The Wolfe Wager (16 page)

“My lady … Vanessa, if I may be bold—”

“I wish you would not.”

He blinked at her stiff words. “It is such a small indulgence for someone who would give you his heart in return.”

“Mr. Swinton, you said—”

“Bruce,” he interrupted with a smile.

Vanessa could not return it. If she had had any idea she would have to suffer this discomfort, she would have remained at the house. She heard the excited baying of the dogs and looked past him.

“We must hurry,” she said. “I do not want to miss the fox’s capture.”

“I have just the jolly. If I can prove to you that—”

“You need prove nothing to me, sir.”

“On the contrary,” he said with another grin showing his good humour, “I wish to prove to you that I am worthy of your heartfelt affection. How better than to bring you, like a cavalier of old, a token of my admiration!”

She laughed. Perhaps she could defuse his ardor with mirth. She must put an end to this before she was smothered by his solicitousness. “You wish to bring me the carcass of the fox to show the affection of friends? You have a peculiar sense of what a lady finds a proper gift.”

“I realize the beast is nothing but the lowest vermin, my lady. Nor is it mere friendship I—”

Again Vanessa interrupted him. “Mr. Swinton, ’tis not the creature I find offensive, but the idea you think I cannot play a part in running the fox to earth myself.”

“My lady, I never meant to suggest such a thing.”

“Then leave off!” She touched her horse’s flank with her whip.

The mount leapt forward. Vanessa turned the horse to take a shortcut through the field to reach the other riders. Hearing hoofbeats, she knew Mr. Swinton was riding after her. Abruptly she had sympathy for the fox.

When a horse cut in front of hers, Vanessa choked back a scream. She reined in. Her horse pranced on its hind feet, frightened. She steadied him and aimed a scowl at Mr. Swinton as he drew his horse next to hers again.

“Are you bereft of the sense God gave a goose?” she snapped.

“I want for wits whenever you are near, Vanessa.”

“Mr. Swinton, I asked you not to—”

He gripped her elbows and tugged her toward him. In disbelief and horror, she realized he intended to kiss her. Her small whip struck him soundly on the shoulders. He pulled back in shock.

“Leave off!” Vanessa said icily. “If this is your conception of friendship, it does not gibe with mine.”

“We can be friends even after we are wed.”

“You are wrong. We cannot remain friends, and we never shall be wed.”

He sneered, “You wish to be a thornback forever waiting on a shelf.”

“What I wish is not your concern.”

“You need to marry. Your father’s fortune—”

“Belongs to my brother.”

“Your
dead
brother has no claim on it.” He edged his horse nearer again. “Vanessa, my dear, such talk will lead people to believe you are unsettled in your head. Can’t you see that you need someone to guard you from your own impulsive behavior? Someone who will watch over you so you bring no dishonor to your family’s legacy with your jobbernowl ideas?”

“Like believing my brother is alive?”

“Exactly!” He grinned triumphantly.

“And being loyal to my bosom-bow?”

His lip curled into a caricature of a smile. “You know I do not approve of your unfortunate friendship with Miss Clarke.”

“You are right. I do need to guard myself against my impulsive behavior.” She swallowed her fury as his grin widened. “I should be flogged for ever believing one of your bigoted bashers.”

“Vanessa—”

She gave him no chance to finish. Turning her steed toward the house, she laid the small whip to its flank. It raced at top speed across the meadow.

At a shout, she turned to see Mr. Swinton riding neck-or-nothing after her. All thoughts of the scoundrel vanished when she saw a brambled hedgerow in front of her. There was no time to turn.

She held her breath as the horse gathered its feet beneath it. They rose from the earth. Flying, the wind screeching in her ears and scoring her face, she gripped the reins. The beast’s muscles contracted in the moment before they struck the ground on the far side of the briars. The jolt sent new agony along her bruised body.

Behind her, Mr. Swinton shouted to his horse to follow. The horse balked. He screeched as he flew over its head to land squarely in the middle of the briars.

“Mr. Swinton!” Her fears for his life vanished when he pushed his way out of the copse and glared at her as he plucked a pricker from the back of his riding breeches.

“Are you mad?” he demanded. He shook his head, and small sticks fell from his hair. “No wonder your aunt is so eager to get you wed before anyone discovers you are all about in your head.”

“Haven’t you said that I suffer from impulsive behaviors?” she fired back. Any sympathy she might have had for this pig-sconce was smothered beneath contempt. “Perhaps you should think again. You were the one who put your horse to a hedge it could not take.”

“Forget the damned horse!” He rubbed his hip. “You are more worried about the beast than about me.”

“You worry enough about yourself, Mr. Swinton.” She tilted her hat back. “You clearly wish to think only of yourself, so let me inform you that you needn’t worry about me any longer. I thank you for your hospitality, but, as soon as I collect my aunt and my friend, we shall infringe on you no more.”

His scowl disappeared. Limping toward her, he said, “Vanessa—my lady—you must stay and allow me to apologize for—”

“Mr. Swinton, I have no time to listen to all the apologies you owe me and my friends.”

When she raised her whip, he cried, “You aren’t going to leave me here, are you?”

She smiled icily. “You are only a short distance from your house, Mr. Swinton. I trust even a singleton like you can find your way back.”

“I’m hurt.” He pulled another briar from his buckskins.

“By my words, Mr. Swinton?” She widened her eyes and raised her chin. “You should recall your own words that words can’t harm you. Only stones and sticks.” Touching her whip to her horse’s flank, she added, “I bid you
adieu
.”

Chapter Ten

No letters waited for Vanessa among the stack of invitations when she returned to Grosvenor Square. Tears threatened to betray her silly hopes that she would arrive home to find the answer to seeking Corey, but she refused to let Aunt Carolyn see them. She did not wish to suffer another chastisement. Vanessa had endured enough of a scold during the carriage ride back to Town.

Eveline had not gloated over being correct about Mr. Swinton’s intentions. Like Vanessa, she had sat in silence while Aunt Carolyn reprimanded her niece for her quick words that had cost her another suitor. Only when they were behind the closed doors of Vanessa’s bedchamber with Leale down in the kitchen catching up on the gossip with the other servants did Eveline reveal her true feelings.

“Vanessa,” she said, sitting in a chair by the window with a glorious view of the Square, “I do not fault you for putting the high and mighty Mr. Swinton aside. I think you were wise to see him as the cur he truly is.”

“Don’t you mean finally?”

“As long as you saw the truth before you buckled your heart to him, it matters little. And,” she said, her green eyes twinkling merrily as she held a piece of paper over her heart, “I am glad to be back in Town.”

“I’m not,” she said as she put Corey’s letter in the small box in the lowest drawer. She straightened and laughed. “I suspect, by this time, Aunt Carolyn has already set her sights on another man who will be ‘perfect’ for me and Wolfe Abbey.” Going to the window, she looked out at the carriages driving around the Square. “I wonder which addle cove I shall have to deal with next.”

Eveline grabbed her hand. “Forget that.”

“I would love to, but Aunt Carolyn shall not.”

“Vanessa, you are going to down-pin me, too, if you keep on. Listen to this. Even before I had a chance to let Lord Greybrooke know I was your guest, he has sent me a note. He would like to invite all of us to accompany him to the theater tomorrow evening. Do say you will come, Vanessa.”

“How could I say no?” she asked, although she had looked forward to several quiet evenings of writing letters. She felt no more than a twinge of remorse at disobeying her aunt and continuing her search for Corey. Aunt Carolyn would forgive her when Corey was home. And she owed Eveline this favor, for her friend was unswervingly loyal, even when Vanessa was in the depths of her melancholy. After all, it was senseless for both of them to be miserable. “Of course, you must ask Aunt Carolyn. She may have planned something else.”

“I have already asked her.” She laughed at Vanessa’s amazement. “It seems Captain Hudson already had proposed a similar outing to her. I wonder how long it will be before he proposes something else. Not long, I wager.”

“Nor do I,” Vanessa said as she sat on the edge of her bed. “Aunt Carolyn has been so anxious to have a betrothal party here. Wouldn’t it be amusing if it was her own?”

“Better than if it was yours?”

She laughed. “Unless I find someone who is more interested in me than my father’s fortune, I think I shall dance at Aunt Carolyn’s betrothal party before my own.”

Lord Greybrooke was nothing as Vanessa had feared. His smile was not dimmed by signs of dissipation, warning that his reputation was so sullied that his attentions were unwelcome by any decent woman. Nor was he bracket-faced or as round as a pig. His tongue was not sharp with acrimony. In every facet, he appeared to be a charming gentleman, who was willing to overlook Eveline’s family’s shame. His black hair was thinning, but his face was unlined. Dressed elegantly in a navy coat over his white waistcoat and black breeches, he offered Eveline a well-spoken compliment as he greeted her in the foyer.

As he should, Vanessa decided, for her friend was the epitome of grace and beauty in the incredibly lovely dress Madame deBerg had finished only a few hours before. Gold lamé flashed along the hem as she turned to introduce the earl to Aunt Carolyn. Ribbons of the same brilliant shade were woven through the long sleeves of white crepe and along the curved neckline of the high bodice. A hint of her ribbed stockings was revealed as she stepped back to let Lord Greybrooke bow over Lady Mansfield’s hand.

“And my dearest bosom-bow,” Eveline said as she gestured for Vanessa to join them. “Lord Greybrooke, this is Lady Vanessa Wolfe.”

“This is a long overdue pleasure,” Vanessa remarked, noting how the earl held her hand only for the briefest moment. He clearly could not wait to return his gaze to Eveline. For the first time, Vanessa considered how wonderful it would be to have someone that devoted to her. She shoved that thought out of her head. She had someone to devote herself to now. Until her brother was safely home, she must think only of him.

Aunt Carolyn left Eveline to talk to the earl while she came to fuss at her niece. She straightened Vanessa’s white lace gown. It was pulled back to expose her rose satin slip. Pleats dropped from the high waist to the base of the skirt, which was ringed with silk flowers matching the ones on her full-brimmed bonnet. It was her very best dress, and Aunt Carolyn had insisted that Vanessa wear it this evening, although Vanessa had no idea why.

“What do you think of the earl?” Aunt Carolyn asked softly.

“He seems a fine gentleman.”

“I agree.” She sighed, and Vanessa needed no key to unlock her aunt’s thoughts. Aunt Carolyn could not understand how her niece, who possessed both wealth and an immaculate reputation, could not find such a suitable match when Eveline had with ease.

When Captain Hudson was ushered into the foyer by a stone-faced Quigley, Aunt Carolyn brightened. Again the captain wore his military uniform, and, as they walked to the open carriage parked in front of the house, he told them he had spent the day with his superiors at the ministry.

Vanessa said nothing as the others chatted amiably. So fervently she wished she could ask Captain Hudson to help her in her search, but he would mention her request to her aunt. She must find another way.

The street in front of the Theater Royal on Bow Street was jammed with carriages and urchins, who were eager to run errands or do a trick for a farthing or two. Vanessa thanked Lord Greybrooke as he assisted her from the carriage. She stood aside to let him offer his arm to Eveline. A sad smile pulled at Vanessa’s lips as she walked behind the two couples up the few steps to the portico beneath the tall columns. The unfamiliar stab of envy pricked her again. Trying to ignore it was futile. She would have delighted in having a gentleman regard her with the adoration enjoyed by her aunt and Eveline, but she had not met the right man yet. Maybe Leale was right. Maybe the man of her dreams could never exist.

The foyer of the theater was as crowded as the street, and heavy clouds of perfume threatened to strangle Vanessa. She glanced toward the elegant staircase to one side, but it was overrun with people. There was no choice but to struggle every inch to the box Lord Greybrooke had engaged halfway up the five tiers above the floor of the theater.

An elbow jabbed her arm. Vanessa glared at it, then raised her eyes to the face above. Lord Brickendon! She snapped her fan open to conceal her astonishment … and her admiration of how his black coat accented his lean strength.

“My lady, excuse me,” he said with a polite smile. “I fear we are fated continually to come flush on each other. I trust you have recovered from your taxing ordeal at Swinton Park.”

Vanessa had no intention of speaking of her bruises, which were in locations she could not discuss in public. “I am fine. And you?”

He bent toward her and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I landed on something softer than the earth.”

She pressed her fan to her lips to silence her gasp at his forward words. She should be scandalized. She should ask him to leave and not to embarrass her again. She should have, but she began to smile. Lord Brickendon was never dull like the other men she had met; it was seldom she guessed what he might say or do. He was a scoundrel, but an intriguing one.