A wry smile turned her lips.
One who was equally matched for a woman set on her own shade of deception. Lady Worsley, indeed.
Chapter Seventeen
Valerian tied Arcadia’s reins through the iron loop at the curb, flipped a coin to the eager lad waiting for opportunity, and took a moment to straighten his attire. After visiting the bank he’d rode directly to The Serendipity Shop, anxious to reclaim his mother’s charm and leave for Kirby Park, a long list of payments and repairs tucked safely in his pocket.
His gnawing sense of regret would only be healed by the country air and natural simplicity, a reminder of why he’d agreed to Jasper’s ridiculous scheme in the first place. Wilhelmina’s confusion, followed by the enlightened awareness in her sable-brown eyes, haunted his soul with perpetual unrest. It didn’t matter that the ploy was utterly necessary to his survival and nothing more than a reckless attempt to avoid ruination, he’d already decided in heart and mind that he could never betray Whimsy’s valiant sacrifice. Now she believed he was connected to Rigby’s insidious plans, and on some level, more or less, she was correct. He would bear the scar of his mistake if it bettered Wilhelmina’s welfare.
It didn’t matter if she understood the truth of it all.
He entered the storefront and waited patiently as the shopkeeper attended to an older woman, busy at the counter examining a pair of brass candlesticks. It provided Valerian time to examine the glass showcases, his mother’s charm no longer displayed on the velvet tray in the store window. He soon discovered it nowhere in view.
Pricked with impatience, he moved his eyes to the soffit where a large cat reclined inside a brocade carpetbag. Its tail flicked back and forth in lazy occupation until keen to Valerian’s observation, the feline slunk from its perch to a shelf where it startled the old woman completing her purchase. An agile leap brought the overfed pet near his feet. With frisky expedience, it wove a figure eight between his legs, its glittering collar tapping a musical jingle against his boots. In silence he observed as the animal launched to the counter and returned to the carpetbag, the keeper paying no heed of the tabby’s lassitude. The old woman left and Valerian approached with an intolerant grimace.
“I need to reclaim an item I left here a few weeks ago.” He presented the ticket and the shopkeeper took it gingerly although he made no move to retrieve the jewelry.
“I’m afraid you’re too late. The pearl charm is no longer available. The detail and workmanship were extraordinarily executed.”
“If you could please tell me who bought it, I would be happy to offer double the price to have it returned.” He tapped his fingers against the counter, his temper barely contained.
“My business isn’t run in such a manner. I would never divulge the identity of a buyer any sooner than I would reveal your name as the seller.”
Anger drenched Valerian’s every pore, followed quickly by a despairing sense of loss never to be overcome. It was the same emotion he battled when considering Kirby Park. He was too late. Had he come to the shop last week, he might have recovered his mother’s charm, but at the time he needed the money for payments long overdue, placing the care of servants before his personal wishes.
“I had no choice.” He muttered the words with disgust but the shopkeeper answered as if they remained in conversation.
“Sometimes that’s how things seem.”
Valerian silently cursed Jasper’s poor choices and fruitless endeavors, despite an underlying inkling urged he include his father in the blame. Both men had wasted funds and spoiled the earldom with careless habits. His father may be deceased, but his brother was very much alive and Valerian intended to have a vehement discussion with him in the immediate future.
The brash trill of the bell above the door disrupted his regretful contemplations and the tabby in the soffit responding with a loud yowl.
Valerian nodded to the shopkeeper. “I’ve no business here then. Thank you for your time.” He spoke with great irritation, and turned, colliding with the woman who’d entered the shop a minute prior. “Pardon—”
Wilhelmina’s face showed pure confusion, although recognition transformed her expression to fractious annoyance in less than a heartbeat.
“You? Again?” She took a step back. “How is it in a city of such population, you find your way into my path at every turn?”
“There’s no explaining coincidence.” The shopkeeper interjected as he collected the cat and moved behind the partition.
Valerian took in Whimsy’s tightly set mouth, the hurt mirrored in her eyes, and his heart shifted in opinion.
It did matter if she understood the truth of it all.
It mattered very much.
Wilhelmina examined Valerian’s face, void of malice or guilt, as handsome as always, although a slight furrow in his brow replaced the charming smile of his eyes. “You’re in my way, Lord Dashwood. Allow me to pass.” She didn’t care if her tetchy request bordered rudeness. Her mother’s bracelet had prompted this errand and after last evening and her meeting with Lady Worsley this morning, Valerian was the last man she wished to encounter.
“We’ve not returned to formals, have we, Whimsy? I can’t go backward now.”
If only she could reverse time.
He smiled and her anger melted a little. A very little. It was all she’d allow. “There’s no need to pretend a friendship exists.” Truly, how could she consider him a friend when he’d plotted against her? “I understand your alliances better than you perceive.” He deserved any fate handed to him, including Lady Worsley’s pursuit.
“I’d like to explain. It might not mend our relationship, but at least I will have shared my motivation. Would you allow me the luxury of this morning? Walk with me.”
He continued before she could respond, no matter she had no idea how she would answer.
“Grant me a few minutes of conversation. Where’s the harm?”
She couldn’t very well confess the cost to her wounded heart, but she had set her sight on recovering her mother’s bracelet and she would not fiddle away time listening to Dashwood’s excuses. “I’m sorry but I have an important matter to settle. I cannot walk with you.”
He appeared both disappointed and determined, his body still blocking her path although his words suggested an alternative. “I’m traveling to Kirby Park and I’d like you to visit. I can explain. I promise you. If only you’ll hear me out. Perhaps it would help you understand my course of action. One hour or two, spent away from London. You should bring your sister and your aunt. I’m sure they would enjoy the clean air and countryside.”
A twinge of panic prevented her usual sharp tongue from refusing his invitation. That, and a heavy dose of temptation, to see his home and understand his actions. And of course, the remembrance of his kisses…that prodded her acceptance twofold. He seemed so insistent when there was nothing to be gained. Could there be more than she perceived? Perhaps all was not as it appeared last evening.
Yet she’d promised Lady Worsley.
How had things become so complicated?
“My sister is not fit for travel at this time and my aunt would never leave her unattended.” Of course, no reason existed why Wilhelmina couldn’t go alone as long as no one discovered her travels. Apparently the property was not so far removed that she couldn’t visit and return in one afternoon. Still, it all gave her pause, the thought of venturing to Kirby Park without a chaperone on an errand of…what? She couldn’t label her motivation.
She glanced beyond his shoulder to the empty store counter and nodded assent despite her brain objected. “I will consider it.”
His face registered surprise, although congeniality quickly followed.
“I will send a carriage for you—”
“No, I will make my arrangements after returning home. Would tomorrow suit?” The sooner she resolved her heart’s unrest the better. “Or would you prefer another day to settle?”
“No,” he answered quickly.
“Tomorrow is fine.” He smiled, a genuine grin that reached beyond his deep blue eyes to the charming crinkles she’d noticed the night before. “I look forward to it. I will send you my direction.”
Wilhelmina’s anger slipped a notch. He touched his hand to her arm as he bid goodbye and she remained staring at her sleeve when the shopkeeper materialized and called her to the counter, the fat tabby nestled in his arms.
“You’ve returned for your mother’s bracelet?”
Wilhelmina blinked away her confusion, only to have it replaced by the question of how the shopkeeper remembered her. Perhaps his store was not very busy. And true, she had become over-emotional when she’d visited the first time.
The cat slinked to the floor, walked a circle around her person and then leapt to settle beside the shopkeeper’s elbow.
“The bracelet is still available, isn’t it? I noticed it wasn’t in the window, but I remained hopeful.”
“Of course. I’ve kept it in a place of precious security, its value incomparable.” With a smile, the man ran his palm across the tabby’s back and then lifted the feline into his arms. His fingers went to work, untying the sage green collar, the tinkling noise of charms and chain landing on the glass countertop a delightful surprise. “There you are, safe and repaired to perfection. I’m sure I could fetch you a very handsome price if you desired. You’ll notice I found the ideal charm to complete your mother’s heirloom.”
“It matches.” Wilhelmina lifted the bracelet and examined it closely; the teardrop pearl with engraved scrolled clasp did look perfect among the others. In an odd unexplainable coincidence, the silver work showed an exact likeness. “How can that be?” She tapped the pearl charm with her fingertip, watching it sway with soft vacillation. “I can’t wait until Livie sees this.”
Valerian arrived at Barnaby Street without his usual recriminating attitude despite he could hear raucous laughter before turning the key in the lock. Wilhelmina agreed to visit Kirby Park. Nothing could be wrong with the day.
He entered the drawing room to find Jasper and Randolph sharing brandy and conversation instead of their usual propensity to be at sixes and sevens. He was taken aback, unaccustomed to finding the two moonlings civilized and up to the mark. Swallowing his ready jobation, he viewed them with a skeptical eye. “What is happening here? And don’t waste my time telling bouncers.” Valerian dropped his gloves on the sideboard and waited for Jasper’s reply. He was in no mood for nonsense, wishing to leave for Kirby Park straightaway, the notion that he might explain his purpose to Whimsy and regain her esteem teased at the periphery of his brain.
“It’s a wonder we’re brothers, we’re so dissimilar. You’re already worked into a temper because you believe me incapable of nothing more than bumble-broth.” Jasper’s usual corky grin was absent, a look of dejection in its place. “You should know I’ve been quite deedy since we’ve last talked, well aware of your perception we’re rolled-up with little opportunity.”
“He’s spoken of little else.” Randolph chimed his support. “Nary a day passes when he doesn’t give finances thoughtful lucubration.”
The exaggerated wink that followed Randolph’s announcement did little to mollify Valerian’s suspicions. “In what manner would that be evident, Jasper? Have you ceased keeping outlandish hours and running up thoughtless expenses? Have you deposited funds into our accounts?” Dash all but choked on the questions. Could their pitiful balance even be considered an account? It was a wonder the clerks didn’t break out in laughter when he dared enter the bank. He exhaled a long sigh, his imagination taunting his patience.
Sixth Earl of Dashwood Six Pence From Poverty.
“I’ve never considered you a slow top, yet you’re up to no good. I can tell.”
“Not a worry, Dash. Through Randolph’s association I’ve signed an agreement with a few bobs and gobble-cocks interested in aggressive investment. Were it not for my shrewd business acuity, they’d reap all the profit, but this time we’ll be flush in the pockets before you can say gooseberry cheese.”
“Gooseberry cheese? That’s a dandy, Jasper.” A low chuckle rippled through Randolph. “Your brother’s a clever fellow, Dash.”
“Indeed.” Valerian’s sardonic tone contradicted his agreement. “I regret throwing a rub in the path of your plans, but I’ve decided to return to Kirby Park and I need you to accompany me.” He wouldn’t list the hard work that awaited them, most especially for the front rooms where he’d entertain Whimsy and hopefully, help her to notice his sincerity instead of the peeling paint and faded curtains.
“You needn’t worry any longer, Dash. We won’t be run off our legs after all. Have I another week or two—”
“You are out of weeks, days, and minutes. I’ve no more patience for your shams, no matter how well-meaning.”
“See here, Dash, your brother knows what he’s talking about. Granted, some of our ventures were enough to make a stuffed bird laugh.” Randolph swiveled his head from Valerian to Jasper. “Remember that loose screw with the grass cutting machine?”
The two collapsed with laughter before Jasper calmed enough to reply. “Every time he demonstrated his lawn motor I launched into a fit of sternutation.”
“You beat my record of nine sneezes without even trying.”
“Gentlemen.” Valerian hoped to prod the conversation to rights with a reasonable tone absent of admonishment. Success proved elusive. “Despite your prediction of overflowing pockets, a trip home is in order. We leave in one hour. I expect you to be packed and ready.”
He turned on his heel and took the stairs, anxious to collect his belongings. Perhaps it was a fool’s errand, his hope as farfetched as Jasper’s invention investments, but if he could somehow explain his motivation to Wilhelmina she might find it in her heart to regard him as a friend. Not that the notion of friendship suited him. Somewhere along the way, Whimsy, with her angelic eyes and delicious sharp-sweet tongue had taken up residence in his heart. He hadn’t allowed affection of any sort since Caroline, but he rather liked the idea of Wilhelmina reviving the sad neglected organ.
And he knew as sure as the sunrise, she’d viewed him in the same regard at one point. Her response to his kisses was evidence enough, but the look in her eyes! That is where he read her deepest emotions. That is where she showed her wonder, admiration and at times, passion.
If he could persuade her to see reason and understand why he needed funds so desperately, then maybe she would forgive his poor decisions. Then he’d explain how he’d never intended to execute Rigby’s absurd plan, not once he’d understood her precious venture. He could never work against her cause.
Salvaging Kirby Park would preserve the last shred of his dignity. He’d promised his father. Damn it all, he’d promised himself. Yet, he’d gladly swallow his pride if Whimsy offered him the opportunity to explain. Surely, she understood familial obligation. She and her sister were dependent upon the charity of their aunt. All he wished was a chance to see his childhood home restored, his parents’ memory preserved. Kirby Park was an heirloom of sorts, and a tribute to the title, the last living breathing portion of St. David history.
It would be the perfect home for a wife and family.
Still, what could he offer were Wilhelmina to wash clean his faults and accept his affection? The thought of kissing her tightened his groin in a flood of carnal heat. He best abandon the notion until after he finished his ride.
Wilhelmina arrived home to quietude. She climbed the stairs to her sister’s bedchamber but found Rose alone in the room, the housekeeper tending the fire and replacing the water pitcher on the bedside table. She quickly learned Aunt Kate and Livie were in the garden behind the house. It was nothing more than a small patch of grass and a few rose bushes, but during summer weather it served as a pleasant respite. Livie must be feeling much improved to have ventured downstairs and outside. Feeling eager to join them, she only paused when she noticed the lap desk perched on the bedside chair. The immediate
memory of the letter packet Livie had protected weeks before sprang to mind. The linens had just been changed so Wilhelmina abandoned the idea of a quick peek behind the pillows, instead approaching the small chest at the right side of the bed.
It had been moved to better accommodate Livie and the nurse during treatments, but now it looked like the ideal place to hide something, especially if one rarely left the room. Indeed she hid her commonplace book in the same location in her bedchamber.
As soon as Rose departed, Wilhelmina opened the chest and searched the contents, mollifying her objecting conscience with platitudes aimed at sibling responsibility and protection. Wilhelmina could never forgive herself if Livie was involved in any type of inappropriate correspondence. She promised herself she’d just have a quick glance, and locating the pile of letters with nervous fingers, she lifted them from the chest and placed them atop the counterpane for examination. Before she could change her mind, she removed the slim ribbon binding the letters together.
The first was dated two years prior and as she rifled through the stack, they progressed in succession until a day before their parents’ accident. How very curious. With whom did Livie correspond and why? Wilhelmina ran her fingertip along the edge of the paper, her insatiable curiosity at war with her loyalty. Livie had reacted quite vehemently when Whimsy had asked about the letters.
Her nail teased the flap, running underneath for the length of a breath until she snatched her hand away. It was wrong to break her sister’s trust. What if she read something that she shouldn’t? How would she ever be able to keep her concern from Livie?
Determined to replace the papers in their exact position, Wilhelmina quickly piled them together to retie the ribbon, but in her haste, one of the letters slipped off her lap and landed on the floorboards near her slipper. It lay face down, the opening bent, the pale handwriting within exposed by unlikely fancy of its position.
Defying the Earl Page 17
