Heiress in Red Silk, Hunter, Madeline [good beach reads TXT] 📗

is really no purpose in our having anything more than a business partnership.”

“I will admit that I behaved badly. I made assumptions when I should have first learned your intentions. I do trust you, Rosamund. I don’t think I would have been like that if I didn’t.”

She stopped and looked up at him. “I know how important this is to you. I understand that. I may not always agree with you, but I would never do anything to endanger your plans. It was hurtful of you to say I would.”

He looked very contrite now, as well he should. “I know that.”

“If you really do, then I can forgive you.”

He smiled. “Since I am so inexcusable as to have a row on the street, I think I can be inexcusable enough to kiss you on the street.”

He leaned in to do so. She turned her head. “Not here. Not now. Tonight, maybe, if you promise to be very nice to me.”

* * *

Bursts of light filled the sky with thousands of tiny flames. Again and again the booms crackled as the fireworks shot up.

Rosamund had asked to go to Vauxhall Gardens two nights after their row, and Kevin had agreed.

“I’ve been before,” she had said. “But I want to do it up right.”

They had sat in one of the pavilions and eaten the proprietor’s ham, and later strolled the gardens while music played. Now, as the night deepened, she knew it was time to tell him the truth.

She had said she would decide about a marriage today. Yet here they were, on that day, and she had avoided the subject because another one needed to be discussed first. She did not think she would need to make a decision about marriage after that.

The booms stopped. Only stars now lit the sky. The onlookers dispersed, to return to other pleasures and entertainment.

“Let us walk on the secluded paths,” she said, turning toward the wooded copse at the western end of the gardens. “I never have before. Everyone warned it was not safe for a woman alone.”

“More misunderstood than not safe.”

“Misunderstandings can be the worst kind of danger.” She examined the passersby. “It was busier when I came in the past. More of your sort too.”

“The pleasure gardens have become less fashionable. Also, there was a big ball tonight. The kind that all the ladies would insist on attending.”

“Yet you are not there. Were you invited, or had you offended the hostess?”

He made one of those rueful, slightly crooked smiles that she loved. “I may not be considered the best of company, but I’m not avoided, no matter what my relatives say. I was invited. I chose not to go. I much prefer spending time with you to dancing with a list of boring women.”

“I’m sure they are not all boring.”

“A good many are.”

He really did not know that. He assumed it because big, noisy balls probably did not suit him.

“Do you think you will still be invited if we marry?”

They had arrived at the entrance to the wooded path. He guided her in.

“I can’t see why not.”

“Can’t you? Even if I do not play a visible role in the shops, I will still be a milliner. They are mine, after all. I have decided I don’t want to give them up. If we marry, that is. I may not assist patrons, but I’ll still design the hats.”

The trees allowed little light to penetrate to the paths, although some of the gardens’ lamps sent a few beams and twinkles through the branches. Sounds of voices and low laughs said they were not alone. They passed a shadow several feet from the path that moved enough to reveal it was a couple embracing.

“You have been thinking of the practicalities,” he said.

“One of us has to.”

“I am just happy that you have been thinking about it at all.”

She stopped walking and stepped to the side of the path, under the canopy of branches. “I said I would, and that I would tell you today what I concluded.”

He waited to hear it. Instead, she took his hand and raised it to her lips.

“There are things I want to talk about before we make this bargain. Things you need to know, and things I want to know.”

The mood between them had been light and joyful all night, but now a heavy seriousness quaked between them. She had guessed saying what she had just said would provoke no matter what came next, but she couldn’t avoid it.

“You never asked about my past,” she said. “It would be dishonest to allow you to take this step not knowing.” She peered up through the dark at his face. “I spent close to two years working in Mrs. Darling’s house. I think you know which one I mean.”

To her surprise, he eased her into an embrace. “I know that.”

“You do?”

“You took service there after you were thrown out by your lover’s family.”

She laid her head against his chest. He had known and had never asked. He would have gone forward, never asking, if she had lacked the courage to do the right thing. He still was not asking.

She could leave it at that. She could simply trust him to believe the best. She imagined the long years of marriage, with that open question standing silently between them.

“Don’t you wonder what I did there? It would be normal for you to be curious.”

“Why don’t you tell me, if you want to.”

She nodded. “I could find no respectable work. I had no reference. I was reduced to sleeping in doorways and begging for food. I had decided to try to make my way back home because at least there I might find work, but I had no money for the journey. On the streets, men would . . . I was offered money.” She paused a long while. “I considered it.”

“No one can blame you for that, in your situation.”

“That is good of you to say, but you don’t understand.” She stretched up