Page 53 of A Relentless Rake

She forced a smile for him.

“That’s better.” He kissed her cheek. “Would you like me to call a footman to fetch you a lemon ice?”

A lemon ice to make her happy…as if she were a child who could easily be manipulated with a simple treat. Somehow she managed to keep her smile fixed. “No, thank you.”

“The fireworks will start soon. Those will be grand.”

“Yes, they will.” Only because it meant the evening had finally come to an end.

Henry moved away from her to rejoin his friends, and relief lightened her chest. Yet inexplicably, she was left feeling even more confused than before.

Alec or Henry…which man could she trust?

A tightrope walker balanced overhead on a wire strung between the buildings, but Olivia turned her attention away to watch the crowd. Most were finely dressed couples who were strolling through the gardens to see and be seen. Others were middle-class families out for an evening’s inexpensive entertainment. Footpads and pickpockets lingered unseen among the lot of them, looking for easy prey of the guests who’d overindulged on punch and whiskey.

The narrower alleys stretched beyond the avenue of supper boxes. They were crowded with people and illuminated with lanterns hung among the trees to guide guests toward the refreshment stands around the pavilion at the center of the park.

Beyond the pavilion, the gardens grew darker and overgrown with bushes and trees. The paths there were narrow and winding, and the lamps gave way to darkness. These close walks formed a shadowy labyrinth where amorous couples in masks and fancy dress could disappear into the darkness for private amusements. It was that far end of the property that had earned Vauxhall its somewhat sordid reputation. After all, they weren’t calledpleasure gardensfor nothing. Here, men could buy wanton favors from high-priced prostitutes of both sexes, bored ladies could play at being prostitutes themselves, and husbands and wives could share all kinds of intimacies…with other people’s husbands and wives. All their secrets would be safely hidden among the dark trees and shadows.

That was English society, she mused. So staid and proper on the surface with all its rules and manners that had to be followed perfectly for fear of ruination, while in the shadows lurked a soiled world of debauchery. No wonder Vauxhall was the favorite summer entertainment of theton. And no wonder several masquerade masks, cloaks, and capes still lay in the corner of the supper box where its last occupants had left them.

A uniformed attendant walked past the front of the box, and Olivia called out to him. She gestured him over as if asking for an ice. But when he reached the railing, she leaned over and asked instead quietly, “Whose box this is?”

“Lord Hawking’s, ma’am.” He shot her a look as if she were daft not to know that and hurried on.

Olivia frowned. Why would the Marquess of Hawking loan his box to Henry for the evening? Was he involved with the Royal Society?

Unease pricked at the backs of her knees. She desperately wanted answers. Her hands itched to grab Henry’s shoulders and shake him until the truth came out.

But she also didn’t want to start a scene that would put her at the center of an unplanned Vauxhall entertainment for anyone who might be watching, including the men Alec had warned her about.

She didn’t dare press Henry for information now. But shewouldas soon as they were home. She already lived her life keeping secrets. She couldn’t bear adding another one to the list.

A small commotion stirred in the avenue. Speaking of unplanned entertainments… She craned her neck to see.

A small boy, most likely no more than eleven or twelve, made his way down the row of boxes. He stopped every now and then to call over one of the men within, who either laughed or shouted angrily at whatever he had to say before shooing him away.

“What’s this?” Henry laughed as the boy finally stepped up to their box. He leaned far over the railing toward the lad, who cupped his hand at his mouth to speak into Henry’s ear.

Henry gave a sharp nod, followed by a loud laugh, and reached to box the boy’s ears.

The lad ducked and darted away into the thick of the alley crowd until he’d vanished from sight.

“What was that about?” One of Henry’s friends pointed the end of his cigar after the boy.

Henry reached for the bottle of port to top off his friends’ glasses. “The little urchin was attempting to sell his sister for the evening.”

Olivia gaped at him.A lie.Oh, she was certain there were any number of men among the crowd tonight who wanted to trade their sisters, daughters, or wives for coin. But the way Henry had reacted—that flash of hardness on his face, his exaggerated laughter, how he’d swung his palm only in afterthought…

Whatever the boy had said, it wasn’t an offer of his sister.

“Damnation, Everett!” another of the friends exclaimed, teetering as he tried to rise to his feet. “Why did you send him away? We could have used some female companionship tonight.”

Olivia turned away in disgust. Of all the horrible things to say to—

She froze. A flash in the crowd, a fleeting glimpse of dark hair and a masked face… Alec?

Impossible.If rumors could be believed, the Earl of St James sought more adventurous entertainments than those offered here.