The Wolfe Wager (12 page)

Vanessa regarded her with bafflement. “You didn’t want to call on Aunt Carolyn?”

“Would you be willing to give me all the luscious details if Lady Mansfield was present?”

“Of the party?”

Eveline giggled as she peered over the top of the
modiste
’s head. “You need not pretend with me. Is it true what Mrs. Garber told me? Did you really have Sir Wilbur Franklin tossed out onto the Square?”

“Do stand still!” implored Madame deBerg. “The hem will be askew, Miss Clarke, if you continue to wiggle and jump about the room like a crazed rabbit.”

“Is it the truth?” continued Eveline, irrepressible. Her cheeks dimpled. “Oh, Vanessa, say that it is! It is too amusing!”

Vanessa was torn between embarrassment and laughter. She chose the latter. If Eveline had heard the news, it must have spread completely throughout the Polite World. “I wish you had been feeling more like yourself, Eveline. I swear that Quigley nearly smiled when he sent the baronet flying through the door.”

“Quigley? Smiled? No!” She grimaced as Madame deBerg muttered another warning. “And Lady Mansfield? Surely she must be distressed.”

“Aunt Carolyn has owned that the baronet must have been born at Hogs Norton, because his manners are so intolerable.” Vanessa could not bring herself to speak Sir Wilbur’s name. With a shudder, she stood. “But that contemptible situation is over, for I doubt that even he would be foolish enough to present himself at our door again in the wake of his dismissal.”

“It shan’t be over until you betroth yourself.” Eveline stepped down from the low pedestal and turned toward the dressing room. Looking over her shoulder, she added, with a sly smile, “I heard as well that Lord Brickendon attended the party last night. Oh, how I wish I had been able to be there! He is quite in dash.” Her smile vanished. “But you must be careful, Vanessa. He is a rogue of the first stare with his
à suivie
flirtations. I wish you would allow me to introduce you to Mr. Symmes. He is the dearest man. I know you would like him. Besides, he belongs to the same club as Lord Greybrooke. I understand they are good friends. We could go to the Park together to meet them next week. With your aunt to chaperone us, we—”

“Enough,” she interrupted with a laugh. “I have no need of your matchmaking. Aunt Carolyn batters my ears every day with her determination to find me a husband. Do be a friend, and leave off with this.”

Eveline shook her head, sending her ruddy curls cascading along her neck. “And right your aunt is! You need to find a man to marry. You are too kind and sweet to be left on the shelf. I shall speak with my brother Edgar the next time I see him. He is coming to Town before the end of the week. Mayhap a dear friend he has met during his studies in Cambridge will touch your heart.”

“Eveline, please don’t do that.”

“Nonsense.” Ignoring Madame deBerg, who was picking up scraps of lace and pins from the floor, Eveline rushed to Vanessa. She took Vanessa’s hands in hers. Tears filled her olive eyes. “I fear you have forgotten how to be happy. It behooves me, as your dearest bosom-bow, to lighten your heart and help you forget your grief.”

“I do not want to forget my grief. Not for a moment!” Vanessa saw Eveline’s dismay, and, although she wished everyone would let her lead her life as she wanted, she remembered her vow. Smiling with Eveline usually was not a task, but today it was. She loathed being false with Eveline, but did not want to burden her bosom-bow with the truth. Dear Eveline had enough heartache of her own. “Forgive my outburst, Eveline. The truth is that I shall forget my grief when the time is right.”

“Forget it now, and tell me all about last night.”

Vanessa smiled. Eveline was quite the opposite of her dour father, so it was little wonder that prospective matches worried she would be as hedonistic as her mother. As Eveline redressed and Vanessa tried on a dark crimson riding habit Madame deBerg had nearly complete, Vanessa answered the barrage of questions from Eveline and made plans for Eveline’s visit.

Leale’s arrival and pursed lips silenced Eveline’s laughter. The comb-brush said nothing until she was seated next to Vanessa in the carriage again, but then chided Vanessa all the way back to Grosvenor Square for her amusement at Sir Wilbur’s expense.

“I shall say no more,” Vanessa vowed, although she continued to smile. “I hope the baronet has been cut for the simples and will recognize the futility of paying a
visite de digestion
on our household.”

“He behaved abominably, I grant you, but he did profess a true affection for you.”

Vanessa walked through the door Quigley held open. “Leale, I cannot find myself tacked together with him simply because I have sympathy for his unrequited love.”

“I would think not.” The abigail unbent enough to shake her finger in Vanessa’s direction. “Don’t forget that I am well-accustomed to how you twist words as facilely as the old gentleman in black himself. I doubt if you have much sympathy for him.”

“I would have if he hadn’t—” Vanessa shuddered and hastily changed the subject so she did not have to think how her first kiss had been so loathesome. For so many years, she has wondered what it would be like to have a man draw her into his arms and brush her lips with his. Sir Wilbur had destroyed that fantasy. “Aunt Carolyn and I have received an invitation to Mr. Swinton’s musicale tomorrow night. I would like to wear my white crêpe with the blue silk ruffle.”

Leale nodded. “I shall have it ready.”

As the abigail climbed the stairs, Quigley cleared his throat lowly. Vanessa tried to contain her excitement as he held out a folded sheet to her, hoping that Leale did not guess
this
was the reason Vanessa had remained in the foyer.

“It was delivered but five minutes ago,” the butler said in a strained voice.

Overmastered by Quigley’s reaction, Vanessa took the letter. As she turned it over to see the unfamiliar seal, her fingers quivered, and her stomach did an abbreviated leap toward her throat. This was not her own letter being returned unanswered. Someone had responded—at last. Could this be the information she had prayed for?

“Thank you, Quigley,” she whispered.

As she turned to follow Leale up the stairs, the butler said, “I hope it is the news you have sought, my lady.”

“If it is, you shall be the first to know. Whatever it says, thank you, Quigley, for all you have done and all you have kept to yourself.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his sallow cheek.

“Well, well,” he said, blushing. She had never seen him as flustered.

Vanessa hurried up the steps before she embarrassed the butler more. She paused at the top of the stairs. If she went to her room, Leale would be there. Going to the blue sitting room, she saw her aunt working on the embroidery she enjoyed. Vanessa inched away. She wanted to savor this moment alone.

On the second floor, she went to a window seat overlooking the small garden. Taking a deep breath and whispering a short, fervent prayer, she broke the sealing wax and unfolded the sheet.

The answer was terse. His lordship could not offer her any assistance in locating the body of her brother. Many brave men had died far from their native land. She must take solace in knowing that the French gave their enemies a decent burial.

She lowered the page to her lap and closed her eyes. Tears oozed through her lashes and along her cheeks. Struggling to keep Eveline’s cheery voice out of her head, she failed miserably, for she could hear Eveline prattling about how successful her brother was at Cambridge and how he would be coming to Town for a visit. She was a wicked person for begrudging Eveline her happiness.

She bit her lip and shuddered as her sobs thudded against her heart.
A hero
. That was what Corey had aspired to be. That was what he was, but had he given even one thought to the misery his heroics would cause for those who loved him?

A hand settled on her shoulder, and Vanessa wiped her eyes as she looked up. Puzzlement and sympathy aged Aunt Carolyn’s face.

“My dear Vanessa,” she whispered, “why are you piping your eyes? Did someone speak horribly of last night’s party while you were out on your errands?” Her hands tightened into fists by the sides of her pale gold dressing gown. “By all that’s blue, I wish I had never asked Sir Wilbur to our home!”

Vanessa put her hand over her aunt’s. “Don’t worry about him. If you ask Leale, she will reassure you that, when I met Eveline at Madame deBerg’s, all our words about the baronet were mixed with laughter.”

Dabbing a handkerchief against her niece’s damp cheek, she asked, “Then why these tears?”

She stood and faced her aunt. Silently she held out the letter. Waiting for her aunt to read its few words, she bit her lower lip to keep more sobs from oozing forth.

Aunt Carolyn said nothing as she put the letter back on the window seat. Sitting next to it, she folded her hands in her lap. Her gaze rose to Vanessa’s, and she whispered, “I thought I asked you, weeks ago, to put an end to this odious correspondence.”

“You did.”

“You chose not to obey?”

“No, I could not.”

“This.” She touched the letter. “This is what I hoped to spare you from suffering. Vanessa, why are you doing this? You must accept the truth.”

Vanessa knelt next to her aunt and folded the older woman’s hands between hers. “Aunt Carolyn, I accept the only truth I know. The truth within my heart. It tells me Corey is still alive.”

“No!” Aunt Carolyn set herself on her feet. Taking two steps along the corridor, she turned to affix Vanessa with a furious glare. “I shall not let you waste your life hoping for what we both know is preposterous.” She picked up the letter.

Vanessa gasped as her aunt tore it in half. “But, Aunt Carolyn, if I don’t keep the hope alive, what will happen to Corey?”

“Nothing.” Her voice softened as she threw the pieces of paper onto the floor. “There is nothing we can do to help him, but there is something I can do to help you.”

“I know. I need to find a man to wed, so that Wolfe Abbey is not left without a family to tend it. Don’t you see?” Tears burned in her eyes again. “We are a family. You and me and—”

“I will hear no more of this out-of-hand talk.” Aunt Carolyn cupped Vanessa’s chin in her slender fingers. “I have let you have your head during this Season, but I long for the days when you smiled easily. I fear you have forgotten how to have fun.”

“You tell me my brother is put to bed with a shovel, but ask me to smile.”

Aunt Carolyn shook her head sadly. “If you would mourn for your brother as is right, you could forget the lies your heart whispers to you. I know you think your heart is trying to protect you. You are wrong. You cannot change what has happened. You must think only of what is to come.”

“I do. I think often of Corey’s homecoming.”

“Which may never happen, and I fear never as you wish.” She sighed once more as she released Vanessa. “I did not want to say this, but you leave me no choice. If you do not find yourself a husband before this Season comes to an end, I vow to you, Vanessa, although it goes against every grain within me, that I shall spend the next Season arranging for a husband who you will marry slap-bang.”

“Aunt Carolyn!” Disbelief tainted her voice.

Lady Mansfield was silent as she walked away. Then she paused and came back to gather the shreds of the letter. Sorrow drew unfamiliar lines on her face as she handed Vanessa a lacy handkerchief. She left Vanessa knowing that—although it would have seemed inconceivable the day before—her aunt meant to do exactly as she had threatened.

Chapter Eight

Ross told himself he should have known better than to accept the invitation to this evening’s musicale. Bruce Swinton was tolerable company at the table of green cloth, but he was the
ton
’s most inept host. If Swinton had any taste in music, the orchestra playing at one end of the ballroom gave no clue to it. Ross grimaced as another drum roll careered across the room. The selection was better suited to a parade ground than a London town house.

He crossed the room beneath the friezes edging the high walls. The ceiling was painted in a mural meant to represent heaven. Tastefully draped cherubs played among rose-colored clouds. The scene was broken by a pair of bronze chandeliers and scores of candles. Below them, the floor glittered past the green Kidderminster rug. Flowers sat on rosewood tables along the sides of the room, their fragrance nearly choking in the crowded room. A hint of a summery breeze, as soft as baby’s fingers, touched his cheek, and Ross saw a set of French windows open at the far end of the room. This chamber was the perfect setting for an evening’s entertainment, but he was not entertained.

He reminded himself of the real reason he was here tonight. With Franklin acting like a beaten cur, it was Swinton’s chance to try to turn Lady Vanessa’s head. Ross was not going to miss witnessing this.

“Blast!” he muttered, adding a pair of earthy curses. Nothing eased the agony of his ears when the musical piece reached its crescendo. Fitful applause followed the end.

Taking a glass from a passing servant, Ross sipped the wine. His smile returned. Swinton might be tonedeaf, but he had cultivated his palate.

Greeting other guests he passed, he paused when Swinton scampered past him toward the door. Ross chuckled. That level of anticipation could herald the arrival of only one person. With Franklin’s abrupt announcement that he had cut himself out and would as lief pay the pound for the wager than call on Lady Vanessa again, Swinton must be calculating how best to win the lady’s hand.

Now
this
could be entertaining. Ross set his glass on a table as a slender form entered the room.

Lady Vanessa was wearing white, like most of the women. It was a shame, he decided. The pink she had worn at her aunt’s home had complemented her delicate coloring, which gave no hint to the steel within her. He could not halt his grin as he thought of the various versions he had heard of Franklin’s last moments in Lady Mansfield’s house … and on the street in front of it. Promising himself that one day he would learn the truth of what had happened from Lady Vanessa herself, he watched his host.