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Authors: Dilly Court

The Constant Heart (34 page)

BOOK: The Constant Heart
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Reluctantly, Rosina tucked her hand in his proffered arm. 'Go home, Caddie. You needn't wait up for me.'

 

'Take her back to Black Eagle Wharf, Chapman.' Harry offered his arm to Sukey. 'Now, ladies. Let's begin our adventure to deepest, darkest Sydenham and the delights of the Crystal Palace. But first we must find Roland – that is if he has not grown tired with waiting and gone home.'

 

'Roland?' Rosie's heart thudded against her ribs.

 

'You remember him, sweetheart. We met him at Cremorne Gardens. Roland Rivers – I hear that he's a great chap when you get to know him, and hugely wealthy.'

 

'Is he really?' Sukey's eyes lit up. 'I remember him now. He's good-looking and rich too. What fun.'

 

The evening had not begun well, and Rosina could not share Sukey's enthusiasm for the outing. She found it difficult to be polite to Rivers, but he either did not remember that Will had tossed him over the balcony of the supper booth at Cremorne Gardens, or he had deliberately chosen to forget the incident. He was all charm and good manners during the train journey to Sydenham and the short walk from the station to the Crystal Palace. Sukey flirted outrageously with Roland, and he did nothing to discourage her, but Rosina was uncomfortable in his presence, even though he said very little to her. It was the way she caught him looking at her that was embarrassing and unnerving – as if he could see through her pink silk gown, through her stays and her cotton lawn chemise to her bare flesh. She kept close to Harry, allowing him to slip his arm round her waist in a familiar fashion as they strolled through the magnificent gardens. If she had not felt so strained and over-anxious, she would have appreciated the setting and enjoyed the open-air concert, but worms of worry niggled her brain. There was something not quite right, although she could not quite put her finger on the cause of her anxiety. They had supper in the garden room of the palace, but she barely tasted the food. Harry, however, ate with a good appetite: he ordered champagne and claret, of which he drank many glasses, as did Roland. Under the influence of the wine, they became loud and effusive with their compliments. Harry's hand strayed to touch her thigh beneath the starched white tablecloth, and Rosina felt herself blushing. She moved her leg, frowning at him, but he merely chuckled and tightened his grip. She could not make a scene in the restaurant, and she turned away from him, sipping her champagne although she did not particularly like the taste. She glanced anxiously at Sukey, who had drunk far too much and had become giggly; she was flirting even more outrageously with Roland. He was leaning towards her, toying with the corsage of silk flowers on her bodice and allowing his fingers to stray to the swell of her breasts above the décolletage of her gown. Sukey should have slapped his hand away, but she seemed to be enjoying the sensation. Rosina could stand it no longer. She rose to her feet. 'It's getting late, Harry. I think we ought to go back to the station.'

 

'Put that girl down, Rivers,' Harry said, getting to his feet. 'There'll be plenty of time for spooning later.'

 

'What do you mean by that?' Rosina demanded.

 

Harry shrugged his shoulders. 'Nothing, my love. It's just a figure of speech.'

 

Outside, the summer evening had dissolved into a purple dusk and the lighting displays, for which the gardens were justly famed, illuminated the scene with dazzling brilliance. A burst of coloured stars followed by a loud bang brought a gasp of appreciation from the spectators who had gathered to watch the firework display.

 

'Oh, how lovely,' Sukey cried, leaning heavily on Roland's arm. 'We must stay and watch the fireworks.'

 

Rosina was torn; she would dearly love to watch the display, but Harry's arm was a little too tightly clasped around her waist for comfort. His hand was straying upwards to touch her breasts. Glancing up at him, she saw a hot look of desire in his eyes, and his breath was wine-scented and warm against her cheek. 'Oughtn't we to be getting back to the station, Harry? We might miss the last train if we don't go now.'

 

He pinched her cheek. 'You are such a little worrier, my pet. We will be in plenty of time to catch the last train, won't we, Rivers?'

 

'Absolutely, old man,' Roland said, winking.

 

'Don't be a spoilsport, Rosie,' Sukey giggled. 'We're having such a splendid time.' She held her champagne glass out to Roland. 'A little more, Roly. I love the bubbles, they tickle my nose.'

 

He laughed and refilled her glass from the champagne bottle that he had taken from their table. 'I would dearly love to tickle your pretty little nose and more, if you'll let me, Sukey.'

 

She sipped the champagne, slanting a coy look at him beneath her lashes. 'You are a wicked man, Roly.'

 

'Drink up, my sweet. Champagne makes your eyes shine like the stars above and brings roses to your cheeks.' Roland poured the bubbling wine into her glass so that it overflowed.

 

'I think she's had quite enough,' Rosina said, casting a pleading glance at Harry. 'We ought to get her home.'

 

'Of course we will, my darling. After the fireworks display has ended, I promise you that we will leave.'

 

She was not convinced: she had seen the look that passed between them, and she sensed that Harry was not telling her the whole truth.

 

A rocket whooshed up into the sky, causing Sukey to shriek with delight. She dropped her glass and clung to Roland, who immediately discarded the bottle and wrapped his arms around her. She did not look like a girl who wanted to be saved from all this impropriety, but Rosina could see that Sukey was not herself. The wine had gone to her head and she was, if Rosina were to be totally frank, drunk. She made a move towards Sukey, but Harry tightened his hold, drawing her to him and claiming her mouth in a kiss that was laced with pent-up passion. His tongue snaked in between her parted lips, exploring her mouth and shocking her with the intensity of his desire. This was not the sweetly sensual way in which he had kissed her on previous occasions and she was panicked by his unashamed lust. She pulled away from him, wiping her lips on the back of her hand.

 

'Harry, we are not married yet.'

 

Seemingly unabashed, he nuzzled her hair. 'You will not push me away then, my pet. I will teach you how to love a man so that you beg me for more.'

 

A series of flashes and bangs with showers of coloured sparks flying up into the air prevented any further conversation. Bats circled crazily overhead and the warm breeze was filled with the scent of roses and night-scented stock. Memories of the evening at Cremorne Gardens came flooding back, and Rosina found herself looking round and praying that her pirate would materialise from nowhere and take her away from all this. But commonsense reasserted itself and she knew that he would not come. Will was probably miles away from London by now and hopefully safe from discovery by the law. Walter would be somewhere on the river, taking the cargo of coal to its destination. Papa was at home, expecting them to return from the theatre very soon. What would he think when they did not arrive?

 

'Aren't you enjoying the fireworks, my love?' Harry's voice was chocolate smooth in her ear.

 

'I really do think we should leave now, Harry. Sukey has drunk far too much champagne and we ought to get her home.'

 

'Of course, darling. You are right as always.' To her surprise and relief, Harry turned to Roland. 'It's time we took the ladies home, Rivers.'

 

'I couldn't agree more.' Roland hitched Sukey's arm around his shoulder. She hung limply, like a puppet with a broken string. 'I may have to carry her, old boy.' He hoisted her into his arms, and grinned as he followed them towards the exit. 'She's light as a feather, but thank goodness it ain't far to the station hotel.'

 

'To the station hotel?' Rosina would have stopped but Harry had her in a firm grasp, and he dragged her with him as he quickened his pace.

 

'Just to wait for the train, sweetheart. And a pot of strong coffee will do Miss Barnum the world of good.'

 

She had no alternative but to walk alongside Harry, but she was determined that she would not set a foot inside the hotel. If Pa were to find out she had done such a thing, he would never forgive her and neither would Bebe. Rosina made up her mind that she would go straight to the platform and wait for the train with Sukey, even if she had to lay her down on one of the benches. As they walked towards the station, she stole a glance at Harry's profile. She was beginning to wonder if he had heard of her mother's reckless escapade with Captain Barnum, which had ruined her reputation. Surely he would not do anything that would put her in a similar situation? He loved her, or so he said, and he wanted to marry her. His intentions became crystal clear as they approached the station hotel, and he led her inexorably towards the main entrance.

 

Rosina dug her heels into the ground, refusing to move. 'I don't want to go to the hotel. We should get the train immediately.'

 

Harry came to a halt, looking down at her with a mocking smile. 'My dear, the last train has gone. See, the station is in darkness. You can go and sit on the platform all night, if you want to, but I suggest we will be much more comfortable in the hotel.'

 

Roland staggered past them with Sukey in his arms. 'Can't walk much further, old chap. I hope you damn well booked the rooms.'

 

'Shut up, and take her inside.'

 

'I will sit on the platform all night then.' Rosina gave him a push that caught him momentarily off balance. She ran towards the station entrance, but Harry was at her side before she had gone more than a couple of paces. He swung her off her feet, carrying her protesting into the hotel.

 

The hall porter looked up in alarm as Rosina struggled and kicked, demanding to be set down. 'Ahem, begging your pardon, sir.'

 

'My wife is a trifle overtired,' Harry said pompously. 'Be good enough to show us into the parlour. Bring wine and brandy.'

 

The porter glanced at Sukey, who had fallen asleep in Roland's arms with her mouth hanging open and was snoring softly. 'And is the other young lady overtired as well, sir?'

 

'Show us into the parlour or I'll report you to the manager and have you sacked for impudence.'

 

'Follow me then, gents.' The porter ambled off down a narrow corridor. He thrust a door open and stood back, grinning.

 

'And don't expect a tip,' Harry said, pushing past him. He loosed his hold on Rosina so that she stumbled and would have fallen if a man had not stepped out of the shadows to catch her.

 

The room was dimly lit by flickering gaslight, and she could not see his face clearly, but she would know the scent of him anywhere. 'Will?' she whispered. 'Is it you?'

 

'It's me, Walter.' He set her on her feet. 'Are you all right, Rosie?'

 

Harry pushed him out of the way. 'Of course she's all right, man. Miss May is my fiancée and you can keep your grubby hands off her.'

 

'It's you who must keep your hands off my daughter.' Edward's voice echoed round the room.

 

'You libertine!' Bertha leapt up from an armchair by the empty grate and she advanced on Harry, bristling like an angry mother hen. 'You can't treat my baby girl like a common harlot. Thank the Lord that Caddie come and told us you'd changed your plans, or heaven knows what might have happened.'

 

'I say, Gostellow. Who are these common people?' Roland dropped the semi-conscious Sukey onto a horsehair sofa. 'This is not at all what I was expecting.'

 

Bertha turned on him. 'And what have you done to that poor innocent girl? Caddie, take a look at her and see that she ain't harmed.'

 

Dazed and unable to believe her eyes or her ears, Rosina leaned against Walter. 'I don't understand. How did you all come to be in this place? How did you know that we would be here?'

 

Caddie knelt by Sukey's prostrate figure. 'She's swipey, that's all. I'd say there's no harm done, not yet anyhow.'

 

'I never touched the girl,' Roland protested. 'It ain't my fault that she can't hold her drink.'

 

Walter glared at him. 'You got her drunk, and it's quite obvious what your intentions were.'

 
BOOK: The Constant Heart
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