Page 29 of The Lady of the Lamps (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #1)

T he next morning, after very little sleep, Beatrix stayed in her room. She did not wish to see Thomas or Sarah. She had spent all night trying to come up with a plan, and the only thing she was sure of was that she could not marry a man who would treat her like that.

She could break the engagement. He could ruin her reputation, but from what he had said, it was already pretty damaged.

So now she just needed somewhere to live, some way to earn money—something which she would have already secured if he hadn’t proposed marriage.

She’d thought it was the easiest option.

But it wasn’t. And keeping her home wasn’t worth being with a man like that.

When Jemima came to help her dress, Beatrix let her in and then barricaded the door behind her.

“Milady?” Jemima asked with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” Her voice shook, but she did not want to lie to Jemima. Besides, she needed some support, and who else did she have in this world?

“I cannot marry him,” she whispered. “I have seen what kind of man he is, and I cannot go through with it.”

“Well, thank heavens for that,” Jemima said with a broad grin.

“You don’t think I should marry him?”

“Of course not! Oh, I understand why you feel—felt—it was the best decision. But pardon me for being frank, I cannot see you being happy with him, milady.”

Tears sprang to Beatrix’s eyes at this confirmation of her fears. “But if I go… I have nowhere. Nothing. I cannot take you with me, Jemima, when I have no money to employ you. I—”

“Hush, milady,” Jemima said, placing a hand on her arm soothingly. Beatrix winced; the area was already showing the green of a bruise that she was sure would darken later.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Nothing…” She did not know why she lied, other than feeling like she was more at risk the more she shared. But Jemima could read the fear in her eyes, she was sure.

“Well. Never mind about not being able to take me with you. I will always be your friend—and I’m capable of finding myself work, so don’t you worry about me. Do not tie yourself to a man for the rest of your life out of fear. You will have to share his bed, bear his children, grow old with him.”

“And I cannot.”

“No. So what is your plan?”

“I…” Who could she turn to for help? Perhaps she could run north to Aunt Esther’s house.

But she had always gone on about not bringing shame on the family name, and she had made it very clear that Beatrix needed to marry Thomas.

When faced with the reality of her penniless niece on her doorstep, would she turn her away?

Beatrix had never known her aunt to change her mind.

And if she did not wish to associate with her, then Beatrix would be poor and alone in a strange place…

At least London held more employment opportunities, or ways of discovering them at any rate.

There was only one person she thought she could ask for advice.

One friend who would side with her over Thomas.

But if her betrothed found out she had been visiting him, she would be in an even worse situation.

Indeed, it was her previous interaction with Leighton that has seemed to incite his wrath.

And yet, she had to try.

“I need to go out, Jemima. Without anyone knowing. Can you find out where Thomas and Sarah are, and put about that I’m unwell and staying in bed?” She wasn’t sure such news would keep Thomas from her chamber, if he really wished to enter, but it was the best cover she could think of.

“Of course, milady.”

Jemima returned quicker than Beatrix had expected. She was trying to get herself into a simple day dress when her maid returned and, ever the professional, began to fasten the dress as she relayed the information she had been sent to acquire.

“Lord Haxbury is still abed. Apparently he had a terrible headache, and his valet does not expect him to be up for several hours.”

The headache served him right. Beatrix smiled at both the justice and the fact that he wouldn’t notice her slipping out. “And Sarah?”

“Mrs. Jones left to go to the modiste about twenty minutes ago, Samson tells me.”

The perfect time, then, for her to slip away. “Do not tell them I’ve gone out. But if they discover it, please pretend you did not know. I couldn’t bear for you to suffer their wrath.”

“I can look after myself. You’re sure you do not wish me to accompany you?”

“No, thank you. I need to do this alone.”

She took off out of the front door, checking behind her continuously, and hurried along the pavements until she reached the house where she hoped some helpful advice lay: the London residence of Lord Leighton.

If it had been improper for her to visit with Jemima, then to do so alone, when her betrothed had all but forbidden it, was downright scandalous—but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

In her wildest dreams, she hoped he would offer to marry her, to save her from this mess. But she knew that was unlikely. She just needed him to help her to escape this situation. She would take his money if she had to, because anything was better than staying with Thomas.

Lord Leighton, the man who had filled her dreams since that magical first dance in Vauxhall Gardens, was the only friend she could turn to in order to escape this mess she had got herself into.

She knocked on the door and tried to think of a reason for her visit, should the staff ask. But when the door opened, the butler looked rather ashen faced already.

“I am here to see Lord Leighton,” she said, pulling herself up to her full height and pretending like she had every right to be there.

“I’m afraid he is not at home, my lady.”

“Oh.” For some reason, she had not been expecting that. “Is everything well?”

He dithered for a moment, clearly unsure what he should say, but his concern won out. “He went out in the early hours of the morning, and we have not seen him since. The stable lad said he was going to Putney Heath.”

Beatrix’s blood ran cold. Putney Heath, at dawn, was well known for being the location of a many an illegal duel, since it was far enough away from the center of the city that the authorities were unlikely to come across it.

It was also the location where Ambrose Trentham, the man she had once planned to marry, had lost his life.

Why would Lord Leighton be there? He surely had no reason to duel anyone. It had to be a coincidence.

She needed to see him, wherever she was. And her fears about his reason for being on Putney Heath—even though it was now late morning, and not dawn—would not subside until she saw him.

“May I borrow his lordship’s carriage, in order to fetch him home?” she asked, surprised at her own boldness.

“Of course, my lady. I shall ready it at once.”

As the coach rattled out towards Putney Heath, Beatrix thought that the butler must have had the same thoughts as she did about Lord Leighton, else he surely would not have allowed her to have the carriage without any protest. She hoped that Thomas’s anger the previous night was not related to Lord Leighton’s disappearance. But he had mentioned him…

Yet, Thomas was at home suffering from the effects of over-imbibing, she told herself. There was no need to worry.

Except that she hadn’t actually seen him since he had stumbled into her room in the middle of the night. What if they had got into a fight? What if…

She couldn’t contemplate the possibilities. She wished she were riding, so she could urge the horse faster, but instead she had to accept the slow speed of the carriage, and hope she would not find blood had been shed upon the grass of Putney Heath when she arrived.

After what felt like hours, the coach stopped and she threw the door open, not waiting for the driver to hand her down. She shouted her thanks, lifted her skirts and ran, her eyes scanning the park to see if she could spot either of the men.

If they had gone into the woodland then she would have no hope of finding them. For the moment, her own worries faded away, as the fear that the man she was betrothed to, and the one she was seeking out, had engaged in a deadly duel overwhelmed her.

There were a few people around riding horses or promenading, but no one was screaming and there were no magistrates around. She was sure she was drawing attention to herself, a lone woman running through the park, but she had to find them.

She had to find Lord Leighton.

And then she saw him. Sitting on a bench, his outline seeming to shake. When she got closer, she saw he had a pistol in his hands, and his body was indeed trembling.

“Lord Leighton?” she said softly, not wanting to surprise him and end up with an accidental shot going off.

He looked up, and the horror in his eyes was apparent for her to see.

“Are you well?”

He blinked, as though he did not understand the question, and she took two steps closer. “May I sit down?”

He did not nod, but he did not shake his head either, and she took it as a sign that he wasn’t vehemently opposed to her presence.