Page 10 of The Lady of the Lamps (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #1)

I t had been a long time since Beatrix had visited Bath, and it was busier than she remembered.

The Pump Room was the place to be seen during the day, and many of the ton who were in Bath were promenading the great room even if they had no intention of taking the bitter waters, which rather unfortunately smelled like boiled eggs.

It had taken a day’s rest after their journey for her father to feel well enough for the short walk from their Bath townhouse to the Pump Room, and he had grumbled the whole way there.

“I’m not sure waters can cure whatever ails me when doctors have failed.”

“I know, Papa,” Beatrix said for what seemed like the hundredth time. “But it is worth a try, is it not?”

And so they queued for the waters, and her father grimaced as he took them, and then they sat on marble benches and watched society for a little while.

Society was well represented at the Pump Room, and Beatrix found it fascinating to sit in the great room and listen to the Pump Room band while watching young and old take the waters, promenade, or merely gossip.

Whilst Beatrix loved the excitement of London, she was relieved to have escaped—mainly due to the increasing attentions of Lord Filton.

In spite of her father’s concerns about what would happen to her if he passed away, she still could not bring herself to accept the man’s suit.

But she had never been very good at being bold or assertive, and he clearly took her reticence as mere shyness.

She would have to make her feelings clear once they returned to London, she knew that—no matter how hard she found the thought. But hopefully by then her father would be showing signs of improvement, and they could make a plan together to find her a suitable husband.

After all, she had a dowry, and she did not think she was unattractive. She had merely been forgotten, overlooked by eligible men in society. That could surely be remedied.

She was about to suggest they walk home for some luncheon when she saw him . Lord Leighton. Her eyes met his across the room and she could not help but gasp.

He was here. Her heart felt like it had stopped beating; there was no one in the room but her and Lord Leighton. Every time she told herself that she needed to forget him, that she would never see him again, he seemed to appear.

Like he was her destiny.

And yet, she had to remind herself, most of his actions suggested he had no interest in her. He had run away; he hadn’t called on her; he had only been able to converse about the weather when they had met in the park.

But why did her body react in this way to him?

She had never felt such heat coursing through her body. Not even when her betrothed had kissed her. Nor when she had imagined being married to him.

Only when she was near Lord Leighton.

His gaze flicked to the door, and she wondered if he was about to flee.

“Lord Leighton!”

Beatrix jumped in surprise as her father called him over.

She was amazed he recognized him across the room, and remembered his name.

Her cheeks flushed as he made his way through the throng of well-dressed people toward them.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was taller than most of the men in the room, and his dark hair was cut short.

Although she didn’t think his waistcoat and jacket were the height of fashion now, as the style had been when she had met him seven years earlier, he still looked impeccably smart.

Her gaze wandered to those full lips…but unlike in the past, they weren’t pulled up in a smile.

No, misery haunted his face, and she wondered what he had witnessed in his life to cast such a shadow across his visage.

To take away the charming, vivacious young man and return a sullen, awkward marquess.

For the first time, she wondered if his attitude towards her wasn’t actually due to something she had done.

He stopped before them and gave a sharp bow; Papa nodded his head, but did not stand. Beatrix did, and curtsied.

“Lord Haxbury, Lady Beatrix. A pleasure to see you in Bath.”

“And you, Lord Leighton.” Beatrix wanted to know if he’d taken the waters, and if so, why, but she could not just ask outright. And he did not seem to be one for sharing.

“I wish to sit a while longer, Bea,” Papa said, leaning back in the wooden chair. “Why don’t you and Lord Leighton promenade around the room while I regain my energy for our journey home.”

“Oh. I—” Beatrix did not wish the Marquess to feel forced into walking with her, but she had to admit that she wanted to spend more time with him. Even if she wasn’t sure whether he wanted to spend more time with her.

“It would be my pleasure,” Lord Leighton said, holding out his arm for her to take.

The touch of his body against hers, even through her gloves, made her feel dizzy. She struggled to think of sensible things to say with him so close.

Why did he have this effect on her?

“Are you enjoying Bath?” he asked as they began a slow circuit of the room.

“Yes. I have not been in years…but I wanted my father to take the waters.”

Lord Leighton nodded, and Beatrix wondered if that would be enough to prompt him to share his own reason for being there.

“Your father does not look like he enjoys the same good health that he used to.”

Beatrix sighed. That was certainly true—and it broke her heart to think it was so noticeable to someone who barely knew him. “No. Age has not been kind to him. But we do not know exactly what ails him. So I hoped the waters…”

She looked up into his dark eyes, and smiled shyly. “I know it may sound silly. We have seen so many doctors, and some of them thought the waters might help, and some thought it was nonsense… But it’s worth a try, is it not?”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “My thoughts exactly. And I fervently hope the waters help your father.”

She was sure that he had taken the waters himself after that comment, but was still unsure why. “I hope you find them beneficial, too,” she forced herself to say.

They did not speak for a moment, and Beatrix wondered if she had offended him.

But then he said, “Thank you. I wish for nothing more.” There was such conviction in his words that she felt like she was peeking through the armor he clearly wore around society.

And yet she didn’t feel she could ask what he was so desperate to cure.

Perhaps it was something that could not be spoken about in company, or certainly in mixed company. She wouldn’t want to embarrass him.

“Are you staying in Bath long?” she asked instead.

“I haven’t decided. I find myself…unsure where I belong.”

She did not know if the waters had loosened his tongue, or whether he just felt more free to express himself in Bath, but the conversation was most enlightening.

“I know how you feel.” When he glanced down at her, she smiled warmly, her heart racing.

Why would a marquess feel like he did not have a place?

Beatrix’s problem was slightly different: whilst she felt on the outskirts of society now as an unwed woman of five-and-twenty, she was fairly happy where she was, with her place by her father’s side.

But the fear of what would come after he passed, as much as she didn’t want to think of it, darkened her heart and her thoughts more than she cared to admit, even to herself.

Unable to stop herself from speaking—or maybe because she wanted to get away from her gloomy musings by focusing on something positive, she said, “Will you be attending the ball at the Assembly Rooms on Wednesday night?” She had no idea what had made her so bold, other than that she was enjoying her conversation with him, and did not wish to leave it up to fate where and when they would meet again.

“I—” Lord Leighton did not seem sure of his answer. They completed an entire turn of the room and began another, without pausing. “I had not planned…”

“My father does not wish for me to miss out on society because we are here, so I shall be attending.” Did she think that her attendance would sway him? Foolish girl , she warned herself as she hesitated in answering. You are setting yourself up for a fall.

“I do not frequent balls very often,” he said slowly. “But I don’t have any other plans while I’m in town. Perhaps you could save a dance for me…”

Beatrix’s heart leapt and she could not control the smile that took over her face.

“Oh yes. I shall.”