“Glad you could join us, Griffin,” Mandeville drawled when they reached the bottom.
The rest of the party was gathered by the stone dock where two low boats were drawn up. Lady Caroline wore a sapphire dress and half-mask that complemented Lord Huff’s deep blue domino. Lady Margaret wore yellow with pink embroidery and bows. Her escort, Lord Bollinger, a slight young man, was in a black domino.
“Phoebe, this is Lord Griffin Reading,” Hero said rather breathlessly. “Lord Griffin, my sister, Lady Phoebe.”
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” Reading said as he bowed gallantly over Phoebe’s hand. “Please forgive me.”
“Not at all.” Phoebe darted a nervous glance at Hero. “There’s nothing to forgive. You’ve arrived just in time.”
“Then let us proceed,” Mandeville said. “Huff, would you like to take my sisters and Lord Bollinger in that boat and we’ll take this one?”
Lord Huff nodded once. “Good plan.”
“My dear?” Mandeville held out his hand to Hero.
She took his hand and stepped gingerly into the barge. Lanterns were affixed to tall posts at either end of the boat, and the long benches were covered in soft cushions.
“Comfortable?” Mandeville asked her.
“Yes, thank you.” Hero smiled at him. He really was quite solicitous of her welfare.
“Watch your step,” Reading said as he helped Phoebe inside. “Wouldn’t want you to have to swim the river.”
Phoebe giggled as she sat next to Hero. “Oh, this is wonderful! The river is like a fairy kingdom at night.”
Hero looked over the water. Lights lit it here and there, coming from boats like theirs, the lanterns reflected in the water. The oars squeaked and splashed as the two wherrymen labored at the stern, and the sound of distant laughter, high and light, floated over the water. Despite the strong river stink, it was rather magical.
“Will there be fireworks, do you think?” Phoebe asked.
“Guaranteed,” Reading said.
He and Mandeville sat across from them. Their black dominos made them nearly look alike in the dim light. But where Mandeville sat upright, his hands braced on his knees, Reading sprawled, legs spread wide apart, arms crossed on his chest.
Hero hastily looked away from him, though there was no way to ignore him in such a small space. She thought of that breathless moment on the stairs when her eyes had locked with his. Of the fact that only yesterday he’d helped her with the home and discussed Herodotus with her, and the day before that she’d agreed to let him accompany her every time she went into St. Giles. She felt a dangerous unsteadiness as if she were still on the stairs about to fall. A trembling giddiness made up equally of expectation and guilt.
“Your mother and I took tea this afternoon,” she said to Mandeville. “She showed me the menu she has devised for our wedding breakfast.”
“Indeed?” He smiled indulgently as Reading glanced away at the water. “I hope it met with your approval?”
“I…” For some reason, she looked at Reading. As if he felt her gaze, he turned back to watch her. He widened his eyes mockingly at her. Hero inhaled, hoping the night hid her blush. “Yes. Yes, she’s planned a lovely celebration of our nuptials.”
Reading rolled his eyes.
“Good,” Mandeville said. “I’m so glad that you and Mother have become friends.”
“It would be hard not to.” Hero smiled with genuine warmth. “Your mother is lovely.”
Reading’s lips curled in amusement at that and he looked away.
“We’re nearly there,” Phoebe said. All this time she’d been peering out over the water. “That’s the dock, isn’t it?”
She glanced at Hero for confirmation.
Hero was aware that Reading’s attention was caught. He was staring at them curiously.
“Yes, dear,” she said, catching Phoebe’s hand. “That looks like the dock.”
But “dock” hardly did the landing area justice. A platform over the river was ablaze with lights, strung on poles. As they neared, Hero could see footmen in fantastic livery helping the rest of their party from their boat. Each footman wore a purple and yellow costume, but each was different: One man was in a striped coat with checkered stockings. Another wore a saffron-colored wig and a purple coat with yellow ribbons. And yet another had a bright yellow coat over a purple spotted waistcoat. They were all whimsical variations on a theme.
Their boat pulled into the dock, and a fellow in a lavender-powdered wig bent to help her from the boat. “Welcome to Harte’s Folly, my lady.”