Page 4 of One Night in Vauxhall Gardens (Singular Sensation #11)

Theresa briefly pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off a megrim, for this night was beyond absurd.

Her brother had prodded her to go out with him and Rachel for an evening’s entertainment. Didn’t matter that she wouldn’t do anything that might have her meet an eligible gentleman, he merely hoped that she would enjoy herself and have a distraction from her thoughts.

While she appreciated his concern, all she wanted to do was stay indoors and read. However, she would admit that some of the exhibits and performers in the stalls were quite interesting, and the food from handcart vendors was humble yet exceptional. If her spirits had a chance of being cheered, this night would have done it, but it fell far short of making her reconnect with the woman she’d been years ago before everything had changed.

“Make sure you don’t wander off, Theresa,” Leo was saying as they made their way through the crowded night circus. “I don’t take the threats against my club members and their loved ones lightly.”

“I know, I know. You’ve warned me nearly a thousand times now over the past two months.” If her voice was more waspish than she’d intended, she couldn’t help it. She knew how to take care of herself.

The other man who made up their party—the Earl of Hedgecomb—snickered but he didn’t add a comment of his own. For that, she was quite grateful. Though she’d been introduced to him before, she didn’t know much about him other than her brother would sometimes call him by the moniker of Scarecrow. He was tall, with light brown hair that didn’t seem to have much of a style; seemed to do whatever it wanted, and she appreciated that aberration from conformity. Shadows and secrets lurked in the blue depths of his eyes, and though his lips were this side of sensuous, she didn’t feel up to flirting even though that was how she hid her unease around men.

None of that mattered tonight.

“It bears repeating, little sister,” Leo said with a grin and a knowing glance at his wife.

“Leave her alone, St. Vincent. Life is difficult enough without you being a mother hen.” Rachel bestowed a smile on him that made Theresa long for something she’d never had in her life before. “Go find some friends. Isn’t that one of the reasons why you brought us here tonight?”

Leo gawked at her. “You knew?”

“I have been married to you for a couple of years now. We have an infant son who is nearly a year old. I know you better than you think.”

“I’m sure you do.” He bussed her cheek then glanced at Hedgecomb. “Shall we do some reconnoitering?”

The other man nodded. “I’d welcome that.”

Then Leo winked. “Once we return, I’ll bring you both some flowers from one of the vendors. That should put you in the holiday mood.”

“You’re a dear, St. Vincent.” Rachel waved her husband away then she linked arms with Theresa as they strolled along the main thoroughfare. “St. Vincent keeps a box at the opera here but rarely enjoys attending. If you would like, you can come with me should you wish for an evening out.”

“Why do I suspect that you would like that as well?” Theresa couldn’t help but ask, but she appreciated the effort to include her.

“Oh, I would like that, of course, but I’ll need to wait until I’m feeling more the thing.” She shrugged. “My stomach has been rather delicate these days.”

“Ah.” Theresa kept her own counsel, for she thought Rachel was expecting again even though it hadn’t been announced. Besides, her sister-in-law was older, which made pregnancies more perilous than younger women. “I’m sorry to hear that and hope you feel better soon.”

“I’m quite certain that I will. Things like this don’t last forever.” A mysterious smile flirted with her lips. “Now, let’s talk about you, hmm?”

Internally, Theresa groaned. “I’d rather not.”

“Pish posh, dear. And let me just say that raspberry silk gown suits your complexion quite well. You should wear vibrant hues always.”

“Thank you. My eye has been drawn to them in recent years.” In fact, such colors gave her a confidence she didn’t quite feel deep down inside.

“Good. You and I should go shopping for a new gown or two. You might need them.”

“Why?”

“Men, my dear.” She patted Theresa’s arm. “St. Vincent and I are planning to throw a series of society events in the hopes that you might meet someone you find interesting.”

“Oh, Rachel, not you too.” Theresa frowned. Why did everyone around her think that she needed a match? Why couldn’t a woman of the beau monde just grow old without an attachment? She blew out a breath. “Perhaps I don’t want a man in my life. Perhaps I have lost trust in the males of our species.” She met the other woman’s gaze. “Why does everyone think that if a woman isn’t married, and if she isn’t interested or no one wants her in that capacity, she has no value in society?”

“I’m not certain anyone thinks that.”

Theresa snorted. “You know they do.”

“Yes, they most likely do, unfortunately.” Then Rachel looked at her with speculation. “However, your reticence in this matter is troubling, which leads me to question it.” In a low voice just for her ears she asked, “Did something happen to you in your early social life, perhaps in your Come Out, that has frightened you about men or marriage in particular?”

A gasp escaped her, but she worked to cover it up. “Why, have there been rumors or gossip bandied about?”

“No, of course not. I only ask because I’m a woman, and in my own past I have made some not so wise decisions that I regret now.” She patted Theresa’s hand. “I would understand if you wished to talk with me.”

“Oh.” The urge to cry welled in her chest and then went upward into her throat. It had been quite a long time since she’d felt anything that wasn’t shame or remorse that she didn’t know what to do, let alone trust anyone with her history. “While that is sweet, it is my story alone. I would feel wildly uncomfortable burdening you or my brother with it.”

Especially Leo. He would demand vengeance, especially since that man was now a viscount and a prominent player in society, and on the wrong side of it if the rumors were correct.

“Dearest, if you can’t depend on your family to help you through horrible times, then those people don’t deserve to be your family.”

The urge to cry intensified, but she tamped it down so hard it would stay buried for years. “I appreciate that, but you know how Mama is. If word about what happened got out, she would affect so many airs, someone might mistake her for a gas balloon. Once she came to her senses, I would have hell to pay.”

A chuckle left Rachel’s throat. “Yes, I do know how your mother is. She is quite the special lady, but your brother and I aren’t cut of the same cloth. You would have nothing except understanding from us, and no judgment.”

Theresa snorted. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can, at least from my perspective.” She gave her an encouraging smile. “St. Vincent will come ‘round if he shows himself as an arse.”

For long moments, Theresa remained silent as revelry went on around them. Then she sighed. “I’ll consider it, but I refuse to discuss anything here. It’s far too public, and there are listening ears everywhere.” Despite what her sister-in-law had said, she rather doubted that they would remain objective. Rachel and Leo would hate her and judge her. Shame her and perhaps say it was her fault or worse, treat her like a porcelain doll and not let her do anything at all. Keep her in a gilded cage until they could find her a suitable and quite dull match, which meant she would go from one golden prison to another.

Without being consulted.

“Fair enough.” Rachel nodded. “But make no mistake. You and I will talk, then perhaps you will finally begin to feel better.”

Or feel at all?

Before she could respond, a group of ladies hailed the countess. “Oh, dear. I won’t soon put them off, I think,” she whispered with a budding frown.

“That gives me the excuse to take a walk and clear my head.” Theresa patted her sister-in-law’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll remain alert the whole time, so you needn’t worry about me.”

“Are you certain?” Concern showed in Rachel’s eyes as they were lit from the nearby gaslight as the gaggle of ladies drew closer.

“Quite.” Then, with a wave, Theresa quickly made her escape. It didn’t take long before she found the shadowy paths toward the other half of the gardens, the ones where rumors and gossip were fueled, but she didn’t care. There was far too much bouncing about her brain like soap bubbles, and she needed to make sense of it before she did something stupid like blurting out her history to her brother. Not paying attention to where her feet took her, she ignored the sounds of the night around her, even the low-pitched giggles and occasional moans she heard as she passed hidden alcoves in the shrubberies and hedges.

How had her life come to this point so that she hid from everyone in her life, avoided conversation, and longed for the day when she could release her death-hold on her history?

At some point deep in the shadows, the sounds of someone either crying out or whimpering in pain reached her ears. Immediately on alert, Theresa went to investigate, for if someone was wounded or hurt, she would do whatever she could to help them. It’s what she’d needed on that long ago night when she’d been in the same situation.

Eventually, she came upon the form of a man huddled on the dark ground, and what was more, she recognized him. With a gasp, she glanced about the immediate area, but seeing no one else there nor did she spy any blood on his head or face, she slowly approached him.

“Lord Hedgecomb? Can you hear me?” When he didn’t respond, she went closer. Though he was one of her brother’s close friends, she’d always avoided him as well as the other rogues, for Leo had warned her away from them enough times that she didn’t wish to hear another lecture from him. And besides, when she thought she did have a crush on one of the club members, it turned out to be fleeting on her part, and he went on to find the love of his life. Outside of flirting to hide how broken she truly was, she couldn’t summon enough enthusiasm to carry on with any sort of conviction.

However, in this moment, huddled on the ground or not, he was handsome in an endearing, retiring sort of way, and seeing him in obvious trauma and vulnerability tugged at her chest. It brought home the fact that they were all an act of unkindness or cruelty away from being completely wrenched away from the life they’d known and thrust into something else entirely.

And no one needed to be alone during such difficulties.

After she rushed through the bushes and over the short stretch of ground, Theresa dropped to her knees beside him. He moaned and clutched his head, clearly in the grips of a nightmare or powerful thoughts. At times, her brother had difficulties with nightmares or thinking he was still in the war. When he mumbled a string of words that sounded as if he were commanding a group of men to retreat, she frowned. Perhaps this man did too. From what she knew about her brother’s forays into those things, they weren’t very pleasant. Leo used to use laudanum to help quiet his mind, but ever since his son had been born, he tried to do without it, to keep his thoughts alert.

“Your Lordship?”

There was no answer.

“Lord Hedgecomb?” More concerned now, Theresa leaned over him, daring to shake a shoulder. “It’s quite all right. You’re having a dream is all. You are no longer in the war.” Would the words even infiltrate the nightmare to his brain?

His eyes flew open, and though he looked at her she doubted if he truly saw her. In seconds, he’d gripped her, his body tensed, and then he flipped her over, pressed her back into the cool ground with the cushion of moss and grass. Before she could say anything, his hands were at her throat, slowly tightening, for there was no doubt that the man was still locked in the nightmare. Did he even now think she was a French solider?

Cold panic rose in her chest as she struggled against him. Old trauma from the night she’d been raped made a reappearance and those fears came flooding over her. While gasping for breath and with her heartbeat pounding frantically, she slapped his face hard, and when that he didn’t snap out of the nightmare nor release her, she kicked his knees. Dear God, what if he killed her? Fear zipped up and down her spine as she struggled beneath the heavier weight of his body, but then his fingers at her throat relaxed and lightened. His eyes rounded as he stared down at her in the darkness and seconds later, he removed his hands from her neck.

Thank goodness.

In gratitude, Theresa sucked in large gulps of air. She rasped out his name and hoped he was through the worse of it. “It is quite all right, Lord Hedgecomb.” Her voice was hoarse from her throat being so mishandled. “You are safe. The war is over.”

Unfortunately, the earl appeared to have not understood. Though he wasn’t choking her any longer, he certainly didn’t move his form from hers.

Drat. She needed something that would shock him into the present. But what? There was only one answer. Framing his head with her gloved palms, she fit her lips to his and kissed him.

And she froze. So did he. In fact, his gaze bored into hers, and though it was too dark to read what his eyes said, she couldn’t begin to fathom what was going through his mind, for hers was at a standstill.

For the space of a few heartbeats, Hedgecomb stared at her then he moved. In fact, he dipped his head and claimed her lips, and as he moved over her mouth, the kiss was quite spectacular in scope. Suddenly, the world she’d known before had been stood on its head and nothing was as she thought.

Briefly, she broke off that one meeting of mouths merely to do something as pedestrian as breathing, but just as quickly, she took up a second wind and let him kiss her again. As silly and as impossible as it seemed, this was the first time she felt anything since that horrible night so many years ago, and that was progress. Since it was such a revelation, Theresa continued to kiss him, figured that since they were in a relatively hidden place of the gardens it couldn’t hurt, and he was truly gifted at kissing.

And this was nothing like what happened to her years ago, because this man, though he’d been lost to nightmares, had given her a choice, which was to let her enjoy the embrace.

As she squirmed into a more comfortable position beneath him, Theresa looped her arms about his broad shoulders and gave herself over to the wonder of discovering some of the secrets this man was keeping. Somehow, he knew exactly what she needed, wanted, even desired, and he moved over her mouth with that in mind. Nibbles at the corners of her lips turned into licks and teases along the seam. When she opened for him, he took full advantage by encouraging her tongue to fence with his, and all too soon they were dueling for dominance.

The sheer inventiveness of the overture made her breathless, and though traces of fear collided at the base of her spine with a curious buzzing energy, she didn’t yet push him away, for she wanted to see what would happen. That intimate glide of satin along silk had the power to drive her wild, for never had she felt as wanted as she did with this man in this one moment of time.

Then his hand was at her bosom, and though fear knotted in her belly, this embrace didn’t have the same qualities as the last time she’d found herself in such a position. With the veriest pressure of her fingers at his nape, she gave him permission, and as he tugged down her bodice and the clothing beneath it to free her breasts, she gasped at the sudden change in temperature from heated awareness to the cool ambient air on her skin.

“Oh!” The last time she allowed a man to see such a private part of her, he’d taken advantage and hadn’t treated her well, but the earl? Dear heavens, Hedgecomb caressed his gloved fingers over her skin with the touch of a maestro to the keys of a pianoforte, exploring her with such gentleness that tears gathered in her eyes. Around and around her breast his fingers went, circling the rapidly hardening nipple until she thought she might go mad, and when he finally closed his lips around that straining bud, a startled moan left her throat

The night quickly swallowed the utterance, and her back arched of its own accord. With every swipe of his tongue and tease of his fingers, her body came alive under his touch. It was so poignant and beautiful, it made her think that perhaps she might be that again, and no, she didn’t want the unexpected attention or connection to end, however fleeting it was meant to be.

Not even seeing her newborn nephew last year could make the walls shake around her heart, her soul, like this man had been able to do in less than ten minutes in his company. That alone was cause for pondering, but not now, not when it seemed that the whole world came into bloom in his arms, as if she’d been waiting for permission to go ahead and live again after that horror that had fallen to her eight years before.

I need so much more!

So Theresa encouraged him and damn the consequences. It might prove scandalous, but it was also progress, and she’d had precious little of that in far too long.