Page 117 of From Rakes to Riches

The next morning, Lola followed the oyster shell walkway into Vauxhall Gardens. She wore a smile for no particular reason. Or perhaps she did have one; the secret she shared with Theodore and no one else.A good secret.Unlike all the others she kept. This secret made her hopeful. Even knowing they could only have a physical relationship, her body hummed from his kisses last night. His kisses, and so much more.

Looking ahead toward the promenade, she quickly averted her path, veering off behind the pavilion to keep out of sight. The Bow Street Runners had returned and were standing in conversation with Morland near one of the supper boxes. She didn’t know if they’d come because Theodore informed them about the incident last night or if the Runners had other questions to ask, but in either situation she didn’t wish to be seen.

She hurried toward the Gothic Ruins, an elaborate garden full of towering statuary and sleek columns recreating ancient monuments from England, Italy, and beyond. The archways and follies there provided the perfect place to hide for a while,especially since the surroundings were so pretty. In that way, the Gothic Ruins were the complete opposite of the Pleasure Paths. The mood was airy and light compared to the intended privacy of the close walks. Here, roses in every color filled rotund plaster urns, intermittently spaced between ironwork benches where variegated colored lamps painted with transparent designs hung overhead on ornate hooks.

Shortly after she’d entered, she heard a violin’s sentimental serenade. Marco sat perched on the wide marble platform of the Baroque fountain at the center of the tiled square. He lowered his bow when he noticed her approach.

“Are you hiding too?” she asked in lieu of a greeting.

“Not at all.” He put down his violin and placed his bow in the leather bag at his feet. “I was practicing a new song. Why are you hiding?”

“Morland is talking to the Runners again,” she said, wondering if Sofia had told anyone else about what had happened during the presentation of the Cascade, but Marco looked unbothered.

“I don’t know who’s worse to have nosing around here. Your nob or those Runners.”

“Lord Essex is only trying to find out what happened to his friend,” she said and settled on the edge of the fountain beside him, tracing her fingertips across the surface of the water to cause a series of ripples.

“How quickly you rush to his defense,” Marco said. “You’re taken with him.”

“Why would you say that?” she asked, watching him closely.

“I can see it in your eyes, in everything about you,” he said, his voice lower.

She shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to respond.

“He’s only using you, Lola.”

“That’s not true,” she replied, shaking her head in disagreement.

“It’s what nobs do. You know that. They use people like us and then when they become bored, they discard us just as easily. Their only loyalty is to themselves.”

“Not this time.”

“You trust him more than me?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Lola knew Marco had his own reasons for resenting members of the aristocracy, but she wouldn’t allow him to speak poorly of Theodore. “The earl isn’t like that.”

He laughed, although the sound held no humor. “Since when do you believe otherwise? Look what happened with your father. Years of loyal friendship meant nothing to the duke when it threatened his purse and pride.”

She couldn’t argue his point because it was true, but she had to say something to convince Marco this situation was unique. “You don’t know Lord Essex. He’s different. He wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Would you know it if he did? You live outside his world. You only know what he tells you.”

She swallowed her immediate objection, disliking Marco’s accusations because, again, he was probably right. She had no way to know what Theodore did when he wasn’t with her. It was a matter of trust. But that fact mocked her. She hadn’t trusted the earl enough to be honest with him since the start.

“Maybe he has no need to lie,” Marco continued even though she’d remained quiet.

“Why would you say that?” She looked at him, her frustration making her tone sharp.

“If you simply give him what he’s after—” Marco didn’t finish his sentence, the implication clear.

She pushed off the edge of the fountain and stood. She’d heard enough. “How I spend my time is no longer your concern.”

“I know. You tell me often enough. But as your friend, it’s difficult to stand by and watch you make poor choices.”

“Then don’t watch,” she said, turning her back and walking away.

She knew Marco meant well, even if his words were partially fueled by jealousy, but she still didn’t want to argue about it. She’d already decided whatever she shared with Theodore could only be physical because the reasons were immutable.

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