Free The Wicked Baron by Sarah Mallory Page A

his face, he could see she thought he was about to denounce her. He would never do that—did she not know him yet? He wanted to say something reassuring, but Sir Gilbert was speaking again.
    ‘Everyone should see the tin cascade,’ he remarked with a laugh. ‘But only the once!’ He leaned a little closer to Carlotta. ‘I would be honoured to show you some of the other attractions of Vauxhall, Miss Rivington.’
    Mr Woollatt stepped forward. ‘If Miss Rivington wishes to see anything, then it will be my pleasure to escort her,’ he said, his rather heavy chin jutting out belligerently.
    Sir Gilbert straightened, still smiling. ‘Alas, then, I feel my loss most acutely.’
    Carlotta smiled. She was aware of the compliment the gentlemen were paying her and would have been more than human if she had not felt a little tremor of excitement at their gallantry. She nodded at Mr Woollatt, then turned to give Sir Gilbert an apologetic smile. ‘I am sorry to disappoint you, sir.’
    He inclined his head. ‘Madam, you could never disappoint me.’
    Her smile grew. She was very happy to indulge in this mild flirtation, conducted from the safety of the supper box where she had the protection of her aunt and uncle. It was also a refreshing change from Mr Woollat’s dull lecturing. When she looked at Lord Darvell, however, his disapproving stare somewhat dimmed her enjoyment of the moment. As the group moved away, Mr Price shook his head.
    ‘Scapegraces, the lot of ’em,’ he said. ‘I hear Mattingwood is done up—could not pay his gambling debts at Brooks’s the other night. ’Tis a poor show when a man cannot pay his way.’
    ‘Actually, he did pay up,’ put in Lord Broxted, scrupulously fair. ‘I was there myself, heard him tell Ainslowe he would settle with him the next morning.’
    ‘Ah,’ said Mr Price, winking at Mr Woollatt, ‘we’ve all heard that one before, I dare say.’
    ‘No doubt,’ continued the earl, ‘but in this case he honoured his commitment. Gave Ainslowe a painting to cover his debt.’
    ‘A painting!’
    ‘Aye,’ said the earl. ‘A Tiepolo. His father brought it back from the Grand Tour.’
    ‘And is it genuine?’ asked Mr Price. ‘Has he had it valued?’
    Lord Broxted looked affronted. ‘Ainslowe doesn’t need to do that; he has Mattingwood’s word, as a gentleman.’
    ‘Never mind that now.’ Lady Broxted rose. ‘Madame Saqui will be performing soon; I would like us to have a good view of it.’
    They joined the crowd congregating around the fifty-foot mast erected for Madame Saqui’s celebrated rope walk. Mr and Mrs Price led their party to a good viewing spot. Carlotta was not sure whether it was by accident or design that they found themselves again in the proximity of the group of young bloods that included Sir Gilbert Mattingwood. With a little skilful manoeuvring, Mrs Price managed to place herself next to Sir Gilbert and engaged him in a rather flirtatious conversation while they waited for Madame Saqui to ascend the rope. Carlotta had taken Mr Woollatt’s arm and now stood patiently while he explained to her in excessive detail the number of appearances the lady had made in England. Her mind was beginning to wander when she heard a familiar voice in her ear.
    ‘Your escort is a veritable encyclopaedia , Miss Rivington.’
    She froze. Luke was standing behind her, pressed so close by the crowd around them that they were almost touching. Her nerves tingled along the length of her spine and she shrank closer to Mr Woollatt. Her escort patted her arm.
    ‘These crowds are a little frightening, are they not?’ he said. ‘No need to be alarmed, Miss Rivington. I shall not let you go.’
    ‘Fortune favours Woollatt in all ways.’
    These next words were merely a whisper; she could almost have imagined them except that she could feel Luke’s breath, warm on her cheek. Carlotta found herself trembling. She closed her lips tightly; she would not respond to his teasing.