Somewhere in the gardens, a gong clanged. The music had stopped some minutes before and the heavy note vibrated through the twilight.
“Time to view the Grand Spectacle!”
Jeremy’s shout was echoed from all around. There was a surge of bodies as people left their booths to join the throng flocking to where a looming mountain, now brilliantly lit, rose craggily from amidst the otherwise unremarkable landscape. Fifteen minutes were spent in oohing and aahing at the various elements, some mechanical, others purely decorative, artfully placed within the alpine scene. Then the lights were doused. Chattering and exclaiming, the patrons returned to the walks, the booths and the dancing.
The last of their company to return to their booth, Sophie and Jack strolled through the twilight, her hand on his arm. She could feel the tension that gripped him, lending steel to the muscles beneath her fingertips.
“Sophie?”
Wreathed in shadows, Sophie looked up.
Jack stared at the pale oval of her face, the wide eyes and slightly parted lips. For a moment, he was still, then, concealed by the shadows, he bent his head and swiftly kissed her.
Sophie’s lips met his, her heart leaping at the brief caress. Her hands fluttered; her arms ached to hold him.
Jack caught her hands. “Not yet, sweetheart.” His smile was decidedly crooked. “Just pray your uncle’s carriage doesn’t break an axle.”
Sophie sighed feelingly and allowed him to resettle her hand on his sleeve.
Covering her hand with his, Jack gently squeezed her fingers. “We’d better get back to the booth.” As they strolled out of the shadows, he added, “The fireworks come later.”
Puzzled, Sophie looked up. “I hadn’t imagined fireworks to be one of your abiding interests.”
Jack glanced down at her, then his slow, rake’s smile curved his lips. “There are many kinds of fireworks, my dear.”
For an instant, Sophie glimpsed the dark, powerful passions behind his blue eyes. A distinctly delicious sensation slithered down her spine. But further discovery was denied her; they were caught up in the dancers and dragged into the heart of the revels once more.
The orchestra was now accompanied by a vocalist, a tenor whose pure notes drifted high over the booths to disappear into the increasing darkness. Stars speckled the sky as night slowly enfolded the scene. The Chinese lanterns came into their own, shedding their rosy glow over dancers and musicians alike. Laughter and the mellow murmur of conversation, softer now, muted by the effects of good food and fine wines, rippled through the shadows.
Throughout the evening, again and again, Sophie’s eyes met Jack’s. A magical web held them bound; neither was aware of those about them. And what passed between them was magical, too, carried in the weight of shared glances and the lingering touch of lovers’ hands.
Their surroundings were part of the magic. At the conclusion of the musical interlude, the tenor embarked on a solo performance. Breathless, conversing softly, the dancers headed back to their booths. As she strolled on Jack’s arm, Sophie noticed Belle Chessington on the arm of Mr. Somercote-surely a most unlikely Vauxhall patron. Belle waved and smiled hugely, her eyes sparkling. Mr. Somercote, too, smiled broadly, clearly both pleased and proud.
“Well, well,” Jack murmured. “You’ll have to tell your aunt she’s achieved a minor miracle. Somercote’s silence has been tripping the matchmakers up for years. It looks as if he’s finally found his tongue.”
Sophie laughed. “Indeed, you have to admit he won’t need many words, not with Belle on his arm.”
Jack smiled, then looked ahead.
And tensed. Sophie felt it, and followed his gaze to see the rotund figure of her uncle clearly visible in their booth.
“Just in time.” Jack quickened his pace.
As they entered the booth, Lucilla beckoned to Sophie. “Mrs. Chessington just stopped by. Wonder of wonders!”
From the corner of her eye, Sophie saw Jack greet Horatio. They exchanged a few words, Jack very serious, then both turned and left the booth.
Subsiding onto the chair beside her aunt, Sophie forced herself to concentrate enough to follow Lucilla’s discourse. It proved a supremely difficult task. Her hands clasping and unclasping in her lap, she was acutely conscious of every little sound, every movement in the booth.
She jumped when the gong rang again.
“The fireworks!”
Once more, the patrons poured from the booths and from the shadowy walks, heading for a small arena surrounded by lawns. Smiling indulgently, Lucilla allowed Jeremy and George to tug her to her feet. Sophie rose uncertainly, glancing about. Ned offered Clarissa his arm; together with Toby they joined the exodus. Jack was nowhere to be seen.
“There you are, m’dear.” Horatio materialized outside the booth. “Come along now or you’ll miss the fun.”
Sophie stared at him, her heart sinking all the way to her slippers. Hadn’t Jack asked? Why wasn’t he here? Did that mean…? Forcing her shaking limbs to function, she picked up her half-cape. Swinging it about her shoulders, she left the booth.
Horatio offered her his arm. They started to stroll slowly in the wake of the others, now far ahead. But instead of joining his family, Horatio stopped in the shadows, well to the rear of the crowd.
“Now, my dear Sophie, I understand you have had some reservations about Jack’s financial situation.”
Slowly, Sophie turned to face her uncle, her heart thudding in her throat. She held herself proudly, a silent prayer on her lips.
Apparently oblivious, Horatio rattled on. “It really was quite remiss of him, I agree. He should have told you much earlier. But you’ll have to excuse him-not but what, with his experience, you might have expected a little more than the usual impulsive rush. But men in love, you know, tend to forget such minor matters as money.” Smiling genially, he patted Sophie’s hand.
Sophie drew in a slow, deep breath. “Uncle, are you telling me that Jack is truly wealthy? That he doesn’t need to marry a rich bride?”
Horatio’s grey eyes twinkled. “Let’s just say that for him, expectations alone will be a more than sufficient dower.”
A golden rocket burst in a flurry of brilliant stars, gilding Sophie’s face. Her eyes shone, reflecting the glory.
“Oh, Uncle!” Sophie flung her arms about Horatio’s neck.
Horatio chuckled and reciprocated her, then gently turned her. “Come, let’s join the festivities.”
Sophie was only too ready to do so. She peered into the darkness, eagerly searching the crowd every time another rocket lit up the scene. They found Lucilla and the boys in the front ranks. The boys pounced on Horatio, bombarding him with questions.
Then a large wheel lit up the night, hissing and spitting as the force of the rockets tied to its spokes whirled it round. In the midst of the crowd, Sophie stood very still, her face slowly draining of expression. The steadier illumination confirmed beyond doubt that Jack, Ned and Toby were not present. Neither was Clarissa.
The memory of Gurnard’s plan rushed into Sophie’s mind, thrusting all other considerations aside. This was the time Toby was to have taken Clarissa to meet the dastardly captain. Yet Ned had been with them-he wouldn’t let any harm come to Clarissa. But where were they? If Jack, Ned and Toby had gone to warn off the captain, where was Clarissa?
Sophie blinked in the glare of a set of coloured flares; elation, guilt and sheer frustration poured through her in a dizzying wave.
Horatio would know. She looked to where her uncle stood, Lucilla beside him, George’s hand in his. Jeremy was throwing questions at his father in a never-ending stream. There was no possibility of speaking to Horatio without alerting Lucilla and, potentially worse, the boys.
Everything was probably all right; Jack would surely have the matter in hand.
But maybe Jack was elsewhere, ignorant of Gurnard’s threat? Perhaps Toby and Ned had decided to handle it on their own? And Clarissa had followed?
