Instead of the shadowed serenity of the gardens at night, the place was brightly lit with dozens of globes of light strung between the trees—Chinese paper lanterns, if he wasn’t mistaken.
And there were people moving around, lots of people, elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen, drinking and chatting and laughing for all the world as if they were at Vauxhall instead of the much smaller and very private Bellaire Gardens. What on earth?
Curious as to the occasion, he went downstairs and entered the garden through his back gate. It looked beautiful, he had to admit, with the glowing lanterns lighting up the evening, throwing shadows, patterning the leaves. What was the occasion? Hearing music playing, he made his way toward it.
“Oho, cheeky aren’t you, sneaking in that way?” a feminine voice called. “We were told to enter through Lady Scattergood’s.” Leo turned. It was a lady of his acquaintance whose name he could not immediately recollect. He smiled and bowed, murmured something inconsequential and moved on.
“Delightful party, Salcott,” said a portly gentleman who was a member of his club. Alder? Aldridge? Some name like that. “Didn’t think you were going to make it.”
“Been on the road.” Leo gestured to his traveling clothes, though why he should be expected to attend a party when he had no idea who was holding—
A thought struck him. No. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.
“Charmin’ gels, your wards,” another gentleman said.
Leo smiled, trying not to grit his teeth, and moved on.
“Congratulations on holding such a bold and unusual event,” a Roman-nosed matron wearing an enormous feathered turban told him. “The hostesses of the ton will be gnashing their collective teeth in envy. A twilightsoirée au jardin—such a clever conceit and so refreshingly unusual.”
Leo moved through the crowd, smiling, inclining his head in greeting, and uttering meaningless politenesses. Where the devil were those blasted girls? And how on earth had they managed to collect such a distinguished and fashionable crowd of guests?
“You were uncommonly lucky with the weather, Salcott,” someone said. “Rain would have ruined everything.”
“Yes, wouldn’t it?” Leo agreed grimly, wishing for a downpour at this very instant. But the sky remained cloudless and the air almost balmy, curse it. And where were all the blasted biting insects when you needed them?
“A delightful event, Lord Salcott,” an elegant lady of the ton greeted him. She’d been one of Race’s flirts, he recalled.
“Have you seen Lord Randall?” he asked. Because surely they would have invited Race. And if he’d known about it and not told Leo...
Her smile froze. “Lord Randall?” she said as if she’d never heard of him. “Why on earth would I know? Or care?” She drifted languidly away, and he recalled that she’d been mightily displeased when Race had declined to take it further than flirting.
He prowled through the crowds, searching.
“I hadn’t realized you’d become the guardian of Sir Bartleby’s gels, Leo, m’boy,” a friend of his father’s told him. “Could have knocked me over with a feather.”
“I think Studley originally intended the role for my father,” Leo said.
“Wouldn’t have minded taking on the dark-haired one for him. What a little beauty, eh?” He nudged Leo and gave a sly chuckle.
Leo wanted to punch him but had to content himself with “It is a responsibility I take very seriously,” delivered with a hard look in a freezing voice.
“Yes, yes, of course,” the old lecher said hastily. “Delightful party. Thank you for the invitation.”
SoLeohad invited all these people had he? Hah!
The summerhouse was ablaze with light. He looked in and to his surprise there was his aunt, seated on her peacock throne, holding court, surrounded by a group of older ladies and a few gentlemen, her little dogs seated at her feet. How on earth had the girls persuaded her out of the house?
She saw him and waved regally. “Leo, dear boy, you’re late. Whatever kept you? Matteo, a drink for my nephew.”
Beaming, Matteo hurried forward with a glass of wine. “Welcome ’ome, milor’.”
Leo glowered.Et tu, Matteo?
Matteo beamed at him. “Is all going superbly, milor’. Everybody we invite has come. Is a grand success!” He didn’t seem the least bit self-conscious. No shadow of guilt crossed his open face. No, Matteo wasn’t responsible for this betrayal of trust.
Leo frowned. How had they done it? Somehow those two girls had roped his aunt and Matteo into this completely unauthorized, ridiculously fashionable, surprisingly well-organized party. Held inhisname! Without a word to him from anyone. He didn’t even know half the people here.
He glanced at the group surrounding his aunt. From his aunt’s generation, he recognized among them a duchess, two countesses, an Austrian princess, a Polish baroness and a smattering of other distinguished-looking ladies.
