substitute.
As he moved through the garden’s entrance, his domino billowed in the night’s breeze and gathered between his legs, impeding his gait.
There could not be a sillier garment for a man, lots of black fabric fashioned into a hooded cloak, the accepted male costume for a masquerade. Once Leo put on his mask, the costume had advantages. No one would know who he was. He would be able to remain near Mariel without anyone suspecting his identity.
He knew she would attend. Before walking to his brother’s house and donning his domino, he’d concealed himself near the Covendale town house and watched as Mariel and her parents climbed into Kellford’s carriage. The evening remained light enough that Leo was able to clearly see her costume. Her dark green dress clung to her figure from neckline to hips. Gold-braid trim adorned the low square neckline and the long trumpet sleeves. Over the gown, she wore a matching hooded cape. How ironic she would dress as a medieval maiden, the quintessential damsel in distress.
Kellford, on the other hand, had exerted as much imagination as Leo. He, too, wore a black domino.
Leo hurried down the South Walk. Tall, stately elms shaded the area with its booths and the supper boxes. Ahead of him at some distance, Leo spied three triumphal arches and a painting of the Ruins of Palmyra so realistic it fooled many people into believing it was real. The three supper boxes reserved for the party hosted by Lord and Lady Elkins were located just before the arches.
His domino caught between his legs again and he slowed his pace, taking more notice of the gardens which seemed to show some tarnish since he’d last seen them. Or perhaps it was he who was tarnished.
He remembered his first look at Vauxhall, when still a schoolboy, the night his father and mother hosted a masquerade. He and his brothers had been allowed to attend until darkness fell and the drinking and carousing began in earnest.
A wave of grief washed over him. His parents had been blissfully happy, as scandalous as their liaison had been. They’d looked magnificent that night, costumed in powdered hair and shiny, colourful brocades, the fashionable dress of the last century. Surrounded by their equally scandalous friends and those few respectable ones who were loyal no matter what, they had been in their element. No one had enjoyed the pleasures and entertainments life had to offer better than his mother and father.
Perhaps they had enjoyed a masquerade in Venice before contracting the fever that killed them.
As Leo neared the supper boxes, so close to the ones his parents had secured that night, he stopped to put on his mask. He presented his invitation to the footman at the entrance. Because it was a masquerade, no guests were announced and Leo could slip into the crowd in perfect anonymity.
Almost immediately he found his sister Charlotte, dressed as a shepherdess, but he did not reveal himself to her. No, this night he’d take advantage of his disguise. He walked through the crush of people, searching for Mariel.
Finally the crowd parted, revealing her, as if gates had opened to display a treasure. Her hood and cape hung behind her shoulders. Her headdress was a roll of gold cloth, worn like a crown. She looked like a queen from a bygone age. He savoured the sight of her before moving closer.
He had no difficulty spotting Kellford or Mariel’s parents, or the fact that Mariel was edging away from them. He stepped forwards to help her, deliberately pushing his way between her and Kellford and remaining in Kellford’s way.
His ploy worked. She hurried away from them and let the crowd swallow her. Leo waited a moment before following her, confident he could find her no matter how many people obscured his view.
He was correct.
Darkness was falling fast, but he was able to glimpse her making her way out of the supper box. She covered her head with her hood and hurried towards the large gazebo in the centre of the gardens. The orchestra was still playing on its balcony, high above the area where guests danced to the music.
He continued, walking quickly, puzzled at what she was about. It was not safe for her to leave the protection of the supper boxes. In addition to revellers, Vauxhall Gardens attracted pickpockets and other rogues and miscreants who combed the gardens searching for easy prey.
She weaved her way around the dancers until she was on the other side of the gardens near the Grand Walk. She made her way to one of the trees that bordered the area and leaned against it.
He slowed his pace and stopped a few feet from her. ‘Mariel?’
She started and then gave him a careful look. ‘Leo.’ Her tone was flat. Obviously his mask had not disguised him from her.
He came closer. ‘It is not safe to walk alone here.’
‘Indeed?’ She lifted one shoulder. ‘Do you not think walking alone is preferable to remaining on Kellford’s arm? I confess, I do.’
He scowled. ‘Is that why you ran off? To get away from him?’
She made a disparaging sound. ‘Were you watching me, Leo?’
‘I came in hopes of speaking with you,’ he admitted.
She turned away to face the dancers twirling and gliding like fairies in a dream. ‘We can have nothing to say to each other.’
‘I need to know—’
She stopped him from speaking, putting her hand on his arm and moving to the other side of the tree.
‘What is it?’ He glanced around.
She gestured with her chin. ‘Kellford is looking for me.’
Leo caught sight of him, perusing the crowd, moving closer to where they stood.
He grasped her arm. ‘Let us make you more difficult to spot.’ He pulled her into the crowd of dancers.
The orchestra played a French waltz and the dancers had formed two circles, one inside the other. Leo led Mariel to the inner circle. He placed his hands on her waist; her hands rested on his shoulders. Their eyes met and locked together as they twirled with the circle of dancers. The sky grew darker by the minute and everything and everyone surrounding them blurred.
Leo only saw Mariel.
Her face remained sombre, as did his own, he imagined. Did she feel the same emotions that were coursing through him? Savouring. Yearning. Regretting.
How different their lives would have been had his parents been respectably married. Had there been no fire. They would have married. Had children. Built a prosperous stud farm together. Had a lovely life.
What foolish fancy. He’d learned early that it was no use to wish for what one could not change.
The orchestra stopped playing and a violinist began playing a solo. Some of the dancers stopped to listen; the others made their way back to their boxes or to the booths selling food and wine.
Mariel averted her gaze. ‘Thank you for coming to my rescue, Leo. Another good deed you have performed.’
She sounded despairing and he ached for her.
He searched for Kellford and no longer saw him. ‘Walk with me.’ He extended his hand.
Mariel
