The Wolfe Wager (10 page)

“He seems shockingly attentive.” Aunt Carolyn chuckled, and Vanessa was glad they could laugh together in the way that had been customary at Wolfe Abbey.

“From the way he chastens me on the slightest thing and worries constantly about the state of my health, I believe he wishes to replace my father.”

Instead of the rebuke Vanessa expected, her aunt mused, “I had not considered he might have such an interest in you.”

“I would as lief he found someone more in need of a parent than me.”

“Vanessa, do curb that tongue of yours before it gets you into trouble this evening.”

“Too late.” She laughed, delighted with the sound. Perhaps Leale was correct. She had become too obsessed with her yearning to find Corey. She needed to laugh more.

Aunt Carolyn started to retort, but halted as a deeper voice said, “I hope you haven’t been avoiding me, Lady Mansfield.” Captain Hudson offered them a scintillating smile. “I would be heart-wrenched if I thought I could not steal your company for a few moments of catching up on all those
years
since we have last talked.”

“I can assure you, Captain, that I had no intention of distressing you,” Aunt Carolyn answered with a laugh as full of music as a lark’s song. “The rôle of hostess can be an exacting one.”

He offered his arm. “Then allow me to reminisce with you while I escort you about your duties.”

“Do go,” Vanessa urged when she saw her aunt hesitate. “I shall not be alone. I see the baronet coming with my wine.”

Whether the idea suffering Sir Wilbur’s company or the glitter in the captain’s eyes weighed more heavily in her decision, Aunt Carolyn placed her hand on the captain’s arm and went with him to where another guest was entering the parlor. They were, Vanessa decided, an uncommonly handsome couple.

“Here, my lady. A bit of wine will—”

Vanessa gasped as wine splattered her gown. She looked from the spots all along the front of it to Sir Wilbur’s distraught face.

“Oh, no!” He reached under his coat for a handkerchief and dabbed at the wine. When she pulled back, he colored as red as the wine. “My lady, I’m sorry. Don’t think me a souse-crown. I would never drink myself blind in your company, for I would as lief drink in your bewitching beauty. I—”

“It’s nothing,” Vanessa said to hault his babbling which was drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

“Your lovely gown. I fear for the ribbons, and the lace …” Again he reached toward her. “It must be cleaned posthaste.”

“Sir Wilbur!” She blocked his fingers only inches from her breast. If he thought an overturned glass allowed him
carte blanche
to touch her bodice, he must be set to rights immediately.

He backed away. “My lady, you should know I only wish to help.”

“If you wish to help,” she answered, fearing it was impossible to talk sense with him, “please convey to my aunt that I shall return as quickly as possible. I must remove the wine from the silk before it is ruined.”

“Ruined?” He put his hand on her arm, but pulled it back when she glared at him. “My lady, you must allow me to replace this exquisite dress.”

“Sir, I could not accept such a gift under any circumstances.” Her voice thawed when she saw consternation lengthening his full face. “Certainly I could not accept such a gift when the spill was an accident.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, bobbing like an overweight bird. “That is what it was. An accident. I shall tell your aunt of this unfortunate
accident
.”

Vanessa bit her lip to still her laughter. What a pompous shuttle-head! He had latched onto her excuse as if it was his own. Her urge to laugh disappeared as he continued.

“You must be more careful, my lady.”

More careful? Her?
Vanessa clenched her damp gown. Slipping past the guests before someone else took note of her disheveled state, Vanessa wondered what the baronet would say to her aunt. No doubt, he would lambast Aunt Carolyn for failing to teach her niece a lady’s graces.

By the elevens! This evening was even worse than she had feared it would be.

“Good evening, my lady.”

The voice, which was more sonorous than Captain Hudson’s, halted her in midstep. Vanessa whirled to face Lord Brickendon.

“Where have you been?” she asked, knowing she was being outrageous, but—at the moment—not caring.

“I realize I came by lame post, but I thought you would wish me to appear in prime twig to assist in your nonconquest of the baronet.” He laughed and put his hand on the newel post of the second-floor stairs.

She had to own that the cut of his navy coat was the rage. It was unbuttoned to reveal the sheen of his white waistcoat. A cascade of starched ruffles dropped from his high collar and peeked from his cuffs. Breeches of the same immaculate shade as his snowy cravat were a sedate contrast to the shining buckles on his shoes. As he bowed over her fingers, recalcitrant locks of ebony hair drifted toward the strong line of his cheekbones.

His elegant clothes reminded her of the state of her own. Setting her face into a serene expression to cover her tumult, she said, “Lord Brickendon, I must ask you to excuse me while I repair the damage to my gown. My aunt—” She halted herself. She had not told Aunt Carolyn she had invited the viscount.

He chuckled as he boldly eyed her from the flowers in her hair to the tip of her wine-spotted slippers. Warmth slapped her cheeks. He must have noticed her high color, but said only, “Your appearance and your sharp greeting give me no doubt that Franklin has preceded me this evening.”

Vanessa started to laugh, then clamped her lips closed. She should give this man no encouragement to speak so coarsely.

“Oh, blast it!” he went on. “I haven’t enjoyed your hospitality for a minute before I have clearly insulted you. What can I do to beg your forgiveness, my lady?”

“Introduce the baronet to some other eligible woman while I am changing into something he has not bedecked with wine.”

Lord. Brickendon’s smile lightened her dreary spirits, and she laughed as he said, “’Tis a high price to pay for a few badly spoken words, but a knave deserves to be given his oatmeal. Do hurry, for even a hapless knave should not have to suffer interminably.” As she put her foot on the first stair, his hand settled on hers on the railing. “My lady, I am not hoaxing you when I say you look lovely tonight.”

Delight swirled through her as his fingers stroked hers so lightly the potent sensation could have come from her sweetest dream. Odd how swiftly she found a sincere smile when she spoke with Lord Brickendon, for she doubted if much of what he said and did was with sincerity. He seemed to be delighted to observe the foibles of others and hid the truth of his thoughts with a dexterity that awed her. Yet when they stood this close and the warmth of his breath brushed her face and his hand covered hers, she yearned to believe his easy grin was real. With her eyes level with his, she saw golden sparks dancing there. As they crinkled, she slowly drew her hand from beneath his. He said no more as she climbed the stairs.

She did not look back until she had rounded the top, then watched until he had disappeared into the parlor. The glorious warmth left by his fingers did not fade quickly. Nor did the happiness bubbling within her as she thought of Lord Brickendon’s smile. Seeing it gave her the courage to face what she must do tonight. Sir Wilbur must not clutter up her life any longer. She began to plot how she could rid her life of him.

She grinned. She could always dump a glass of wine on
him!

“… and that is why Ethel is still feeling ill. Did you ever hear of such foolishness, my lady?”

Vanessa considered answering that every word from Sir Wilbur’s mouth was as cockle-brained. The gabble-grinder had been talking endless nonsense all evening. Even through supper, while he explained in gruesome minutia how his father had suffered from the gout, his words had rained nonstop on her ears.

“Franklin, I must admire your rare intelligence in monopolizing our hostess’s company this evening,” Lord Brickendon interjected, “but I have come to put an end to that.”

“I thought I would have the first chance alone to …” The baronet swallowed so roughly Vanessa could hear his gulp.

“I noticed the lady looking longingly at the sideboard and thought she might be thirsty.” Lord Brickendon smiled as he handed Vanessa a glass of wine. “White, my lady. To match the color of your gown.”

She smiled at his impertinent answer. She wondered if the viscount was serious about anything, then silenced that thought. He had been appropriately somber when he returned the note to her this afternoon.

She had no chance to thank him for the wine or for saving her ears from more of Sir Wilbur’s prattle, because Aunt Carolyn joined them, saying, “My friends, the card tables await our skill. Lord Brickendon, would you join Miss Averill, Captain Hudson, and me? The Downings hope you’ll play against them with Sir Wilbur, Vanessa.”

Vanessa glanced at Lord Brickendon. He gave a sardonic shrug as he offered his arm to her aunt. Seeing his wry grin, she smiled. Aunt Carolyn had arranged things so well that even the viscount could not be counted on to help her suffer through an evening with the baronet.

And suffer is what Vanessa did. Not only her ears, which were beaten with more of Sir Wilbur’s tiresome tales of woe and Penelope’s nothing-sayings, but her pockets. The baronet seemed to have no head for the simplest game. Even when she explained the rules to him over and over, he made the same mistakes. Yet he refused to let the game end, even when the other guests began to depart in the hours past midnight.

More than once, Vanessa saw Lord Brickendon look in her direction with a sympathetic smile. She smiled back and resisted laughing at the game they were playing. He could not help her, and she could not escape, but surely the night would come to an eventual end. When the viscount rose to take his leave, he came to where Vanessa was listening to Penelope and Sir Wilbur struggling through yet another debate about a rule of the game.

“Thank you for your invitation, my lady,” Lord Brickendon said as he bowed over her hand. “The evening has provided all the entertainment I would have wished.” With a nod to the others, he added, “Good evening, sir, madam. I assume I shall see you at Brooks’s tomorrow evening, Franklin.”

The baronet raised his eyes from his cards and arched his eyebrows. Patting Vanessa’s hand possessively, he replied, “Do not assume anything, Brickendon.”

“I never do. Leaving things to chance is the road to defeat.” Smiling as Sir Wilbur sputtered at Lord Brickendon’s words, which must have meant more to him than they did to Vanessa, he turned on his heel and left.

Vanessa lowered her cards to the table as a strange, forlorn sensation washed through her, leaving fatigue in its wake. She wished the night would come to its conclusion, but Penelope and the baronet had already resumed their disagreement. Only when the Downings excused themselves did Sir Wilbur accept that the game had come to a close.

Vanessa bid the Downings good evening and watched as Aunt Carolyn escorted them down the stairs to the front door. She was not surprised when Captain Hudson accompanied them. The captain had been as attentive to her aunt as Sir Wilbur had been to her. With a grimace at the thought, she went to where Sir Wilbur was rising from the table.

“My lady, you have been so patient with my bumbling this evening.” He poured himself another glass of her aunt’s best port. He glanced around the room, which was empty save for himself and Vanessa. His smile was one of a man who had crept into favor with himself. “I learn these new card games slowly, but I have found that kindness and patience are the reward of a gentle teacher.”

Vanessa almost retorted that she had no interest in being kind and that her patience had become as thin as an anatomy’s shadow. Walking to the door, so that he would have to acknowledge that the time to leave had long since passed, she said, “My aunt and I are pleased you were able to join us this evening. I am sure she will tell you so herself when she returns.”

“That may be a while.” He chuckled and drained the glass. Putting it on the table, he wobbled across the room, clearly worse for the wine he had been drinking. “Captain Hudson won a lion’s share of her time this evening.”

“Our families are friends of long standing.”

“As I hope you and I shall be able to say some day.” His smile faded when she continued toward the stairs. “I shudder at the thought of you ladies living alone. These times are not without peril.”

“I can reassure you. The staff comes from Wolfe Abbey. My father accepted no one in his household but the most competent.” She smiled, because she knew several ears—the most important belonging to Quigley—would be listening on Aunt Carolyn’s orders. Her fingers slid along the silken wood of the bannister. Glancing at the shadowed foyer below, she saw no one. That astonished her. She had thought Aunt Carolyn would be waiting there to say good night to their final guest.

When they reached the octagonal foyer, she surreptitiously looked out the half-opened door. Quigley stood on the walkway, a discreet distance from where Aunt Carolyn was admiring Captain Hudson’s horse. Vanessa smiled at the light sound of her aunt’s voice.

The baronet said, “You need someone to look after you. Your aunt seems to have found someone. So should you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

His full face broadened with a smile. “My lady, I mean no insult, but you are unaccustomed to the ways of Town, for you have spent most of your life in grassville. You need someone to guide you.”

“Aunt Carolyn—”

“Can be as naïve as you if she allows you to ride about Town unchaperoned.”

“Leale is always with me.” When he put his hands on her shoulders, she took a step back. “Sir, I fear you have pulled the pig by the ear if you confuse the hospitality of this house for something else.”

“You need never fear anything with me. I wish only to safeguard you.”

The temptation to laugh tickled her as she tried to envision the baronet as a dashing knight bustling his round form across the castle moat to save his lady fair. She flinched as she thought of Lord Brickendon’s words. She could imagine him coming to her rescue over the corpse of a fire-breathing dragon.