“Meet me in ten minutes, then. There is a mermaid fountain just beyond the—”

“I know where it is.”

“If you can’t manage to slip outside—”

“I will,” she assured him, forcing a smile.

St. Vincent paused to view her with a shrewd but oddly compassionate gaze. “I can make you feel better, sweet,” he whispered.

“Can you?” she asked dully, unwanted emotion staining her cheeks as red as poppies.

A promising glint appeared in his brilliant eyes, and he responded with a slight nod before taking his leave.

CHAPTER 13

Enlisting Daisy and Evie to cover for her, Lillian left the ballroom with them on the pretense of repairing their appearances. According to their swiftly devised plan, the two girls would wait on the back terrace as Lillian met with Lord St. Vincent in the garden. When they all returned to the ballroom, they would assure Mercedes that she had been with them the entire time.

“Are you qu-quite certain that it’s safe for you to meet with Lord St. Vincent alone?” Evie asked as they walked to the entrance hall.

“Safe as houses,” Lillian replied confidently. “Oh, he may try to take a liberty, but that’s rather the point, isn’t it? Besides, I want to see if my perfume works on him.”

“It doesn’t work on anyone,” Daisy said morosely. “At least not when I’m wearing it.”

Lillian glanced at Evie. “What about you, dear? Had any luck?”

Daisy answered for her. “Evie hasn’t allowed anyone to get close enough to find out.”

“Well, I’m going to give St. Vincent the opportunity to take a good long whiff of it. Heaven knows, this perfume should have some effect on a notorious rake.”

“But if someone sees you—”

“No one will see us,” Lillian interrupted with a touch of impatience. “If there is any man in England who is more experienced than Lord St. Vincent at sneaking around for a tryst, I’d like to know who.”

“You had better be careful,” Daisy warned. “Trysts are dangerous things. I’ve read about lots of them, and no good ever seems to come of them.”

“It will be a very short tryst,” Lillian assured her. “A quarter hour at most. What could happen in that amount of time?”

“From what Annabelle s-says,” Evie said darkly, “a lot.”

“Where is Annabelle?” Lillian asked, realizing that she had not seen her so far that evening.

“She wasn’t feeling well earlier, poor thing,” Daisy said. “She seemed a bit green around the gills. I’m afraid something at lunch may not have agreed with her.”

Lillian made a face and shuddered. “No doubt it was something with eels or veal knuckles or chicken feet…”

Daisy grinned at her. “Don’t, you’ll make yourself ill. At any rate, Mr. Hunt is taking care of her.”

They exited the French doors at the back of the entrance hall and walked out onto the empty flagstone terrace. Daisy turned to shake a finger waggishly at Lillian. “If you’re gone for longer than a quarter hour, Evie and I will come looking for you.”

Lillian responded with a low laugh. “I won’t tarry.” She winked and smiled into Evie’s worried face. “I’ll be fine, dear. And just think of all the interesting things I’ll be able to tell you when I return!”

“That’s what I’m afr-fraid of,” Evie replied.

Descending one side of the back staircase, Lillian picked up her skirts and ventured into the terraced gardens, past one of the ancient hedges that formed impenetrable walls around the lower levels. The torchlit garden was redolent with the colors and scents of autumn…gold and copper foliage, thick borders of roses and dahlias, flowering grasses and beds of fresh mulch that made the air pleasantly pungent.

Hearing the friendly splash of the mermaid fountain, Lillian followed a flagstone path to a little paved clearing illuminated by a lone torchlight. There was movement beside the fountain—one person, no, two people, closely entwined as they sat on one of the stone benches that surrounded the fountain. She stifled a gasp of surprise and drew back into the concealment of the hedge. Lord St. Vincent had told her to meet him here …but surely the man on the bench wasn’t he…was it? Bewildered, Lillian crept forward a few inches to peer around the corner of the hedge.

It quickly became apparent that the couple was so involved in their love play that a passing stampede of elephants would have gone unnoticed by either of them. The woman’s light brown hair had fallen loose, the waving locks hanging in the open void at the back of her partially unfastened gown. Her slim, pale arms loosely encircled his shoulders, and she breathed in shivering sighs as he tugged the sleeve of her gown from her shoulder and kissed the white curve. Lifting his head, he stared at her with a drowsy, impassioned gaze before leaning forward to take her mouth with his. Suddenly Lillian recognized the couple…it was Lady Olivia and her husband, Mr. Shaw. Mortified and curious, she drew back behind the hedge just as Mr. Shaw slid his hand into the back of his wife’s gown. It was the most intimate scene that Lillian had ever witnessed.

And the most intimate sounds she had ever heard…soft gasps and love words, and an inexplicable gentle laugh from Mr. Shaw that caused Lillian’s toes to curl. Her face was scorched with embarrassment as she inched quietly away from the clearing. She was not certain where to go or what to do now that the place for her own rendevous was already occupied. It had given her a strange feeling to witness the deeply passionate tenderness that existed between the Shaws. Love within marriage. Lillian had never dared to hope for such a thing for herself.