Page 19 of A Lady's Guide to Scandal

‘As it happens,’ Radcliffe continued after a pause, his voice thoughtful, ‘I do have a task for you, that you might perhaps find more diverting.’

‘What’s that, then?’ Lawrence demanded suspiciously.

‘How well do you know Dorsetshire, my boy?’

11

In the balmy moonlight of a precipitously warm spring evening, Vauxhall Gardens seemed quite otherworldly. Alighting from the boat that had taken them across the river, they walked upon paths walled by tall trees, gleaming lamps hanging to light their way. Kitty’s eyes were wide as they passed singers, jugglers and all manner of spectacle and entertainment, the lamps and half-darkness lending them all such glamour. It felt like a fairy garden from one of the stories Mama would tell them all at bedtime – where one ought not to step off the path for fear of what dangers would lie there.

Watching the Dowager Countess and Aunt Dorothy gliding ahead of her, Kitty knew that she need never have worried about her aunt’s performance. As with any challenge, Mrs Kendall had risen to the occasion splendidly.

‘I am not in support of this endeavour, Kitty – I think it unwise and reckless and likely to collapse on top of you,’ she had said severely the night before. ‘But of course I will help.’

They had disagreed a little over her choice of costume. Aunt Dorothy, displeased with her casting as a retiring widow, had poured herself into a dress that, whilst made from a stone-coloured crêpe, had a neckline that could not truthfully be described as sober in the slightest.

‘Trust me, darling, I shall have far more luck making friends with your Lady Radcliffe dressed like this,’ she had said. ‘From what I hear, she’s quite dashing.’

Her only concession, in the face of Kitty’s uncertainty, had been to don a pair of black gloves, though Kitty could not help feeling she was still showing rather too much bosom for a widow – gloves or no gloves.

It was apparent, however, that Dorothy had understood her audience well. Lady Radcliffe had been visibly relieved to find Mrs Kendall a woman of fashion, rather than an austere and disapproving widow – and, dressed in the first style of elegance herself, was displaying quite as much décolletage as Mrs Kendall. And though Aunt Dorothy, true to Kitty’s description of her, had faithfully relayed to the whole party her love of her late husband and the loss she still felt at his passing (et cetera), she had then promptly dispensed with the topic altogether, transitioning swiftly onto the latest on dits from the ton, a subject far more to Lady Radcliffe’s liking. The gossip – passed to Aunt Dorothy from Sally, who seemed to know all the housemaids in London – was fresh enough that Lady Radcliffe was quickly enamoured of her new friend.

It was obvious that Radcliffe had also come prepared for battle. He had invited along his friend, Captain Hinsley, and the role of this gentleman was evidently to be her chaperone, for there was not one move that she could make without the man joining her. The aim was plainly to prevent any kind of romantic moonlight tête-à-tête between herself and Mr de Lacy – an astute strategy, given that Kitty was utterly determined to speak to Mr de Lacy alone by the end of the evening. This farce with Radcliffe had gone on far too long, and it was high time a proposal be induced. If only she could rid herself of her irritating guard.

An opportunity presented itself in the rotunda. As they were listening to the orchestra, a group of impeccably dressed men broke away from their own party to hail Radcliffe loudly. Radcliffe stiffened, clearly not at all pleased, but the men were advancing upon the group, arms out and delight upon their faces.

‘Radcliffe! And Hinsley! I didn’t know you were in town.’

In the ensuing bevvy of greetings exchanged, Kitty slipped back to stand next to Mr de Lacy. She caught his attention by laying a hand upon his arm.

‘Would you escort me to the refreshments, Mr de Lacy?’ she asked softly. ‘I find myself quite parched.’

Tripping over himself with eagerness, Mr de Lacy rushed to agree – and not a moment too soon, for Kitty saw Captain Hinsley make to catch up with them. He was stalled by Aunt Dorothy, who embroiled him into her conversation with Lady Radcliffe, and Kitty took her chance, slipping out of the rotunda with Mr de Lacy in the opposite direction. They should not be gone more than ten minutes, and they would steer quite clear of the dark paths, or the close walks – or any place indeed that could impinge upon her honour or his. And yet, much could be achieved in ten minutes alone, even in a brightly lit, crowded garden. She waited until they were safely out of earshot before speaking.

‘I am most glad to have a chance to speak to you alone, Mr de Lacy,’ she said.

‘By Jove, so am I,’ he said, pressing her hand with his. ‘Absolutely marvellous evening, is it not?’

‘It is,’ she agreed. ‘But I was desirous of speaking to you as I am in most serious need of an advisor – and it is only you to whom I can turn.’

‘Goodness!’ He looked flattered and a little alarmed, for he was not much used to giving advice. ‘What can be the matter?’

‘My aunt tells me I must marry, and quickly,’ Kitty said, trying to convey in her voice a sense of barely repressed despair. ‘She has found a Mr Pears for me, who is certainly a good man, and a kind one, but I find it difficult to countenance.’

‘By George – why not?’ Mr de Lacy was agog.

‘You must know, Mr de Lacy …’ She paused and took a deep breath, as if to muster courage, satisfied to find his eyes fixed unblinkingly upon her face. ‘You must know – or I feel you must at least suspect – that my affections lie elsewhere …’

She let the statement hang in the air for the moment unattended, staring directly at Mr de Lacy so that he had no means of misinterpreting her words, and had the satisfaction of seeing his face flush a deep pink.

‘I own, I had – I had thought perhaps that was it,’ he breathed.

‘And so you see I am in quite the predicament,’ she went on. ‘Do I have the courage to refuse Mr Pears, when it is true that I do need to marry, in order to support my sisters? I have already confessed to you, Mr de Lacy, that the state of my father’s finances do indeed make marriage most essential. And yet to act against my heart …’

She would have liked her eyes to glisten with unshed tears, but alas, they remained bone dry.

‘Miss Talbot,’ Mr de Lacy said fervently. ‘Miss Talbot, what if – what if you were to marry me?’

She gasped dramatically at this most shocking turn of events.