the two young ladies embraced each other as if it had been an age since they’d been together when it had probably been as recent as that very afternoon.
‘No one else has arrived,’Athenia said to Hannah. ‘Indeed, I feared to be the only one here. Can you think how humiliating? Your brother will come, will he not?’
‘I wonder if he and the others were directed to the wrong box.’ Hannah looked about her with a worried expression. She reached out a hand towards Sloane. ‘Mr Sloane, do take us to search for the others! Perhaps they are on the other side. Oh, do take us.’
Lord Cowdlin was too busy whispering something to Poltrop to take heed of Hannah’s request, but Lady Cowdlin magnanimously gave her permission. ‘Do not venture into the Dark Walk, however,’ she warned in a jocular voice.
As if Sloane would be so foolish as to take two silly girls into an area of the park more suited to the sort of rakish behaviour he had forsworn. He’d rather they quickly discover the missing members of their party so he could get some relief from the chatter.
The two young ladies walked arm in arm, keeping up an intense conversation and paying Sloane little mind. He walked a step behind them, close enough to prevent any mischief befalling them. They circled the area where men and women danced beneath the musicians’balcony. Though both girls craned their necks to search the crowd, they spent as much time whispering to each other. Sloane, out of a desperate need for respite from their company, looked around for Hannah’s ‘particular’ friends, the ones who surrounded her at every society function.
He did not see them, but he spied the colourful group of ladies Lord Cowdlin had so admired. Not surprisingly, they had seated themselves in a box where they could be easily noticed.
He guided Hannah and Athenia past them, but one of the prettily dressed females cried, ‘Well, now. Aren’t you the handsome gent.’
Another giggled, but a third said a sharp, ‘Hush.’
Sloane whirled around, but other strollers obscured his view. Lady Hannah and her friend kept walking, and Sloane had to push his way through the crowd to catch up to them.
He looked over his shoulder again and a gap in the crowd afforded him a good look at the group.
One of the young ladies was raven-haired, another a redhead, the others golden-haired and mousy brown. But it was not these his eyes were riveted upon. It was the tall, dark-haired woman who stood in the midst of them.
Morgana.
Chapter Twelve
How could he have not instantly known them at first glance? Before the crowd closed the gap again, he’d even recognised Penny and Miss Moore. He’d bet one of the gentlemen with them was Penny’s favourite inamorato, that idiot Duprey. The identity of the other gentleman put a worried crease between his eyes. Few of Penny’s masculine acquaintances would be men Sloane thought fit for Morgana’s company.
He put his hand on Hannah’s elbow. ‘Ladies, let us go back to the supper box. Your friends may have arrived in our absence.’
‘Oh, let us do that,’ Hannah replied enthusiastically.
They all walked at a brisker pace: Hannah, to find her friends; Sloane, to find a way to get back to Morgana.
Several young people could be seen in the supper box. Hannah and Athenia broke away and hurried to greet them. Hannah’s brother Varney saw them, rushing forward to escort them into the box.
Sloane’s nephew appeared to be the only one to notice Sloane’s arrival. ‘Good evening, Uncle,’ David said. ‘Is this not a beautiful night for the Gardens?’
Sloane agreed that it was, but could say little more, because the supper arrived and soon everyone was piling plates full of paper-thin slices of ham and tiny chickens. A fruit girl filled dishes with fresh strawberries and cherries, and a sideboard offered a selection of wines and arrack, the heady punch always served at Vauxhall. His nephew dipped into the arrack more than once.
Soon a bell signalled the start of Madame Saqui’s daring rope dancing, and the young people poured out of the box in a hurry not to miss a moment of it. Lady Cowdlin and Lady Poltrop begged off, assuring Sloane they would be very comfortable in the supper box with each other for company and certain their husbands would return at any moment.
Sloane did not follow the young people to view Saqui’s performance, but rather strode across to the South Walk’s supper boxes to find Morgana.
Penny and Miss Moore were the only ones of the party seated in the box. Sloane’s eyes narrowed. Sir Reginald, one of Penny’s gaming-hell regulars, was there as well, not exactly the sort of company Morgana should keep.
She and the girls were likely watching Madame Saqui. Sloane threaded through the crowd exactly like the pickpockets were doing. He looked for Morgana, finally finding her, standing with Rose at the edge of the crowd, chatting with a grey-haired man. Just as he’d feared, they had attracted an admirer.
He pushed his way through.
‘Morgana!’ he cried, seizing her arm.
Morgana jumped, pulling away, before she realised the man who had accosted her was Sloane. She felt flushed with excitement to see him, even though she had not wished him to know they were there. Vexed at Katy for her impudent gibe as he passed them, Morgana saw the precise moment he’d recognised them. She should have realised he would come after her.
‘You have found us.’ She gave a defiant toss of her head. ‘I am going to box Katy’s ears.’
‘What the devil do you think you are doing?’ he said in a fierce whisper as he squeezed her arm.
She pointedly stared at the hand grasping her. ‘I am watching Madame Saqui,’ she said in patient tones. ‘And I do wish you would not always come rushing up to me, screeching my name.’
He released her.
‘I beg your pardon,’ he muttered.
She turned back to the spectacle, but her heart beat wildly, not at Madame Saqui’s daring exploits, but that she could be in this magical place with Sloane even for a few minutes. Perhaps for the time being she could pretend he was her beau, pretend he was not about to scold her again.
Madame Saqui faltered on the rope and teetered for several seconds before regaining her balance. The crowd gasped a collective ‘Ohhh!’ Perhaps Madame experienced the same sensation Morgana felt, as if she could tumble through the air.
Morgana had forgotten Rose was by her side until the girl touched Sloane’s sleeve. ‘Mr Sloane, may I introduce my father to you?’
‘Of course.’ He sounded as surprised as Morgana had been.
‘Mr Brian O’Keefe, one of the musicians here.’
Morgana had nearly fallen to the ground when the man came up to Rose. She’d made the girls promise they would not engage in any liaisons this first outing. Morgana had been about to send the man packing when Rose told her who he was.
Sloane
