Cole …
She looked at her reticule. The fifty guineas she had left would not finance his obsession, but it would help. And if she could win more tomorrow night …
“Yes, my lord,” Nerissa said, her tone more assured, “I would be delighted to join you tomorrow evening. I trust that you will respect Sir Delwyn’s request that I play as his partner.”
He pressed the money she had given him into her hand. “Keep this to begin the game tomorrow night.”
“My lord, I cannot take your money.”
“I doubt if you shall keep it long.” His smile was bright with mischief. “It shall be delightful to win my money back from you, Miss Dufresne.”
Chapter Six
“Such a slugabed you are this morning,” said Cole with a smile when Nerissa entered the breakfast parlor. He pulled his mother-of-pearl snuff box from his pocket and pinched the snuff between his fingers and inhaled with a smile.
“Is it Wednesday already?” She sighed as she sat at the round table. She managed a weak smile for the maid who placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of her. Nearly a week had passed since she had attended Mr. Rowland’s gathering with Lord Windham. Leaning her face into the heat, she said, “I cannot believe that this week has vanished so quickly.”
Cole peered around the sheets of the previous day’s Morning Post from London. “Have you been busy?”
She laughed and reached for the biscuits in the middle of the table. So many times she had been tempted to ask Cole what he would do without her, but she knew the answer. He would muddle through as he did with her assistance. When one was as unconcerned with the passage of time as her stepbrother was, there was no need for someone to keep track of it. Cole’s world centered on his dreams.
In the days since her close brush with death, Cole had tried to be anxious about her. Not that he was completely indifferent. When he thought of her suffering, he offered sincere solace and best wishes for a swift recovery. Simply put, he did not often think of anything but his canal project.
On the first morning that she had not worn the sling around her neck, Nerissa had hoped he would notice. He had not. Instead he had given her a description, which had lasted a full hour, of the series of locks that would be necessary at the heart of the canal.
She buttered a biscuit and smiled as he launched into another discourse on his plans. Letting his words wash over her as the water would in his canal, she wished him a good day when he left to meet his students.
Cole was still ensconced in his study when Annis arrived. Glad, for her brother and Annis were as volatile as flint and steel, Nerissa welcomed her friend into her small sitting room on the upper floor of the town house.
“I thought Wednesday would never come,” bemoaned Annis as she pulled off her brightly feathered bonnet. “Every afternoon, I must go with Janelle to the couturière, and, every evening, I have to sit with her while she flirts with Mr. Oakley. Dash my wigs, but I am bored with her blowing hot and cold on this beau. I should not complain.” She smiled as she sat on the curved arm settee. “Mama remains fascinated with Janelle and Mr. Oakley, so she has accepted Mr. Windham’s request to meet her.”
Nerissa reached for the silver teapot which Mrs. Carroll had brought into the sitting room in anticipation of an afternoon of callers. “Why doesn’t Janelle make up her mind on Mr. Oakley? I vow, Annis, that neither of your sisters has a suggestion of wit about her.”
“But they are beautiful. You are, too, Nerissa, but you have a gentleness which makes you even more attractive to people.” Her long nose wrinkled as she reached for a bull’s-eye among the sweetmeats. Chewing on the peppermint, she mused, “Mr. Windham is to meet with Mama tomorrow afternoon. I am sure she will be as charmed with him as I was.”
“I trust she will be.”
“When you are in his company, does he speak of me?”
Nerissa smiled as she spooned sugar into Annis’s cup. “Constantly, so much so that Lord Windham grimaces each time his brother mentions your name.”
Before she could add more, Mrs. Carroll knocked on the door and opened it. The housekeeper moved aside as a tall shadow crept across the floor. Hearing a deep voice, Nerissa looked up to see a man dressed in a dark coat and leather breeches as if set for a ride. As her eyes rose along the striped waistcoat, she met amusement in familiar, grey eyes.
“Lord Windham!” She hoped he had not overheard her speak of him. “I did not expect to see you this afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Dufresne.” He offered Annis a smile before he added, “And Miss Ehrlich. Philip will be heartsick that he did not join me on this call.”
“Will he? How wonderful! Not, my lord, that I wish him to be sad, but—” Annis choked back the rest when Nerissa jabbed her lightly with her elbow. A flush climbed Annis’s cheeks.
Lord Windham smiled more broadly. “I understand that you are at home on Wednesday afternoons, Miss Dufresne.”
“Yes, of course. Will you join us?” She gestured toward a chair. “We are about to have tea.”
“I fear I cannot stay and chat with you ladies.” Putting his hand on Nerissa’s uninjured arm, he asked, “May I speak with you a moment?”
“Yes, of course,” she repeated, but more faintly. Even through his gloves, the heat of his fingers teased her skin. If their few meetings gave any indication to the true man, he was a vexing fellow, with a frightful habit of doing as he saw fit, no matter what others thought. In that way, he was much like Cole, although she could discern no other resemblance between her brother and the forthright viscount.
As they walked out into the upper hall, she battled to regain her composure. She need not act like a goosecap simply because the handsome lord had given her a look-in. He paused before a large window that flooded sunlight across the carpeted floor. Again she noted the red glistening in his ebony hair, but her gaze was drawn to his smile.
“Forgive me for taking you from your friend, Miss Dufresne. I considered sending you a note, but did not trust it to arrive in time.”
“Is something wrong?”
He folded his arms across his waistcoat. “There is no need to look so distressed, for the problem is only that Philip may not be able to join us this evening. Perhaps you would ask your brother to join us at Rowland’s.”
Nerissa almost laughed as she tried to imagine Cole at Kirby’s house. Within moments of his arrival, he would be pining for his book room and his stacks of papers. She realized with a start that she was unsure if her stepbrother even knew how to play cards.
“It might be wise to consider another partner this evening, my lord,” she said quietly.
“But I want you.” He chuckled when her eyes widened at his vehemence. “Do not think me crazy, but you have been enjoying such good fortune at the table that I would enjoy sharing it tonight.”
“Weren’t you the one who said luck is primarily skill?”
“Damn,” he said with a sigh, “there’s no choice but to drag that young pup from his plans this evening.”
“My lord, I never meant for you to insist that Mr. Windham join us, if he needs to be elsewhere.”
Lord Hamilton started to answer, then clamped his mouth closed. Abrupt fury glittered in his eye as his lips straightened. Taking a step back, for she feared what would happen if that rage detonated, she gasped when his face altered into a sudden smile.
“Why not? It shall do him good.” Tapping his tall beaver into place, he walked toward the stairs.
He paused with his hand on the banister as she asked, “Is something amiss with Mr. Windham?”
“Not yet.…” Again he seemed ready to add something more, but did not.
Nerissa hesitated. To probe more deeply would be inappropriate, but she could tell he was not revealing the complete truth. “My lord, if—”
“Don’t fret about it. Coming to the party tonight will give him something to think about other than his daunting task of impressing Mrs. Ehrlich so he may call upon his fair Anni
s. Other matters have delayed him from that interview, but I suspect he will not be able to wait overly long to call.”
Nerissa laughed softly as she glanced back at the sitting room. “Annis tells me your brother intends to visit her mother tomorrow. He is right to dread that call.”
“He shall learn better before long.” Before she could ask him to explain, he added, “I shall see you at nine o’clock then, Miss Dufresne. Or, I should say, we shall see you at nine. I trust that will be convenient.”
“Yes, of course,” she said yet again, but to his back as he went down the stairs. As the door closed behind him, she wondered what the viscount would have done if she had declined his invitation. She suspected she did not want to know.
Nerissa waited impatiently as Frye closed the back of her dress. It was the same gown she had worn several nights before, but her wardrobe was not vast enough for a different gown every evening. That the men never noticed what she wore—other than to give her a hasty compliment as she sat at the card table—should have offered some consolation, but it oddly irritated her.
“Do stand still!” ordered Frye with the irascibility that had been her hallmark for the past week. “I believe the modiste makes these closures smaller on every dress.”
“If you would rather that I wear the blue one—”
“No, no,” the abigail assured her too hastily. “This one is the best.”
Nerissa turned to face her. “Why?”
“I … I …” Frye flushed and walked toward the dressing table.
Nerissa stepped in front of her maid to halt Frye’s hurried escape into the dressing room. “What is wrong with you? You seem as nervous as a cat in a kennel.”
“May I speak plainly?”
“Frye, you know that I depend on you to do so.” She sat in the worn chair by the bed. “How could I have learned half of what I know if I hadn’t had you to teach me?”
The older woman’s hand clenched on the carved footboard, and her voice trembled. “Miss Dufresne, it appears I have taught you poorly, for it seems that you are learning other lessons. Lessons I had prayed no one I knew and loved—as I love you, for you seem like my own child in my heart—would ever have to learn.”
Nerissa leaned forward and put her hand over Frye’s, discovering that her abigail’s skin was as icy as the pond at Hill’s End in midwinter. “Dear Frye, you have me baffled. What have I done to bring you such sorrow? I entreat you to tell me so that I may vow never to do such a thing again.”
Frye drew a handkerchief from beneath her long sleeve. Dabbing at her eyes, she raised her head in pitiful defiance. “If you wish to give me my dismissal, I will understand, for what I have to say is horrible beyond belief, yet it must be said. You are no dirty dish, and I would as lief find a position in a scullery than have you do what you are doing with Lord Windham in an effort to save this household.”
Nerissa gasped, for Frye’s expression of revulsion frightened her. Rising, she put her hand on the older woman’s arm again. “Dear Frye, whatever is wrong? Tell me why you are so distressed.”
“How can I say such appalling words? You know what else they are saying?”
“I am certain that ‘they’, as you put it so diplomatically, are saying that the viscount and I have been seen often going into the homes of Mr. Rowland and Sir Delwyn Seely where we spend the evening in seclusion,” Nerissa said, keeping her smile hidden.
Frye groaned and hid her face in her hands. “Alas, what did I do wrong? What lesson did I fail to teach you?”
Realizing that her abigail was crying again, Nerissa knelt next to her. She patted Frye’s chubby arm and whispered, “Dear Frye, tell me what you fear, so that I may put your mind to ease. I was just funning you.”
Color darkened the maid’s pale cheeks. “You are a lady of standing, Miss Dufresne, but not of money. If you ruin your reputation, you shall find no decent man to wed you when Lord Windham tires of you and practices his fascinating arts on the next innocent maiden who falls prey to his charm. Do not give the gabblemongers the fodder to destroy you, even if you have given him your heart as well as …” She shuddered and pressed her hands to her lips.
“You think that I … that he …” Nerissa’s astonishment prevented her from saying more.
Frye nodded.
“But why?”
“I found money in your drawer when I was putting away your clean chemises. So much money, and I know you did not have it before he began calling with his lavish gifts.”
Nerissa rose to sit in the chair and clasped her hands in her lap. “The only gift Lord Windham has given me was the bonnet to replace the one that was ruined. An untoward gift I own, but, as he is a proud man, he hoped the gift would say what he found difficult.”
“And the money?”
“I won that playing whist with Lord Windham and his friends. I assure you that, while you are sitting with the others belowstairs, he is not paying me to play anything else with him.”
“Miss Dufresne!”
Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. “Was this attack started within this household? If so, you may tell its originator, whom you should know better than to heed, that Lord Windham does not consider me a bit of muslin for his enjoyment. Lord Windham offers me the respect any gentleman should offer a lady.” Except at the card table, she amended silently.
“I am sorry, but I had to know. When Had … when the one who spoke of this sounded so sure, I needed to put my heart to rest.”
“You may put your heart to rest as well as reassure everyone in this house and beyond that Lord Windham and I have only cards in common.”
Frye continued to buzz around while Nerissa finished getting dressed, continually apologizing for her lack of faith in her charge. Nerissa did not chide her, for she did not wish to hurt her abigail more. To perdition with Hadfield! His cruelty was now aimed at hurting those she cared for as well as at her. Cole refused to listen to her requests to send him packing, and the only way she could convince him would be to bring him proof. Hadfield was too sly to allow that.
When it was announced that Lord Windham waited below, Nerissa hurried down the stairs. Frye followed, her steps lighter than they had been all day. Nerissa was about to greet the viscount, but halted when she heard a soft click.
She looked toward Cole’s book room. The door was ajar. She considered calling to him to come and meet Lord Windham, then changed her mind. Such a meeting was certain to be awkward, for Cole would talk of nothing but his canal. She wanted to avoid any further discomfort this evening.
“How lovely you look tonight,” Mr. Windham gushed with his usual graciousness. “Don’t you think so, Hamilton?”
“The dress does look better without the bruises to clash with it.”
“I’m pleased you think so,” Nerissa answered quietly.
Lord Windham’s dark brows rose along his forehead, but she said nothing more as he settled her lacy cape over her shoulders.
“The greenhorns are waiting for us to trounce Seely and Rowland tonight,” he said as he opened the front door.
“If luck is with us.”
“It will be.”
Nerissa was about to reply when she heard another muted sound behind her. As she walked out onto the steps, she looked back to see Cole’s door was now firmly closed. She wondered what he had hoped to see. A flush climbed her cheeks when she feared he had listened to Hadfield’s lies as well. She must set him to rights in the morning.
Hamilton tapped his foot on the marble floor in time with the lush music coming from the opposite end of the room. This was not at all the night he had planned. He had hoped for a rousing game of cards with fevered betting to take his mind off Mallory’s first report. Not that the Bow Street Runner had told him anything new. His quarry had come to Bath, and there was no sign of him having left. Somewhere in this small city, the man, who had stolen thirty thousand pounds from his father, resided in luxury on that money.
Blast it! Seely was dri
nking himself fuzzy while Rowland was busy playing the lady-killer with Mrs. Monroe and acting as if he was no more than a lad suffering his first calf love.
His eyes narrowed as he saw his brother in intense conversation with Miss Dufresne. She had said scarcely a score of words to him, but seemed eager for his brother’s company. That should be all for the good. Yet an emotion he had pledged never to suffer again suffused him, wrenching his gut.
Blast it! He had put jealousy behind him when Elinor gave him the bull’s-feather with her parade of lovers.
Hamilton was halfway across the room before he realized he was about to charge in on their conversation. Slowing his steps, he heard a loud laugh.
“Quite the primitive, wasn’t he? Knocking the poor girl on the head to get her attention?”
He recognized the voice as Seely’s, although it was blurred with hazy. His hands curled into fists when he heard Randall Oakley reply.
“He seems to have gotten what he wants. She is living in his pocket.” He cursed, then said, “I must speak to Mrs. Ehrlich about urging her youngest to dissolve her friendship with Miss Dufresne. It would not look good for my sister-in-law to be a bosom bow of Windham’s natural.”
“You think—”
“Without question, Seely. She is as poor as Job’s turkey, from what I have heard from Miss Ehrlich. Windham clearly finds her amusing, although I hazard he will tire of her before the fortnight comes to a close.”
“I say,” Seely said, his voice bright with interest, “that he keeps her for a month.”
“I take your wager for … shall we say fifty pounds?”
Hamilton stepped forward and smiled. “Can you afford to lose that much, Oakley?”
The beak-nosed man had the sense to look embarrassed, but Seely gave a brandy-faced laugh. The baronet said, “Oakley is well-fixed, Windham. You know that. Otherwise, why would he be allowed to court Miss Ehrlich?” Winking bawdily, he added, “Convince Mrs. Ehrlich of young Philip’s plump pockets, and your brother can have her youngest.”
The Fortune Hunter Page 8
