Page 13 of The Burdened Duke (Willenshires #4)

“They call it Bath’s Vauxhall Gardens,” Mary announced, beaming over her shoulder. “I imagine it’s rather spectacular. I cannot believe that we have never visited. Should we have gone at night, Alex, do you think?”

“I don’t think it’s quite the same as Vauxhall, Mama,” Alexander said gently. “We can always go again, if we like the place.”

The dowager shook her head. “No, I think not. It’s not seemly to enjoy things too much, you know.”

William caught Katherine’s eye across the breakfast table and said nothing.

He had retired early to bed the previous night, mostly to escape Miss Bainbridge’s determined attentions. It had been almost frightening – she drove everybody away, keeping him to herself and chained up with politeness. Frightening and noticeable. Her parents had watched blandly, and he knew that others would have noticed, too.

I won’t be entrapped, he thought, with a rush of anger.

The Bainbridges were not down yet, but of course they would be accompanying the party to Sydney Gardens. The Brookford sisters were not down yet, either. He couldn’t help noticing that Miss Lavinia Brookford had retreated from the drawing room almost immediately after he arrived, taking her younger sister with her. Katherine had told him later that Miss Gillian seemed rather tired and pale, and Miss Lavinia was clearly worried about her sister.

And yet, here I am, selfishly wishing she had stayed down to talk to me, he thought wryly, shaking his head at his own thoughtlessness. The locket sat in his pocket again, the familiar contours of the smooth oval warm under the pad of his thumb.

It hardly mattered, though. More and more, William began to feel that nothing mattered at all – not his choice of bride, not the inheritance he had to earn, not the fact he had kept the horse that killed his father. How could any of it matter?

Still, he had to admit, he was glad that the Brookford girls were definitely coming to Sydney Gardens.

I won’t talk to her, though. It’s a bad idea to converse too much with a woman when I intend to marry another. I will stick with Miss Bainbridge, or better yet, with Katherine.

“I thought it might be fun to divide into groups,” Katherine said, innocently sipping her tea. “So that we can spend time with people outside of our cliches. William, Miss Lavinia will be your personal responsibility today.”

William froze. “I beg your pardon?”

Surely she could not mean it. Not after he had confided in her about the secret betrothal. But then, it was Katherine.

Katherine drained her cup. “I think you heard me perfectly well.”

***

Sydney Gardens was buzzing with activity. It was a splendid, sunlit day, and the denizens had assembled in great numbers in the Gardens.

The Willenshires had never attended the Gardens, just like they had never attended Vauxhall in London. That is, until the old Duke died. He hadn’t approved of pleasure gardens. William could hear his sour, grating voice even now: waste of money and waste of time.

Katherine clapped her hands for attention, and the guests milled around her. They were at the entrance to the Gardens, and already people were craning their necks eagerly to look beyond the gates.

There was plenty to do – croquet, archery, fortune-tellers, clockwork displays, and more. William could see countless lanterns hanging over the Gardens, which of course wouldn’t be seen in the daylight.

Perhaps we could come back at night, he thought, and see the lights, bright enough to drown out the stars.

There were refreshment stalls, as was to be expected, in the vicinity where they intended to partake of tea in due course. Most of the party had already resolved to indulge in the region's famed delicacies, and William found himself inclined to partake as well.

“To make things a little more interesting,” Katherine was saying, her voice carrying easily across the crowd, “and to force us all to make new friends, we shall be pairing up and travelling in groups. This is so that nobody gets lost – I know many of us are not native to Bath, and if anyone has a sense of direction as bad as mine, I doubt that they shall make it home again.”

There was a polite ripple of laughter at this. Katherine withdrew a list and began to read it.

He saw Miss Bainbridge flinch and then flush with anger when she learned that she was paired with a middle-aged gentleman. The anger cooled to white fury when Katherine announced that William and Miss Lavinia Brookford would accompany each other.

A hand shot up in the crowd. Mrs. Bainbridge’s, William noticed.

“I am not sure I like this pairing-off business,” the woman said stoutly. “I wish to walk with my husband.”

“As you like,” Katherine answered blandly. “But I think the rest of us are enjoying the idea.”

Mrs. Bainbridge did not look pleased at this development. A quick glance around the crowd showed that most people were pleased with their partners, talking and laughing and planning out where they would go and when. Katherine had not chosen the partners at random – she had chosen wisely.

William glanced around, and found Miss Brookford standing near his elbow, eyeing him cautiously.

“Do you mind us being paired together?” she said at last. “I should hate for you to feel uncomfortable.”

He smiled. “I’m not uncomfortable. I’m afraid I’m very dull, though. I just wanted to walk through the Gardens and take in the scenery.”

She relaxed a little. “I would like that, too.”

The company began to disperse, individuals pairing off in twos and fours as they made their way into the Gardens, engaging in lively conversation and merriment.

William saw that Lady Brennon was paired with his mother, and he relaxed a little more.

I am glad that my mother is having a good time, he thought. She deserves it.

For a few moments, he and Miss Brookford walked side by side in silence.

“We have two hours before we need to meet with the rest of the people,” he said after a while. “Katherine has arranged tea, I think.”

“Oh, yes, I want to try one of those famous buns. I’ve never had one, you know, and everybody admits that they are delicious.”

“The Sally Lunns? Oh, yes, they’re very tasty. Very sweet, if you like that sort of thing.”

“I adore sweet things,” Miss Brookford laughed. She flashed her dimples up at him, and William was struck anew by the wave of warm affection that rushed through his chest. He swallowed hard, directing his gaze to the road ahead of them.

The original, wide path that started at the gate gradually grew thinner, splintering off into countless crossroads and off-shoots, all well signposted. In places, he could see that, come the darkness, there would be performers there, likely the same sort of performers found in London’s Vauxhall Gardens. Fire eaters, jugglers, tightrope walkers, people with rare and unique animals – monkeys, parrots, snakes, and even a tarantula in a cage once.

A little further along, he saw the looming shape of the place they were to have tea and confectioneries, with supper-boxes set at intervals here and there. He hoped that Katherine had organized a supper-box, rather than them taking tea inside. It was a fine day, fine enough to eat and drink out of doors.

Forgetting where he was and who he was with for just a moment, William turned his face up to the blue sky above him, tilting his head right back and closing his eyes. The gentle breeze felt luxurious on his skin, and the sun warmed his face, glowing pinkly through his closed eyelids.

When he finally opened his eyes, blinking in the light, and glanced down, he found that Miss Brookford was staring at him thoughtfully, her expression a little uncertain.

She flushed at once, clearly embarrassed to be caught staring and directed her gaze away. William felt heat rising to his face, too.

What was I thinking? What is it about this woman that makes me act so strangely?

“I don’t believe I ever offered you an apology,” he said after a pause.

She glanced up at him. “An apology?”

“Yes. When we first met – when we truly first met, I mean – I should have left the balcony at once. It was more proper. Instead, I stayed and talked with you.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“I know, but a true gentleman would have left you at once.”

She smiled wryly. “And a true lady would never have stepped onto the balcony at all. I think at the least we are as bad as each other.”

He had to smile at that. “I cannot argue with that.”

“And… frankly, I think I thought I had rather shocked you on our first meeting,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I speak my mind more often than I should, I know.”

“I think that if more people spoke their minds, the world would be a better place.”

She chuckled. “I know a great many stalwarts of Society who would disagree.”

“They can disagree all they like. The world is changing.”

She shot another glance up at him. “Indeed it is.”

They walked on in silence for a few more minutes. It was a comfortable silence, not the awkward absence of conversation, and William felt himself relaxing more and more. They passed a few people from their party, clustered together in a group of six, all of them laughing and talking. William realized that without planning it, they were heading towards the tea-house.

He wasn’t sure he was pleased about this. Once they reached it, he would feel obliged to go in and meet the others, then their private conversation would end.

“How does your sister fare, if I may inquire? I was disappointed to hear that she wouldn’t be joining us.”

Miss Brookford sighed. “Gillian is simply fatigued, that is all. She requires a period of repose, yet Mama does not permit her to rest until it is far too late, and by then, she is too wearied to undertake any task. I was going to stay with her, but Mama and Gillian insisted that I come out. Truly, siblings cause the most anxiety out of anything else in the world.”

He laughed aloud at that and then blinked, surprised at himself.

“I have to agree,” he said at last, aware that Miss Brookford was eyeing him with a smile. “My own siblings are a constant cause of stress. Thank heavens they are all married. Of course, Alexander was always Mother’s favourite. I suppose I was Father’s favourite, although I’m not sure that is much of a compliment.”

He bit his lip, glancing away.

Too much, William, he scolded himself. You shouldn’t have said that.

A quick glance at Miss Brookford showed that she was staring down at the ground, brow furrowed.

“I know what you mean,” she said suddenly, giving a loose shrug. “I worry a great deal about Gillian. Is it selfish, do you suppose, to worry about myself, too? After all, what will I do when she’s gone?”

“I believe it’s perfectly natural. At least with only the two of you, your parents would not play favourites.”

She gave a bark of laughter, and William realized that he had mis-stepped.

“I wish that were true. I love my family, honestly, I do, but it’s clear that Gillian is Mama’s favourite, at the very least. She does not hide that. Oh, it isn’t that she’s unkind or cruel, but… well, Gillian is the sweet, pretty one, the one who wants to marry and start a family, and it seems that our hopes all hang upon her.”

“You do yourself a disservice, Miss Brookford.”

She drew in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and a sort of mask seemed to come down over her face. William only realized just how open and vulnerable her expression had truly been when it disappeared.

“On the contrary. I am not looking for compliments, your Grace. I am only being honest. I think that honesty is a rather fine quality, don’t you think?”

“It is.”

“I strive to show it in my life. Unfortunately, it seems that honesty isn’t valued in ladies – at least, not true honesty.”

“I’m inclined to agree. My sister, Katherine, has always been rather forthright, and often criticised for it.”

“She’s remarkably kind, I must say. She has taken pains to make my sister and me welcome,” Miss Brookford breathed in deeply, gaze fixed straight ahead.

William found his own gaze glued to her profile. His heart thudded in his chest.

I don’t want to talk about Katherine, or Miss Gillian, or our parents. I want to talk about you .

“Do you have much family beyond your siblings?” Miss Brookford asked abruptly, flashing him a tired smile. It was a fairly ordinary question, one edging more towards Polite Conversation territory, as opposed to their too-frank discussion of before.

“We have some family on our father’s side,” William managed at last. “Cousins, aunts, uncles, and so on. We… we were never close to them. My father, it seems, rather cut off any kind of communication with his family. I often wonder if they saw something cruel in him and distanced themselves accordingly. Of course, we had no such opportunity.”

She glanced sharply at him. It occurred to William, not for the first time, that he should not speak so freely about his father’s cruelty. It should be ignored, swept under the rug and tactfully forgotten about.

No. Why should I cover over his sins? He was a vile man, and he made us suffer. Why should the world not know about it?

He opened his mouth, not entirely sure what he intended to say, but Miss Brookford spoke first.

“The Bainbridges are coming our way,” she said, nodding down the path ahead.

Disappointment and frustration flooded through William in equal measure. He glanced forward, and saw that Miss Brookford was indeed right. The three Bainbridges, who had apparently all ignored their assigned partners and stuck together in a trio, were heading purposefully to the path towards them. Miss Bainbridge led the way, a look of determination on her face, and William just knew that she would glue herself to his side and refuse to let him go.

He was a little surprised at the annoyance he felt. He did not want to talk to Miss Bainbridge. He wanted to talk to Miss Brookford, alone, about subjects that were never touched on in polite Society.

I want to kiss her.

Stop it!

“You are going to marry her, aren’t you?” Miss Brookford said suddenly, earning herself a shocked stare from William.

“That’s… that’s hardly proper for us to discuss,” he managed at last.

Miss Brookford shrugged. “She would make a fine duchess.”

“Well, yes,” he managed lamely, “but that’s not all one should consider in a spouse.”

“No, I suppose not. Forgive me, your Grace. I… I am not feeling well. I shouldn’t speak this way.”

He swallowed hard, glancing down at her again. The Bainbridges were nearly upon them, and then of course all conversation would stop.

“Please, Miss Brookford. Don’t apologise for honesty. Never apologise for it. Not to me, at any rate.”

And you are right, Miss Brookford. I am going to marry her. I have to marry her. She would never let me out of the engagement, not when she has me exactly where she wants me.

She glanced up at him and gave a slow smile. “That means a great deal, your Grace.”

And then Miss Bainbridge reached them, face flushed from fast walking.

“What a surprise,” she wheezed. “Fancy stumbling upon you both here.”