Whirlwind Affair

'Then I propose we depart for Bradford Hall tomorrow morning. That would allow for the delivery of your gowns, give us both sufficient time to pack our belongings, and allow me to send off some correspondence that needs seeing to. Does that meet with your approval?'

'Yes, that is fine.'

'Excellent. And that also gives us the rest of this lovely afternoon to enjoy. Given the exceptional weather, I thought you might like to see Vauxhall.'

Mischief flickered in her eyes. 'Vauxhall? Is that a breed of hat-nesting pigeons?'

He laughed. 'No. It's a pleasure garden across the Thames. Acres of shady walking paths, and particularly nice this time of year with so many flowers in bloom. Would you like to go?'

'I'm very fond of flowers. A visit to Vauxhall sounds… lovely.'

Another smile touched her lips, and his idiotic pulse galloped away. Lovely, his inner voice repeated as his gaze roamed her face. My thought exactly.

*********

Strolling along a wide graveled walk, Allie breathed in the cool, earth-scented air, then heaved out a sigh of pleasure. Stately elms lined both sides of the avenue, forming a delightful canopy of shade through which fingers of sunlight filtered. Birds flitted from branch to branch, warbling their summertime songs.

'This is called the Grand Walk,' Lord Robert said. 'Running parallel on our right is South Walk, with Hermit's Walk to the left. Up ahead we'll come to Grand Cross Walk, which runs through the entire garden. We'll turn there to go to the Grove.'

'What is that?'

'A square surrounded by the principal walks.' He pointed through the trees. 'You can see it over there, where those pavilions are. There's also a colonnade in the event of inclement weather, and dozens of supper boxes.'

Intrigued, she mused, 'So people come here in the evenings to stroll among the lighted trees and dine… What a delightful thing to do.'

'Indeed, but there is also entertainment. Orchestras, singers, fireworks, battle enactments, grand parties. Several years ago I saw a woman named Madame Saqui walk along a tightrope affixed to a sixty-foot pole, all to the accompaniment of a fireworks display.'

'It sounds marvelous. And exciting.' Looking up, she noted the hundreds of globe lamps placed in the trees. 'It must be lovely when the lamps are illuminated.'

'Very striking. Elizabeth says it looks as if glowing faeries hover in the trees.' He looked down at her and smiled. 'Perhaps you'd like to return this evening? To experience the garden's nighttime splendor?'

She hesitated. The thought of seeing the lights, hearing the music, was so incredibly tempting…

Yet she could vividly imagine the intimacy and romance such a setting would induce. And the temptation of the man next to her…

At Madame Renee's, she'd nearly succumbed to the desire to splurge her meager funds on something colorful, or even a pastel-knowing in her heart that even more than wanting to wear something pretty for herself, she wanted him to see her garbed in something pretty. She'd resisted-but barely. The black gowns were the most affordable, and they would serve to discourage male attention, as they had for the past three years. Add to that the fact that her heart's rate tripled at the mere idea of strolling with him through the darkness, the only light coming from the shimmering lit trees… no, it was not a good idea.

'Thank you, that is very thoughtful, but I'll need this evening to prepare for our journey tomorrow.'

She fancied she saw relief flash in his eyes at her refusal. Did he feel it, too, this disturbing awareness that held her firmly in its grip? Had he realized the folly of them being alone together in the dark?

They turned a corner, and a large grouping of rosebushes caught her eye. Grateful for the distraction, she said, 'I don't know where I've ever seen such a colorful profusion of roses.' Attracted by a particularly vivid pink bud, she paused to bend over and breathe in its heady scent.

'Wait until you see the formal gardens at Bradford Hall. They're really quite spectacular, and contain what seems like miles of roses. Whenever I smell the flower, I am reminded of Caroline and my mother. They both wear the scent.'

Straightening, she fell back into step beside him, nodding. 'I understand precisely what you mean, associating certain smells with certain people. Whenever I smell freshly baked bread, I think of Mama. The aroma of tobacco always brings Papa to mind. And whenever I breathe in lilacs, I think of-'

' Elizabeth,' they said in unison, then both laughed.

Lord Robert shot her a quick smile that set her heart to fluttering. 'Whenever I smell leather,' he said, 'especially a leather saddle, I think of my father. My very earliest memory is sitting in front of him on his horse, Lancelot. Father was an expert horseman, not to mention incredibly patient. Taught all of us how to ride. Even Caroline.'

There was no mistaking the affection in his tone. 'Tell me more about your father.'

All hints of amusement slowly faded from his expression, leaving behind an unmistakable melancholy. 'I don't know quite how to describe him other than to say he was a great man, and noble in a way that had nothing to do with his title. He was well respected by his peers, adored by his wife, and loved by his children. Strict, yet reasonable. Generous with his time, funds, and affection, and fair with his tenants. Slow to anger, quick to laugh, and unlike many men in his position, devoted to his family.'

Her fingers, resting on his forearm, flexed in sympathy. 'He sounds like a wonderful person.'

He nodded. 'William, Austin, and I… even as boys we always strove to emulate him. To this day, I believe we still do. I know I do, although if I'm able to be half the man he was, I'll consider myself blessed.' He paused for several seconds, then continued, 'His death was so sudden, so unexpected. So horribly shocking. He appeared in perfect health, yet his heart just… stopped.'

The husky emotion in his voice swelled something inside her… sympathy, yet something else she could not quite define. Something unsettling. Until this moment, she'd believed that he was not a serious man, that he was merely frivolous and carefree. Yet the way he spoke of his father, of wanting to be like him, bespoke a depth she hadn't considered he'd possess. A depth she found dangerously, disturbingly attractive.

'Do you know,' he said, pulling her from her thoughts, 'my father asked my mother to marry him, right here in Vauxhall? It was a favorite family story, told every year on their anniversary.' He pointed to a stone bench under a majestic elm. 'Father swore they were sitting on that bench. Mother, however, always corrected him, saying it was a seat near the north border of the gardens.' A chuckle rumbled from him. 'It was a continuous source of good- natured ribbing between them, an argument that always ended with Father winking at Mother and saying, 'It matters not where I asked, only that the lady said yes.' '

She couldn't help but smile at the loving picture his words painted in her mind. The wistful sadness in his eyes called out to her, urging her to replace it with the mischievous laughter she was used to seeing there.

'Very romantic. Very unlike my parents.' Leaning closer, as if she were about to impart the most confidential of matters, she asked in an undertone, 'Can you keep a secret?'

His brows rose. 'Of course.'

'My mother proposed to my father.'

He stared down at her for several seconds, then, as she'd hoped, his lips quirked upward. 'Never say so.'

She laid her free hand over her heart. 'I tell you the truth, sir. Mama and Papa had known and loved each other from childhood. The summer Mama turned seventeen, she waited and waited for Papa to propose to her, but he was waiting for the perfect moment. Deciding she'd grow old before his idea of the perfect moment ever arrived, Mama took matters into her own hands and asked him.''

'Obviously he said yes.'

'True, although Papa still claims he was quite disgruntled about her stealing his big romantic moment, to which Mama always replies, 'If I'd waited for you, Henry, we still wouldn't be married. Why, I would have had to marry Marvin Blakely instead.' '

She laughed, then continued, 'That's when Papa would mutter something uncomplimentary under his breath about Marvin Blakely. Then he and Mama would share what I called their special smile… the one that made it so obvious that they still loved each other after all these years.'

He paused, drawing her to a stop. Surprise flickered in his eyes. 'My parents often exchanged that same sort of