Free Nothing but Trouble by Allegra Gray Page A

acquaintances have planned an outing to Vauxhall Gardens on Friday evening. One of my acquaintances is raving about a performance he saw last week…have you heard, perhaps, of this woman, a Madam Saqui? He tells me she descends from the air while walking a tightrope, all while firecrackers are sent up around her. Perhaps you and your sister would deign to join us?”
    Her eyes lit up . “Oh, that sounds…” But just as suddenly, the light dimmed. She lowered her eyes, shuttered. “No, I’m afraid I cannot. Vauxhall isn’t sa—. That is…er…”
    Odd . Unless he was mistaken, she’d been about to say Vauxhall wasn’t safe. He gestured, waving off her obvious inability to find the right words. “Not to the lady’s liking. No matter. The opera? Cosi fan Tutte is well-regarded.”
    “ Yes, I have heard of it. A French opera.” Her nose wrinkled and her lovely full lips turned down as she spoke the word “French.”
    “ It is. But if it will put you at ease, let me make this admission: I cannot speak a word of French.” The London ton would surely consider this a shortcoming of his education, but Graeme couldn’t quite manage to sound ashamed.
    “Good .” She shuddered. “I have nightmares in French.”
    “Bad instructor?” he ribbed.
    She gave him a half smile, a shrug . “Something like that.”
    Charity Medford was a mystery, indeed. Young ladies in London were schooled in all manner things, many of them useless. He knew French was a part of the curriculum. Charity struck him as intelligent…he couldn’t imagine her struggling in school. What about the language distressed her so? He was determined to learn the answer to all the things about her that puzzled him. But he couldn’t do that without seeing her again.
    “I should hate to be the cause of your nightmares . Cosi fan Tutte is out, then. But I cannot think of any operas currently playing in English. You know,” he teased, “you are a difficult woman to court.”
    “Am I ?” She sounded truly surprised.
    “No Vauxhall, no opera …”
    She blushed . “I suppose you are right. I hadn’t realized. You say this outing to Vauxhall will be a large gathering?”
    “Indeed . Perhaps you would be more comfortable if your sister were to join you?” Miss Medford’s sister seemed a good sort. If he had to choose between sister or mother acting as chaperone, he’d take the sister any day.
    As though he had conjured her, the young duchess ran up to them.
    “Charity! People will talk.”
    “But— ” Charity began.
    Graeme opened his mouth to defend her . Truly, they’d done nothing wrong. Or maybe they had. London society was so strict. No wonder people felt the occasional need to don a disguise and let loose.
    But Lady Bainbridge rushed on . “Or, perhaps, they won’t. Darling, you have missed the most delicious on dit of the Season.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh dear. Lord Maxwell, please forgive my manners.”
    Graeme bowed slightly, wondering where in the world the Medford sisters had gotten their plucky spirits from . “Not at all, Your Grace. In fact, I am all ears. What is this news we have missed?”
    Her eyes sparkled . “Lady Caroline Lamb’s book has just come out and—oh, I can hardly even speak of it. Charity, she tells everything . I haven’t read it myself, of course, but if it is true…”
    Graeme was totally lost.
    “You mean, about Lord Byron?” Charity asked.
    Her sister nodded . “She gave him a different name, but that fooled no one. Lady Stowell acquired a copy, and Lady Hornflower said she had one, but her husband, upon learning of the torrid content, threw it into the fireplace. Of course, I do believe she is even now plotting extra visits to Lady Stowell so that she may finish reading behind his back.”
    Graeme laughed . At the mention of Byron, he’d recalled a rumor of an ill-fated love affair. More than one, actually. Apparently one such lover had followed the folly of having the affair