Even more important, it would offer her the chance to discover if Sir Wilbur was the ally she sought. She knew too little about the pudgy man. It could be he had the very connections she needed to discover Corey’s whereabouts. The thought lightened her feet as she thanked him when he bowed to her and stepped back to take his place for the quadrille.
Vanessa quickly discovered her escort had little grace. She forgave him courteously the first dozen times he stepped on her toes in the first dance, then suggested they step out of the set and have something cool to drink.
As deeply as he had to concentrate on the not very intricate steps of the dance, every effort to draw him into conversation had been futile. He seemed as impatient to be done with the dance as she and quickly brought her a glass of lemonade.
“Have you found your first Season to your liking?” Sir Wilbur asked, hooking his thumb in a pocket of his white silk waistcoat. The pose accented the breadth of his belly, which bounced on every word. “Hardly a young girl of my acquaintance has not anticipated her first Season greatly.”
She took a half step back, for he stood too close. When he was about to lessen the distance, she turned away, as if she was watching the dancers. She saw his discomposure from the corner of her eye, but said only, “A Season in Town is much as I was led to believe it would be.”
“You sound less than pleased.”
“Do I?” She faced him again. His insight suggested there might be more substance to the pudgy baronet than she had conjectured.
“Can it be the Season bores you?”
Vanessa wanted to reply with an affirmative, but she was aware of ears beyond hers and Sir Wilbur’s. She must remember how quickly the gabblemongers could take her ill-thought words back to Aunt Carolyn.
“I find,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “the Season prohibits me from indulging in other pursuits I once considered an important part of each day.”
“’Tis a strain on all of us.” He grinned, reminding her of a sprite from an old folk tale. “However, you must own it has its rewards.”
She followed his gaze toward a couple whose heads were bowed toward each other in earnest conversation. Gently she smiled. For those women who sought nothing more than a well-placed marriage, the Season must be a delight.
“You are right,” Vanessa said and smiled as Sir Wilbur chuckled, clearly pleased. “It gives us a chance to enjoy a bit of chatter-broth about our fellows. It allows us to admire the flowers in the Park. It exhausts us from evenings of music and gaiety.”
“And it gives us gentlemen the chance to be in the company of such lovely ladies.”
Vanessa ignored the compliment as she continued, “However, I miss a chance to while away an evening with a fascinating book.”
“Book? I should have guessed you would be a kindred soul, my lady. I, too, enjoy the chance to read whenever possible.”
Vanessa almost gasped aloud. She had been wrong about the baronet. Mayhap—at last—she had found someone who shared the love of literature that had been a part of her life at Wolfe Abbey. Eagerly she asked, “Have you read the new book by—?”
He laughed, interrupting her. “I make it a habit, since my school days, to read only the morning papers. One must be cautious about overstraining one’s eyes. So I read only the Chronicle. I believe it contains all the information my mind can hold.”
So do I, she thought with sudden vexation, but forced her lips to tilt in a smile. That the pudgy man had not read a book since leaving his tutor’s supervision told her that her first impression had been accurate. Telling herself she must not be so uncharitable, she said, “I, too, read the newspaper over breakfast every morning.”
“Perhaps we can discuss what we have read during a ride in the Park tomorrow. A bit of sunshine might put more color into your face, my lady.”
Vanessa wondered if he had any idea how she was struggling not to let her color raise along with her temper. Aunt Carolyn was not the only Wolfe with a fierce disposition. “The Park seems a peculiar venue for such conversation.”
His brows lowered as his jovial face wore an uncomfortable frown. “May I ask why? I have always found the Park a pleasant backdrop for a bit of talk. If you prefer to go elsewhere—”
“It is difficult for me to speak of the events on the other side of the Channel when I am surrounded by such gaiety.”
“I find the discussion of the war most disturbing,” he said with a shudder.
“As do I.” Her fingers tightened on her glass. “I believe we must—”
Again he intruded with a laugh. “Your fervor is endearing, my lady. ’Tis charming beyond words to see a young woman taking up the banner her fallen brother once held close to his breast. However, you should not trouble yourself with such thoughts. They could bring on ill-humors to smite you.”
Vanessa clenched her hand around the glass of lemonade. She had been a complete block to think this man would do anything but speak platitudes. She was not endearing, nor was her determination to see Corey brought home unscathed charming. Snapping back a retort would be useless. Sir Wilbur thought he was complimenting her. Obviously Sir Wilbur Franklin was not the ally she sought. Was he even within this room? Despair pricked her. Mayhap he did not even exist. No, she could not let gloom overtake her. Corey was alive, and she must do all she could to help bring him home, even if she had to let every man in the Polite World torture her toes with his dancing.
“However,” he went on, “I prefer not to muddy my day with thoughts of that unfortunate situation. As I can do nothing about the war, I watch my health by thinking only of pleasant things. On that note, I would as lief enjoy the chance to dance again with you, my lady, for that would be highly pleasant.”
“Thank you,” she answered automatically. Anything else she said would be futile, for this man’s very existence was no wider than his stomach. She would dance once more with him, then excuse herself as tactfully as possible.
Sir Wilbur did not take the hand she held out to him, but instead said, in an oddly strained voice, “I did not expect to see you here tonight.”
Vanessa turned to see a red-haired man standing beside the baronet. His intense eyes caught hers, but she did not lower hers. He blinked at her forthright stare.
“May I introduce Bruce Swinton?” The tension remained in Sir Wilbur’s voice.
The tall man folded in the center to bow over her hand. As he started to raise it to his lips, she withdrew her fingers. She saw a spark of irritation in his eyes, but he was gentleman enough to offer her a smile. Dismay scored her. She should not include Mr. Swinton in her exasperation with the baronet. Did Sir Wilbur fear Mr. Swinton would be more entertaining and turn her attention from him? She almost laughed. No one could be more boring than the baronet with his closed mind and open mouth.
She chided herself. Such childish petulance would only add to her distaste with the whole evening.
“And another friend,” Sir Wilbur was saying. “Lord—”
“I have had the pleasure of making Lady Vanessa Wolfe’s acquaintance,” interrupted a warm voice. Lord Brickendon nodded toward her, but did not take her hand. A smile spread across his lips.
She started to return it, then noticed—as the previous time they had met—his good humor did not reach his eyes. For a moment, she was aware of nothing but how the dark emotions there slowly gentled to amusement. She looked away as she fought her annoyance. How dare he mock her! She could not accuse him of any wrongdoing when he was outwardly polite. He was not the only one who could use manners to turn a conversation to his advantage.
“Yes, I believe we have met,” Vanessa drawled, tapping her fan against her fingers. “I am sorry I cannot recall where, my lord.”
“You must have a very full life, my lady, if you cannot recall our recent meeting at Mrs. Averill’s rout.” He tipped his head to her.
She recognized the challenge in his eyes. Letting a slow smile flit across her lips, she said, “I did think you looked fa
miliar when you passed my aunt Carolyn and me a while back.”
“So you do remember that? How kind of you, my lady.”
Vanessa flinched as his sharp words pricked her. She had been fat-skulled to let him have the opportunity to retort. Although his smile did not waver, she sensed his satisfaction with his well-spoken answer.
With irritation in his voice, Mr. Swinton interjected, “As I was saying, Brickendon.… My lady, we were speaking of the recent events in Hanover Square.” He chuckled lowly as he glanced across the room. “Do you think the lady had any delusions of keeping such an affaire secret?”
“If you will excuse me,” Vanessa said as she took a step away from the three men. She had no interest in their gossip. If she was to find someone to help her, she guessed she must look beyond this threesome.
Instantly Sir Wilbur’s smile plummeted into a pleading pout as he stared at her like a stuck pig. “My dear lady, I implore you to grace us a while longer with your company.”
“I must beg your indulgence, but my aunt shall become anxious when I have been gone so long.”
Sir Wilbur glanced uneasily at his companions. Vanessa followed his gaze. Mr. Swinton was grinning broadly. She was tempted to do the same, for Sir Wilbur’s puppyish attempts to beguile her were so obvious. Her urge to smile vanished when she looked at Lord Brickendon. His face held no more emotion than a statue.
Abrupt and astounding compassion filled her as she realized that her hurry to depart had humiliated Sir Wilbur in front of his friends. Although she regretted the words as soon as she spoke them to the chubby man, she said, “I believe my aunt would be delighted to have more time to talk with you.”
“How grand! I shall have the company of two lovely ladies this evening. I will, without question, be the envy of every man here.” He flashed a victorious smile at his companions.
Having no choice but to allow him to draw her hand into his arm, Vanessa whispered a good evening to Mr. Swinton and the viscount. She was glad to leave them behind, for she found their company disquieting. Yet, the alternative of being forced to tolerate more of the baronet’s company was nearly as unpalatable.
Her plan to give the baronet a hasty excuse was ruined by her aunt’s enthusiasm at his company. Aunt Carolyn could not hide her happiness that Vanessa had not given the baronet his leave.
“I enjoyed watching you dance together,” Aunt Carolyn said. “Vanessa is such a lovely dancer, but she seldom finds a partner to match her skill.”
Sir Wilbur replied, “You are being too kind to me, my lady. However, I must say Lady Vanessa possesses a grace that draws every eye. She is much the wiser for keeping a slim figure. Better for the health, I hear.”
“How kind of you to say that! Isn’t he kind, Vanessa?” Aunt Carolyn gave her no chance to answer as she gushed, “You must join us tomorrow evening.” She wafted her painted silk fan in front of her face. “Vanessa and I are having an intimate party for no more than a score of our dearest acquaintances. An evening of cards.”
“It sounds like a delightful evening.”
“I believe you are right.” Aunt Carolyn turned to Vanessa and added, “Don’t you think so?”
Vanessa kept her smile in place. Any evening with Sir Wilbur Franklin was sure to be interminable. Yet it might not be the worst of circumstances. The portly man was so eager to impress her that she could keep him from pressing his suit too heavily by showing him a mere frown. Such a suitor could work to her advantage because it would keep the other, more demanding swains from calling.
Quietly she said, “I think it shall be an interesting evening for all of us.”
Aunt Carolyn followed Vanessa up two flights of stairs to her bedchamber. Dismissing Leale after the abigail had helped Vanessa undress, she sat on Vanessa’s bed and laughed. “I daresay you have gained an incredibly avid suitor, my dear child. Sir Wilbur Franklin could not be dislodged from your side this evening. Not a soul in the Assembly Room missed his eager attention to you.”
“I shall have to disabuse him as gently as possible of the notion of courting me.” Vanessa winced as her hairbrush caught in a snarl. Putting the brush on her cherry dressing table, she looked at her aunt’s reflection in the glass. “He isn’t as intolerable as some of the other men I have met, but I daresay that too much time in his company would drive me quite mad. He speaks endlessly of his sister’s precarious health and his determination to avoid enduring the same.”
“The Franklin family is a well-to-do one.”
She lowered the brush to her lap. “Money to ensure my comfortable future is not an issue for me. As the many men hovering around me prove, my father’s fortune is more considerable than most.” She sighed and stared at her high color in the glass. The vexation she had not been able to show at Almack’s was visible now. “I thank heaven every day I am not a wretchedly poor woman who has no choice but to accept a husband from among those anxious to buy a bride.”
“Vanessa!”
“Don’t sound so scandalized! After all, I have heard you say much the same yourself.”
Aunt Carolyn laughed softly. “That is true, but, Vanessa, you must own that Sir Wilbur would do anything for you. You could see that in the way he acquiesces to your wishes.”
“Capitulates, you mean.” Going to the bed, she leaned her cheek against the carved upright. “Dear Aunt Carolyn, don’t try to convince me to buckle myself to a man who would bore me quite to tears. Do you know he’s proud to own to never reading a book?”
“A wise woman finds a husband whose interests aren’t her own.”
She laughed at her aunt’s ironic grin. “A man who’s not as intelligent as her. Is that what you mean? In that case, Sir Wilbur Franklin would be the perfect match for any woman at Almack’s tonight.”
“There were others you spoke to this evening. Mr. Swinton and Lord Brickendon, I believe.”
“Your eyes are as crafty as a hawk’s!”
“You are my responsibility.” Taking her niece’s hand, Aunt Carolyn brought Vanessa to sit next to her on the white coverlet. “Dear child, it gladdens my heart to see you the center of such attention, but the Season draws to a close. You must decide soon.”
“Between that trio?” She laughed. “None of those confirmed chuckleheads urges me to offer him more than a polite greeting.”
At that, Aunt Carolyn showed her infamous temper. Vanessa was glad her aunt scolded her at length for her outspoken retort, for the pulse of guilt flashing through her was a sharp reminder she was not speaking the truth. She wished she could have conversed at length with Lord Brickendon. Even though he was sure to put her in a bad skin with his sharp tongue and outrageously amused stares, she enjoyed his company. Surely he would not be so proudly unread and so resolved not to have any opinions as Sir Wilbur was! Telling herself, that if she spent more than a few moments in his company, she was sure to find him as insufferable as his comrades, she murmured an apology to her aunt and promised to treat Sir Wilbur with kindness when he arrived at the soirée.
She nodded as her aunt kissed her cheek before leaving. She stared at the door for a moment, then turned to her writing desk. In the midst of the preparations for the party tomorrow evening, surely her aunt would not notice Vanessa arranging with Quigley to send one of the maids with a letter to be delivered to Lord Mendoff who might have some influence with one of the Regent’s ministers.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for a sheet of paper. If having Aunt Carolyn all a-blither about Sir Wilbur Franklin kept her from noticing that Vanessa still sought information about Corey, even marrying the boring baronet would not be too much to pay in return for having her brother safe once more.
Chapter Four
“This is going to be better than I thought,” Ross crowed as he set the newspaper down on the table. Reaching for a muffin from among the warm ones in a basket near his cup of coffee, he smiled.
“I am pleased, my lord.”
His grin widened as he looked to where his valet
was coming into the breakfast parlor with Ross’s coat. “Pott, you have no idea what I’m talking about.”
The man, who was nearly as short and as round as Franklin, chuckled. “I find it always is wise to agree with you, my lord.”
“That is arrant nonsense! You enjoy a brangle as much as the next man.”
“Not if you are the next man.”
Ross stood and took the coat from his man. The sleeves still held the warmth from being pressed. He was grateful that Pott kept his clothes in such a good state. Otherwise, he would have been sure to run off to some meeting at Whitehall with his coat wrinkled from being tossed on the back of a chair.
“You seem in an excellent temper this morning,” Pott said with a sigh.
“Rightly so.” He was amused at his valet’s observation. Pott could not hide his eagerness to return home to Essex and to be away from the crowded city, but he would never speak a word of complaint. Not a word, although he made his feelings clear with every motion. Ross picked up the newspaper and grinned. “Listen to this: ‘It was noted at Almack’s last evening that Sir Wilbur Franklin partnered with Lady Vanessa Wolfe for several dances.’”
“That is nice, my lord.”
“Nice?” He laughed and threw the paper back on the table. “Last night was one of the best times I have had since this blasted Season began. Franklin was nearly blithering with his excitement at being in the exulted lady’s company, and Swinton could barely tolerate being forced to watch.”
“And you, my lord?”
“I enjoyed the whole.”
“And the lady?” Pott toyed with one of the buttons on his waistcoat. “Did she enjoy the whole?”
Ross’s smile vanished. Blast! He did not wish to think of Lady Vanessa Wolfe. If he did, he might let his mind linger on the warmth of her smile, which he had seen so seldom, or the soft glow of her eyes or the gentle curves that drew his eyes even from across the crowded floor of Almack’s. She was a lovely, enticing woman, and he had no need for a lovely, enticing woman cluttering up his head.
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