“How much do you know of the lady? What is your intent?” Valerian’s voice lost all congeniality, but Leonard took no notice.
“I’m not altogether sure, still she intrigues me. Fiona and Wilhelmina have become fast friends and Fiona is all too forthcoming with details. Lady Wilhelmina lives with her aunt and sister in a modest town house, a necessary move after her parents were killed in a carriage accident two seasons ago. Her father was a country earl, a man of simple means with no eye on the aristocratic ladder.”
“I see.” In truth, Val did not. The sunlight, his inexplicable anger, something, had blinded him no matter he stood in the shade. White dots danced in front of his eyes and he shook his head to gain clarity. It was the very devil the one woman who pricked his interest was as financially dependent as he. Not that he was in the market for a wife. “Is that all?”
“She fancies being called Whimsy. At least by her most intimate friends.” Some kind of smile twisted Leonard’s lips. “And I’m vying to become one. What do you think, Dash? Shall I pursue Wilhelmina and have a go at whimsy?”
And there it was. Five thousand pounds worth of misery. His financial recovery reduced to an aye or nay of one simple question. His assent would assure a large deposit in his bank account come morning. If Leonard pursued Wilhelmina, Whimsy, Fiona would never forgive the insult. One did not pay favor to a lady’s best friend. And what was the worth of his opinion anyway? Leonard had stated earlier his father’s interference mattered little. Valerian doubted his word would trump Leonard’s capricious attention. His mouth formed the word yes, although every particle of his being objected.
Indeed, he’d stalled too long. Valerian watched Leonard’s retreat as the gentleman made a beeline for the refreshment table where Wilhelmina conversed with a group of ladies dressed in varying shades of chartreuse. She stood out clearly. She always would. But then what did it matter? He wasn’t looking for a wife. Hadn’t he blasted Jasper’s unhinged logic he find himself an heiress? And wasn’t that salt poured into the wound? If he decided to pursue marriage, which was not a condition he’d consider, he’d need a wealthy wife. Certainly not a woman without a dowry, to join him on his path to destitution. No one deserved a future full of poverty, despite Jasper’s suggestion love conquered all.
Valerian scoffed at his colossal waste of emotion and turned to leave the folly. It wasn’t as though he would ever consider exposing his heart to tender emotion again. Not after Caroline. Although Wilhelmina appeared not at all like his adulterous fiancé.
Whimsy. It suited her. Something about the lady’s contrary temperament amused him more than he cared to admit. Still it mattered little. He glanced over his shoulder to where Leonard greeted the group of ladies. The sight cleared his convoluted feelings. He could not forget his purpose. Emotion led to trouble, a trouble he couldn’t afford.
Chapter Eight
“Leonard, I’m delighted to see you.” Wilhelmina forced her words into action before timidity could take hold. “Fiona and I plan to walk through the extensive gardens and enjoy our lemonade. I’m told Lady Bitsford has ornamental topiaries and marble fountains from around the world.”
“I have wanted to view the floral exhibit. Would you mind very much if I accompanied you?” He grinned, a smile that extended into his eyes. Then he lifted two glasses of lemonade from the table and, in a cavalier motion, looped their arms while balancing the two cups of refreshment in the palm of his free hand. “Allow me to escort you. I’ve not had the pleasure of exploring the gardens though nothing will compare to the beauty before me.” He cast a glance of pure expectation in her direction.
Wilhelmina shared a smile. She couldn’t be more pleased. Fate favored her when she began her matchmaking service. The incidental meeting of Lady Rigby, her ability to attend the Collingsworth dinner, and now Lord Leonard, brimming with enthusiasm as he agreed to join Fiona where she waited near the gardens; Wilhelmina marveled at what began as an ill-conceived scheme to earn money for Livie’s treatments had transformed into an instrument to join two love-struck friends. Matchmaking proved more rewarding than she’d anticipated and her poise blossomed in kind.
A part of her heart, one she best ignore, yearned for a romantic relationship of the same kind. Never one to favor the attention of large groups, these past weeks she’d managed her social reluctance with aplomb and although she still resorted to a snippy verbal defense when her pulse hitched a notch, Wilhelmina conceded she’d adapted well. Pride coursed through her with the realization. She’d accomplished so much in a short span of time. With her new-found confidence in place, she clasped Leonard’s arm a little tighter in response to his escort. What could be more romantic than an afternoon stroll through fragrant floral gardens? Perhaps Leonard would declare his intentions and Fiona would be surprised and overjoyed. Indeed, things were progressing with perfection.
Valerian did not expect to see his brother at Lady Bitford’s. A countryside garden party in the middle of the afternoon seemed the least likely place he’d find Jasper and Randolph, but find them he did. He’d taken only three steps down the well-worn path leading away from the folly when he recognized his brother’s laughter, the two men in conversation while skipping stones and disrupting an otherwise peaceful lake.
“Gentlemen.” Valerian closed the space between them with his greeting, relieved to be introduced to Beaufort, the man who had generously opened his home and remained absent or unconscious since. “I’m surprised to see you here, Jasper. You’re usually in a deep drowse well past three. A garden party strikes me as an improbability within your libidinal lifestyle.”
The brotherly jibe did not miss its mark and Randolph burst out laughing at his friend’s expense, the silver, azure and magenta threading on his finely embroidered waistcoat glinting in the afternoon sun as his body shook with amusement. “Usually we wouldn’t. Isn’t that true, Jasper? But it was time we ventured into the daylight. The last few nights we’ve spent hours under the moon.” Randolph leaned forward and lowered his voice as if revealing a confidence of great importance. “We’ve a bit of an experiment underway.”
Randolph sent Jasper a knowing stare and a jovial snigger. Valerian watched closely as his brother slued his eyes to the sky, seemingly uncomfortable with admitting to such complicity.
“We will talk about it later.” Valerian offered a tolerant smile.
“Already you’re filled with vexation and you don’t know the half of it.” Jasper huffed a short breath and presented his brother the stone in his palm.
Immune to his brother’s diversionary tactics, Val would not be distracted. “Be warned I expect the unvarnished truth and not the usual flummery.”
Jasper offered his palm higher. “Why don’t you skip one? You’ve always had a lighter hand than I.”
The double entendre was lost on Randolph, who appeared preoccupied with a trio of ladies strolling across the arched footbridge at the other end of the lake, but Val recognized his brother’s conciliatory tone and breathed a cleansing exhale before he replied.
“No, I’ll leave you to your practice, but heed my earlier advice and keep to the festivities that won’t worsen our condition.” It was as eloquent a warning as he could muster considering he did not wish to embarrass his brother further.
Dismissing the two, he arrived at the entrance to the expansive gardens yet neither Leonard nor Wilhelmina waited. Instead Fiona stood alone under a large wooden arbor, the whitewashed lattice overgrown with yellow tea roses framing the lady in a halo of beauty, a contrast to her expression, hardly serene. Something looked amiss as she shifted from foot to foot with impatience. Beneath the vine-covered arbor, cloaked in shadow, it was likely no one could discern her presence, but having approached from the opposite direction, Valerian was able to follow her line of vision straight across the green to where Leonard and Wilhelmina traversed. A well-meaning guest had waylaid them and their progress appeared stalled.
“They will arrive within minutes.” Some long
-lost empathy evoked the consoling comment. It would serve his purpose well if Leonard meandered with no meaningful purpose toward the gardens. Surely Leonard knew Fiona waited. His dalliance could only be considered an insult, but still he chatted amiably with Wilhelmina and each passerby who paused to offer conversation. Valerian should be thrilled at the effortless ease in which his matchbreaking proceeded. Instead an unexplainable and desolate bleakness chased his words.
“He doesn’t seem anxious to spend time with me. I might have perished from thirst had I truly desired lemonade.” She tapped her fingertip against her chin and flicked Valerian a narrowed stare before returning her eyes to the lawn. “What is your opinion of Lord Rigby’s attention? Perhaps I will benefit from a bit of male perspective.”
“We were friends from years ago and, as I’ve only returned to the city, I wouldn’t venture to judge his character on such short renewal of friendship, although I daresay any gentleman who keeps a lovely lady waiting needlessly is not of the keenest wit.”
“I appreciate your candor.” She glanced to the field where the approaching couple stood engrossed in conversation with Lady Bitsford. “Not in a hurry at the least.” A small smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Leonard needs is to be taught a lesson. Would you not agree, Lord Dashwood?”
“Aah, are you considering the weapons at your disposal? Revenge in the form of insult, rejection, or worse, the total set down.” He stepped closer, reading the hurt riddled in her eyes as his own in the past. A pang of guilt arrowed through his chest. Damn Caroline with her indiscretion and social climbing. Damn Jasper and his imprudent investments, his careless gambling, and otherwise negligent use of their funds. Damn it all. “I’m not so foolish as to advise a young lady on affairs of the heart.” He flashed a comforting smile for good measure. An inner voice tried to find reason to assuage his conflicted sentiments. Could the situation become more ideal? Fiona wished to teach Leonard a lesson; an action instigated by hurt feelings and, if handled properly, the incident would serve his purpose well. A public argument would present the perfect impetus for Leonard to realize he’d be happier with a congenial wife instead of a demanding one.
Not Wilhelmina, of course. That was out of the question. Besides, Wilhelmina had a snappish tongue when she became agitated. While he found the quality endearing, it wouldn’t serve Rigby’s personality. Leonard would have to look elsewhere for a wife.
Valerian edged closer to the arbor, anxious to hear Fiona’s verbal tirade as the two approached. His pulse jumped a heavy beat, his heart pounded harder, and he assured himself it had everything to do with anticipation of the oncoming row and nothing at all to do with Wilhelmina’s fetching appearance as she stepped nearer and smiled in greeting.
Shadowing Fiona, ready to feign concern and drop a few well-placed suggestions to fuel the lady’s steeping temper, Valerian hardly acknowledged the concerted glances Fiona darted in his direction. Was she apprehensive he’d witness her distemper? He wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Besides Fiona couldn’t possible hope for privacy at a garden party. He inhaled sharply as Leonard closed the space separating the four of them.
Fiona tossed him another look over her shoulder, her expression unreadable.
Valerian waited.
Perhaps she’d give Leonard the cut direct or abrade him with a startling slap. At the least Leonard deserved a belittling insult. Valerian expected no less.
What he didn’t expect was the sleek twist of Fiona’s slim frame so she cosseted against him as if a second layer of fabric upon his waistcoat, her arms entwined around his neck before he could register her actions, her lips pressed to his mouth in an aggressive openmouthed kiss at the same instant Leonard and Wilhelmina stepped into the gazebo.
The air went incredibly still, rent only by Wilhelmina’s squeak of protest. Caught unaware, it took Valerian a half minute before shock replaced sensibility and he unwound Fiona’s embrace with determined caution, and stepped away. He caught a glimpse of Wilhelmina’s face, ash-white, and close to tears, and for the life of him he could not decipher her reaction. She looked stricken. If she truly vied for Leonard’s attention, wouldn’t she be delighted Fiona had concentrated her affections elsewhere? Where lay her objection? Fiona’s kiss paved the way for her success with Lord Rigby and his pathway to five thousand pounds. At last, his matchbreaking proved successful. He’d report to Lord Rigby once he was certain no opportunity for reconciliation existed.
Meanwhile Leonard’s eyes glinted with stifled laughter. Was he flattered Fiona had gone to such lengths to display her discontent or had the lady provided him the perfect excuse to dismiss all affection? Valerian should feel relieved, exhilarated, and downright euphoric. Instead, success left a bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with Fiona’s misguided assault. From the lascivious expression Leonard turned toward Wilhelmina, one could surmise his interest was unleashed and strengthening with each inhale.
Wilhelmina’s heart clenched as Fiona circled her arms around Dashwood’s neck, her lush body pressed to his in blatant invitation, while he did not object a whit. Labeling the emotion disappointment, for surely her foray into the world of matchmaking had proved a colossal failure, Wilhelmina reconciled Fiona vied for Leonard’s attention, acting on impulse in an attempt to gain the gentleman’s jealous reaction. Her own erratic heartache did not lessen and a blanket of anxiety wrapped tighter, deflating her newborn confidence.
Leonard appeared no worse for the wear, although his expression displayed a mixture of surprise, betrayal, and curiosity.
“Fiona, whatsoever are you doing?” Wilhelmina’s indignant objection burst through the silence before she could think better of it. It could only be emotion evoking the brazen remark. She shifted her eyes to Dashwood, his face unreadable.
“I should ask the very same.” Leonard’s tone indicated equal parts confusion and concern.
“So now you’re in a hurry to talk and take notice.” Fiona gathered her skirts and rushed past in a flurry of agitation, Leonard fast to follow, the tips of his boots nearly clipping the heels of the lady’s slippers.
“You’ve made a mess of things, Lord Dashwood.” Misplaced anger, at her inability to see the couple happily joined, at the predicament and her inadequacy, laced the accusation with an edge of hysteria. She knew her words were harsh, but anger overrode etiquette.
“Slow down in your berating. I had nothing to do with Fiona’s half-baked scheme.” He turned, his words calm, his expression amused and the glint in his eye deflated her anger in one fell swoop.
“You might have discouraged her.” Her voice dropped to a level of misery. “Fiona and Leonard are meant to be together if they would stop playing these silly games and trust their true emotions. Perhaps Leonard should present Fiona with a pretty bauble.” She spoke more to herself than her company.
“Trust their true emotions?” He stifled a chuckle with effort.
“Have you no faith in love?”
“None at all.”
Silence stretched for several awkward moments.
Then abandoning his cryptic reply, she leveled a stare meant to convey restrained patience. “How is it, wherever I go, you are there too?”
“I could ask the same of you.” One corner of his mouth twitched, as if he suppressed a smile.
“I was invited at Fiona’s request. We are friends…at least we were at one time. You’ve wounded her sensibilities.” For some unnamed reason she stepped closer to him, although the logical thing would be for her to turn and walk away.
“I’ve wounded her? You had the man of her heart on your arm as you traipsed across the meadow, negligent of her feelings while she waited here in the arbor. You’re quick to criticize Fiona’s approach while you also play a game with Leonard’s affection. At the moment, I believe the man doesn’t know where he stands with either lady who’s caught his eye. Have a care with his intentions.”
“How dare you? I would never toy with someone’s a
ffections. I am a woman of high standards.” She poked her finger into the air to emphasis her exclamation. “I’m to have a care? You’ve voiced slanderous comments and inaccurate suggestions that discombobulated Fiona’s confidence, so much so, the lady believed it necessary to stoop to a ridiculous ploy such as this.” She paused for emphasis and attempted a haughty look of disapproval. “Such as you.”
Perhaps she’d gone too far. The mischievous smile that played at his mouth through their argument had vanished, replaced by a somber grimace, his lips pressed tight and his thick, dark brows lowered in a concentrated V. He began to speak and then reconsidered.
Wilhelmina stared at his mouth in anticipation of his next objection, but the longer she did, the more her brain noted every detail. Ebony whiskers shadowed the elegant arc of his upper lip leading to a small scar at the right corner of his mouth. His jaw was tense; the angle strong and straight, and too, there was that devilish cleft in his chin. She itched to trace the indentation. Her fingertips rustled against the folds of her skirt, her hands all of a sudden restless and agitated.
With a new understanding of desire and another less decipherable emotion, she raised her eyes to his as a tremor of anticipation trickled down her spine. Why did he have to be so inexorably handsome? His eyes, the exact color of an evening sky, intense and intriguing, bore into hers as if he wondered and questioned the same ethereal bond, the frisson of sensual current, an urge and craving, an unexplainable attraction.
She grasped desperately to any fragment of thought to dispel the undeniable emotion stirring inside. “Why? Why did you kiss her?”
“Fiona kissed me.”
Wilhelmina offered her answer in the form of a raised eyebrow.
“Are you jealous?” His question was pure mockery, yet the conversation took a decidedly different turn.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She paused to marshal her sense and dislodge his smug smile.
Defying the Earl Page 8
