Page 14 of One Night in Vauxhall Gardens (Singular Sensation #11)

May 9, 1819

Bollinger House

Portman Square

London, England

For long moments, Harry sat in his closed carriage in front of St. Vincent’s townhouse as he tried to order his thoughts.

Bloody hell, what is happening to me?

Yesterday, when Theresa came to visit, he thought it would be embarrassing for him to show his emotions or to appear weak in front of her, but he needn’t have worried. She was nothing except understanding and empathetic. Hell, he swore he could find healing in her kisses and caresses, but he would rather die than say that aloud.

Or perhaps he should, for it would be taken as a compliment, wouldn’t it?

God, since meeting the lady, his world had not only been slammed on its head but had been turned upside down and inside out. Though he hadn’t known her all that long, in many ways, he felt as if he’d known her for a lifetime. He hadn’t told her anything about his past or some of the dreams he struggled with, but it didn’t matter… he hoped. She hadn’t badgered for them, and the most amazing thing? The woman merely accepted him as he was without complaint or the expectation that he change.

It was the most freeing feeling in the world, and damn, he wanted her to feel the same from him. Did she trust him enough for all that? That was something else they hadn’t discussed. Yet what did any of it mean? Surely, he wasn’t… falling for her? That couldn’t be it, for that hadn’t happened to him in his whole life.

What the hell do I know about love?

Which was why he’d come out to St. Vincent’s home, because he needed to talk to someone who’d gone through this, and who better than Theresa’s brother?

When his driver rapped on the door as he stood waiting for Harry to climb down, he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Thank you, Jacob. Sorry for woolgathering. Again.”

The average sized man tipped up his slouch-style cap and stared him directly in the eyes. “I have seen you at your worst over the years, Your Lordship. Can I tell something I’ve observed?”

“Of course.” Harry jumped to the ground then tugged at the bottom of his sapphire waistcoat.

“Each time you are in Lady Theresa’s company, you seem lighter… not exactly happier but let’s say slightly less exhausted or without purpose?”

Harry nodded. “That’s a good way of describing me, I suppose.” Frankly, he couldn’t evict Theresa from his mind. Her floral scent, the softness of her skin, the way her curves nestled into the harder plains of his body all worked to create new memories that were working to crowd out the old.

Trouble was, he needed more of such memories to make any significant progress.

“Shall I wait here for you, my lord?”

“I would appreciate it. Shouldn’t be more than an hour, but if I am, I’ll let you know.” He nodded at his driver. “Thank you, Jacob. For everything.”

“I might not have served with you, but I’m not leaving you behind in the field, Your Lordship.” With a shallow salute, the man climbed back onto his bench. “I’ll walk the horses for a bit, I think.”

When Harry nodded, he went up the short walkway to the townhouse and then rapped on the door. Once the panel swung open, the butler waved him in with a grin, and after taking Harry’s outer things, told him the Bollingers were in the drawing room, relaxing with tea.

“Thank you. I promise not to take up much of their time.”

It took very little time to climb the stairs to the second level. The sound of soft laughter and the buzz of conversation drifted to his ears as he arrived at the open double doors. For a second, he simply stood and observed the little family. St. Vincent sat next to his wife on a low sofa. As they talked, it was quite obvious that they were taken with each other. Their angelic one and a half year old daughter lay asleep on the other side of the countess with her golden head resting in her mother’s lap.

He cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting?”

Both Bollingers glanced up at his question with expressions of welcome and interest.

“Ah, Hedgecomb. Welcome!” The earl waved him into the room. “To what do we owe the pleasure? I thought you’d be busy calling on my sister.”

That tugged a grin from him. “I will after this stop.”

“You look like a dog’s breakfast.” Concern etched across the earl’s brow. “Were you attacked again?”

“Yes, by one of Lady Stover’s goons. Issued a threat. Said things would heat up soon.”

“Damn.”

“I know.” He nodded. “Which is why I wanted to call on Theresa. To make sure she is all right. Uh, have you seen her lately? I just wondered if she’s told you good things about me.” And kept their intimacy private.

“I have and she tells me you have been perfectly lovely toward her.” One of the earl’s eyebrows rose in challenge. “Is that not true? While I understand that both of you weren’t thrilled with the idea of this engagement, I would have thought that you might have made inroads into being friends by now.”

Heat sneaked up the back of Harry’s neck. “It is a process. We both are learning how to trust, but it’s slow going.”

“I don’t understand why. Theresa has had nothing except good experiences throughout her life. It must be you who is the difficult one.”

Before he could say anything in response, the countess interrupted.

“Don’t be so hard on them, St. Vincent.” She took the earl’s hand and threaded their fingers together.

“Thank you,” Harry said with a nod as he dropped into a chair near the earl. The longer he watched them together, the more he wanted a life like that, with a woman who loved him without restrictions or conditions.

The countess smiled. “Women are always less trusting than men, and where your sister is concerned, I suspect she’s keeping a secret and has struggled with it for many years.”

“What?” St. Vincent frowned. “Then why hasn’t she told me?”

His wife shrugged. “Perhaps she didn’t know how or she didn’t think it was something you—or her family—needed to be involved in. We all have things like that.”

“Bah. She can tell me anything.” The earl glanced at Harry. “Did she entrust you with this secret?”

“She did.” And he refused to betray that trust by telling her brother. “Suffice it to say, we are working through that trauma, but it reaches deep.” He rested an ankle on a knee in the hopes of appearing nonchalant and relaxed when he felt anything but. “Just as I have personal demons I need to fight, so does she.”

“I see.” For long moments, St. Vincent regarded him with speculation in his eyes. “What brings you here today, Hedgecomb? You seem at sixes and sevens.”

“That is because I am.” How to begin? He supposed there was no other way than to just jump in with both feet. “As you know, I’ve spent time with Theresa due to us being forced into an engagement. Thus far, she has been a lovely companion, and I am beginning trust her instincts and counsel. The more I’m with her, though, the more confused I’m growing.”

St. Vincent frowned. “What the devil does that mean?”

His countess softly chuckled. She finger-combed her daughter’s hair while the child slept on. “What do you think it means, darling?”

“What?” The earl bounced his gaze between them. “Oh. Do you have romantic feelings for her then?”

“That is what I’m trying to puzzle out.” This conversation wasn’t helping. “There are many things to consider and many consequences to that as well.”

“How so?”

Harry shrugged. “I am me, and being me brings a host of problems. I’m far too broken, I think, to provide stability for any woman or perhaps making a life with one.” Slowly, he shook his head. “What if I wreck everything I want to build?”

“It’s certainly a risk, but then, everything is, my friend.” Compassion lined the earl’s face. “But you must decide if your courage is stronger than your fear. Most of the time, whatever we want is on that other side.”

“And if we are both suffering from fear holding us back?”

“Then you make sure you cling to each other and move your way forward,” the countess said with a look of fondness at her husband. “I have found if you believe in that person, you will do extraordinary things for them, to have that for the rest of your life.”

The earl’s expression turned shrewd. “Why don’t you take her to the May Day ball? Broadmoor is hosting that, and it’s already late this year due to the recent uncertainty with our friends.”

“What difference will a ball make?” That sounded a bit deranged, frankly.

“I can’t explain it, but dance with Theresa. Something happens on a dance floor that you can’t experience anywhere else.” He nodded in encouragement. “You’ll know everything with clarity during a waltz.”

The countess smiled. “That is probably true. Many couples I know have fallen in love—or discovered they were already there—after they danced with each other.” Then she bestowed a look on her husband that made Harry snicker. “At least he won’t make her bait during that ball though.”

“Not fair.” A dark flush rose up St. Vincent’s neck above his cravat. “That wasn’t all my fault, and you know why it was necessary.”

“Oh, I do, but I still can’t believe you made me wear that piece of jewelry straight into danger that night.” She patted his knee. “But it solidified our relationship, didn’t it?”

“It did, and I couldn’t be happier with the outcome.” Finally, the earl looked at Harry. “As you have probably heard, many of the relationships the rogues enjoy were forged through danger and perhaps even a bit of insanity.”

Though he wasn’t too certain of what the countess had hinted at, he knew it revolved around a piece of jewelry, which helped the earl land her hand. He cleared his throat. “Speaking of jewelry, I gifted your sister with a diamond and ruby parure the day we were engaged.”

“Oh, I’ve seen the ring, and it’s gorgeous,” the countess gushed. “She is a fortunate lady indeed. You did well, Hedgecomb.”

“Thank you, but there is a story surrounding that collection.” As briefly as he could, he told them how he’d acquired it and who it once belonged to. “In any event, I hadn’t thought about that parure in many years until I needed to ask for Theresa’s hand. If she hadn’t liked it, I would have selected something from my family’s collection, but all of that is kept at my country estate and not easily accessed just now.”

“Clearly, your fiancée has lovely taste.” The countess smiled and once more smoothed her daughter’s hair.

“She does look stunning in rubies,” Harry agreed with a grin of his own. That dark red color reminded him of her spirit, that vital life force she kept hidden deep down inside where her strength was kept. If she ever let herself use it without fear, she would be unstoppable.

“By the by, do you remember the marquess’ name?” St. Vincent asked, and there was something in his expression that gave Harry pause.

He delved into his memory, back to that time while trying to avoid the horrors and sadness of that time. “Hallerston. Marquess of Hallerston.” Then he gasped. “Wasn’t he a member of the Rogue’s Arcade at one time? I remember hearing about him, but he’d either left the club or Town by the time I was done with my commission.”

“Shit. You’re right.” When his wife looked askance at him, St. Vincent grinned. “He and Edenthorpe were friends at one time, but they had a falling out over a handful of years ago because Hallerston wanted a broader membership roster while Edenthorpe wished to keep membership to men he’d either fought with or knew to be jewel thieves with a unique viewpoint as well as being men of honor.”

They shared a look. Harry put both feet on the floor and leaned forward. “Did he ever wear a coat or jacket with fancy Mother-of-Pearl buttons?”

“He did, now that I think about it. Made a point of bragging about them for a time. I was much younger then and didn’t care for him, never understood why Edenthorpe asked him into the club. Then the war heated up and we all went our separate ways. When I came back to London, Hallerston had already left. Rumor had it he was keeping company with questionable people.”

“That lines up with what I witnessed when I procured the jewelry. And that also begs the question of the paternity of Lady Stover’s first child.”

“The one she sent away to an asylum when she was a youth?”

“Yes. Though she has Stover’s name and was raised as his daughter, I wonder if he suspected he’d been cuckolded and that wasn’t the big reason why the girl was sent away.”

The earl shrugged. “We will probably never know, but if Hallerston is in league with Lady Stover still, she could have easily manipulated him in her evil plots.”

“It’s possible but unlikely. Wouldn’t that put his reputation in jeopardy?”

“Some men don’t care about that, and if he had fallen in love with Lady Stover years ago, he might think of this as a way to sway her affections, especially since she can’t stand her husband.” St. Vincent tapped a finger on his knee. “At the ball, encourage Theresa to wear the pieces.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Let’s provoke Lady Stover and have it over and done with. Bring out all the principal players and bring them to justice so Lockwood and Baselton can return to London.”

Harry nodded. “So all of us can finally have peace.”

“Yes.” St. Vincent glanced at his wife and daughter. “Living with fear is not the natural way of things. I don’t want my daughter to know anything like that.”

“I’ll talk it over with Theresa.” How odd yet wonderful was it that he had a woman in his life to talk to about serious and heavy subjects? “Beyond that, let’s say the ball goes well and she and I find a deeper connection. What if I want our marriage to be something other than the convenience I think she wants?”

The earl met his gaze with an intensity and interest that flummoxed him. “So name only then?”

“Uh.” Heat shot up the back of Harry’s neck. “I don’t know if I’d say that.”

Shock went through the earl’s expression. “You bedded my sister?” The accusation was so much louder than regular conversation that the child stirred on the sofa.

“Hush, St. Vincent. Don’t interrupt her nap,” his wife warned as she soothed the child with gentle strokes on her cheek and soft words.

Steel infused Harry’s spine. “That is between me and her. As are the reasons therein, but just know, on that we are in mutual agreement.”

“What a sweet thing to say.” The countess smiled at him. “I am glad for you both.” Amusement danced in her eyes. “Don’t fret too much over it, Hedgecomb. Things like this have a way of working themselves out. Just enjoy yourself when you are with her and keep doing what you’re doing. If Theresa truly didn’t like spending time with you, she wouldn’t. Though she hasn’t shown it much, I believe she’s got spirit.”

“Ha. That is an understatement, and she’s quite a managing baggage when she needs to be, but she has been a tremendous help. When I’m with her in that way, it doesn’t matter that I’m no good with words, that I can’t talk about the things that happened to me and left me broken. We communicate perfectly through the physical.” He stood. It still boggled his mind, but he didn’t want to try and understand it. “Well, don’t let me continue to interrupt your day. I still need to call on Theresa.” When he looked at the earl, their gazes connected. “You’ll look further into Hallerston and his alleged involvement with Lady Stover’s organization?”

“I will. And keep me posted on how things are progressing between you and my sister.” His eyes were kind. “I didn’t want to force the engagement, but I believe it will be the best for both of you eventually.”

Harry nodded. “Time will tell.”