The Wolfe Wager (7 page)

“Leave?” he asked in a deceptively calm voice. “Is this a ploy to wrench a bit more gilt from my pockets?”

“My lord, I beg you to let me go. I shall take my business to another.”

“To another?”

“You clearly are not interested in—”

“But I am interested, Vanessa. Most interested.” A smile returned, thinning his lips. “You need not play the shrinking virgin with me any longer, my dear Vanessa. I prize you already for your loveliness. Reward me, pretty one.”

His face descended toward hers. Her stomach cramped. He was going to kiss her! Was he totally deranged? She wanted to shriek, but her voice was lost beneath the clog in her throat.

Suddenly the door opened, and she stumbled backward into the antechamber. She struck something hard. Hands steadied her, but pulled away as the scream burst from her. Her knees nearly buckled, but the strong hands caught her again. She shuddered as she drew away and put her hand on the door to steady herself. How furious Aunt Carolyn would be! Not only had Vanessa continued her quest, but she might have destroyed every shred of reputation by being discovered in such a compromising situation.

The earl stared past her. Vanessa saw dismay, fury, and embarrassment flash across his face before he growled, “What are you doing here?”

“I thought to call upon you, Uncle, while I was driving past Hanover. Square,” said a deep voice behind her.

Vanessa whirled. Her eyes widened in horror as she raised her gaze along a pale blue waistcoat worn beneath a gray coat and past a high collar closed with a sedate white tie to meet ebony eyes in a sternly sculptured face. Taken aback, she gasped, “Lord Brickendon!”

“You remember me today?” He dipped his head toward her, but the motion did not hide his grin as he reminded her of her cold words at Almack’s. “I am honored, my lady.”

“My lady?” demanded Lord Mendoff.

Lord Brickendon’s smile grew wider as his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Uncle, I am surprised you have not met Lady Vanessa Wolfe before this.”

“You are Lady Vanessa Wolfe?” the earl sputtered. “Lord Wulfric’s daughter? Why didn’t you say so?”

Before Vanessa could remind him that she had tried to enlighten him about her name more than once, Lord Brickendon laughed. The older man glowered at him, and Vanessa wished she had never considered asking the earl to help her. If his actions today were representative of his character, Lord Mendoff would have very little influence with the present government.

“Uncle, you have made an incredible mistake by playing the duddering rake with a marquess’s heir.” Lord Brickendon’s eyes glittered as he added to Vanessa, “I assume you wish to depart, my lady.”

“Yes.” She was grateful for his gracious attempt to remedy the situation. “My business is done here.”

Lord Brickendon’s chuckle sent more heat clamping around her. “I see that it is.” He stepped aside and motioned for her to join him in the antechamber. “I shall knock upon my return, Uncle,” he added, “in case you have another caller with you.”

He closed the door to shut off the old man’s grumbled curse. Vanessa was relieved not to hear her name muttered, but the earl’s courtesy was belated.

“How are you doing, my lady?” asked Lord Brickendon as he led her across the grand antechamber.

She was pleased he did not offer her his arm. She did not want to touch or be touched by any man at that moment. She whispered, “That man is your uncle?”

“It is said that every family has a black sheep or two in their midst.” He smiled. “It is my family’s misfortune to have a full flock of them.”

Vanessa did not return his smile. Shivers rolled along her, but she would not let him guess how unsettled she was. A word of this spoken into the wrong ear would spread the tale throughout the Polite World. Her shame did not bother her, but she knew how it would reflect on her aunt.

As Lord Brickendon hurried her down the stairs and through the empty hallway a slight, feminine form appeared.

“I believe this is yours,” Lord Brickendon said as the maid held out a rose-colored spencer.

Vanessa reached for it, but her fingers trembled. Lord Brickendon said nothing as he took it and settled it over her shoulders. She whispered her thanks, but wished she could find the words to ask him to conceal this whole predicament.

When they reached the walkway, Lord Brickendon said, “I would venture a guess that Lord Mendoff mistook you for another—shall we be generous and say lady?—he hoped to have join him this morning. Accept my apology in lieu of the one he may be too mortified to send to you.”

Vanessa was sure her color was as bright as his waistcoat, but she kept her head high. “That is generous of you, my lord.”

“Nonsense.” He waved aside the tiger and opened her carriage door himself. Handing her in, he smiled as she settled herself on the leather seat. He closed the door behind her. Through the window, he asked, “A word of counsel if I may?”

“Of course.”

“Choose your calls more carefully in the future, my lady. My uncle may be a doddering dunce, but a lady as comely as you inspires ideas in even the most opaque head.” His eyes twinkled as he added, “Not only my uncle, but my friend Sir Wilbur, for example. His prattling about your charms last evening was endless. I know how he eagerly anticipates your gathering this evening.”

She pressed her hand to her bodice, but clasped her fingers in her lap when she noticed Lord Brickendon’s gaze following every motion. “That is kind of you to say.”

“What were you doing here?”

“I had thought to call on Lord Mendoff on a concern for my father’s estate.” She nearly stumbled on each word of the half-truth, knowing that he was gauging everything she said. “I had no idea such an innocent visit would turn so dark. Whatever will Aunt Carolyn say?”

“You needn’t worry about that fine lady or any other person learning of this day’s misadventure.” He folded his arms on the open window. “I shall convince my uncle of the good sense of saying nothing of the matter, which I am sure he will be eager to keep as quiet as you would wish.”

“Thank you again for …” She was not sure what she could say without adding more fire to her suddenly burning face.

“My pleasure, but one I hope I need never repeat.” He slapped his hand on the side of the carriage to let her driver know she was ready to leave.

Vanessa whispered, “I hope so, too.”

She leaned back against the seat. Closing her eyes, she was amazed when Lord Brickendon’s uncompromising features filled her mind. She shivered. It was likely she would meet the devilishly handsome viscount again during the flurry of entertainments at the Season’s end. She hoped, by then, she would have devised something to say to him without setting her cheeks to flame again … or her heart to pounding with pleasure.

Chapter Five

Penelope Downing prided herself on being a creature of habit. Every morning, she rose exactly at the stroke of ten. She enjoyed her breakfast in her breakfast-parlor with its enchanting view of the tiny garden behind her Grosvenor Square town house. Her housekeeper received Penelope’s instructions each day at precisely thirty minutes before noon. For the next hour daily, Penelope gave her complete attention to the abigail’s ministrations to her light brown hair and her vast wardrobe. Before the church bells chimed two, she was about on her calls or receiving on the days she was at home. She always was waiting to greet her husband when he returned from his ride about the Park just as the clock on the mantel chimed six. With him, she enjoyed an evening of entertainment with the
ton
.

That exacting schedule explained Lady Carolyn Mansfield’s nearly speechless incredulity when Penelope was shown into her small blue sitting room before one the next afternoon. With her beribboned poke bonnet positively quivering with agitation, Penelope offered Carolyn a swift smile as she crossed the flowered rug and sat on the white silk chair next to where Carolyn was ringing hastily for refreshments.

“Dear Penelope, whatever is distressing you?” Carolyn asked, unable to curb her curiosity. She would sooner have expected Napoleon to come calling than Penelope arriving before two.

“Not distress, but happiness.” Her full lips rounded into a moue, which countermanded her words. With a sigh, she bent her full form to pick a piece of straw from the hem of her sedate yellow gown. The ribbons dropping from her bodice would have better suited a girl half her age.

Carolyn laughed. “Mr. Porter is ever a doting husband. Now that his wife has given him a son, there shall be no end to his overindulgence. I fear everyone on the Square will be driving over straw for weeks to come.”

“I appreciate the respite from the clatter of carriage wheels as much as the new mother.” Penelope’s usual smile appeared as a maid approached with a tray of sweetmeats and a steaming pot of tea. “I was saying to dear Samuel just last evening how pleasant it was not to be bothered by the passage of carriages under our window. He suggested that the straw might be a permanent addition to the Square, but I do believe he was jesting.”

Carolyn resisted laughing and busied herself straightening the sprigged linen of her gown. Penelope Downing had no more sense of humor than the pink flowers on Carolyn’s dress, but her heart was nearly as large as her broad shelf of bosom and her intentions well-meant. Carolyn doubted she could find a more pleasant neighbor, although, in secret, she often wished she might pass the afternoon with someone with a bit more wit.

Pouring tea, she held out a porcelain cup to her guest. “Penelope,” she said as she stirred sugar into her own cup, “you have yet to answer my question. What brings you calling at this hour? Not that I’m not always pleased to see you. It’s just that you’re all a-quiver.”

“As you should be, my dear.”

“Me?” Carolyn set her cup back on the table. Her neighbor’s words could mean anything … or nothing. It was not easy to tell with Penelope.

“Yes, you! What a coup! You must be delighted about sweet Vanessa’s triumph last evening at Almack’s. How I wish I could have witnessed that myself.”

Carolyn raised her cup to hide her growing amusement. She loved her niece with all her heart, but never could she imagine calling the headstrong girl sweet. “I own that I had thought Vanessa would be one of the first married out of this Season. She is pretty, well-spoken, and not lacking in either family connections or wealth. Oh, how deliriously high my hopes were when I fired her off.”

“But, my dear Carolyn, your hopes are at long last coming to fruition. The Franklin family is quite plump in the pockets.”

Carolyn offered her neighbor a smile. “Something that my niece needn’t worry her head about, for my brother left her without that concern.”

“Poo! A woman needs always to think of such things. Not just for herself, but for her children. I had begun to despair that Vanessa would fail her obligation to her late father.” Penelope shuddered. “I know he was your brother, Carolyn, but I vow I never met a more disagreeable man.”

“Or a more endearing one. I see more of him in Vanessa every day.”

Penelope took a hasty sip of tea and clumsily changed the conversation back to the topic that had brought her to the sunny parlor overlooking the Square. “I believe you shall soon be announcing your niece’s betrothal.”

“I have harbored such hopes before, and they have come to naught.” Carolyn leaned back against the settee. “Forgive me if I seem indifferent, but Vanessa’s heart will be a hard-won prize. She is so serious about so many things, but not about finding a suitable husband.” She sighed. “Or to own the truth, any husband at all.”

“You must speak honestly with her.” Both of Penelope’s chins jiggled with her fervor. “A young miss needs to be made aware of what she must do to plan for her future. Not that you would ever be remiss in such tuition, Carolyn, but it is a young woman’s place to be grateful for any man who pays her heed.”

Carolyn almost laughed. How incensed Vanessa would be to hear Penelope speak so! Raised, as all the Wolfes had been, to know her own mind and to speak it, Vanessa would not assent submissively to an offer of marriage from a man her aunt had chosen. Not that Carolyn would have been so much a block as to suggest such a thing, since she was a Wolfe as well.

Quietly, to hide her thoughts, Carolyn said, “Perhaps we shall be given a greater clue into Vanessa’s mind this evening. I shall be certain that she sits with Sir Wilbur Franklin when we play cards. Then I must trust he will know the proper court-promises to delight her.”

“What a fitting watchdog you are! When my sister Agatha’s youngest comes out next Season, I would dearly love to have you sponsor her.”

Carolyn toyed with a sweetmeat, then dropped it back into the dish. Wiping her fingers delicately on a linen napkin, she glanced at the clock on the mantel. Vanessa should have returned from the
modiste
more than fifteen minutes ago. The girl had developed an uncomely habit of being late when some task she disliked faced her. Carolyn had suspected the attention they must give to overseeing the final plans for this evening’s entertainment would slow Vanessa’s return.

Vanessa was so like her father. Grant Wolfe had exhibited a single-minded determination to do what he thought was right. Although that manner had lost him a few friends on occasion and gained him more than a few enemies, he had remained steadfast to those who understood his ways. Vanessa was in good pax with only a handful among the
élite
, but she held those friendships dear.

Despite herself, Carolyn’s eyes rose to a painting set in prominence on the chimney-piece. Even in the portrait, her sister-in-law Julianna appeared a frail wraith, for she had succumbed to a fever in less than a year after the painting was completed. Carolyn’s gaze settled on the other faces in it. Dear Grant, his eyes burning with the ideals he had not lived to see come to consummation. Sitting next to him was Vanessa, a younger version of her mother’s beauty, but with a set of her shoulders that suggested her father’s strength. Lastly, Carolyn looked at the lad with his hand on his father’s shoulder. Corey Wolfe had inherited a large share of the Wolfe stubbornness and indifference to others’ opinions. That had led to his death on a distant battlefield.