Regency Improprieties: Innocence and Impropriety / The Vanishing Viscountess

‘Ah, I see.’ But she really did not understand the business of a marquess.

He went on, ‘You might say I attend to all the tedious details, so the marquess is free for more important matters, and so his life runs smoothly.’

Such work would give Rose the headache. ‘Are you liking what you do?’

He nodded. ‘I have learned much about the world through it. About politics. Money. Power—’

Such things were mysteries to her.

‘I have even been to Vienna and Brussels and Paris with Lord Tannerton.’

Her eyes widened with interest. ‘Have you now?’

‘The marquess assisted in the diplomacies, you see. And I assisted him.’ He spoke proudly.

She liked seeing his pride. ‘Were you there for the great battle?’

‘In Brussels, yes, but we were not at Waterloo.’ His face became serious. ‘The marquess helped with the aftermath, assisting in the logistics of the wounded and in any other way of being at service.’

Rose did not know what ‘logistics’ were, but she knew there were many wounded in the battle. Many Irish soldiers had fought and died at Waterloo. She was glad Flynn had been there to help those who survived.

He gave a dry laugh. ‘But it must be tedious to hear of such things.’

‘Oh, no,’ she assured him. ‘I confess I do not understand all of it, but you were meaning, I think, that you were in important places, doing important things.’

‘That is it,’ he agreed. ‘In the centre of things. A part of it all.’

‘I’m supposing it is a little like being a performer, isn’t it? Performing is not so important, perhaps, but it is being a part of something. I mean, the singing is only one piece of it. There are the musicians, too, and the conductor and all. Everyone together makes the performance.’

He looked at her so intently her insides fluttered. ‘Yes, it is precisely like that. One feels good about one’s part in it.’

‘Yes.’ She quickly glanced away and spied a man crossing the park with a bundle on his shoulder. ‘And that man there is doing his part, too, isn’t he? We don’t know what it is, but without him it would not happen, would it?’

A smile flitted across his face, disappearing when he gazed into her eyes again. ‘Yes, I expect you are very right.’

Her breath quickened, like it had when he’d almost kissed her under the illuminations the night before.

‘So what, Flynn, is your King’s Theatre?’ she asked, needing to break the intensity, just as he had broken away when he almost kissed her. ‘Or have you reached it already?’

‘My King’s Theatre?’

‘What you want more than anything.’

His eyes darkened, making her insides feel like melting wax again.

The horses stopped, and his attention turned to them, signalling them to move.

‘What I want more than anything …’ he repeated as if pondering the question. ‘To be a part of something important,’ he finally replied. ‘Yes, that is it.’

She waited for more.

His brow furrowed. ‘Lord Tannerton is an excellent employer, an excellent man, Rose, but.’ His voice faded, although his face seemed lit with fire.

‘Something more important is what you are wanting?’ she guessed.

He nodded. ‘To work for government. For a diplomat, perhaps. Or the Prime Minister. Or for royalty.’

‘Royalty?’ she exclaimed.

He flicked the ribbons and shook his head. ‘It is daft.’

She put her hand on his arm. ‘It is not daft! No more daft than me wanting to sing in King’s Theatre.’ But it did seem so impossible, and somehow it made her sad. ‘It would be important, wouldn’t it? So important you’d not be seeing the likes of me.’

He covered her hand with his and leaned towards her. The horses drifted to a stop again.

‘Move on!’ an angry voice shouted.

A young man driving a phaeton approached them from behind. Flynn put the chestnuts into a trot, but the phaeton passed them as soon as the path was wide enough.

They finished their circuit of the park, not speaking much. Their silence seemed tense, holding too many unspoken words, but Rose still wished the time to go on endlessly. Soon, however, other carriages entered the park, driven by gentlemen with their ladies. The fashionable hour had arrived, and they must leave.

As Flynn turned the curricle on to her street, he was frowning again. ‘What is it, Flynn?’ she asked.

‘I have not talked to you of Tannerton,’ he said. ‘My reason for seeing you. And there is something else, Rose.’

She felt a pang at the reminder of his true purpose. ‘What is it?’ she asked in a resigned tone.

He gave her a direct look. ‘Another man will be vying for your favours. He is Lord Greythorne. He is wealthy, but some unpleasant rumour hangs about him.’

‘What rumour?’ She had no intention of bestowing her favours on whoever it was, no matter what.

‘I do not know precisely,’ he said.

She shrugged. ‘I thank you for the warning, Flynn.’

‘It is important that you not choose Greythorne.’

She did not wish to choose any man, not for money or the gifts he could give her. She wanted to tell Flynn he could tell them all to leave her alone. Let her sing. That was all she wished to do, even if he were making her imagine other possibilities.

Her father had been drumming it into her that to be a success on the London stage, she must have a wealthy patron. It seemed all anyone wanted of her—her father, Letty, the marquess, this Greythorne.

Flynn.

He was still talking. ‘Lord Tannerton would be good to you, Rose. I would stake my life on it.’

But she did not love Lord Tannerton. That was the thing.

With such a lofty man, she could never have what Miss Hart had with Mr Sloane.

She needed time. ‘I will think on it some more, Flynn.’

Langley Street was empty in front of her building. He jumped down from the curricle and held her waist as he lifted her down.

She rested her hands on his shoulders a moment longer than necessary, not wanting to say goodbye to him. Wanting to see him again. ‘I.I will be singing at Vauxhall tonight. If you’ve a mind to come.’

He stood still, but it seemed as if his eyes were searching hers. ‘I will be there.’

‘Come to the gazebo door. You’ll be admitted, I promise.’ Her spirits were soaring again. He wanted to see her. Her.

He grasped her hand and held it a brief delicious moment. ‘Tonight, then.’

Feeling joyous, Rose entered the building and climbed the stairs to her father’s rooms.

When she opened the door, Letty stood there, hands on her hips. ‘Were you with that Flynn fellow? Has he given you a meeting time with the marquess?’

She ought to have been prepared. ‘It is not set, Letty. But soon, Mr Flynn tells me.’

‘Where did you go, Mary Rose? I was wondering.’ Her father sat in the chair near the fireplace.

Rose walked over and gave him a kiss on the top of his bald head. ‘A drive in the park, is all.’ She headed for her room.

Letty blocked her way. ‘This Flynn. Did he tell you how much the marquess will pay?’

Rose looked her in the eye. ‘I thought you would be proud of me, Letty. I put him off. Did you not say that would increase the price?’

‘Well, I—’ Letty began, but Rose brushed past her to disappear into the little room that was her bedchamber.

Returning from the mews where he’d left Tanner’s curricle and horses, Flynn ran into Tanner walking back from St. James’s Street.

Tanner clapped him on the shoulder. ‘How fortuitous! You have been on my mind all the afternoon. What progress, man? Do tell.’

Flynn had nothing to tell.

‘Out with it, Flynn. What the devil happened?’

As they walked side by side, Flynn used what Rose had called his silver tongue. ‘You must trust me in this matter, my lord. The lady is not the usual sort. You were correct about diplomacy being required.’

Tanner put a hand on his arm, stopping him on the pavement. ‘Do not tell me she disliked the emerald ring!’

Flynn had forgotten it was in his pocket. ‘I did not present it to her, sir.’

‘You did not present it?’ Tanner looked surprised.

It was difficult to face him. ‘She would have refused it.’

Tanner started walking again. ‘My God, she is a strange one. What woman would refuse such a gift?’

One who bewitches, thought Flynn, but he replied, ‘She is a puzzle, I agree.’

‘You do not think she prefers Greythorne, do you?’ Tanner asked with a worried frown.

‘She was unaware of Greythorne’s interest.’

Tanner looked aghast. ‘And you told her of him? Now she will know there is competition!’

Flynn countered, ‘Now she knows to come to us to top any offer he makes.’

After a few paces, Tanner laughed. ‘She is a rare one, isn’t she? I am unused to exerting myself. This is capital sport.’

Tanner, of course, had not exerted himself at all beyond charging Flynn with the work. ‘I need some time to gain her trust, I think. I shall see her again tonight at Vauxhall.’

Tanner clapped him on the shoulder again. ‘Excellent! I have a previous engagement, otherwise I’d join you.’

Flynn felt only a twinge of guilt for being glad of Tanner’s previous engagement.

‘Did you discover anything about Greythorne?’ Flynn asked.

‘Not a thing,’ replied Tanner.

Later that evening when Flynn strolled down the Grand Walk of Vauxhall Gardens, he thought about Greythorne, trying to place his finger on who’d spoken ill of the man.

He had at least an hour to ponder the puzzle before the orchestra played. He knew she would have arrived by then, and he could then present himself at the gazebo door.

He thought about simply knocking on the door now, but he really did not want to chance encountering her father, or, worse, being plied with questions about Tanner by Miss Dawes.

Flynn stopped at one of the restaurants in the gardens instead. Sitting at an outside table, he sipped arrack amid the laughter and buzz of the people walking by. He could feel the velvet box containing the emerald ring still in his pocket. It kept him grounded. A reminder of Tanner, of Greythorne, of what his duty must be.

As he idly watched the passers-by, he let his mind drift to how it had felt to walk through the gardens with her, her arm through his, how the illuminations lit her face, how tempting her lips had been.

He took a longer sip of arrack.

‘Well, look who is here!’

Flynn glanced up to see Rose’s friend, Katy, striding his way.

‘Mr Flynn! Fancy meeting you here again!’ She flung herself into a chair even before he could rise. ‘You must be here for Rose. Imagine, our little Rosie catching the eye of a marquess! Not that I’m surprised. She barely needed lessons with that face and figure. Just enough to get rid of the accent and learn to put herself forward.’ She reached for his glass and took a sip.

Flynn felt as if he were caught in a whirlwind. ‘Lessons?’

Katy laughed, patting his arm. ‘Never mind that.’

Showing no signs of leaving, she commandeered his glass for herself. He signalled for more for both of them.

She rested her elbows on the table. ‘Tell me about this marquess. Sir Reginald says he is an important man.’

Flynn pursed his lips, wishing he’d said nothing to Sir Reginald. ‘You must understand, Miss Green, this is not a matter I am free to discuss.’

‘Miss Green?’ She laughed again. ‘Well, aren’t you the high-and-mighty one! Call me Katy. Everyone does. I tell you, it’s a marvel how well Rosie’s done. Here I thought I was the only one. Not that Sir Reginald is anything. He takes me around and I meet people. I’m going to rise higher myself, I am.’

Katy’s words were like puzzle pieces scattered on a table. They made no sense. ‘How do you know Miss O’Keefe?’

‘Rose, you mean?’ She grinned, then tried to compose her animated face. ‘You might say we were … schoolmates.’ Her voice trembled with mirth on this last word, and she dissolved into gales of laughter, slapping the table and causing several heads to turn their way.

He raised his brows, but she did not elaborate. Their arrack came and she finished his first glass before reaching for the next one.

‘Are you here to see Rose?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he answered, somewhat reluctantly.

‘And where is this marquess? I’ve a fancy to set eyes upon this paragon.’ She looked around as if Lord Tannerton might suddenly appear.

‘He is not here.’

She shrugged, taking another gulp of arrack. ‘I’ll be on tenterhooks ‘til I see him, I expect. I might fancy a marquess myself, though I didn’t aim to look so high. Miss H—Well, I mean, we were told to think high of ourselves, but I keep my feet on the ground, so to speak.’

Flynn was no closer to understanding her. Rose and Katy schoolmates? Not in Killyleagh.

The discordant chords of the orchestra tuning up reached his ears, and he interrupted Katy’s unrestrained volubility. ‘Forgive me, Miss Green. I must go.’ He stood.

‘Go?’ She rose as well. ‘Where are you off to, Mr Flynn?’

He hated to tell her, but feared she would follow him no matter what. ‘Miss O’Keefe said to meet her at the gazebo.’

‘Oh?’ She clapped her hands. ‘That is splendid. I’ll go with you. Give her another hello.’

So, with the gaily dressed, red-haired young woman hanging on his arm, Flynn strolled to the orchestra’s gazebo.

Miss Dawes opened the door. ‘Mr Flynn! Come in. Come in.’ She noticed Katy behind him and gave a scowl.

Katy grinned at her. ‘How do you do?’

Some mischief took hold of Flynn, making him give precedence to the obvious harlot, Katy. ‘Miss Green,’ he said in his most formal voice. ‘May I present Miss Dawes, a friend of Mr O’Keefe’s.’

Miss Dawes looked like thunder, but Katy rose to the occasion. ‘A pleasure, ma’am,’ she said in an uncannily ladylike voice.

Miss Dawes ignored her. ‘I’ll fetch Rose.’ She huffed out of the room, almost tripping over a jumble of instrument cases the musicians had left.

A minute later Rose walked in, the lamplight softening her lovely features.

‘Katy!’ she said in surprise.

Katy danced up to her and gave her a hug. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Rosie. I talked Mr Flynn into bringing me here. Met that dragon, Miss Dawes, too. Who does she think she is?’

Rose looked bewildered. ‘Are … are you here with Mr Flynn?’ Her glance slid over to him.

Katy laughed, but it was Flynn who answered, ‘She merely wished to say hello to you.’

Katy released her. ‘That I did.’ She chattered on about Miss Dawes and how all the men would admire Rose when she sang.

Rose turned to Flynn, anxiety in her eyes. ‘If you wished to spend time with Katy—’

‘Goodness!’ Katy exclaimed. ‘I am meeting Sir Reginald, who has promised to introduce me to some rich fellow.’ She swayed up to Flynn and pressed herself against his arm. ‘Unless that marquess would be interested in me?’ Without waiting for his reply, she returned to Rose to give her a peck on the cheek and flounced out of the door.

Rose looked at him. ‘I.I thought you were with her.’

‘I was not,’ Flynn said.

Her face relaxed. ‘Would you like to stand in the balcony while I’m singing?’

‘I should like that,’ he responded truthfully.

They talked of inconsequential things until she was called to perform. Flynn stood in a dark corner of the balcony, able to see her in profile, though she turned to smile at him before beginning her first tune, an old Irish ballad he remembered his sisters singing as a duet. She continued with ‘O Listen to the Voice of Love.’

His gaze wandered to the audience. It was still light enough to see the people staring spellbound as she sang. She captivated them all, he thought, scanning the crowd.

He caught sight of Lord Greythorne and scowled. But Greythorne was not looking at Rose. Flynn followed the direction of the man’s gaze across the span of people. He froze. At the edge of the crowd stood a familiar tall figure, arms crossed over his chest, face tilted toward the lovely Rose O’Keefe.

Lord Tannerton.

Chapter Five

Flynn listened to Rose’s final notes drift into the night air and watched her take her final bow. Tanner’s ‘Bravo!’ sounded above all the other voices.

It was good he was here, Flynn told himself determinedly, because Flynn needed to remember that his task was to get Rose to accept Tanner’s protection. He needed to be certain Tanner won her over Lord Greythorne. The more time Flynn spent alone with her, the more bewitched he became, as if he were also vying for her regard.

Rose came over to him, smiling. She grasped his hand. ‘We must go below.’

He let her lead him to the room below stairs.

‘How was I?’ she asked him, as the voice of Charles Dignum reached their ears. ‘I felt myself straining here and there. Was it noticeable, do you think?’

She still held his hand. He stared at it a moment before answering. ‘I noticed no imperfection.’

She smiled and squeezed his fingers. ‘What shall we do now? The night is lovely and I must wait for my father and Letty. I know you wish to talk to me, but could we do so while we explore the gardens again? Go see the hermit?’

The hermit illusion was located at the far end of one of the darker, less crowded paths well known for dalliance. Flynn could just imagine leading her into one of the private alcoves, holding her in his arms and finally tasting her lips.

He forced himself to face her. ‘Lord Greythorne is here,’ he said. ‘As is Lord Tanner.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘Lord Tanner? You did not tell me he would be here.’

‘I did not know,’ he quickly explained. ‘He was engaged elsewhere, but I saw him in the audience. He is here.’ Flynn held her shoulders. ‘Allow me to present you to him. You might see for yourself the man he is.’

She stared into his eyes. ‘Oh, Flynn.’ It took her a moment to go on. ‘Not so soon. I mean, I.I am not ready to meet him. I have not decided yet that I should.’

He tilted his head toward the stairway leading to the orchestra’s balcony, to where her father played his oboe. ‘Your father wishes it, does he not? The marquess will not wait for ever, and Greythorne is very willing to step in.’

Her eyes turned anxious. ‘Time, Flynn. Can you be procuring me a little more time?’

He nodded, knowing he should not.

Tanner would take care of her. Take her away from the unpleasant Miss Dawes and the drab set of rooms shared with her father. Tanner would protect her from men like Greythorne, anyone who might mistreat her. It would be best for her to simply meet Tanner. See the man he was, and make her decision. Then Flynn could go back to a sane life.

‘I shall see you have more time,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’ She grasped his hand. ‘Call on me tomorrow, Flynn. Share supper with me. I do not perform tomorrow. You could come after my father and Letty leave. I will be more prepared to think.’

He stepped closer to her. What could one more day matter? Her beautiful face turned up to his. It seemed natural to slide his hand down her arm, lift her hand to his lips. Even through her glove he could feel its warmth, taste the allure of her.

He released her. ‘I will call tomorrow, then.’

‘Eight o’clock? Papa and Letty will have left by then.’

He nodded.

He walked over to the door, but before he opened it, he turned back to her. ‘I had forgotten. I must give you this tonight. From Lord Tanner.’ He pulled out the small velvet box from his coat pocket.

She held up her hand to refuse it.

‘Accept it, Rose. It is a trifle to him, but I can no longer find excuses for not giving it to you.’ He placed it in her hand.

She opened the box, revealing the ring, a sparkling emerald surrounded by tiny diamonds, in a setting of carved gold. ‘This is not a trifle, Flynn,’ she said, trying to hand it back to him.

‘It is to Tannerton.’ He closed her fingers around it. ‘Take it, Rose. It does not obligate you to him, I promise.’ He kept his hand over hers for too long. ‘I must leave.’

He quickly pulled away and opened the door.

‘Goodnight, Flynn,’ he heard her say as he hurried through the doorway into the night.

Adam Vickering, Marquess of Tannerton, sat in a supper box with his friend Pomroy and the party of high flyers and dashers Pomroy always seemed to collect.

Pomroy filled his glass with arrack. ‘You’re like a besotted fool, Tan—’ He paused to belch. ‘Never thought you the sort who let a woman lead him by a string.’

Tanner gulped down half his arrack. ‘I’d be dashed pleased to be led by this one, if I could only get near enough to secure her.’ He looked heavenwards. ‘You heard her, Pomroy. She is an angel.’

‘Ha!’ his friend barked. ‘I’d say she’s devilish crafty. Has you eating out of her hand and all without speaking a word to you. She’s going to play you against Greythorne, you know, like bidders at Tattersalls.

‘Got to admit, it is good sport.’ Tanner’s grin turned to a scowl. ‘What have you discovered about Greythorne?’

‘He courted Amanda Reynolds, all the rage a year ago. Everyone thought they would marry. She spurned him, though.’

‘Left him for another man?’ Tanner asked.

‘Some soldier, I believe.’ Pomroy shrugged.

‘Her head turned by a man in regimentals?’ Tanner concluded. ‘Not unheard of, you know.’

‘Yes, but there was more to it, I’m certain,’ Pomroy said. ‘She could have had anyone. Don’t you remember her? She was perfection.’

Tanner conjured up an image of a cool blonde, the sort who would pine for routs and balls and dreadful musicales. He took another mouthful. ‘Always disliked that fellow Greythorne. Looks the whole day like he’d just left his valet.’

Pomroy was summoned by one of the prime articles he’d found in the Gardens. Pomroy would no doubt enjoy her company all night through, but such females held no interest for Tanner. While his friend attended to the pretty thing, Tanner leaned back on his chair, balancing it on its rear legs. He raised his drink and gazed out into the crowd.

With any luck he’d catch sight of his secretary and have him wrangle a meeting with Miss Rose O’Keefe. Even if luck was not with him, he could still congratulate himself for escaping Lady Rawley’s tedious musicale. Half an hour of the soprano she’d hired had nearly done for him. He wished half the fashionable set would leave Town and go rusticate in the country. Leave him free of their tiresome invitations. Let them all go rusticate, in fact.

Not that he had any intention of burying himself in such boredom. He paid his managers well so he would not have to put in an appearance at any of his properties until hunting season.

Tanner swished his arrack in the glass. Ordinarily he’d be in Brighton this time of year, but the elusive Rose O’Keefe had kept him in town.

Tanner’s eyes narrowed as a pristinely attired gentleman swinging a walking stick strolled up to the supper box.

‘Why, if it is not Tannerton.’ Greythorne tipped his hat in an elegant gesture that seemed to mock Tanner’s boyish balancing act.

Tanner perversely accentuated his lack of gentility by stretching his arms to the back of his head. ‘Greythorne.’

Behind Tanner Pomroy laughed and one of his female companions squealed. Greythorne eyed them with ill-disguised contempt.

He directed his gaze back to Tanner. ‘I hear we are rivals of a sort.’

‘Rivals?’ Tanner gave a dry laugh. ‘I highly doubt that.’

Greythorne ignored his barb. ‘For the captivating Rose O’Keefe. I quite covet the girl, you know.’

‘Really?’ said Tanner in a flat voice.

Greythorne tapped the wall of the supper box with his stick. ‘Your secretary tells me she is yours, but I confess I see no signs of it.’

‘Eyes bothering you?’ Tanner remarked.