Shall We Dance? (12 page)

“Sawdust?”

“To give himself a leg, if I may be so bold, and I am often bold. Buckram padding at the shoulders, sawdust molded to resemble muscular calves. The poor man seems to have sprung a leak. We're a sorry lot, we gentlemen.”

“You employ buckram padding, My Lord?” Amelia asked, already knowing the answer. She'd more than once seen gentlemen stripped to the waist to indulge in fisticuffs for the amusement of Queen Caroline, and she felt certain that His Lordship's muscles owed nothing to artifice.

“Oh, now you wound me, Miss Fredericks, and my tailor, as well, I should imagine. Excuse me a moment, if you please. Clive? My good fellow, loath as I am to spoil your fun, I have it on the highest authority that it is never polite to point.”

“Er, sorry, M'Lord,” Clive said, dropping his hand to his lap and redirecting his gaze to the floor of the barouche. Speaking out of the corner of his mouth, he said, “That was Harriette Wilson and one of her sisters just now on the other side of the path, M'Lord, I'd bet my new waistcoat on it. Didn't know the har—that is, the impures rode in the Promenade.”

“They always have, Clive. Some of them, most often those without titles, actually deign to earn their living at it.”

“Now I know you shouldn't have said that in my hearing, My Lord,” Amelia scolded, blushing. “Is society really so…so loose?”

“Society, Miss Fredericks, left off its stays a long time ago. They just do not, for the most part, publicly advertise that fact.”

“As does Queen Caroline,” Amelia said, sighing. “I accompany her, My Lord, but I am not in charge of her. Indeed, it wasn't until a few English ladies took me aside, while visiting at Lake Como, and told me, that I realized my queen's behavior was not…was not just what was expected of her. I had no idea we were such an outrage here in England. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, you understand.”

“So I've heard and read, yes,” Perry told her as the barouche moved forward yet again. “And you were a guest at these…affairs?”

“I was present at our entertainments, yes. Lovely balls, fetes, and Her Majesty herself often would perform in amusing harlequinades in the small theater in the Villa d'Este. Her Majesty enjoys laughter and fun and has a lively interest in people, places. Do you know that we rode into Jerusalem on donkeys? I would not give up a moment of my life with the queen, My Lord.”

“Nor should you, Miss Fredericks,” Perry said, and his tone was sincere, she was positive of that, and her admiration for him grew.

“I know now that we were at times outrageous, My Lord. Which is one reason this horrible Bill of Pains and Penalties has been brought. But it's not the real reason. It's that the king hates…” She looked over at Clive and Mrs. Fitzhugh and bit her lips between her teeth.

“I say, Clive, I do believe Miss Fredericks and I have decided to climb down and have ourselves a stroll. You won't mind remaining here? You have my permission to wave to whomever you wish, although I would ask that you refrain from whistling at any of the passersby.”

Amelia waited as Perry opened the low door and then held out a hand to help her to the ground. “Where are we going, My Lord?”

“We're on the run from the once-pleasant smell of peppermints. Or would I be forever damning myself if I were to say that I am aware of a place in the Park, a lovely wooded area, where those who wish to be alone cannot be observed by all and sundry?”

“Probably,” Amelia said, and then smiled as she slipped her arm through his crooked elbow. “Shall we?”

Amelia could not help but notice that, although the earl smiled and waved to seemingly everyone, he did not pause, stop to talk, introduce her to anyone.

It wasn't until they had seemingly without purpose “wandered” into a leafy stand of trees and decorative shrubs that she asked, “Are you ashamed to introduce me, My Lord? The taint of being of the queen's household?”

She looked up at him, to see that his jaw had gone hard, and he guided her deeper into the shade before at last stopping, turning to take her hands in his. “Miss
Fredericks, you know as well as I that you would only be considered a part of the sensation that is swirling around the queen's head. Is that what you wish? To be pointed at—as Clive pointed—and, believe me, the elite of Mayfair are more than capable of behaving much more badly than Clive could even imagine.”

She was quiet for some moments, then said, “Amelia. Please. I should like it very much if you were to call me Amelia…Perry.”

His expression, which had been close to frightening, softened. “Amelia. Then we've cried friends, if I may use such a mundane expression?”

“I hope we have, yes,” Amelia said, her gaze open and steady, because she had never been taught or, indeed, had observed much in the way of artifice. “The queen and I seem to have a sad lack of friends. Or didn't you know that, other than Henry Brougham and his brother, you are the first to visit us since our arrival? Many have sent notes of support, but only a paltry few have visited.”

Perry, still holding her hands in his, took a small step backward. “But surely…”

“But surely not, Perry. I am not at all political, but I do believe the Tories would rather be stripped to the buff and paraded through this Park than to be seen tooling carriages or rowing boats to visit Her Majesty. And the Whigs? They wish to be sure she'll win before they'll openly back her. Or am I wrong? As I said, I'm not in the least political.”

“If you say so, then I, as a gentleman, have no re
course but to agree with your description of your unpolitical self. However, you have said it exactly right. Society is made up of hungry jackals and shivering gazelles. Both are watching Her Majesty, watching how this will all play out. All of them hoping they will live to see another day.”

“No, that's not quite right. The watching has already passed. Her Majesty is already being savaged by the jackals, Perry. The gazelles are hiding. The gazelles can't protect her. And I think the queen knows that, even as she hopes otherwise.”

Perry let go of her hands and slid an arm around her waist, leading her deeper into the trees. “And where are you in all of this, Amelia?” he asked.

“With Her Majesty. I know no other home.” She wished, yet again, that his eyes were not so all seeing, and that all she could think was how lovely it would be to rest her head against his strong, broad shoulder and give up all her troubles as she placed herself in his care.

“I won't say that I'm not worried about you, Amelia,” Perry said, gently maneuvering her so that her back was against a slim tree trunk as he stood before her, his eyes now shaded by the brim of his hat, the sun filtering through the leaves dappling both of them in light and shadow.

“I'm not entirely helpless,” she said, and heard her own voice quaver.

“Aren't you?”

She shifted her gaze away from him. “Powerless, yes. But not helpless. I can at least give comfort to Her Majesty in this time of trial.”

“So you won't leave her?”

Amelia's head shot up. “No! I could never leave her.”

Perry lightly touched a knuckle underneath her chin and lifted her face closer to his. “And you wouldn't, even if you had the opportunity. Would you? You're loyal, even in the face of sure defeat.”

Amelia moved her head away. “Don't make fun of me. And don't look at me as if I'm some silly, romantic martyr. I know Her Majesty has flaws.”

“And there are so many out there who would pay, handsomely, to learn what you know.”

She looked at him again. Had she made a horrible mistake? Had she been so hungry for someone to talk to that she had put the queen in danger? Had she so longed for a friend, a shelter, someone to trust, that she had trusted the first person to be kind to her? Seen nothing but this beautiful man with the winning ways, let her mind believe him some ridiculous prince, some knight in shining armor? “Are you suggesting…?”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Surely you've thought of it, Amelia.”

She bit her lips between her teeth, shook her head. “No, I haven't. And I won't. So if you've brought me here to ask me if I would, then you can just take me back to Hammersmith. I will never betray her.”

“I know,” he said, and his tone was so soft, so intimate, that she dared to look at him once more. “I've seen you with her, remember? You have a great affection for that sad, unfortunate woman.”

She began to relax. “And you don't think I'm being
silly? Shortsighted? After all, if the king succeeds in discrediting her, I cannot see a future in which Her Majesty will continue to exist. His victory will kill her. Literally. Oh, I'm sorry,” she ended, blinking back sudden tears. “It's…it's just that I'm so alone. I have no one to talk to about my fears. No one who doesn't have their selfish reasons to support her. No one to trust.”

“You have me now, Amelia, if you want me,” he said quietly, and then lowered his head to hers.

His lips were warm and firm, and although she'd been kissed before, her reaction to this kiss was completely new to her. She melted against him, her arms sliding around his narrow waist.

He deepened the kiss, and she let him, opening her lips to him, welcoming his tongue as he stepped closer to her, insinuated one leg between her thighs as she was pressed against the tree trunk.

Guilio had stolen a kiss at Lake Como. Silly boy. She'd kissed Jergun in Germany, because he'd asked so nicely. There was that moment in Rome, when she almost believed her heart might be involved, but when Sebastiano had dared to put a hand to her breast she had slapped him, and run away.

She was not unexperienced, surely.

And yet this kiss? This man? She barely knew him, yet felt no hesitation. No warning bells clanged in her brain, no reluctance to allow him even more intimacy tugged at her conscience.

Just his kiss, his hard body taking control of her without force, yet so completely, with such confidence.
And now his hands…lightly skimming down her arms, sliding onto her waist…sliding, oh, so slowly upward…cupping her, molding her.

“Perry…” she breathed his name against his mouth, her eyes tightly closed, because if she looked at him, at this beautiful man, he might just disappear.

He broke the kiss with seeming reluctance, trailing his lips across her cheek, into her hair, his breath teasing her ear. “I'm a very bad man, Amelia, but I would not take back these few moments for my hope of heaven.”

As he spoke, he rubbed the pads of his thumbs over her nipples, and they stiffened beneath the soft muslin of her gown before he removed his hands to her waist once more. Clearly, telling him that she felt his an importune assault on her person would be as silly as attempting to make him believe the sky was polka-dotted.

“Her Majesty would tell me that it is wrong to deny what you want simply because the world frowns on anything that makes you happy.”

His chuckle was light, infectious. “I like Her Majesty more and more. May I steal another kiss, or have I dared too much?”

Amelia pressed her cheek against his chest. “I think we both have dared too much, here, in this place. I must be shameless.”

He rubbed the palm of one of his large, strong hands against her back. “Or very vulnerable in your distress,” Perry said, “which would make me a scoundrel of the first water. To prove I am at least marginally respectable,
I'll forgo that kiss, if you will promise me that our first was not our last.”

Amelia smiled against the fabric of his jacket. “Now you're teasing me, Perry, so that I am put in the position of having to ask for your kiss. Shame on you.”

He put her from him, holding on to her arms so that she looked up into his smiling face. “My folly, you will learn, knows no bounds. And now I have been more than naughty enough for one afternoon, and Clive will surely begin to fret.”

He smiled as he straightened her bonnet, then flicked a finger against the side of her nose. “You are bad for me, puss. You make me honest. I'm unfamiliar with the concept. Shall we see if my equipage has progressed more than fifty yards in our absence?”

 

“D
O YOU KNOW
, Nate, I believe these new spectacles have improved my sight? I'm more used to seeing the areas closest to me, with everything else melting into a rather lovely smudge of colors in the background. And, I must say, although I have been in this Park a few mornings, with my mother, I never realized the place was quite so crowded.”

“It's not, not in the mornings,” Nate told her, smiling at the way she was most enthusiastically looking about her as they strolled across the grass, arm in arm. “Tell me, Georgiana, do you think, if we were to join hands and run toward those trees, we could outdistance your maid?”

Georgiana turned to look back at Imogene, who was
actually her mother's maid, and a woman not best pleased to have been dragged out of the house for a healthful constitutional when her pressing irons awaited her in the dressing room. “She'd tattle,” Georgiana said. “Otherwise…”

“I knew it. You're a hellion, aren't you?” Nate asked, unable to restrain himself. “You look like a bread-and-butter miss, all sprigged muslin and pink-cheeked, all blond and soft. But, at the heart of it, you'd rather be traipsing about the countryside, your skirts lifted above your ankles, on the lookout for a grassy hill to roll down. Admit it, Georgiana, this place, Mayfair, that is, is not where you wish to be, is it?”

“Am I a country bumpkin at heart? That's what you're asking, isn't it? Very well. You're right. London is a lovely city, when it's not dirty and crowded and smelly, but it isn't a patch on Sussex. I could not imagine living here more than a few weeks a year.”

“All those boring parties and routs and alfresco picnics. The theater, the museums, the shops. Too boring for words?”