Defying the Earl (20 page)

Wilhelmina focused on her sister beneath the counterpane and beleaguered by a restless sleep. Livie moaned, her brow damp with sweat. Near her bedside the jar of her medicinal ointment stood opened, and there were used rags littering the floorboards bearing evidence to a round of cramping and discomfort.

“How long has she been like this?”

Aunt Kate didn’t reply and Wilhelmina wondered if her aunt was lost to worry or simply hadn’t heard the concerned whisper. Unwilling to raise her voice and disrupt what little rest Livie might find, Wilhelmina touched her aunt’s arm and signaled they step to the hallway.

Once able to speak in a louder voice, she hurriedly questioned the situation. “How is Livie? Has she declined during the night?”

“I don’t understand what’s happened. She’d made such improvement of late. Now I’m so worried.” Aunt Kate grimaced, her eyes shining with tears, as if she experienced the same pain as her niece, confined to the bed behind her. “She seemed unusually fatigued earlier, so after you left we summoned Dr. Morris. He arrived within an hour and examined Livie, although he didn’t appear as concerned as I thought he might be. He mentioned that the muscles needed to be stretched and exercised often for flexibility and there would be soreness or discomfort after each vigorous session. He also recommended we continue with the menthol ointment and therapeutic massage at a higher intensity, but already, Livie withstands such pain.” She finished on an emotional note, unable to keep her distress composed.

“Well, if the doctor showed no concern, maybe we need to accept this as part of the process that will lead to Livie’s good health? Dr. Morris’ advice has been our salvation. No other doctor wanted to invest time in Livie’s recovery, confining her to a chair and offering little alternative.” Whimsy clasped her aunt’s hands to offer reassurance. “I know it’s difficult to see Livie in pain. I feel as if it’s my own, but I have to believe in the doctor’s plan. Livie has made great strides since we’ve begun the therapy sessions.” She sent a silent prayer upward in hope it might assuage the guilt in her heart.

When Aunt Kate failed to reply, Wilhelmina examined her face with scrutiny. “What is it? Did something else occur? Did the doctor say more?”

“It’s nothing to trouble you with, Whimsy.” She glanced over her shoulder where the door stood open, Livie asleep and quiet at last. “Your sister has been through so much, I hope these treatments and the discomfort they produce prove to be the remedy to her leg cramps. I couldn’t bear to see her waste away. You lost the house and sold all belongings. There’s so little left of your family, aside from me and now I’m unable to help. Your parents, your mother would be so very disappointed.” In an absent motion, she removed her hand from Wilhelmina’s grasp and felt for the charm bracelet which usually adorned Whimsy’s wrist. “You didn’t wear it tonight? But you always do.”

Wilhelmina hesitated in the telling, but there really wasn’t anything for it. “I sold Mother’s bracelet.”

“Good heavens, why would you do such a thing?” Her aunt’s uncontrolled outburst expressed a plethora of emotions, all of which Whimsy had chastised herself with on occasion.

“These treatments are costly. The necessary ointments, visits from Dr. Morris and his nurse, Livie and I—”

“Your sister agreed to this?” Aunt Kate’s expression transformed to one of pure disapproval, her mouth turned in a meaningful frown. “I already feel as though I’m failing you and your sister, never mind your parents, may they rest in peace. I’m appalled you would have so little confidence in my ability to care for you both.” She released a shuddered breath signaling the threat of newfound distress.

Wilhelmina bit her inner cheek battling the tumult of emotions bombarding the day. She hadn’t considered Aunt Kate’s feelings, lost in worry for her sister’s health, and all the while shoving aside the hurt and disappointment from Valerian’s deceit.

The carriage ride home had seemed endless.

Now, overcome with disappointment, she crumbled in a fit of tears. “I’m so sorry.” The words were interrupted by sobs and sniffles. “I feel wretched if in any way I’ve added to your distress.” Her heart broke in so many directions she couldn’t make sense of her feelings.

“Oh, my dear.” Her aunt encircled her in a hug. “I think we’re all a little defeated by this evening.”

Her aunt had no idea.

“I insist that you return to the shop and reclaim the bracelet. Use the funds that you were given, as I will have none of it. And know, without a doubt, one way or the other we will see your sister well.”

Wilhelmina noticed her aunt didn’t deny the treatment’s cost impacted her finances. It was familial commitment, combined with dignity and affection, which kept Aunt Kate dedicated to their care. Indeed, the situation had grown desperate. Without question Wilhelmina would continue her quest to accumulate funds to pay Dr. Morris, her next appointment as prompt as the morning.

With Livie in a fitful sleep, she returned Aunt Kate’s tight embrace and said good night. Then she fled to her bedchamber anxious to hide how quickly fresh tears began falling, this time Valerian’s deception the cause.

“What are you doing here?” Lord Rigby strode into his study, a look of irritation and anger etched in the furrows of his forehead as deep as his disgruntled tone.

“I’ve come to collect payment.” Valerian took an assertive step forward, his temper on a short leash.

Rigby blustered some type of harrumph which Valerian interpreted as disbelief, but he was more than determined. The old earl had no idea how Valerian’s conscience had drilled holes in his heart all through the night. He’d keep the initial draft and demand the remaining funds, otherwise there was little prospect he’d ever be able to restore Kirby Park.

“Why would I deem to make payment when at current my son is on his way to Gretna Green? He’s promised his mother a proper wedding upon his return but as he so neatly stated last evening ‘he wished not to waste one more minute breathing without Fiona as his wife’. Poetic rubbish.” Rigby shook his head in defeated disgust. “You should have stepped forward and corroborated my statements.”

“You purported exaggerations and falsehoods. I would have employed a lighter touch, not to mention a main component of our agreement was for me to achieve the result in anonymity.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. There was little defense Rigby could suggest for his behavior.

“How will I explain this debacle to my consort in Parliament? It’s a complete betrayal.” Rigby poured himself a brandy and swallowed it in one gulp.

“You speak of betrayal when you enlisted my help and then upended the plan simultaneously sabotaging our arrangement and muddying my reputation.” Val needn’t mention he’d never planned to execute the proposed scheme. His memories of Wilhelmina’s wounded expression served well to compound the role of
matchbreaker
was nothing more than a foolish endeavor, his character woven of different fiber; unable to cause fatal disharmony between Fiona and Leonard. But more so, and with unexpected sincerity, he’d never anticipated Whimsy. Once he’d learned she would gain funds by her valiant cause, he’d lost all motivation. Once he’d shared her lovely company and kissing her senseless, he’d lost his heart.

“You’ve no reputation to speak of, neither as respected peer or
matchbreaker
and you’ll damn well have to suggest a better reason than pride if you wish to receive one penny from my pocket. You are a gentleman who can’t afford pride.”

“Any misdoings are on your conscience, Rigby, not mine. I was out of the room when you took matters into your own hands. We had an arrangement and you reneged. Never was it mentioned that I would forfeit payment due to your lapse in judgment and temper.”

“You didn’t see Nobles.” Rigby fisted his hands and shook them as if he wished to punch something, or perhaps someone. “He grinned with smug satisfaction every time Leonard paid Fiona attention or she twittered at some inane comment. He bested me and was gloating in front of the entire party. It was unbearable.”

“Call it what you will.” Valerian dared a mocking smile. “As soon as you write me that draft, I’ll be on my way.”

Wilhelmina met the early morning bustle with determined strides, her walking boots clicking a steady tempo on the street as she maneuvered through the congested shoppers and aimed toward The Ivy and Lace Tea Shop. She’d kept the card Lady Rigby had provided and checked the information twice, more anxious than ever to meet Lady Worsley and secure a new matchmaking opportunity.

Livie was much improved this morning having eventually found fitful sleep through the night. They’d shared conversation during breakfast and one would never have guessed her sister had suffered the night before, Livie’s usual cheerful demeanor intact, but they were far from self-assurance concerning Livie’s malady and it would be more than foolish to believe the problem solved.

It eased Wilhelmina’s conscience and cemented her purpose for this morning’s endeavor. And too, she’d awoken with a new resolve and determination to purge Lord Dashwood from her life. It didn’t signify the haunting memory of his deceit kept her awake with contrary emotions of anger and hurt. How dare he tease her with his charming voice and midnight eyes implying he cared about her welfare? What did it matter that the memory of his kiss caused her to tremble? A snake bite would give her the same reaction with a result just as painful.

No, she resigned to disregard him thoroughly. It was merely a case of mind over matter. She would forget their dance, the enticing masculine scent of his cologne and the strength of his hand pressed to the small of her back. She would rid her memory of his lips, the charming little scar near the right corner of his mouth, the tempting invitation of his exhale before he pulled her into a kiss so hot it singed her eyebrows. It didn’t matter that he was ridiculously handsome, the deep rich timber of his voice ever causing a delightful shiver down her spine. He’d plotted against her after offering his assistance. It was villainous indeed, and she would see him banished from her brain and locked permanently from her heart. Decision made.

The tea shop came into view and Wilhelmina hoped to give the impression of meeting a friend, their conversation one of several in the crowded room where no one would be suspicious of two ladies taking refreshment in the corner.

She avoided an oncoming carriage, took note of the wheel ruts near the curb and crossed the street. Grasping the shining brass handle, she entered the shop and scanned the occupants, the room crammed with avid shoppers. Drawn to the corner table, her eyes fell upon a beautiful woman. Wilhelmina could only see her profile, but the image she posed was one of refined fashion, her petite figure and elegant attire as lovely as a rare porcelain figurine. She wore no bonnet, her glossy shoulder-length hair the color of strong coffee, arranged neatly within an amber ribbon, the contrast to her alabaster skin remarkable. Her cheeks held a natural pink glow, while her lips matched the hue. Wilhelmina might have discerned the color of her eyes, despite the distance, if it weren’t for her long lashes and speculative concentration on an overturned teacup set upon its saucer, their signal of identification.

Surely this beautiful woman of refinement could capture the heart of any man, why so ever would she need to engage a matchmaker? Intimidated by the situation’s curiosity, Wilhelmina stepped backward, more instinct than cowardice, but when the bell on the door signaled a visitor entered behind her, she was forced further into the room. With a deep breath, she steeled her courage and approached the table.

At close proximity, Lady Worsley’s beauty proved unsettling. She was perfection, indeed. Her figure, curved in all the right places, was shown to great advantage by her topaz morning dress, the muslin pleated over her bosom where it met with a long drape of white sarsnet. A fashionable silk pelisse edged in delicate ecru lace completed her assemble.

Wilhelmina noted every detail while her confidence shrank measure for measure. She offered a slight smile and took the chair facing the doorway to provide a view were an acquaintance to enter. This tea shop was located on the outskirts of town, but one could never predict who was shopping and where they’d choose to take refreshments. She placed her gloves on the tabletop and noticed Lady Worsley did the same, her right wrist encircled with a trio of bracelets, one more beautiful than the next.

For a fleeting moment, Wilhelmina lamented the loss of her mother’s charms but dismissed the notion with affirmation. If she solidified this meeting and endeavored a new opportunity, she would return to The Serendipity Shop straight after tea.

“Thank you for coming.” Lady Worsley offered a congenial smile. “Lady Rigby assured me of your discretion.”

“I hope I can help you.” Wilhelmina strove for confidence but her words sounded dubious.

Lady Worsley righted her cup and with a glance over her shoulder made eye contact with a serving girl who appeared moments later with a steeping pot of tea. Once their refreshments were settled, conversation began.

“Let me explain.” Lady Worsley lifted her cup and took a dainty sip, then exhaled softly. “By the question in your expression, you’re wondering why I would need assistance from a matchmaker, but my circumstances are far from ordinary. I’ve returned to London with an unconventional history.” Having pushed past what seemed the more difficult part of the conversation she took another sip of tea and continued with brisk competence. “Two years ago I was expecting a child. My beau and I traveled to America but he fell ill soon after we arrived and did not survive the winter. Circumstances worsened from there. I experienced a difficult pregnancy which threatened my life and claimed my daughter’s. Although I’m wealthier than most I’m not immune having left London amidst scandal, my homecoming is all the more controversial. It has taken years of pleading from my mother and a good share of loneliness to force my return. Now that I’m here, I wish to pursue a brighter future.”

The explanation was delivered with a noticeable lack of emotion and Wilhelmina wondered if the lady strove to withhold her sentiments or possessed a haughtier demeanor than her delicate appearance revealed. “I see.” She forced her eyes to flit across the room in hope they were no longer flared with surprise. She’d never expected such a complicated story and wondered whether she was far beyond her capabilities, but the latter thought was cut short as Lady Worsley continued, still absent of any outward threat of emotion.