Chapter Five
Penelope Downing prided herself on being a creature of habit. Every morning, she rose exactly at the stroke of ten. She enjoyed her breakfast in her breakfast-parlor with its enchanting view of the tiny garden behind her Grosvenor Square town house. Her housekeeper received Penelope’s instructions each day at precisely thirty minutes before noon. For the next hour daily, Penelope gave her complete attention to the abigail’s ministrations to her light brown hair and her vast wardrobe. Before the church bells chimed two, she was about on her calls or receiving on the days she was at home. She always was waiting to greet her husband when he returned from his ride about the Park just as the clock on the mantel chimed six. With him, she enjoyed an evening of entertainment with the ton.
That exacting schedule explained Lady Carolyn Mansfield’s nearly speechless incredulity when Penelope was shown into her small blue sitting room before one the next afternoon. With her beribboned poke bonnet positively quivering with agitation, Penelope offered Carolyn a swift smile as she crossed the flowered rug and sat on the white silk chair next to where Carolyn was ringing hastily for refreshments.
“Dear Penelope, whatever is distressing you?” Carolyn asked, unable to curb her curiosity. She would sooner have expected Napoleon to come calling than Penelope arriving before two.
“Not distress, but happiness.” Her full lips rounded into a moue, which countermanded her words. With a sigh, she bent her full form to pick a piece of straw from the hem of her sedate yellow gown. The ribbons dropping from her bodice would have better suited a girl half her age.
Carolyn laughed. “Mr. Porter is ever a doting husband. Now that his wife has given him a son, there shall be no end to his overindulgence. I fear everyone on the Square will be driving over straw for weeks to come.”
“I appreciate the respite from the clatter of carriage wheels as much as the new mother.” Penelope’s usual smile appeared as a maid approached with a tray of sweetmeats and a steaming pot of tea. “I was saying to dear Samuel just last evening how pleasant it was not to be bothered by the passage of carriages under our window. He suggested that the straw might be a permanent addition to the Square, but I do believe he was jesting.”
Carolyn resisted laughing and busied herself straightening the sprigged linen of her gown. Penelope Downing had no more sense of humor than the pink flowers on Carolyn’s dress, but her heart was nearly as large as her broad shelf of bosom and her intentions well-meant. Carolyn doubted she could find a more pleasant neighbor, although, in secret, she often wished she might pass the afternoon with someone with a bit more wit.
Pouring tea, she held out a porcelain cup to her guest. “Penelope,” she said as she stirred sugar into her own cup, “you have yet to answer my question. What brings you calling at this hour? Not that I’m not always pleased to see you. It’s just that you’re all a-quiver.”
“As you should be, my dear.”
“Me?” Carolyn set her cup back on the table. Her neighbor’s words could mean anything … or nothing. It was not easy to tell with Penelope.
“Yes, you! What a coup! You must be delighted about sweet Vanessa’s triumph last evening at Almack’s. How I wish I could have witnessed that myself.”
Carolyn raised her cup to hide her growing amusement. She loved her niece with all her heart, but never could she imagine calling the headstrong girl sweet. “I own that I had thought Vanessa would be one of the first married out of this Season. She is pretty, well-spoken, and not lacking in either family connections or wealth. Oh, how deliriously high my hopes were when I fired her off.”
“But, my dear Carolyn, your hopes are at long last coming to fruition. The Franklin family is quite plump in the pockets.”
Carolyn offered her neighbor a smile. “Something that my niece needn’t worry her head about, for my brother left her without that concern.”
“Poo! A woman needs always to think of such things. Not just for herself, but for her children. I had begun to despair that Vanessa would fail her obligation to her late father.” Penelope shuddered. “I know he was your brother, Carolyn, but I vow I never met a more disagreeable man.”
“Or a more endearing one. I see more of him in Vanessa every day.”
Penelope took a hasty sip of tea and clumsily changed the conversation back to the topic that had brought her to the sunny parlor overlooking the Square. “I believe you shall soon be announcing your niece’s betrothal.”
“I have harbored such hopes before, and they have come to naught.” Carolyn leaned back against the settee. “Forgive me if I seem indifferent, but Vanessa’s heart will be a hard-won prize. She is so serious about so many things, but not about finding a suitable husband.” She sighed. “Or to own the truth, any husband at all.”
“You must speak honestly with her.” Both of Penelope’s chins jiggled with her fervor. “A young miss needs to be made aware of what she must do to plan for her future. Not that you would ever be remiss in such tuition, Carolyn, but it is a young woman’s place to be grateful for any man who pays her heed.”
Carolyn almost laughed. How incensed Vanessa would be to hear Penelope speak so! Raised, as all the Wolfes had been, to know her own mind and to speak it, Vanessa would not assent submissively to an offer of marriage from a man her aunt had chosen. Not that Carolyn would have been so much a block as to suggest such a thing, since she was a Wolfe as well.
Quietly, to hide her thoughts, Carolyn said, “Perhaps we shall be given a greater clue into Vanessa’s mind this evening. I shall be certain that she sits with Sir Wilbur Franklin when we play cards. Then I must trust he will know the proper court-promises to delight her.”
“What a fitting watchdog you are! When my sister Agatha’s youngest comes out next Season, I would dearly love to have you sponsor her.”
Carolyn toyed with a sweetmeat, then dropped it back into the dish. Wiping her fingers delicately on a linen napkin, she glanced at the clock on the mantel. Vanessa should have returned from the modiste more than fifteen minutes ago. The girl had developed an uncomely habit of being late when some task she disliked faced her. Carolyn had suspected the attention they must give to overseeing the final plans for this evening’s entertainment would slow Vanessa’s return.
Vanessa was so like her father. Grant Wolfe had exhibited a single-minded determination to do what he thought was right. Although that manner had lost him a few friends on occasion and gained him more than a few enemies, he had remained steadfast to those who understood his ways. Vanessa was in good pax with only a handful among the élite, but she held those friendships dear.
Despite herself, Carolyn’s eyes rose to a painting set in prominence on the chimney-piece. Even in the portrait, her sister-in-law Julianna appeared a frail wraith, for she had succumbed to a fever in less than a year after the painting was completed. Carolyn’s gaze settled on the other faces in it. Dear Grant, his eyes burning with the ideals he had not lived to see come to consummation. Sitting next to him was Vanessa, a younger version of her mother’s beauty, but with a set of her shoulders that suggested her father’s strength. Lastly, Carolyn looked at the lad with his hand on his father’s shoulder. Corey Wolfe had inherited a large share of the Wolfe stubbornness and indifference to others’ opinions. That had led to his death on a distant battlefield.
A pulse of the sorrow she had tried to set aside coursed through her. So much grief this family had suffered. Only Vanessa remained, and Carolyn repeated her silent pledge that the last of the Wolfes would not come to disaster as the others had. If only Vanessa could learn to compromise, she might escape the pain and failure that had haunted her family.
“We shall speak of bringing out your niece once I have Vanessa settled with a good match.” Carolyn smiled sadly. “My brother’s final wish was that I would see to his only surviving child’s future. That must be my sole concern.”
“And of your own future?”
Her smile became warmer. “Vanessa is both my present and my futur
e concern at this time. Perhaps—when she is happily married with a husband who dotes on her—I can turn my mind to more personal matters.”
“If you are putting your life aside until she is wed, then, my dear Carolyn, you should make certain that Vanessa is given more opportunities to meet suitable men.”
“Exactly why I invited the baronet to join us this evening.” Carolyn reached for her cup. “I also have extended an invitation to others of my acquaintance so the party shall have a merry air.”
Penelope tapped her finger against her chins, then nodded. “That should work. Allow Vanessa to see the differences among the gentlemen who join you this evening, so that she might appreciate Sir Wilbur Franklin’s noble mien.”
Carolyn doubted that anyone save Penelope, whose generous spirit was well known, would use the word noble to describe the baronet. Yet her neighbor’s advice was sound. A bit of competition for Vanessa’s attention might urge the baronet to present his suit in short order. She smiled. Who would have thought that Penelope would give her the idea that was sure to turn this evening from a quiet party into a chance to resolve Vanessa’s future once and for all?
Carolyn raised her cup in a silent salute to her own thoughts. This could be the solution she had sought all Season.
Vanessa settled her bonnet more securely on her head as the tiger assisted her from the carriage in front of the house on Grosvenor Square. Leale followed. Vanessa was in a bang as she went toward the steps, bracing herself for having her ears boxed with her aunt’s dismay. Not only had Madame deBerg, the modiste, been eternally slow, but Leale had been in a fidget over waiting at the modiste’s shop for hours. The abigail had been furious that Vanessa did not explain exactly what had delayed her, but Vanessa had been in no mood to talk.
How could she tell dear Leale about her foolish call on Lord Mendoff? And how Lord Brickendon had come to her rescue? She hoped she could trust the viscount and his uncle to hold their tongues on this. She did not want to break Aunt Carolyn’s heart.
And now she must begin the search again to find someone to help her. Too many doors had been closed to her, and the only one that had opened.… She shuddered again. She must not stop now. She was sure she was close to discovering the truth about her brother. She wondered why her own government was so reluctant to release the information to her, but that answer was as impossible to find as Corey.
The front door opened just as she reached it. Quigley stood inside, his face naked of emotion as always. Leale nodded to him, then rushed up the steps to set out Vanessa’s gown for the gathering this evening. She turned, a warning frown on her face, but Vanessa pretended she had not seen her abigail’s fierce expression. She needed to speak to Quigley first.
The butler took Vanessa’s spencer. As he held it carefully, he said, “Lady Mansfield requested that you join her and Mrs. Downing in the blue sitting room upon your return.”
“Mrs. Downing? Is it so late?” Vanessa understood Leale’s distress if they were that dilatory in returning to the Square. She looked at the tall-case clock standing in one angle of the octagonal foyer. “It’s not yet two.” Dismay swept her. “What is wrong, Quigley?”
“My lady, to suggest that I would eavesdrop on your aunt’s conversation—”
Vanessa interrupted, with a smile, for they had come to points like this on more than one occasion at Wolfe Abbey, “Quigley, you are an excellent butler. Nothing happens in this house that you aren’t privy to. Is there something wrong at the Downing house?”
“I would as lief,” he said, drawing himself up to his lanky height, “say that Mrs. Downing is eager to determine what is taking place with your life, my lady. I did hear her mention Almack’s.”
“Oh, bother.” Vanessa grimaced as she looked at the stairs. “I should have guessed Penelope could not resist the chance to enjoy a bit of gossip at my expense.” She took a step toward the stairs, then paused. Facing the butler, she asked, “Has anything been delivered for me today?”
“No, my lady. Not yet.” She was unsure if it was her imagination or if his shoulders slumped a hairbreadth. The timber of his voice had not changed, but she knew he also missed her brother. Whether he also believed Corey was alive was something she had never asked him. She was afraid of what he might say. She did not want to be the only one who kept the hope from dying.
A knock halted her from asking that Quigley send any letters to her immediately. The butler grumbled something under his breath as he opened the door.
Vanessa’s eyes widened when she met Lord Brickendon’s. Their dark depths were as shuttered as Quigley’s face when he asked, “Is Lady Vanessa Wolfe in?”
“Whom may I say is calling?” Quigley returned as if Vanessa was not viewing the exchange.
Taking off his beaver, the viscount held it in one hand as he offered the butler a carte des visites. It was the same tan as his riding coat and buckskins. “Lord Brickendon. I have a message for her, which I would appreciate delivering in person.”
Vanessa did not wait for Quigley to turn to ask her if she wished to speak with the viscount. She had no interest in the canons of Society this afternoon. She must learn why Lord Brickendon was calling after saying goodbye to her less than an hour past.
“I would be delighted to speak with you, Lord Brickendon.”
The viscount’s Hessian boots marked each step as he crossed the harlequin pattern of the foyer floor. “I trust you will excuse this intrusion.”
“You must excuse me, my lord. I am just returned from my errands.”
A smile crept across his lips. “May I say that you look very well in the wake of your errands?”
She faltered, unsure what to say. No one else made her lose her wits as he did. As Quigley stepped back into the shadows, she said, “My aunt will be delighted with your call.”
“I have not come to give you a look-in.” He reached beneath his light brown coat and pulled out a folded sheet. “As I informed your man, I wanted to deliver this to you personally. I thought you might wish to know that my uncle has left Town, so he is unable to respond to your invitation.”
Vanessa struggled to keep her fingers from quivering as she reached for the letter she had labored to write last night after her visit to Almack’s. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“My lady, I can see that I have disturbed you greatly when all I wished was to let you know that my uncle did not intentionally ignore this missive.”
His deep voice, as he spoke the lies much more easily than she could have, contained such compassion that she raised her eyes before she realized her error. With her eyes caught by his gaze, which no longer was bereft of emotion, she feared he might be able to read her feelings more clearly than she could his.
“I ask again,” he continued when she said nothing, “to be forgiven for intruding on you. I had considered giving the letter to Sir Wilbur Franklin, so he could deliver it to you this evening, but the obligation to see that it was put in your hands was mine.”
“I truly appreciate your thoughtfulness.” She saw a flash of amusement in his eyes at her trite answer. “The baronet might not have appreciated its import.”
Lord Brickendon’s smile stole some of the harsh edge from his face. “You are the one who is thoughtful, my lady, to be so generous with your compliments to Franklin. It did not take keen eyes to note how uncomfortable you were last evening. He can be stifling to any lady he has set his heart upon.”
“I thought he was your friend.”
Lord Brickendon laughed so lowly that the sound would not climb the stairs to her aunt’s ears. “I accept the faults of my friends, as they accept mine, for I need not worry that I might have to buckle myself to one of them.”
When she smiled at his sally, Vanessa was astonished. She should not be smiling. In her hand, she held the proof that yet another route was closed to her. She should have been down-pinned, but she was not. Lord Brickendon’s teasing lightened her spirits.
Knowing that she was being bold as b
rass, she asked, “Might you do me a favor, my lord?”
“Another?” When she flushed, he added, “Of course, if it is within my power.” His eyes sparkled with the laughter in his voice. “What do you wish? A dragon slain? A castle stormed? A prisoner freed from a tower? I would do most anything to rid myself of the boredom of the endless rounds expected of one while in Town.”
Vanessa almost told him what she really needed, because his jesting came so close to the truth. Lord Mendoff was well connected with the government, so mayhap his nephew might know of a way to help her. She shrugged aside that tempting thought. Despite his honorable behavior this morning, she knew too little about Lord Brickendon to trust him. Others had laughed at her assertion that Corey was alive. She had vowed that never again would she suffer that mortification. Somehow she would find her answers herself.
“If it is not too much of an imposition, my lord, would you consider joining us this evening for a few hands of whist?” She heard voices coming toward the stairs and added in a rush, “I know my aunt would appreciate your company.”
“And I could stand as a buffer between you and Franklin’s attentions?”
His insight did not astonish her. He had revealed it every time they had spoken. She wished she could be as honest. “My lord, I had hoped that—in the presence of one he keeps in with—I might be able to see more clearly some of the fine attributes my aunt tells me he possesses.”
“To be offered the chance to allow you to see Franklin’s finer points is an appealing invitation.” He set his hat on his dark hair. “I would be a sap to turn it down. I look forward to speaking with you … and with Franklin this evening. For now, I suspect—although you are too polite to say—I am keeping you from other guests. Good afternoon, my lady.”
The Wolfe Wager Page 6
