Virginia And The Wolf

by Lynne Connolly

  He would keep them off her, but only if she asked. And if she did that, he’d tell her his price.

  Francis strode around the corner, nearly colliding with a small brat who lay in waiting, presumably to pickpocket what he could. He stopped the lad running away by the expedient of gripping his shoulder while he searched himself. Purse, watch, rings, earring, all present and correct. He let the child go and continued to the house he had hired for the season.

  Inside, the residence was in a state of turmoil. Traveling trunks stood in the hall, and footmen were adding to the stack. He had to dodge around them to get to the back parlor, where his mother was enjoying a dish of tea. Obligingly, she held up the pot, but he shook his head. He’d had enough tea for one day.

  His lovely mother was as serene as always.

  After bending to kiss her cheek, relieved to find her temperature normal after her recent bout of influenza, he took the chair opposite hers. “The trunks are yours?”

  “Yes. I’ll leave for the country early tomorrow morning, immediately after the Conyngham ball.”

  He raised a brow. “I thought you intended to do some shopping.”

  “I’ve done it.” She looked away.

  Francis’s hackles rose when he saw her defensive move. “Has someone insulted you again? Tell me who, and I will ensure they never do so again.”

  She smiled at him, her blue eyes shining. “Not at all. And I care very little for that.”

  “Truth?”

  “Absolute truth.” She crossed her heart in a gesture that took him right back to his childhood. Society also took it amiss that Celia had chosen to rear her son herself, rather than entrusting him to nurses and tutors, something that had increased their bond.

  Francis could not have wished for a better start in life.

  “Then why so soon?”

  Her mouth flattened. “Since I’ve just promised the truth, I’ll tell you. I’m tired, Francis. I want to go home.”

  “Then I will escort you.”

  “No. I know you were not planning to leave so soon. Please don’t make a fuss, dear. I’ll do very well with my entourage of carriages and servants that you insist on surrounding me with. Truly, I will spend the time sleeping, and I will be better without you. Jane will accompany me.”

  Jane was the widow of Francis’s late uncle, and after his death, she and his mother had become unexpectedly firm friends. She had joined Celia for her month in London, and both ladies enjoyed themselves hugely, or so they said.

  Nevertheless, he insisted. “It would be a pleasure to escort you.”

  She humphed. “No, it would not. You would be bored senseless. Stay and attend a few of those terrible dens of iniquity men frequent when the women are not about.” She fixed him with a perceptive stare. “But do not get into trouble.”

  Just as if he was a recalcitrant schoolboy. He grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.”

  “Indeed, dear, but you’re in a temper, are you not? Don’t think I cannot see you.”

  He knew when he was beaten. And truthfully, he did surround her with armed guards and provide her with the most comfortable carriage he could find. He would ensure the journey was well planned, and his coachman had the list safe.

  “I’ll escort you to the Conynghams’ tonight and get up early to see you off in the morning.”

  And not get any sleep, because he would be ensuring her trip would be comfortable and uneventful. His mother was the most important woman in his life, and she would continue to be so for the foreseeable future.

  * * * *

  Virginia arrived at the ballroom on her own, but as fortune would have it, just behind her good friend Angela Childers and one of her uncles. For the life of her Virginia couldn’t remember which one. All Angela’s uncles were on her mother’s side, the aristocratic one. To do them justice, most did not care about the wealth she had inherited from her father, having, as one told her once, “sufficient.” Perhaps being younger brothers of a duke helped. They had all the benefits and none of the responsibility.

  Virginia joined Angela, who left her uncle in the card room. The comfortable salon already contained a number of people, who greeted the gentleman like a long-lost friend. They had probably seen him twice already this week.

  Progressing to the ballroom proved a little difficult, despite the lateness of the season, because the fortune hunters still abounded. They clustered around Virginia and Angela. The worst compliment the ladies received was something about the extremes of beauty, since Virginia was so dark-haired and Angela so fair. Angela merely glanced at Virginia, who had to fight laughter. No sense encouraging them.

  In the far corner of the room sat a group of ladies, most of them sporting the SSL silver pin, as did Angela and Virginia. Angela wore it proudly, along with a set of magnificent diamonds.

  Virginia had chosen the center of her stomacher, letting it form the heart of a flower embroidered there. They wore them openly and proudly. With two significant successes to their name, and more minor problems dealt with, people were starting to notice the society was more than the sermonizing club it purported to be.

  Spinsters, widows, overlooked daughters who did not “take,” all had banded together, friendship first, problem-solving after. Even the august magistrates at Bow Street had noticed, though they publicly scorned the society as amateurs and dilettantes. But the SSL could get to parts of society that Bow Street Runners and magistrates had little chance of breaching.

  In the past, the little group of ladies would sit together quietly, unobserved. Not now. The animated gossip and exchange of news warmed Virginia’s heart. They were valued, useful, and earning money of their own, which Angela banked for them. A system of trustees ensured the money would stay in their hands, rather than relatives and guardians grabbing the prizes. Virginia was happy for them and thrilled that she’d had a hand in creating the enterprise.

  Angela and Virginia had to walk around the edge of the room, since the dancing was about to begin, and although several more gentlemen approached them, Virginia and Angela pretended to be engaged in deep conversation. In fact, Angela was saying, “I’ll be glad when I reach forty and men consider me too old to marry.”

  Virginia laughed. “You will never be too old, my dear. You’re too rich for that. Best to find an amenable gentleman who will allow you to retain your property.”

  Angela’s blue-eyed, blond beauty was enhanced by the light of intelligence in her eyes. She would not grow into a pinched and disappointed old maid. She’d be just as lovely at forty.

  “I can’t trust any of them. Not one. The day I marry, my husband inherits everything I own. How can I let all those people down?”

  “Your staff?” Virginia understood that responsibility.

  Angela lifted one shoulder in an elegant half shrug. “Staff, clients, everyone who trusts the bank to look after their property.”

  “You should marry Snell,” Virginia remarked, referring to one of her chief managers.

  Angela snorted. “And oust his wife and their children? In any case, I don’t trust any man not to take over. I won’t have it. My father left the bank in my care, and it’s my duty to take the greatest care of it.”

  She paused to glare at an importunate man coming toward them. He spun on his heel and pretended he hadn’t meant to talk to them at all but walked past on his way to annoy someone else.

  By then they’d reached the end of the room. Greeting the ladies, they took seats where they could, but with the voluminous skirts every woman wore for balls, that task proved difficult. Virginia’s white-and-yellow striped gown, decorated with tiny snowdrops around the hem, would take up a sofa on its own. She opted to remain standing and refused to take the seat Miss McLennon offered her.

  “I am fine, not at all unable to stand,” she protested, laughing. “Did you find Lady Cameron’s ring?”
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  Miss McLennon made a sound of disgust. “It was down the back of a sofa in her drawing room. She accused everyone she knew of stealing it, and yet she had not even asked the maids to do a thorough search! She came to the SSL determined to kick up a fuss, but that was the easiest of tasks. I still made her pay for my time.”

  “She was looking for attention,” Virginia remarked. “Her husband does not pay her a great deal of notice.”

  Miss McLennon gestured to the people around them. “I dare say she could find solace here. Or another room just like it.” Many unhappily married women found solace elsewhere once their husbands strayed.

  “Ah, but she adores her husband,” Miss McLennon said softly. “I saw enough of that while I was there. She has his picture everywhere. He gave her that ring, and I am certain she keeps it as a precious memento of something or other.”

  A hush fell at the end of the room as Virginia was talking to Miss McLennon, her back to the company. Alerted to the tension around her, Virginia turned around, taking her time. Until she saw who had entered the room.

  At the far end of the white-and-gold room, with its feminine curlicues and twists, stood two men. Two extremely masculine men. But they did not look as if they didn’t belong there. They looked as if they owned the place.

  Despite his elaborate silks and lace, the Duke of Colston Magna fooled nobody. He was no namby-pamby idiot. Inside that outrageous pink silk coat resided a powerful male with a fearsome reputation for never losing a duel, or a bout of fisticuffs. Those lily-white hands had pounded Col’s opponent into oblivion more than once in the boxing studio.

  “One wonders why he is so angry. Beneath that pretty surface he is simmering,” Angela murmured.

  The Earl of Wolverley wore scarlet and gold, the brilliants sewn into his waistcoat flashing as he moved. But not as much as his eyes. Those eyes held the promise of murder, and Virginia was afraid it was for her. Although they had parted on ostensibly amicable terms, he had not fooled her with his soft talk of pins and neighborly concern.

  Virginia and Angela stood together, facing the incoming storm. The men fixed their eyes on them and did not look away as they made their way toward them past all the other guests.

  The diamond dangling below Wolverley’s earlobe flashed as he turned his head when a woman laughed nervously. Then he returned his attention to Virginia. As the men walked up to them, the women switched places, a swift rustling of skirts loud in the suddenly quiet room. The quartet accompanying the dancers had paused between sets. Conversation around them was muted. Or perhaps Virginia only imagined it that way.

  The men made their bows, beautiful pattern cards of obeisance.

  Col asked for Virginia’s hand in the next set of country dances. Shooting a triumphant glare at Wolverley, she accepted, graciously placing her hand on Col’s chilly satin sleeve.

  “Hasn’t the weather turned cold?” she inquired as he led her onto the floor.

  “It has, and after the wonderful sunshine we’ve been having lately!” he answered, full of bonhomie but glancing past her to where Angela and Wolverley were standing, waiting for the dance to begin.

  When she glanced at Angela, she caught a lovelorn gaze from Wolverley, there for all to see.

  Virginia gritted her teeth. That one fraught glance told Virginia what he was at. Retribution would not be long in coming. And well, she would have to learn to live with it. How dare he make his intentions so obvious? The whole of London would be talking about his approach tomorrow. His volte-face would be noted and gossiped about in every house in the country.

  Before this night, their connection was known but not remarked upon, since they behaved in a suitably neighborly way. But if he made his change of heart so obvious, that opinion would change in a flash.

  Tonight, Wolverley gazed at her from afar, the wistful longing of a suitor. Or a lover. All the way through the dance he never let his attention stray, gazing at her as if she was all he could see, watching her dance with her other partners.

  She wanted to slap that stupid expression off his face, and Virginia did not consider herself a violent woman.

  Ladies gossiped behind their fans, and gentlemen laughed softly as they watched. By the end of this evening, they would believe that she and Wolverley were lovers.

  Damn him to hell and back. She could curse all she liked in her mind, but outwardly she kept the polite smile on her face and her attention on her partner in the dance.

  Unfortunately country dances meant changes of partner. They were social dances, until they ended with their original partner at the end of the piece. Short of stalking away from the dance floor, which would create a scandal all its own, she would have to face Wolverley and dance with him. Avoiding gossip was all but impossible.

  The remaining company in London were avidly waiting for a scandal, something to enliven the gossip over the teacups. Virginia refused to provide it. Utterly refused.

  When Wolverley faced her in the dance, he smiled in that way she’d seen when he flirted with women. No, not flirted, but indicated something deeper.

  As they crossed in the dance, she hissed at him, “I am not your mistress, and I will never be.”

  “Did I ask you that?” His deep voice resonated through her, thrilling those parts of her she worked hard to keep dormant. “I would not suggest such a thing.” He paused while they executed steps that separated them then brought them back together. “Unless I thought you wanted it.”

  That last was delivered in such a sultry tone that made her palms itch. That would have thrilled the spectators. Two more measures and she was done with him. “I would never wish for it. You know that, Wolverley.”

  “I know no such thing. We have been dancing around each other for years, rather like we are doing now. Isn’t it time we faced what lies between us?”

  For a moment, a fraction of a second, he gazed at her as if she was his world, as if he meant the nonsense he was parroting. Then it was gone, frustratingly covered by a flirtatious smile, as if she’d said something witty.

  So she laughed. A little too high-pitched, but it would serve to persuade people that nothing was serious here. Move along, people, find the next show. “You’re angry with me, but this is unfair.”

  “Is it? Nothing is unfair in war or love. Surely you know that.”

  She turned the old saying back the right way. Love came first. “I know nothing of love or war.”

  She had said too much. Virginia bit her lip, desperately searching for something to cover her sentence. But she was too late.

  As she made to move on in the dance, back to Colston Magna, Wolverley said, his voice soft and low, “Then I shall teach you.”

  His breath grazed her ear, making her gasp.

  Somebody else had said that to her once. Revulsion filled her, so sudden that she recoiled from it, and the duke had to catch her elbow to steady her. She pretended she’d stumbled, and thanked him, forcing another light laugh. “My mother always said I could trip on a speck of dust. Thank you, sir.”

  “Think nothing of it,” he said somberly. “Madam, if the Wolf troubles you too much, I will stand your friend.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was to draw any more attention to this atrocious business. “Wolverley? No, we have known each other for years.”

  Damn the man.

  Chapter 3

  After thanking the duke and allowing him to return her to the sanctuary of the single ladies’ corner, Virginia determined to surround herself with her friends from the club, but unfortunately someone else approached her. James, Lord Dulverton, the man who had inherited the title when Ralph died.

  She gave him a cautious smile. “Jamie, how good to see you. I didn’t realize you were still in London.”

  Jamie’s round, open face, enhanced by dark eyes, would be considered handsome by many, but Virginia had known him when his f
eatures were less welcoming. He had expected the bulk of Ralph’s private fortune to come to him, too, but he had never commented on Ralph’s will, not in public at any rate. In private he’d raged. Only once, but that had been enough to show her his real feelings.

  Jamie was four years younger than Virginia, but that had not deterred him embarking on a determined courtship, until Virginia told him frankly that she did not intend to marry anyone ever again. The cordiality between them was diminished from what it had been in Ralph’s lifetime, but it still existed. She could understand Jamie’s sense of betrayal when he’d discovered how Ralph had apportioned his estate, but not his attitude to it.

  Truthfully, she was surprised Ralph hadn’t told Jamie about his plan. But the secrecy was typical of her late husband, as she had reason to know. These days Virginia and Jamie shared a cautious peace, more in the nature of a truce.

  “I should warn you that our mutual neighbor Sir Bertram Dean is in town with his family,” Jamie said. “He’s at it again. Now he thinks that nobody will notice if he claims the spinney at the bottom of Combe Hill as his own. The deeds to that particular parcel of land remain with you, so I have to ask for your aid in refuting him.”

  “Old coot!” she said without rancor. Dean had done everything to get that spinney. “I shall certainly provide you with everything you need.” Sir Bertram deserved a set-down. “I don’t have my companion with me at the moment, so calling on me would be difficult. Is your mother in town, so I may call on you?”

  “No, she is still in the country.” Jamie’s eyes hardened. He had brown eyes, so like Ralph’s, and that expression was too reminiscent of her late husband for Virginia’s liking. “But that doesn’t stop you receiving male visitors, does it?”

  How annoying that someone had reported it. “Wolverley, you mean? We had some business regarding the estate.”

  His lips tightened. “Anything I should know about?”