Miss Quinn's Quandary (6 page)

After the final curtain, Randall and his uncle left their box for
the ball. The one thing Randall would definitely not do was disappoint his
uncle. Although he dreaded the upcoming event as much as he imagined his uncle
looked forward to it.

When they arrived, Rushton charged to the dowager’s side. It was
all too clear to Randall that the rest of the room vanished from their sight.
If his uncle wanted the dowager
viscountess
as his
new countess, Randall would do his utmost to make it come about. He would be
the model escort for Larissa, regardless of his personal opinion of her.

Randall turned to address Larissa. He knew she no more cared to
dance with him than he with her. However, tonight, he would be more than happy
to partner her—for his uncle’s sake.

Without a word, Larissa accepted. He led her onto the dance
floor. There she smiled. Trying to present a positive image to the
viscountess
, Randall thought. At least they could agree on
that one item. Or so he hoped.

At the end of the set, Randall took Larissa on his arm toward her
aunt, giving a pleasant smile of his own. “I don’t want you ruining their happiness,”
he voiced in threatening tones.

“Me? If anyone is a killjoy it is you.”

“Miss Quinn, if we were not in public, I certainly would take
delight in….”

“What? In what?” Her eyes blazed in fury, never losing her
cadence in step beside him.

“Take great joy in bending you over my knee and disciplining you
like the spoiled brat you are.” He held his false smile in place.

“Spoiled brat?” she gasped and spit back. “You indulgent prig.”

“Undisciplined wench.”

“Arrogant wastrel.”

“Cheeky chit.”

“Pretentious fop.” Another step brought them in the company of
Rushton and
Viscountess
Claiborne.

“I can see you two are getting along splendidly,” the dowager
greeted.

“Oh, yes. Famously,” Larissa agreed, her glacial eyes upon
Randall.

“Quite famously,” Randall seconded.

“Did I not tell you, my sweet?” Rushton reassured his amour,
soothing any doubts she may have harbored.

“I am so very glad you were right, as always.” She patted
Rushton’s hand and disengaged her arm from his. “If you gentlemen will excuse
us. I wish to speak to my niece alone for a moment.” She turned Larissa to one
side and took a few steps away.

“Would you mind if I were to leave you in Sir Randall’s care for
a dance or two?” the
viscountess
said to Larissa.
“Rushton is a most persuasive man. He assures me you are quite safe with his
nephew. I must say, I am quite taken with him myself. I am persuaded he will
serve well as an escort.”

“No, Aunt. You go right ahead. I’ll be fine.” Larissa returned to
Randall’s side. She laced her arm through his and gave him a superb smile,
pretending to flourish in his company. Without a doubt, it was solely for her
aunt’s benefit.

Now that Larissa would be watched over, the dowager
viscountess
left on Rushton’s arm. She leaned toward him
and whispered something confidential and they both broke into a hearty bout of
laughter, making quite a spectacle of themselves.

“You’d best mind your temper,” Larissa warned, watching her aunt
retreat.

“You’d best mind your tongue,” Randall countered.

“I feel we would both be better off if you left me in Lord
Fenton’s care when he arrives,” Larissa suggested. “And that will leave you to
Lady Dorothea.”

Randall knew better than anyone how stubborn Larissa was once she
got an idea in her head, and his first impulse was to accede. However, he was
not one to give in so readily. After all, he had just promised to keep watch
over her. He couldn’t very well just leave her to someone he hardly knew. Or
could he? Randall was tempted, and it might not take much to sway him to her
perspective.

“I do not see why we need suffer because of their budding romance,”
she continued, trying to drive her point across.

“Their ‘budding romance’ as you put it, is all that I am
interested in, at the moment.”

“Is it really?” She smiled, her eyes positively glowed. “Wouldn’t
Lady Dorothea be interested to hear
that.
”

“You leave Lady Dorothea out of this,” Randall warned. It would
do his case no good for Dorothea to hear of his interest from Larissa.

Larissa tilted her head, looking over his shoulder and gesturing
to someone with her fan. “Here she comes now.”

Randall turned to see Lady Dorothea approaching at this
inopportune moment. “My lady,” he greeted, sketching a bow. He couldn’t very
well put her off now.

“Sir Randall,” Dorothea acknowledged. “Miss Quinn.”

“Sir Randall was just speaking of you, Lady Dorothea.”

“Were you?”

“He was just pondering of your whereabouts, and now,” she
shrugged, “here you are. I shall leave you two alone as soon as Lord Fenton
makes his appearance.” She perused the room and glanced every now and again at
the doorway. “I do hope he arrives soon. I find a threesome so awkward, don’t
you?” Her face brightened. “Ah, here he is now. Lord Fenton,” Larissa called to
him in soprano tones.

“Miss Larissa.” Lord Fenton placed a kiss on the back of
Larissa’s hand, holding it far longer than he needed to. “Lady Dorothea, and
Sir Randall, how nice that we meet again.”

“How nice,” Randall echoed without enthusiasm, playing along with
conventional ballroom etiquette.

Larissa interrupted. “Oh, Lord Fenton, I’m afraid I cannot bear
to step foot onto the dance floor if I do not find something to drink this
instant.”

Lord Fenton took this as a personal challenge. “I cannot have you
experience another parched moment. Let us find the refreshments.” He nodded to
Randall and Lady Dorothea. “If you will kindly excuse us.”

Randall watched Lord Fenton lead Larissa away. That presumptuous
puppy and that ill-tempered chit most certainly deserve one another, Randall
thought.

“Do you disapprove, Sir Randall?” Dorothea asked.

“Disapprove? Why should I disapprove? I don’t give a fig one way
or the other.” Randall forced himself to look at Lady Dorothea and smiled,
taking interest in her. “Your delightful presence is the only thing making this
evening worthwhile.”

“How kind of you to say,” Lady Dorothea remarked. She blushed and
in a quick, light flutter waved her fan in front of her face, drawing it
downward to stop at the low neckline of her gown. Randall’s eyes followed the
fan and lingered at her revealing décolletage.

Two evenings later, Aunt Ivy and Larissa readied themselves for
an outing to Vauxhall Gardens. Of course, they would never have ventured there
without male escort. Aunt Ivy considered the place “an alfresco adventure.”

“You look charming, my dear,” Ivy praised with maternal pride.
“Is it Sir Randall who has put that delicate bloom on you cheek?”

“Oh, Aunt,” Larissa sighed, wondering if she should tell her aunt
the truth. “I do not care for Sir Randall. In fact I can honestly say we do not
rub along well together at all.”

“That is very strange, indeed.” Ivy placed her hand on her cheek
and gave Larissa a puzzled look. “I was under the distinct impression you two
got along tolerably.”

“Do not mistake my intentions, Aunt. All we can do is tolerate
each other.”

“Oh, I see,” Aunt Ivy contemplated. “Well then, if you and Sir
Randall are not amiable, there is no reason to torture you with his company. I
shall send a note to Rushton, to cancel.”

“Oh no, Aunt, you cannot. The earl will be brokenhearted. He is
so very taken with you. I do not think he could bear to be without your company
for an entire evening.” Larissa saw the glint in her aunt’s eyes at the mention
of Rushton. “And I cannot say you would be pleased, either.”

Aunt Ivy gave a surrendering smile.

“Aunt, you have been everything kind to me. I cannot ask you to
forsake your own happiness because of my discomfort.”

“But what about you, my dear?” Ivy took Larissa’s hand in hers.
“I cannot ask you to endure Sir Randall’s presence if you do not wish it.”

“Sir Randall and I may not like one another, but we find our
mutual disharmony an acceptable state and we contrive.”

“Do you? How practical of you both.”

“I plan on meeting Lord Fenton Harding once we arrive, and Sir
Randall, Lady Dorothea
Brookhurst
.”

“How clever of you,” Ivy gasped. “Do you find Lord Fenton
agreeable, dear?”

Larissa smiled knowingly. “Let’s just say I am very interested in
furthering our relationship.”

Colored lanterns strung from the trees swayed in the gentle
breeze, dotting the gardens at Vauxhall. Music with no apparent source laced
the air. Larissa felt a sense of excitement drawing her in. When Larissa looked
up, Sir Randall had gone and in his place stood Lord Fenton.

Lord Fenton wore a light blue jacket and light-colored
pantaloons, a conservative selection. Sir Randall had chosen to wear a
fawn-colored jacket with velvet lapels, cream breeches, and Hessians.

“Would you mind if we abandoned you, so I could take your aunt to
my box for refreshment?” Rushton asked.

“Not at all,” Larissa answered. In fact, she was looking forward
to wandering the park at the side of Lord Fenton.

“You are, of course, welcome to join us,” the earl added in
equitable tones.

“Perhaps later, then.” Larissa looked with longing toward Lord
Fenton. “It is such a lovely night. I do wish to see the gardens.”

“I shall keep a keen eye on Miss Larissa,” Lord Fenton promised,
placing a protective hand over hers. Ivy nodded, giving her approval. “She
shall be quite safe with me.”

Larissa flashed a smile at Lord Fenton. Of that, she was quite
sure. Lord Fenton had not gone so far as to try to press her hand.

Tonight this would change. If Lord Fenton would not be brought to
kiss her, she would kiss him. She knew there were many men who stole kisses
from unsuspecting maidens. She would be the first she knew of to steal a kiss
from an unsuspecting man.

“What would you like to see?” Lord Fenton gave one of his
dazzling smiles. “What about the rotunda? It’s very beautiful. Music, mirrors,
crystal chandeliers and paintings. It is a delight for the eyes and ears.”

Larissa returned his smile with mischievous intent. “I think it’s
a nice place to begin,” she replied, holding tightly onto her shawl. He led her
away from the grove.

The path took them by the wood and iron triumphal arches. Larissa
looked at the people strolling along the intersecting crossing walks. Beyond
the unevenly lit areas lay the dark walkways, where the lanterns were few and
far between. That was the place her aunt had warned her about.

The dark walk, she thought. If only she could somehow convince
Lord Fenton to follow her. Before the night was done, she intended to do just
that.

Timing would be critical. Lord Fenton could easily outrun her if
she decided to make a dash. She needed to wait until he was occupied to gain a
suitable head start.

The opportunity presented itself a mere hour later, after
visiting the rotunda, the exotic colonnades, and the cascade. They were
fortunate to discover an unoccupied bench on which to sit and rest, which Lord
Fenton insisted she needed.

“I say, there is Lord
Alversly
. I
haven’t seen him in an age.”

“Why don’t you pay your respects to him,” she suggested. “I’m
still feeling fatigued. I’d like to sit here and rest a bit.” Larissa smoothed
the folds of her skirts on her lap, hoping to look as if she were settling to
stay for the duration.

Lord Fenton looked shocked by her idea. “I believe it would be
highly unsuitable to subject you to man-talk. Yet, I couldn’t possibly leave
you,” he replied. She suspected he was insulted that she should dare ask him to
abandon her. “However,” he pondered, reconsidering, “I wanted to have a word
with him.”

Larissa smiled, attesting to her sincerity. “Please go. I shall
wait right here, on this very spot.”

Fenton was clearly torn about what to do. After a brief
deliberation, he gave in, still obviously undecided. “I shan’t be more than a
moment.” He sketched a bow and legged it to Lord
Alversly
.

Larissa waited until he was deep into conversation before she
hiked her skirts around her ankles and dashed off toward the far temple. Out of
breath by the time she reached the steps, Larissa turned backed to see if
Fenton had noticed. He hadn’t. She climbed to the top and waited, never taking
her eyes from him.

Larissa watched Lord Fenton glance at the bench where he had left
her, then around the area, looking for her. After their eyes had met, she ran
into the temple, taking the steps down the other side and onto the path beyond,
plunging into the darkness. She pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders and
took cover between some bushes.

Larissa watched Fenton appear. He glanced around from the
elevated vantage point of the steps, looking for her. He moved from the lit
area near the temple onto the remote path. She waited until he traveled deeper
onto the darkened walk, closer to where she crouched tucked between the
surrounding hedges in wait. She realized her weeks of eager anticipation were
about to come to an end in only a few moments.

Someone coming from the light would find it difficult to see. Her
eyes had already become accustomed to the dark. While her victim’s eyes were
adjusting, it was time to act.

In a few quick steps, Larissa moved from between the shrubbery
into the open. Approaching from behind, she stepped in front of Fenton. Her
shawl slipped from her shoulders when she reached up and pulled his head down
to hers. Her lips found his.

This was not how Sir Randall had kissed her. He bestowed upon her
a new type of kiss. A lover’s kiss. She pressed against him with all the
longing that had built up inside her.