Gentleman's Trade

by Newman, Holly

  He paused, running his hand unconsciously across his deeply furrowed brow. “It might be to our advantage to have Vanessa as my nurse, since it may keep her out of circulation. Second, ask Mannion now for Adeline’s hand in marriage, then make as big and as splashy an announcement as you can.”

  Trevor laughed. “I’m not averse to that, but may I ask why?”

  “Because our attackers were after you, Trevor.”

  “What?”

  “Just as they rushed us I heard you identified as the target. Also, if the fellow with the cap with the red feather was the leader, he was making a concerted effort to lay you out. That’s why he didn’t pay any attention to me.”

  Trevor frowned, but reluctantly nodded. “All right. I’ll accept that, but again I say why?”

  “I fear they were hired by our erstwhile friend Wilmot because he sees you as a threat to winning Vanessa’s hand. Remember, Vanessa spent an unconscionable amount of time in your company at the ball.”

  “And when he finds out I’m not courting Vanessa . . . .”

  “You’ll be safer, and I won’t worry so much about your damned hide.”

  “But what about yours?” Trevor protested.

  “Remember, I volunteered to be cannon fodder, but I didn’t volunteer to enter the fray unarmed. I won’t be taken by surprise again,” Hugh grimly assured him.

  “You’ll be lucky to get out of that bed to do much of anything.”

  A soft knock on the door was followed by Vanessa’s presence, interrupting their discussion. “Time, Mr. Danielson,” she said, holding the door open and pointedly staring at him.

  “Right,” he said, raising from his chair. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Hugh.”

  Vanessa stood silently until he exited the room, then she closed the door with a decided snap. “Now, Mr. Talverton,” she said, walking toward him with a determined air, “you will take your medicine.”

  “Yes, Miss Mannion, I will,” he admitted tiredly.

  Her cold demeanor melted like spring snow, and her heart went out to him. She handed him the glass and put her arm underneath his head to help him rise enough to drink. When he was finished, she took the glass from him, setting it on a tray by the bed, and reached behind him to fluff his pillow. Hugh’s senses swam at her closeness, but he held himself rigidly in check. When she backed away and looked down at him with tenderness, his heart swelled. He couldn’t take much more of her tenderness; the prim and proper nurse was a safer companion.

  He looked up at her, a mischievous little twinkle in his eye. “So, do I get a sweet for being a good boy and taking my medicine? I suppose I’m past the age of a sugar plum, how about a sweet little kiss instead?”

  Instantly she pokered up. “That blow certainly addled your wits. Go to sleep, Mr. Talverton,” she said repressively, setting the Windsor chair a respectable distance from the bed and sitting down, her hands folded primly in her lap.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he returned promptly and closed his eyes. Surprisingly, he was sound asleep in a trice.

  When next he awoke, Hugh was pleased to discover the incipient pounding in his head had settled into a dull ache. Experimentally he levered himself up in bed, testing for the returning waves of giddiness and nausea. Happily they did not return. Wrapping the sheet around his nether half, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Mr. Talverton!” exclaimed Vanessa from where she stood by the doorway, a luncheon tray clasped in her hands. She stood there transfixed, uncertain whether to leave or enter.

  Hugh hurriedly tucked the sheet in closer about his body. “I feel as weak as a kitten,” he admitted, covering her embarrassment.

  “Whatever are you doing, trying to get out of bed?” she demanded as she set the tray on a bureau.

  He looked at her askance, his lips twisting. “I must at some time, you know—answer the call of nature.”

  “Oh. Oh!” gasped Vanessa, now understanding the matter. Her cheeks flared brilliant red. “Of course, how silly— you must— I mean— Let me get Jonas,” she said disjointedly, turning to flee the room.

  She did not attempt to return for an hour, and this time she knocked discreetly at the door. Mr. Talverton was progressing so swiftly, it was probably no longer necessary to maintain a constant vigil on him. She regretted that. She wished he would be an invalid a while longer. But with his returning strength, her parents were sure to deny her nursing privileges, for such close, private proximity with a man was unseemly.

  Her knock was met with a request to enter. She was astonished to see him out of bed and fully dressed.

  “Mr. Talverton, I must protest! While you may be feeling better, that was a nasty blow to your head. Please, sir!” she admonished, waving him toward the bed.

  He smiled and caught her hands in his own. “In truth I am still weak, but strong enough, I venture, to soon be denied your presence in this room without a chaperone.”

  Her cheeks reddening when she realized his thoughts followed the same paths as her own, she looked down at their joined hands.

  “I have spoken with your mother, and she is in agreement that if I descend the stairs to the parlor and settle on one of the sofas without moving about further, I should come to no harm. Besides, I believe Adeline and Trevor may be planning an announcement, and I’d much prefer to be in attendance, than to hear it secondhand,” he confided, a glinting smile lighting his eyes.

  She looked up at him, momentarily speechless. Her heart ached to see the stark white bandage around his tanned brow, his blond waves in disarray, falling across the bandage or standing almost straight out away from his head. She heard his sharp intake of breath, and suddenly realized she was staring at him with all the love she felt for him showing nakedly in her face. She pulled her hands out of his, turning toward the door, her slight laugh high and strained. She was not going to give him another opportunity to throw her love back into her face. He didn’t want her love, he wanted an amusing dalliance. He was uncomfortable around her due to her emotions, and that was the last thing she wanted him to be.

  “Well, come then. I’ll lend you my arm on the stairs, but you must promise to tell me immediately if you feel the least giddy or dizzy,” she said earnestly, trying to cover her own trembling limbs with false bravado.

  Hugh scowled at her briefly, concerned about her skittish behavior. He wondered what he’d said or done to set her off on such a high-strung course. He clearly saw the love she felt for him reflected in her eyes, lit from a source deep within her, a source he longed to discover. He was nearly at the point of sweeping her into his arms in answer and mutual discovery, when she’d abruptly turned out the lights, leaving her eyes blank clouds of blue-gray fog. The change was so abrupt that he wondered if he had again been hallucinating. But there, she stood by the door, patiently waiting. He decided he would allow her her head, so long as she did not grab the bit between her teeth. He smiled at her, extending his arm.

  “Your aid and abetment would be appreciated,” he allowed, offering her a small bow.

  “Have a care, Mr. Talverton, lest you tumble down again,” grinned Vanessa.

  “Ah! But if I could be promised you as my nurse, it might be worthwhile.”

  Vanessa feigned a broad yawn as they left the room.

  “You cut me to the quick, Miss Mannion.”

  “Such was my endeavor, Mr. Talverton,” assured Vanessa archly.

  They slowly descended the stairs. In truth, the walking did aggravate Hugh’s headache, and a slight feeling of giddiness gripped the edges of his consciousness. They were halfway down the stairs when Jonas answered a knock on the door and was shown to be admitting Mr. Wilmot.

  “Oh, bother,” murmured Vanessa, a slight moue of dissatisfaction turning down her features. She quickly recovered and smiled as he looked their way.

  “Mr. Talverton,” his raspy voice called out as he crossed toward them. “I heard of your mischance and came to find out how you did.”

  “Yes,” Hugh dr
awled, his eyelids drooping until he was nearly studying Mr. Wilmot through slits. He leaned more heavily on Vanessa, desiring to keep her close.

  She looked at him in surprise, wondering at his sudden weakness and antagonistic manner toward Mr. Wilmot. Did he know of her father’s predicament?

  “I understand I fared better than most do who come up against a group of keelboat stalwarts, no matter their numbers. Excuse me, but might we not continue to the parlor, Miss Mannion? I feel the sooner I am again in a recumbent position, I shall recover my strength.”

  “Of course, Mr. Talverton. You may follow us, if you would, Mr. Wilmot.”

  “Yes, I believe I shall,” grated Mr. Wilmot, his saturnine features closed, yet watchful.

  Vanessa was exceedingly aware of Mr. Wilmot’s presence behind her every step of the way. She felt his eyes boring into the back of her head and felt his heavy tread echoing her own lighter steps across the floor.

  She paused at the parlor door. Though the room was shuttered against the hot afternoon sun, enough light filtered into the room to create a soft glow around Adeline and Amanda as they sat before the quilting frame, their brown-haired heads bent over the poppy-red and cypress-green design sewn on a cream ground. They presented an image of serenity that she was loath to shatter.

  Her heart swelled with love for her family, and suddenly all the implications of Mr. Wilmot’s actions hit her. He would destroy the basic fabric of her family with barely the twitch of an eyebrow, and still expect her to accede to marriage graciously. She did not believe he had come to her home to inquire after Mr. Talverton. More likely he’d come to importune her further. She wondered when he’d begin his threats to her family, or if he considered her too naive to appreciate the implications of his actions. A white-hot anger overcame her, and her body stiffened.

  Hugh Talverton, leaning on Vanessa’s arm, felt her stiffen. He looked at her face and noted the set rigidity of her features and the pallor of her complexion. He stood up straighter, wondering at the change in her demeanor. The marked change worried him She was on edge and likely to land them all in the basket if she took some distempered freak. He silently cursed Wilmot’s presence, accurately guessing that in some way the man was responsible for her manner.

  The moment was fleeting, for then Amanda Mannion looked up and saw them in the doorway.

  “Mr. Talverton,” she said, rising gracefully, “I trust you are not feeling too ill from moving about?”

  “No, madam,” he responded, smiling, as they entered the room, “though I must admit to a dashed weakness.”

  “Yes, but he refuses to remain abed,” Vanessa said, leading Hugh toward a sofa.

  Mrs. Mannion chuckled. “Gentlemen seldom care for their health, my dear, and generally maintain a stoic front. Just prop him up with pillows and hope he has sense enough to return to his bed before he must be carried.”

  Hugh’s answering grin was lopsided. “Have no fear of that, Mrs. Mannion. After embarrassing myself by fainting last evening, I’m not likely to repeat the incident. It can hardly be conducive to winning favors,” he said, glancing at Vanessa’s face as he eased himself down on the sofa.

  “Very prettily said, Talverton,” growled Wilmot from the doorway.

  “Mr. Wilmot!” Mrs. Mannion exclaimed, swinging around. “I’m terribly sorry. I did not see you enter behind Vanessa and Mr. Talverton. Please, come in and sit down. Adeline, ring for refreshments,” she said, hurriedly crossing to his side.

  “Thank you, madam,” he said, sitting in a winged armchair, his back to the door. He leisurely crossed his legs and, from under heavily lidded eyes, looked across the room at Hugh Talverton. “My visit will be brief. I merely came to inquire after Mr. Talverton’s welfare and,” he said, turning his head back toward Amanda Mannion, the hint of a smile on his lips, “to see if I might have a word or two with Richard.”

  Vanessa’s lips set in a straight line. Hugh touched her arm, turning her attention toward him. “There is no need to stand over me, Miss Mannion. I promise I shall not swoon.”

  “Oh! Oh, of course, Mr. Talverton,” she said, recalled to her circumstances. She sat down swiftly on a small chair near Hugh and as far from Mr. Wilmot as possible, without being obvious.

  “Richard is in the library in conference with Mr. Danielson at the moment. They should be out directly. In the meantime, may I offer you a glass of Madeira?” Mrs. Mannion suggested, sitting in the chair next to his.

  He inclined his head in acquiescence, while his eyes roved the assembled company, feeling the tension in the room.

  “Jonas,” Mrs. Mannion said when the butler arrived in response to Adeline’s summons, “please bring in the refreshment tray, then see if you can inform my husband of Mr. Wilmot’s presence.”

  “Mr. Wilmot,” Hugh drawled, pulling the man’s attention away from the nervousness in the ladies, “possibly you can help us. I understand you employ and are well acquainted with these ruffian river men. Maybe you can help us identify the four that attacked Trevor and me, to see that they’re brought to justice.”

  “Perhaps, though it would serve no purpose,” he grated, his voice the sound of stone on stone.

  “Well, truthfully, we’re not concerned for the river men. We’re more interested in who hired them,” he said coolly, ignoring the concerted gasps from the ladies.

  “Hired them?” asked Wilmot, his eyebrow twitching. “Surely you’re mistaken. That Nongela they serve in the saloons makes brave-hearts out of cowards.”

  “No, Wilmot, I’m not mistaken. Those men were hired and were after Trevor,” he said crisply, all vestiges of the London fop, that he’d maintained before Mr. Wilmot in the past, falling away. His tawny gaze pierced Mr. Wilmot, issuing a silent challenge.

  “Trevor?” asked Adeline weakly as she rose unsteadily from her chair, leaning heavily against the quilt frame.

  Wilmot’s brow twitched on seeing Adeline’s pale complexion. Vanessa scowled at Hugh, realizing with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, just how determined Mr. Wilmot was.

  The man shifted slightly in his chair and studied his fingernails for a moment before looking back at Hugh. “Interesting,” he said noncommittally.

  A small sound, like a groan, escaped Adeline’s lips as she crumbled to the floor, pulling the quilting frame over on top of her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Adeline!” called Vanessa and Amanda, running to her side.

  Hugh rose clumsily to his feet cursing his stupidity. As quietly as she sat at her sewing, he had forgotten Adeline’s presence. He grabbed the side of the quilt frame, pulling it off Adeline while her sister cradled her head in her lap and her mother chafed her wrists. With black annoyance, he noted Wilmot had not moved but was watching them, a smile playing upon his lips.

  “Let’s get her to the sofa,” he said to Vanessa as he bent down to pick Adeline up.

  “Yes, yes,” she said distractedly, relinquishing her position.

  “Careful, Mr. Talverton,” Mrs. Mannion said.

  A sharp stab of pain pierced his ribs when he picked up Adeline, and he staggered slightly as his head spun for a moment.

  Suddenly the door opened admitting Richard Mannion and Trevor Danielson.

  “Hugh!” cried Trevor, swiftly crossing the room as Hugh gently placed Adeline on the sofa. He knelt by her side. “What happened?”

  Hugh flopped down into the chair Vanessa had vacated, his long legs splayed out before him. Around him he heard the jumble of explanations as everyone moved to speak, save Mr. Wilmot who still sat quietly in his chair. Adeline was coming around, her moans adding a counterpoint to the noisy exclamations of her family.

  Hugh’s head was pounding again. He ran his hand across his brow. “Your intended discovered the attack was not an accident.”

  “What?” Trevor demanded, glancing quickly in Mr. Wilmot’s direction. That gentleman’s brows merely twitched, and Hugh again cursed his forthright tongue. He must be more muzzy-headed tha
n he knew.

  Russell Wilmot slowly uncrossed his legs and rose to his feet. “I think, under the circumstances, I shall take my leave of you all. Richard, I’ll call upon you tomorrow,” he said sharply.

  Mr. Mannion nodded, his iron brows lowering over his eyes, his face rigid. “I shall expect you around ten?”

  Wilmot paused, taken aback by Mannion’s ready agreement. “Yes,” he said considering, “ten it is.” He bowed to the rest of the company who stood in their places like a silent tableau, then turned to leave as Jonas entered with the refreshments.

  His exit heralded an explosion of speech from the room’s occupants. Hugh sat slumped in his chair, letting the exclamations and remonstrations lap over him like the ocean’s tide. He sat apart, his head aching, yet feeling they were approaching the end of the maze and the resolution of their travails.

  He looked up at Vanessa, arms akimbo, as she listened to her father’s explanations. Her face was a study of astonishment and dismay. She was fairly sputtering her indignation, her face showing heightened color on her cheekbones in contrast to her pale complexion. She was beautiful in her own unique style. What had he dubbed it last week? Was it really such a short time ago? Did people really fall in love in that short a time? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he felt as if he’d known her all his life. She had a vitality he’d never seen in a woman before, and she exerted a pull upon his senses he’d never experienced. He hoped her solicitous attitude was in some measure a sign of the depth of her regard for him. He’d faltered badly with his behavior at the Chaumondes’. He could not believe he was so blind as to think what he felt for Vanessa wasn’t love. To deny the tug upon his senses that sent his blood pounding in his head was ludicrous. He wanted nothing so much as to enfold her in his arms and claim her lips once again.