The Wolfe Wager (17 page)

“It is a surprise,” she said, “to see you back in Town so soon. Is the gathering over already?”

“I found Swinton’s company distasteful.” His grin became roguish. “Nearly as distasteful as that bully fop’s constant gripping about landing in that hedgerow. He was still pulling sticks out of his hair when he returned to the house.”

She laughed, although she knew she would not. Lord Brickendon’s words resurrected the image of the outraged redhead firing furious words at her. Her amusement faded when the memory of his attempt to kiss her leapt to life. Softly, she said, “Mr. Swinton might have been better off if the switch had been applied years ago instead of during that ride.”

“I can’t help but be distressed at your cavalier disregard of my friends’ hearts. I believe both Franklin and Swinton held a deep and sincere
tendre
for you.”

“I fear you stretch the truth, my lord.”

“Mayhap.” He chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with merry mischief. “I have to own that Swinton’s only anxiety was if he would be able to win your fortune, but Sir Wilbur was unquestionably smitten by your feminine charms.”

Vanessa was glad the brim of her bonnet could shadow her face from the viscount’s intense gaze. Looking at a bone button at the top of his waistcoat, she said, “I regret causing the baronet any distress. However, even you must own, that to let him assume I had a fondness for him that did not, in truth, exist, would be more cruel than confronting him with the truth.”

“Can it be that you have a gentle heart within you?”

“What a bizarre question!” she exclaimed, meeting his eyes. She wished she had not when she saw more amusement amid their ebony sparks. Taking a deep breath to steady her voice, which was too agitated, she said, “I can assure you, my lord, that I have a heart within my breast. That I choose not to give it to any of the men who have tried to win it does nothing to deny its existence.”

He tilted his head to her. “I stand corrected. I should have guessed as much when I saw your resolve that each small duckling was given a bit of bread. Swinton would have been wise to chirp piteously to gain your attention.”

Vanessa laughed with him. When she noticed the eager eyes watching them, she silenced herself. Enough tongues had wagged at her expense in the past fortnight. She did not need to give them more to chew about.

“Such a happy sound!” Aunt Carolyn offered her hand to Lord Brickendon and smiled as he bowed over it smoothly. “I am delighted that you have brought even a smile to Vanessa, my lord. She has been morose since our return from Swinton Park.”

“She need worry herself no more,” he answered, “for I can assure both of you that Mr. Swinton has made the most of his invisible injuries to obtain sympathy wherever he goes. I am sure that will ease your worries on his account, my lady.”

He caught Vanessa’s eyes before she could turn away. The good humor had vanished into their dark depths, and she could not guess what strong emotion glittered in them. She was relieved when Aunt Carolyn introduced the viscount to Lord Greybrooke. The formalities allowed her time to patch together her ragged poise. Lord Brickendon greeted Eveline as politely as he did the others, and Vanessa found herself relaxing. She had not realized until now that it was so important for her bosom-bow to be accepted by the viscount after Mr. Swinton’s cruel comments.

“Do join us, my lord. Lord Greybrooke has taken a box, which will have room for another. We would enjoy your company.” Carolyn turned to Vanessa. “Isn’t that right, my dear?”

“Of course, we would be delighted to have you join us,” Vanessa said automatically. Amazement spread through her as she discovered she spoke the truth. Unlike his friends, whom she had been eager to dismiss as swiftly as possible, Vanessa relished conversing with Lord Brickendon. Each time she encountered him was like a duel between respected, well-armed opponents. Using words to parry, a sharp barb here, a honed rejoinder there, gave her more enjoyment than anything had since her brother’s departure and her father’s death.

“How could I say no to such a generous invitation?” He offered his arm to Aunt Carolyn. “If I may be so bold …”

Vanessa found herself walking with Captain Hudson as they followed her aunt and the viscount up the stairs. Behind them, Lord Greybrooke and Eveline chattered like two Indian monkeys. Aware once more of the curious eyes upon them, Vanessa smiled. Aunt Carolyn should be careful, or
she
would become the source of rumor for the gossipmongers, for she had come to the theater with one gentleman and was allowing a second to escort her to their box.

“Your aunt is a wonderful woman,” said Captain Hudson in a low voice.

“She would do anything to see those she loves happy.”

“A grand tribute, which I had not expected from you.”

Vanessa nearly paused on the steps, but the press of the crowd urged her forward. Looking at the blond man’s taut face, she asked, “Would you explain that comment, sir?”

“Gladly, for I have no wish to see Carolyn miserable. She thinks only of your future.” He cleared his throat, then said, “She will give no consideration to her future until you are settled.”

“I know.”

“Yet you play a coquette’s game.”

She shook her head, her voice as strained as his. “No, Captain, for
that
would break Aunt Carolyn’s heart. If you would give more than a moment’s thought to the situation, you would see that my aunt has no wish for me to wed unwisely.”

Captain Hudson said nothing more as he held aside the curtain to allow her to enter the elegant box. The stiff line of his back signaled his vexation. Aunt Carolyn said she would return after speaking with Penelope Downing, who had taken a box only a short distance away. Vanessa took her seat behind Eveline and looked across the horseshoe shape of the theater. It was nearly full and more were crowding onto the floor and into the boxes.

Even before the curtain in the doorway had dropped back into place, Captain Hudson broke his silence to say, “If you will excuse me, ladies, gentlemen.”

“Quite the transparent chap, isn’t he?” Lord Brickendon leaned back in his chair opposite Vanessa’s and chuckled. “He would be wise to give your aunt a bit of breathing room instead of chasing after her with such candid fervor. Your aunt does not seem the type of woman to dote on the chase.”

Vanessa waved her fan. It was even more stuffy than the last time she and Aunt Carolyn had come to the crammed theater. “You fancy yourself an expert on women, my lord?”

“Hardly.” He laughed again. “The man who thinks he knows everything about women is the greatest Tom-doodle of us all.”

“So what have you learned?”

“Little, but I own that I have given it only a scant portion of my time. I prefer sport where I know I can be the victor. The flirtations of the
ton
are set so a man loses his freedom and ends up with a wife and a family.”

Vanessa doubted if Eveline and the earl, who were holding hands, had heard Lord Brickendon’s cynical words. Even if they had taken note of them, they would have given them little credence as they laughed together, pausing only when the box attendant brought cooled wine.

“I agree.” When she saw his surprise, she asked, “Why are you startled?”

“I have never heard such talk from anyone among the
élite
.” He bent toward her, his hand resting on the back of her chair. “Such sacrilege! The patronesses at Almack’s shall oust you if they hear such words.”

“I doubt if I could change
their
minds on this matter.”

“Do you?”

Vanessa did not answer as she looked into his eyes which held such mysteries, yet portrayed his potent passions on every turn. In her lap, her fingers tingled, longing to touch the line of his jaw to discover if it was as unyielding as it appeared. The twists of black hair on his brow teased her to brush them back into place. She knew nothing of Lord Brickendon, but she began to believe that she wanted to learn, no matter how long such a study would take.

His hand grazed her shoulder, daringly stroking her bare skin. When his finger traced the line of her bonnet’s ribbons from the curve of her chin to the sensitive silkiness behind her right ear, her lips parted with a soft sigh of indescribable delight.

In a husky whisper, he said, “You could make a man change his mind about many things.” His hand slipped behind her nape to tilt her toward him.

Her eyes searched his face. The stern lines had not softened, but the corners of his mouth tilted in a smile as his gaze caressed her face. With her heart pounding so fiercely she was sure he must hear it, her fingers rose to his wide shoulders.

Vanessa was jerked back to her senses by Eveline’s laughter with her beau. Sitting straighter, she folded her hands in her lap. She avoided looking at Lord Brickendon because she did not want him to see her reddened face. One moment, she had been espousing her determination to keep her life from romantic entanglements. The next, she was letting him seduce her with sweet words and sweeter caresses.

She gasped when he put his finger under her chin and turned her face toward him. “My lord, please do not—”

“Say no more,” he said with more equanimity than she possessed. “Shall we speak of other matters?”

“Yes,” she breathed. She clutched onto the word as a safety line to pull her back from her own foolishness.

“Then choose a subject.”

Her mind was a-jumble with the torrent of dulcet sensations left by his touch. Closing her eyes, she focused on the one thing that was a constant in her life. Corey needed her as much as she needed to escape from the tempting fantasy of Lord Brickendon’s lips on hers.

Her voice was unsteady as she asked, “What have you heard about the war?”

“The war?” His brows were a dark punctuation of his question.

“If you would as lief speak of something else—”

“I am surprised
you
wish to speak of this. No, I should not be surprised about anything with you, my lady.” His smile sprinted across his face so quickly she wondered if she had seen it. “I have heard nothing new. The government moves slower than an icebound river,” he said as he folded his arms over his pristine white waistcoat and glowered across the theater. “If Boney himself popped up in Whitehall, I vow it would take the ministers a week before they decided if they should greet him and another to determine how.”

“It is frustrating.”

He rested his elbow on the edge of the box and faced her. His gaze drilled her. “Spoken like someone who is familiar with the government. You intimated at Swinton Park that you have had dealings with it.”

“I would … if someone would listen to my appeal for information. I—” She labored to smile as her aunt stepped into the box. “Aunt Carolyn, we had begun to think you were going to miss the beginning of the show.”

Vanessa let her aunt’s conversation wash over her, drowning her in the comfort of normalcy. Feeling the viscount’s curious gaze, she resisted looking at him. She had come so close to revealing too much of herself to this man who concealed so much.

When the performance began, she tried to lose herself in the funny moments and the tragedies. She could not. Always, she was aware of Lord Brickendon sitting nearby. She found herself listening for his laugh to discover what he thought was amusing and leaning toward him to hear his comments about the actors and the plays.

The first act came to an end, and she realized she could remember little of what she had heard and seen on stage. Yet every word and every smile from Lord Brickendon remained as clear as if they had happened only a moment before.

If her silence was noticed during the
entr’acte
, the others were too polite to mention it. She was glad when the program resumed, because she could hide her disquiet by pretending to be enthralled with the performances.

When the show reached its finale to polite applause, Lord Brickendon held out his hand to Vanessa. She hesitated. To let him touch her when she was so unsettled might be want-witted. Then as she heard her aunt call for her not to dawdle, she knew it would be even more foolish to make a scene.

Lord Brickendon smiled as his fingers closed over hers. Slowly he drew her to her feet. In the close confines of the box, she stood too near to him … and too far away. She needed only to take a half step forward, and she would be in his arms. Looking up into his dark eyes, she saw an invitation she must not accept.

“Aunt Carolyn will grow worried if I linger here,” she whispered.

“Then we must not make that fine lady anxious.” Setting her hand on his arm, he pushed aside the heavy curtain. “I do not think you need to fret yourself. Lady Mansfield is smiling,” he said in a low rumble. “She apparently enjoyed the show more than you did.”

Vanessa wished he was not so observant. His friends had been easy to bamboozle because they had seen no further than their plans to win her fortune. Lord Brickendon would not be pushed out of her life so facilely. “I had an agreeable evening.”

“Such sincerity!”

“I have had worse ones!” she averred stoutly.

“I shall accept that as a compliment.” He slipped his hand from under her arm. Bowing to her and her aunt, he thanked Aunt Carolyn for their company and bid them a good evening.

As Vanessa descended the stairs, her eyes followed Lord Brickendon’s tall form to the door. He was gone by the time they reached the portico. An odd emptiness twisted inside her. Lord Brickendon had said nothing about calling. Not that she had asked him to give her a look-in.

Perhaps she had convinced him that she had been honest when she said she was not interested in leg-shackling herself to any man. Yet, as she rode away in the open carriage through the night, which was as ebony and deep as his eyes, she found herself thinking of the next time she might meet him and his mesmerizing gaze.

Chapter Eleven

Vanessa held a candle to the sealing wax and watched three drops fall onto the folded letter. Her father’s signet ring was heavy as she pressed it into the blue wax.

Leaning back, she turned the letter to see the address she had written in bold letters.
HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE PRINCE REGENT
She was astounded by her temerity, but she no longer knew any other way to find Corey. Yesterday a letter had arrived from the Prime Minister’s secretary. He had been sorry to inform Lady Vanessa Wolfe that Lord Liverpool could not involve himself in the search for her brother’s remains. She had no choice but to be more reckless. Perhaps the Prince Regent, who was rumored to have a streak of romance and daring about him, would offer the sympathetic ear she had so far been denied.