Page 13 of The Lady of the Lamps (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #1)

W hy, why, why did you come? Spencer asked himself as he tried to dispel the sound of guns from his mind in the small, and thankfully empty, card room he had secreted himself in.

He wasn’t ready to be out in society. He’d made a fool of himself yet again, and Lady Beatrix, too—which was the last thing he wanted.

He hoped she would go home with her father and forget all about him. Because there was no way he was going to subject her to such behavior again.

Even though the tap on the door was quiet, it made him jump.

His nerves were far too fragile after the crash of the glasses.

And then the door opened, and he froze in the darkness.

The moonlight through the window was enough to allow him to see who was in the doorway, and his heart raced even faster.

Lady Beatrix paused, blinked rapidly, and then stepped into the card room.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said hurriedly. “I shouldn’t—”

“I just wanted to check that you were well. And see what was wrong…”

Spencer shook his head. He couldn’t explain what was wrong. And she shouldn’t be here in a dark room alone with him.

“You should go. I’ll… I’ll call on you. I just need…”

She took a few, slow steps toward him, surprisingly bold. “You told me you’d call on me before.”

Shame filled his chest. “I’m sorry. I—”

And then she was close enough to reach out and take his hand. He knew he should send her away, get himself together and leave this place and her entirely. But it was so comforting to have her warm hand around his that he couldn’t bring himself to.

“What happened, Lord Leighton?” she asked softly.

“Don’t call me that.”

Her eyes widened at his abrupt rebuttal.

“Please…”

She swallowed. “What should I call you?”

He looked out of the window, unable to handle the confusion in her eyes. What could she call him? He wasn’t Lord Clement anymore, as much as he wished he was. “I shouldn’t be Lord Leighton,” he muttered, more to himself than her.

“Very well.” She spoke to him as though he were a frightened animal that might bolt at any moment, and with how shaken he felt after the crashing of the glasses, he thought it wasn’t a bad assessment.

He wanted her to call him Spencer. But it wouldn’t be right.

“Why did you run?”

“The glasses…” He swallowed, his mouth dry, as now she encased his hand between both of hers.

“Loud noises. I always think…” He trailed off, embarrassed to admit the truth, but she didn’t interrupt, and she didn’t leave, and after some deep breaths and hard swallows, he told her.

“In my head, they’re guns. I know it makes no sense. But it brings everything back…”

She rubbed a soothing thumb across his hand and the motion sent shivers down his spine. “Ah. So the fireworks…”

He nodded. “The war broke me. I’m sorry. I should not have pursued you. And I should not be here with you. I—”

“I don’t think you’re broken,” Beatrix murmured, holding his hand tightly in hers. She was glad to have some understanding, even though it made her heart ache to think of him, so afflicted. The horrors he must have seen…

“Jumping at loud noises is only part of it,” he said, giving her a sad smile. “I’m not who I was before, and no matter how hard I try to get back to that man I was seven years ago in Vauxhall Gardens, I’m not him.”

“None of us are who we were seven years ago,” Beatrix said, squeezing his hand. “I was seventeen and believed in the joy and magic the world was going to offer me. But I don’t, anymore.”

“You should still believe in joy and magic,” Spencer said sadly.

“Do you?”

The look he gave her was so devastating that tears welled up in her eyes; one escaped and made a cold trail down her cheek. He reached with the thumb of his free hand to swipe the lone tear away, and Beatrix felt her breath hitch.

It was a moment of sadness and honesty and heartbreak, and yet his touch made her whole body come alive.

He thought he was broken. But she didn’t care. She needed him. She didn’t know why or how, but she knew that this was the man she wanted. The man she was meant for.

She stood on tiptoes, and he leaned toward her, and they were close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her skin.

Hands still clasped, Beatrix thought her heart might beat right out of her chest. If someone walked in right now she would be ruined—but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

And then the music started up again, and Spencer jumped away from her.

“I must go. I’m sorry.” He ripped his hand out of hers and was gone from the room before she could argue with him.

And she knew, as she escorted her father home, that she would definitely remember this night for the rest of her life. Not for its magical qualities but for the fact that she had thought everything she had ever wanted was finally in her grasp—and then it had been torn cruelly away.

Beatrix didn’t see Lord Leighton again in Bath, and when she and her father returned to London, she regretted ever going.

The waters had not had the desired effect.

In fact, all the travel only seemed to have made her father more tired and more prone to his fits of breathlessness.

She was at a loss as to what else she could do for him.

The only benefit to her absence was that upon returning to London, she soon discovered that Lord Filton had proposed marriage to another young woman.

Even though her prospects were worse than when she left London, and even though she felt rather heartbroken at the dream she’d had of a romance between herself and Lord Leighton being cruelly torn away, she was overwhelmed with relief.

No matter what her life held in store for her, she did not want to be wed to the elderly earl.

“Do you have any plans today, my little bee?” Papa asked with a kindly smile one morning as the Season drew to a close. Normally, they would be thinking about returning to the countryside, like the rest of the ton —but she was worried that such travel would only make her father more ill.

She shook her head. “No plans, Papa. Would you like to take a walk? It’s a pleasant day.”

Her father shook his head. “I think I’m too tired today. But you should go out, get some fresh air. You shouldn’t be locked away with an old man like me.”

She reached out and took his hand. “You know I’m quite happy to sit with you. I have needlework to do, and some correspondence to catch up on.”

“No. I think I will go for a rest, so that I have more energy for conversation at dinner. You go for a walk, enjoy the sunshine—it will only be a few short months until all we see is rain.”

“If you’re sure…” Beatrix helped her father to stand. He embraced her, and she was rather surprised at such an unprompted display of affection.

“Enjoy the sunshine, my love. For you have been the light of my life—and I don’t wish yours to be dark because I have grown weary with age.”

Had she known that she would never speak with her father again, there were so many things she would have said. But alas, she simply watched him slowly mount the stairs to bed.