Page 18 of A Devil in Silk
“We’ve had better evenings,” he said solemnly. A miserable fate awaited them both in the coming weeks, and an afternoon spent at the station-house would eat into what precious time they had to enjoy their freedom.
Then a thought struck him.
“I have an idea where we might go for an hour, a short detour to a park before I take you home.”
He masked the suggestion as casual, though the truth was simpler. Neither of them seemed ready to return to their dull lives just yet.
Her brow furrowed. “A park? At this late hour? Is it not dangerous? I heard there has been a spate of robberies.”
He smiled to himself. This lady courted danger but only when it posed no threat. Then again, having suffered a life-changing injury when falling from her horse, it was only natural she’d proceed with caution.
“This is more a public garden than a park. Somewhere to help us forget the tragedy we witnessed.”
She gave the smallest nod, enough to show she would follow, though her expression revealed nothing of what she felt.
They walked side by side in silence, neither willing to bridge the distance between them. Across the street, onlookers still lingered, hoping to catch a glimpse of something gruesome.
They left the noise of Soho behind, slipping through winding lanes on foot, their problems fading into the blackness of the city. Neither spoke of turning back. The quiet streets felt like stolen time, time they weren’t ready to surrender.
As they neared their destination, he paused outside a narrow shop wedged between a pawnbroker’s and a tobacconist’s and gestured to the worn sign above the door. “Like all polite guests, we cannot arrive empty-handed.”
“Alaric Hatch, Chandler,” she muttered, frowning for the umpteenth time. “Surely the shop is closed. It’s past midnight. The bells of St Anne’s just chimed the hour.”
“The chandler stays open until the violinists go home.”
“Violinists?”
Excitement stirred in his chest.
He knew The Lantern Ring would steal her breath.
“All will be revealed,” he said, playing to her lust for adventure, and speaking as a man who longed for a different life too.
They stepped into the shop, where wicks hung like wilted flowers behind the counter, and shelves brimmed with stubbytapers and reels of twine. The air was thick with the scent of tallow and beeswax.
An old man appeared, his waistcoat streaked with soot, the hump on his back no hindrance. “One for yourself and the lady?” was all the shopkeeper asked, casting an appraising glance over their clothes.
Bentley nodded. He paid and accepted a box of Lucifer matches and two lit lanterns, handing one to his daring companion. “We won’t need to carry them far.”
Miss Dalton smiled as she accepted it, the sight so rare it felt like sunlight breaking through a winter sky. “You certainly know how to leave a lady intrigued.”
A flicker of doubt entered his mind as he escorted her across the street to the alley, its entrance marked by a rusty iron gate. Would Miss Dalton mistake his intentions when she looked upon the romantic scene? Would she avoid him after tonight? Pretend she found his company tedious, as she so often claimed?
Strains of music reached them, the delicate rise and fall of a violin weaving through the night air like the echo from a hidden ballroom.
Miss Dalton looked at him before holding her lantern aloft and navigating the dim passage. “Is it a piece you recognise? It’s slower, more seductive than the usual ballroom waltz, like the violin bow lingers on every note, pulling you deeper into its spell.”
“The men who play here come from all over Europe. I’m told you never hear the same piece twice.”
“You’ve not been here before?” she said, surprised.
“No.” He didn’t mention it was a place frequented by lovers, or that most people danced and kissed beneath the starlight.
“Not even with Lady Mersham?”
“Certainly not.” He cringed at the mention of his former mistress. Most men would avoid the subject, but he knew MissDalton valued honesty. “She would sooner die than be seen wandering the streets of Soho, or listening to musicians who weren’t performing in a Mayfair gallery.”
“She had no desire to learn about life beyond the gilded cage?”
