invited the other six only because he could not invite her alone.

She wondered if he planned an evening of romance—and if she would allow it. She still had not quite made up her mind.

She tried not to mull over the old arguments as she walked in the park. She kept her face lifted and listened to the birds, which were singing in full chorus. She tried to focus her mind on the precious present moment.

She would wear her locket to Vauxhall, she decided. He would notice and remember her telling him that she would wear it for some special occasion.

But was she prepared to give him such a signal?

She breathed in the slightly damp air with its strong smell of vegetation and listened to the distant sounds of a horse's cantering hooves.

If the Duke of Portfrey had talked with her mother's sister, he too must have been in Leicestershire recently. But why not? He had been married to a woman who had grown up there. Perhaps he was still on terms of intimacy with her family.

The horse was coming closer from behind her. Its pace had quickened almost to a gallop. The few times Lily had been on horseback, she had found riding a most wonderful sensation. She thought she would rather like to fly along the paths of Hyde Park on a horse's back.

And then three things happened simultaneously—the sound of the horse's hooves became muffled, as if they were riding now on grass; someone screamed; and Lily had that feeling again—that feeling of bone-chilling, mind- numbing terror. When she turned her head, horse and rider were almost upon her. By sheer instinct she twisted away and fell heavily to the grass. The horse thundered past and continued on its way at full gallop.

The scream was repeated and a young serving girl came rushing across the grass, dropping a large basket as she did so. Two men, one in the dress of a laborer, the other looking more like a prosperous merchant, also appeared as if from nowhere. Lily lay dazed on the wet grass, gazing up at them.

'Oh, miss.' The girl came down on her knees beside Lily. 'Oh, miss, are you dead?'

'She's shocked, not dead, you daft girl,' the laborer said. 'Are you 'urt, miss?'

'No,' Lily said. 'I think not. I do not know.'

'Best not to move, ma'am,' the merchant said briskly, 'until you are sure. Get your breath back and then see how your legs feel.'

'The brute!' the maid exclaimed, glaring after the fast-disappearing horse and rider. ' 'E did not even look where 'e was going, 'e didn't. Prob'ly don't even know 'e almost killed someone.'

' 'E wouldn't care,' the laborer added cynically. 'The quality don't care about 'urting a bloke or a wench provided they don't damage the 'orseflesh under 'em. 'Ere, miss, do you want an 'and up?'

'Leave her for a moment,' the merchant said. 'You do not have your maid with you, ma'am?'

Lily's mind was just beginning to inform her that she had escaped death by a whisker—again. It had not yet drawn her attention to the various bruises she had sustained in her awkward fall.

'I am quite all right,' she said. 'Thank you.'

' 'E looked like the devil from 'ell, 'e did,' the maid was informing them all, 'with that black cloak flying out be'ind 'im. I didn't see 'is face. P'raps there was no face. Oooh, p'raps 'e really were the devil.'

'Don't be daft, girl,' the laborer told her. 'Though why ?e were wearing an 'ood over 'is 'ead on a morning like this, I don't know—unless 'e were a woman, that is, and she didn't want anyone seeing 'er riding astride and recognizing 'er. The quality is all queer in the upper works if you arsk me.'

The merchant was more practically engaged in helping Lily to her feet and allowing her to cling to his arm for a few moments until she could be sure that her legs would hold her upright.

'Will you allow me to see you home, ma'am?' he asked her.

'Oh, thank you,' she said. 'But no. I am quite all right, if a little damp. Thank you all. I am very grateful to you.'

'Well, if you are sure,' the merchant said, ruining his gesture of gallantry by withdrawing a watch from an upper pocket, frowning, and remarking that it was just as well as he was late for an appointment.

Lily walked home alone and succeeded in getting into the house and up to her room without being seen by either Elizabeth or any of the servants. She stripped off her wet clothes before ringing for Dolly and then smiled beguilingly at her maid and told her that she had been to the park and slipped on the grass—but she would prefer that her escapade not be discovered by anyone else. Dolly entered gleefully into the conspiracy and promised that her lips would be tightly sealed—and then she proceeded, as she tended to Lily, to give an enthusiastic progress report on her budding relationship with Elizabeth's handsome coachman.

It had been an accident, Lily told herself, beginning to feel the painful effects of her bruises. A careless rider had strayed from the path and had not even noticed her.

He had been wearing a dark cloak—with the hood up.

Probably every gentleman in the nation owned at least one dark cloak. And the morning had been cool, even if not exactly cold.

And it was certainly possible that the he really had been a she.