“I should think you have other things to do,” she said tartly. “Lady Gwen and I are quite able to entertain ourselves.”
“But that would leave me at the mercy of several other less interesting ladies,” he returned smoothly. Gwen had already taken his right arm, and they both waited to see if Aunt Isabelle would take his left.
She did, but with the barest tips of her fingers. Then before they could begin their stroll, Aunt Isabelle looked back at the two men behind her. “Go learn something interesting,” she ordered.
They each gave her a deep bow and departed, which left the three of them to begin a leisurely stroll about the grounds. Lord Satyr was the perfect companion. He chatted amiably about the pleasure garden, brought others into their conversation when they were greeted, and listened with every appearance of attention. She felt relaxed by his side, and no one stared at her oddly. That might be because he listened when she spoke and didn’t force her to participate when she had nothing to say. That allowed the conversation to flow easily which rarely happened when she was around. For the first time in a very long time, she felt part of the discourse without being an awkward barnacle hanging around to no purpose.
What a wonder that was. At least until she realized that he had an agenda.
He meant to keep her from being private with her aunt. In return, Aunt Isabelle seemed equally determined to find some secret conversation with Gwen. That led to a constant conversational jockeying between them. Lady Isabelle would ask about her family and try to draw her aside, but Lord Satyr would ask a pertinent question about her relations and he was once again in the thick of things.
Gwen didn’t know what to make of it. She didn’t understand the tension and she became more uncomfortable as the walk continued. And yet, during the forty minutes they took to promenade the gardens, she discovered Lord Satyr was well versed on a variety of different subjects which gave her a very favorable impression of his intelligence. Others seemed to agree as they picked up several more people during their wandering, expanding their group to nine.
In short, Lord Satyr exuded charm and set her at ease while Aunt Isabelle grew more irritated. Gwen saw her mouth tighten and her lower jaw thrust out more than once. Whatever their relationship had been, Lord Satyr was clearly on the outs with her aunt. But the lady contained her emotions beneath a superior smile and a sarcastic wit. A funny sarcasm, to be sure, but there was a cruel edge to her jokes that made Gwen uncomfortable. Unfortunately, she seemed to be the only one discomfited. Everyone else laughed with good cheer, and so Gwen smiled as if she agreed. But by the end of forty minutes, she wanted to return to her family, most especially her sister Lilah, who never had an unkind word to say about anyone.
They had just started back toward the box when a servant came running up to their party. The waiter looked uneasy as he drew Lord Satyr aside. Sadly, there was a great deal of noise, and she could not hear the conversation. She could only note that it looked very dire, especially when his gaze landed heavy upon her face.
When the waiter bowed and rushed away, Aunt Isabelle demanded answers. “You’re frightening us,” she said sharply. “What has happened?”
He didn’t respond to her aunt, but instead turned to look to her. “Apparently there’s been an altercation. Nothing to worry about—”
“Accident?” one of the men of their party said with a snort. “I heard ‘attack.’”
“Attack?” Gwen gasped.
“An exaggeration, I assure you,” Lord Satyr said with a hard glance at the speaker. “A few gentlemen in their cups.”
The glare was unimportant to Gwen. She was done with socializing anyway. This evening had been a disaster in finding a husband and in figuring out what was between her aunt and Lord Satyr. In truth, she was done with the whole affair and would rather go back to her books. Or more relevant, she wanted to find out the perfect way to cultivate daffodils. “I will find my brother,” she began. “He will want to go home soon, I’m sure.”
“I will accompany you to Elliott—” Lord Satyr said, but Aunt Isabelle interrupted him.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m her aunt. I’ll take you home.” She grabbed a nearby waiter. “Pray inform Lord Byrn that I will see Lady Gwendolyn home.” Then she turned her hard glare on Lord Satyr. “I should have known that a masquerade at Vauxhall was an idiotic idea. Goodness, that’s twice this has happened at your party. Come along, Gwendolyn.”
She could tell that Lord Satyr wanted to argue. His hands twitched as if he wanted to physically drag her away from her aunt, but that would be impolite. Plus he needed to deal with whatever disaster had happened. Arguing would only slow that process.
“Do not worry about me,” she urged him. “I find myself fatigued anyway.”
In the end, he gave her a clipped nod and strode away while Aunt Isabelle pulled her in the opposite direction.
“Come along, Gwendolyn,” Aunt Isabelle commanded. “It’s time to remove ourselves from this disgraceful event.”
“Of course, Aunt,” she said, doing her best to keep up. She thought she spotted her sister Lilah as they hurried past the orchestra, but her aunt would not slow and Gwen hadn’t the breath to call out. It wasn’t until they were finally in her aunt’s carriage that the woman slowed enough to speak.
“Finally, we have a moment to think clearly.” She took out a breath. “Now tell me everything you and Sayres were discussing before I arrived.”
“What?”
“You looked quite animated as I walked up. I insist you tell me everything.”
Chapter Five
Jackson felt exhaustiondrag at him like a too heavy coat, but excitement pulsed through him nonetheless. It was because he finally had hope, thanks to the inventive Lady Gwen. Despite managing the masquerade singlehandedly—his co-hosts having both mysteriously disappeared—he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about making the Lincolnshire daffodils popular. If it were possible, then he could save not only his family’s fortune, but revitalize the entire region. And it all came because of a casual idea from Lady Gwen.
He couldn’t wait to see her. Ideas were bursting through him along with a very big list of things to do before the concept became feasible. He wanted to talk them all through with her, but first he had to make things clear to Isabelle. He knew now that she had engineered the “attack” last night. One of her pretty boys had goaded two inebriated gentlemen into a spectacle of a fistfight. Sadly, it had taken some time to sort through the resulting mess and to do his best to quash any gossip.
It wouldn’t help his reputation in business if he could not host a party without some disaster.
The hackney dropped him off in front of Lady Meunier’s home. If he’d timed it right, then breakfast with the bankers was nearing its end and Isabelle was about to hit them with her newest investment idea. She probably wanted funds to upgrade the flash locks on her canals to the much easier pound locks. It was an excellent idea, but he’d much rather they loan him the cash to convert several oat fields into a daffodil farm. The two projects weren’t mutually exclusive, but he knew if he didn’t get his name in front of the bankers now, it would be ten times harder to gain an appointment tomorrow.