Charlotte was quite happy with the new arrangements. Although she was a high-spirited girl, she was not silly. She was beginning to find the almost constant round of social activities rather boring. One tended to see the same faces wherever one went. One learned what compliments to expect from which gallants, what confidences to expect from which girls, and what invitations one was likely to receive from which members of the ton. She had her regular circle of admirers, but had found that only one of them had the power to increase her heartbeat, and he seemed to have lost interest in the last few weeks. She had been thankful for Charles' company. He was fun and easy to be with, and since everyone seemed to assume that he was a front-runner for her affections, she was not so constantly pestered by boring and languishing young men.
Charlotte helped Margaret pick out the guests for the house party. Her two close friends, Annabelle Frazer and Susanna Kemp, were to come with Susanna's amiable brother Ted; the twins, Rodney and Kenneth Langford, and Miss Faith Axton, betrothed to the latter, were invited. The dowager countess, on hearing of the party, also requested that her friends. Lord and Lady Romley, be included. All were able to come, even at such short notice.
Only one thing was allowed to take Margaret's mind off the impending house party, and that was her appointment to meet her husband again at Vauxhall. Charlotte was worried about the event, too.
"Meg, you must go," she pleaded when Margaret claimed for at least the twentieth time that week that the original plan had been rather childish and must be forgotten.
"We did not think further than the first meeting, Lottie," she explained. "There is nothing left to prove. Yes, he did find me attractive at the Hetherington ball six years ago, and yes, he does find me attractive now in the same disguise." Margaret did not explain just how attractive he was finding her. "But I cannot go on with the deception. He will find me out sooner or later. And even if he does not, what is to be gained?" Except a lot of wild, uninhibited happiness, she added silently.
"But we cannot give up now, Meg," Charlotte argued. "He loves you. But he does not know that it is you he loves. You will still insist on behaving so primly all the time. And you still wear your hair in those old-maidenly braids. You have to tell him, Meg."
"Impossible, Lottie! Such an interview would be horribly embarrassing and a terrible blow to Richard's dignity."
"Phooey!" Charlotte exploded. "Is it undignified to have a wife that loves one?"
Margaret sighed. "However," she said, chiding herself for a weakening resolve, "perhaps I should don the disguise and meet him one more time. It will surely be the last time, if we are to spend some weeks in the country."
Charlotte jumped to her feet, clapping her hands. "Oh, Meg," she said, bending over her sister and hugging her, "it will all turn out, you will see. I never knew of such a stupid situation as this, where two people love each other so much and cannot say so."
"You have so much experience," Margaret teased affectionately.
Chapter 9
Brampton waited at the same tree as he had chosen the week before. He had feared earlier that rain would spoil the evening, but although the sky was still heavy with clouds and the air was unseasonably cool, it had remained dry. The revelers had certainly not stayed away. They passed him on the path in couples and in groups, talking quietly among themselves or noisily joking and laughing. Sounds of music floated to him from the orchestra stand just beyond the trees. Colored lanterns swayed in the breeze and made the area even more of an enchanted land.
Brampton drew his black cloak even more closely around him. She was late tonight. What if she did not come at all? Part of him felt relief-he would be released from an impossible situation. And part of him felt something very like panic. He would have no way of tracing her if she did not come. He might never see her again!
And then he spotted her, tripping lightly along the path, a gray woolen cloak drawn over the silver gown, a gay smile on her lips and in her eyes.
"Bon soir, monsieur," she greeted him, extending to him a gloved hand in which she clasped her closed fan. "I thought perhaps the inclement weather would keep you indoors tonight."
"Not if that would keep me away from you, angel," he responded warmly. And he gathered her to him and kissed her smiling lips. "Shall we go?" He indicated the direction in which he had left his carriage.
"No, monsieur. I wish to sample the delights of Vauxhall. The food, the dancing, the fireworks, c'est bien?"
"Angel," he protested, "there is more than an hour to wait until the fireworks display. We will catch our deaths of cold before then. Besides," he added, lowering his voice seductively, "I had definite plans for keeping you warm, sweet."
She tossed her head and pouted. "You told me, monsieur, that you loved me," she said. "I see that you love me for only one reason."
"Angel, that is not true," he protested, amused as usual by her theatrics. "I love you for your pertness and your zest for life-and for your ability to twist me around your little finger, you minx."
He took her little hand in his and strolled along the path with her, toward a wider avenue and brighter lights. They walked and talked, sampled the wafer-thin slices of ham for which the gardens were famous, danced, and walked more.
Brampton felt an unexpected flatness of spirits. She had not been correct in saying that he loved her for one thing only, yet there was enough truth in her accusation to make him uncomfortable. He wanted to get to know her, to take her other places and do other things with her than take her to bed to make love to her. But he felt hemmed in on every side. She was not a lightskirt. He could not set her up in a house where he could visit her and spend time with her at his leisure. If they met in public places-even here, where they were in disguise-there was always the chance that he would be recognized. Very few people would be disturbed to see him with a woman other than his wife, but he dreaded the possibility of causing her pain if rumor of his infidelity should reach her. It seemed that the only place he could take her was to the rooms of the ever-faithful Devin Northcott. And once there, it was inevitable that they should end up in bed together. Brampton could just not see any happy future for their liaison.
She seemed to read his thoughts. They were strolling again along one of the darker, quieter paths, the blowing branches above their heads making a web of shadows ahead of them. They had been silent for a time.
"It is like walking along a path with a dead end, is it not, monsieur?" she asked quietly.
"Mm?"
"It is too late for us," she said. "We must stop meeting."
He did not answer for a while. They continued to walk slowly along the path; then he turned aside and led her among the trees until they were out of sight of passersby. He gathered her into his arms and laid his cheek against her ear. She wrapped her arms around his waist, beneath his cloak. They stood thus for a long while, without exchanging a word.
Brampton finally broke the silence. "You are right, my angel," he said softly, "but how can I bear to let you go?"
"I am just a dream from your past," she said sadly. "You will forget me."
"Never," he denied fervently. "And you, angel, will you forget me?"
"I shall have to find happiness with what I have, monsieur," she replied.