The Wolfe Wager (6 page)

Her fingers trembled as she reached for a sheet of paper. If having Aunt Carolyn all a-blither about Sir Wilbur Franklin kept her from noticing that Vanessa still sought information about Corey, even marrying the boring baronet would not be too much to pay in return for having her brother safe once more.

Chapter Four

“This is going to be better than I thought,” Ross crowed as he set the newspaper down on the table. Reaching for a muffin from among the warm ones in a basket near his cup of coffee, he smiled.

“I am pleased, my lord.”

His grin widened as he looked to where his valet was coming into the breakfast parlor with Ross’s coat. “Pott, you have no idea what I’m talking about.”

The man, who was nearly as short and as round as Franklin, chuckled. “I find it always is wise to agree with you, my lord.”

“That is arrant nonsense! You enjoy a brangle as much as the next man.”

“Not if you are the next man.”

Ross stood and took the coat from his man. The sleeves still held the warmth from being pressed. He was grateful that Pott kept his clothes in such a good state. Otherwise, he would have been sure to run off to some meeting at Whitehall with his coat wrinkled from being tossed on the back of a chair.

“You seem in an excellent temper this morning,” Pott said with a sigh.

“Rightly so.” He was amused at his valet’s observation. Pott could not hide his eagerness to return home to Essex and to be away from the crowded city, but he would never speak a word of complaint. Not a
word
, although he made his feelings clear with every motion. Ross picked up the newspaper and grinned. “Listen to this: ‘It was noted at Almack’s last evening that Sir Wilbur Franklin partnered with Lady Vanessa Wolfe for several dances.’”

“That is nice, my lord.”

“Nice?” He laughed and threw the paper back on the table. “Last night was one of the best times I have had since this blasted Season began. Franklin was nearly blithering with his excitement at being in the exulted lady’s company, and Swinton could barely tolerate being forced to watch.”

“And you, my lord?”

“I enjoyed the whole.”

“And the lady?” Pott toyed with one of the buttons on his waistcoat. “Did she enjoy the whole?”

Ross’s smile vanished. Blast! He did not wish to think of Lady Vanessa Wolfe. If he did, he might let his mind linger on the warmth of her smile, which he had seen so seldom, or the soft glow of her eyes or the gentle curves that drew his eyes even from across the crowded floor of Almack’s. She was a lovely, enticing woman, and he had no need for a lovely, enticing woman cluttering up his head.

“What lady doesn’t enjoy having suitors eager for her hand?” he retorted shortly.

Pott turned toward the door, a frown on his full face. “I have heard talk that the maquess’s daughter is not like any other woman.”

“All women are the same. They think only of playing coy with a man’s heart until they twist it so tightly that there is no escape.” Taking a bite of the muffin, he frowned when crumbs dropped along the front of his coat. He brushed them aside. “If we match them at their own sport, who is to say nay?”

Pott shook his head as he plucked another crumb off the coat. “Not I, my lord, although I urge you to show caution in this game. What if the young woman develops a true affection for one of you?”

“If she is caper-witted enough to have a
tendre
for Franklin or Swinton, she deserves the life she has chosen with her ardent suitor.”

“And if her heart turns to you, my lord?”

“I aim only to win this wager, Pott, not the lady’s heart.”

Pott frowned. “This is an unwise course, my lord. You trespass on dangerous ground when you play with a woman’s heart.”

“I have my reasons for what I am doing.”

“To chance breaking a lady’s heart should put a halt to a gentleman’s actions, not be the cause of them.”

Ross chuckled. “I have no intention of hurting the lady. Simply I wish to win this wager.”

“There are other things to bet on, my lord.”

“None as interesting as watching Franklin and Swinton falling over each other to vie for the lady’s attentions.” He laughed again. “No one shall be injured. I would not have embarked on this attempt to assuage my
ennui
, if I had thought that would be so.”

Pott still frowned. “I would be less concerned if the lady knew you meant this wager only as a jest.”

“You have heard the gossip as frequently as I, Pott. Mayhap more often, if the truth be told. Lady Vanessa Wolfe has no wish to leg-buckle herself to any man, but I intend to prove it is in her best interests to accept my suit … at least temporarily.”

“Temporarily?” Amazement widened Pott’s eyes.

“Long enough to enjoy the rest of this otherwise ignoble Season and to collect on this wager from those two pig-widgeons.”

“I still urge you to be careful.”

His grin returned. “A creed I live by, Pott, for I have no more wish to be wed by this Season’s end than I did when it began.”

A tall-case clock ticked contentedly to itself in one corner of the antechamber in the house on Hanover Square. Sifted by the thickening clouds and the stained glass in the window, the feeble sunshine edged along the Persian rug to mark the slow movement of time.

The room was empty except for Vanessa. When she had arrived, an imperious man had been sitting behind the massive desk in front of the door leading into a private chamber. Nearly as hairless as his mahogany desk, the man had introduced himself curtly as Mr. Dennis, secretary to Lord Mendoff. She had requested an interview with the earl for this morning, and Mr. Dennis had promised to convey her request. That was the last she had seen of his gangly height. Almost an hour had passed since his disappearance, and she wondered if he would ever return.

She resisted rising and going to the tall, gilt mirror by the door. She knew she looked her best for this call. Her straw hat was tied beneath her chin with a ribbon to match the light yellow ribbons at the bodice and along the long sleeves of her gown. The white sarconet muslin rose beneath her chin in a small ruff. Her fingers clasped in her gloves of lemon kid. She must sit quietly and wait, she reminded herself.

This call was too important to let her impatience ruin everything. Lord Mendoff might be the perfect person to assist her in finding information on Corey. Vanessa was not sure when she might be able to come back if she left now, since Aunt Carolyn kept a close eye on her.

Oh, why couldn’t Aunt Carolyn share her faith that Corey was still alive? It would be so much easier if they joined their rather formidable forces to demand an answer from the government. Instead, Aunt Carolyn had mourned for her nephew and had become even more determined to find a match for her niece.

Mayhap it was as simple as the fact that Aunt Carolyn had nothing to regret about Corey’s leaving. How many times had Vanessa relived that last conversation with her brother? How many times had the anger come back to haunt her? If she could live those moments over again.… She was not sure if anything would be different, and, if Corey never returned, she would never know if the pain between them could be healed.

She stood, unable to sit any longer. Her rebellious feet paced across the room. How much longer could she be kept waiting? She would wait, even if she trod a path in the carpet with her pacing.

Her steps faltered when she caught her reflection in the mirror. She did look presentable, save for her frown. Forcing a feigned smile, she let it fall away instantly. It appeared as false as a thumper. How long had she been wearing a face as long as a fiddle? She could not recall the last time she had worn a genuine smile. No wonder she had obtained no help. In her dismals, she had offended everyone about her with her melancholy. She must make an effort to disguise her dreary spirits and be as charming as if she could talk the hind legs off a bird. Then she might find the help she needed for Corey … and for her own happiness.

Sitting again, she tried another smile. It still was as uncomfortable as someone else’s boots, but she must remember how to smile. She must.

Vanessa looked up as the door behind the desk opened. She slowly stood, deciding exactly how she would make Mr. Dennis aware of her impatience at how slowly he had related her message to the earl.

Instead of the thin secretary, another tall man entered the room. He carried more flesh on his broad frame than Mr. Dennis and the lines of many more years upon his face. Thick, gray hair was brushed forward to edge the high collar he wore beneath a floor-length dressing gown of emerald silk. Felt slippers emerged from it to whisper against the rug as he walked toward her.

“Lord Mendoff?” Vanessa dared to ask, although she was sure the man who was dressed so casually in this town house could be no one else.

“Have I kept you waiting long?” He smiled, ironing the wrinkles out of his cheeks as others crinkled around his eyes. “I beg your indulgence.”

“You do not need to make excuses,” she answered, returning his smile. She decided her long wait must be all the doing of that insufferable Mr. Dennis. The earl was charming, and she would be no less. For the first time in longer than she wished to remember, she began to hope someone might be willing to listen to her petition on Corey’s behalf. She had heard Lord Mendoff had the ear of the Prime Minister. She must find out if that was true and, if it was, if he would assist her.

“Do come in.” The earl glanced around the antechamber and grimaced. “This room is intolerably formal. I have no idea why Dennis would insist on you waiting here. I prefer to offer my special guests welcome in a more cozy setting. I trust you will find it more comfortable than that hard bench.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Stepping aside, he held the door open for her. She understood the earl’s grumbles when she entered the smaller room beyond the door. Two settees, covered in pale blue silk, flanked the black marble hearth and faced each other to make for comfortable conversation. The drapes had been drawn to shut out the dreary half-light hanging over the Square, and a trio of lamps brightened the corners and lit the portrait over the mahogany mantel. She recognized the man as a younger Lord Mendoff and guessed the slight woman at his side was his wife. The elegant rug was a twin of the one in the other room, and her slippers sank into its lush nap.

“Please sit down, young lady,” he said with a low chuckle. “I think you shall find this settee much more to your liking.”

Sitting on the settee closer to the door, Vanessa said, “I appreciate you giving me this time, my lord.”

He rumbled a laugh as broad as his stomach. “And I appreciate your company …”

“Vanessa,” she supplied when he paused expectantly. “Vanessa Wol—”

“Vanessa! What a charming name!”

“Vanessa Wol—” she tried again.

“There is no need for more than the amity of given names between us. Don’t you think so?” He gave her no time to add more as he went to a table where a bottle of wine sat between two glasses. “I trust you like Madeira.”

“Yes … thank you.” Vanessa folded her hands in her lap. This was nothing like what she had envisioned after her long wait in the outer room. Lord Mendoff must regret delaying her interview so long and wished to atone by making her feel welcome. She hoped that longing would become a desire to help her in finding Corey.

“I do own to being surprised you are here so early.”

“Early? I—”

Again he intruded with a laugh. “Rest assured, Vanessa, I admire your fervor.” His dressing gown stroked the rug as he walked toward her.

Vanessa took the glass he held out, but did not raise it to her lips as he sat next to her. He tapped his crystal goblet to hers with a sparkling clink and urged her, with a wide smile, to taste the wine. His gaze tried to hold hers, but she shifted her eyes toward the hearth. Uneasiness oozed through her as she noticed his arm slipping along the settee’s carved back. His fingers grazed her shoulder.

She moved away, trying to make the motion seem unhurried. “My lord, I wish to speak to you of a very important matter.”

“You must not be so formal. You may call me Josiah.” When she hesitated, his smile wavered. “I do insist on that, my dear. Do humor me on this very
unimportant
matter.”

Taking a quick sip of her wine allowed her a moment to compose her thoughts which he sent into a tangle with every puzzling word. “As you wish, Josiah. What I wish to speak to you about concerns a matter very close to my heart.”

“An excellent place to begin.”

“I wish this more than anything else in the world.” Her fingers gripped the goblet’s stem as she whispered, “If you could help me, I would be indebted to you beyond anything mere words could convey.”

Lord Mendoff emptied his glass, then stretched past her to put it on the table behind her. She gasped when his other arm slipped around her waist. “Debts need not be spoken of between dear friends.”

“Lord Mendoff!” she gasped and pulled away. Standing, she edged around the settee. Had the man taken a knock in the cradle to think he could treat her so? “My lord, I believe you are mistaking my offer for another.”

He set himself on his feet and lessened the distance between them. Backing toward the door, Vanessa winced when she bumped into a table. She inched past it. Where was the door? Had it vanished?

The earl chuckled. “This is amusing, Vanessa.” He motioned toward where she had been sitting. “Come back to the settee. Our business—how delightfully droll of you to term it thus—can be best dealt with there.”

“No, my lord, I think it would be wiser if I left posthaste.”

His eyes narrowed, and the twinges of despair within her became dismay. She had angered him. But why? She should be the one infuriated by his coarse treatment. Staying to argue would be jobbernowl. She took another step backward. The raised panels of the door were sharp against her back. Groping for the latch, unable to find it, she choked back a shriek when the earl stepped forward and put one hand on either side of her head, imprisoning her between his broad arms, the sleeves of his wrapper flapping like dark wings around her.