She still held his hand. He stared at it a moment before answering. ‘I noticed no imperfection.’
She smiled and squeezed his fingers. ‘What shall we do now? The night is lovely and I must wait for my father and Letty. I know you wish to talk to me, but could we do so while we explore the gardens again? Go see the hermit?’
The hermit illusion was located at the far end of one of the darker, less crowded paths well known for dalliance. Flynn could just imagine leading her into one of the private alcoves, holding her in his arms and finally tasting her lips.
He forced himself to face her. ‘Lord Greythorne is here,’ he said. ‘As is Lord Tanner.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘Lord Tanner? You did not tell me he would be here.’
‘I did not know,’ he quickly explained. ‘He was engaged elsewhere, but I saw him in the audience. He is here.’ Flynn held her shoulders. ‘Allow me to present you to him. You might see for yourself the man he is.’
She stared into his eyes. ‘Oh, Flynn.’ It took her a moment to go on. ‘Not so soon. I mean, I.I am not ready to meet him. I have not decided yet that I should.’
He tilted his head toward the stairway leading to the orchestra’s balcony, to where her father played his oboe. ‘Your father wishes it, does he not? The marquess will not wait for ever, and Greythorne is very willing to step in.’
Her eyes turned anxious. ‘Time, Flynn. Can you be procuring me a little more time?’
He nodded, knowing he should not.
Tanner would take care of her. Take her away from the unpleasant Miss Dawes and the drab set of rooms shared with her father. Tanner would protect her from men like Greythorne, anyone who might mistreat her. It would be best for her to simply meet Tanner. See the man he was, and make her decision. Then Flynn could go back to a sane life.
‘I shall see you have more time,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’ She grasped his hand. ‘Call on me tomorrow, Flynn. Share supper with me. I do not perform tomorrow. You could come after my father and Letty leave. I will be more prepared to think.’
He stepped closer to her. What could one more day matter? Her beautiful face turned up to his. It seemed natural to slide his hand down her arm, lift her hand to his lips. Even through her glove he could feel its warmth, taste the allure of her.
He released her. ‘I will call tomorrow, then.’
‘Eight o’clock? Papa and Letty will have left by then.’
He nodded.
He walked over to the door, but before he opened it, he turned back to her. ‘I had forgotten. I must give you this tonight. From Lord Tanner.’ He pulled out the small velvet box from his coat pocket.
She held up her hand to refuse it.
‘Accept it, Rose. It is a trifle to him, but I can no longer find excuses for not giving it to you.’ He placed it in her hand.
She opened the box, revealing the ring, a sparkling emerald surrounded by tiny diamonds, in a setting of carved gold. ‘This is not a trifle, Flynn,’ she said, trying to hand it back to him.
‘It is to Tannerton.’ He closed her fingers around it. ‘Take it, Rose. It does not obligate you to him, I promise.’ He kept his hand over hers for too long. ‘I must leave.’
He quickly pulled away and opened the door.
‘Goodnight, Flynn,’ he heard her say as he hurried through the doorway into the night.
Adam Vickering, Marquess of Tannerton, sat in a supper box with his friend Pomroy and the party of high flyers and dashers Pomroy always seemed to collect.
Pomroy filled his glass with arrack. ‘You’re like a besotted fool, Tan—’ He paused to belch. ‘Never thought you the sort who let a woman lead him by a string.’
Tanner gulped down half his arrack. ‘I’d be dashed pleased to be led by this one, if I could only get near enough to secure her.’ He looked heavenwards. ‘You heard her, Pomroy. She is an angel.’
‘Ha!’ his friend barked. ‘I’d say she’s devilish crafty. Has you eating out of her hand and all without speaking a word to you. She’s going to play you against Greythorne, you know, like bidders at Tattersalls.
‘Got to admit, it is good sport.’ Tanner’s grin turned to a scowl. ‘What have you discovered about Greythorne?’
‘He courted Amanda Reynolds, all the rage a year ago. Everyone thought they would marry. She spurned him, though.’
‘Left him for another man?’ Tanner asked.
‘Some soldier, I believe.’ Pomroy shrugged.
‘Her head turned by a man in regimentals?’ Tanner concluded. ‘Not unheard of, you know.’
‘Yes, but there was more to it, I’m certain,’ Pomroy said. ‘She could have had anyone. Don’t you remember her? She was perfection.’
Tanner conjured up an image of a cool blonde, the sort who would pine for routs and balls and dreadful musicales. He took another mouthful. ‘Always disliked that fellow Greythorne. Looks the whole day like he’d just left his valet.’
Pomroy was summoned by one of the prime articles he’d found in the Gardens. Pomroy would no doubt enjoy her company all night through, but such females held no interest for Tanner. While his friend attended to the pretty thing, Tanner leaned back on his chair, balancing it on its rear legs. He raised his drink and gazed out into the crowd.
With any luck he’d catch sight of his secretary and have him wrangle a meeting with Miss Rose O’Keefe. Even if luck was not with him, he could still congratulate himself for escaping Lady Rawley’s tedious musicale. Half an hour of the soprano she’d hired had nearly done for him. He wished half the fashionable set would leave Town and go rusticate in the country. Leave him free of their tiresome invitations. Let them all go rusticate, in fact.
Not that he had any intention of burying himself in such boredom. He paid his managers well so he would not have to put in an appearance at any of his properties until hunting season.
Tanner swished his arrack in the glass. Ordinarily he’d be in Brighton this time of year, but the elusive Rose O’Keefe had kept him in town.
Tanner’s eyes narrowed as a pristinely attired gentleman swinging a walking stick strolled up to the supper box.
‘Why, if it is not Tannerton.’ Greythorne tipped his hat in an elegant gesture that seemed to mock Tanner’s boyish balancing act.
Tanner perversely accentuated his lack of gentility by stretching his arms to the back of his head. ‘Greythorne.’
Behind Tanner Pomroy laughed and one of his female companions squealed. Greythorne eyed them with ill-disguised contempt.
He directed his gaze back to Tanner. ‘I hear we are rivals of a sort.’
‘Rivals?’ Tanner gave a dry laugh. ‘I highly doubt that.’
Greythorne ignored his barb. ‘For the captivating Rose O’Keefe. I quite covet the girl, you know.’
‘Really?’ said Tanner in a flat voice.
Greythorne tapped the wall of the supper box with his stick. ‘Your secretary tells me she is yours, but I confess I see no signs of it.’
‘Eyes bothering you?’ Tanner remarked.
Greythorne brushed at his coat, as if a piece of dirt dared mar his appearance. ‘You are amusing, Tannerton.’ He glanced in the direction of the Grove where Miss O’Keefe had performed. ‘Perhaps I shall amuse you when the young temptress is mine.’