“Yes,” she whispered, willing to accede to almost anything to have him be gone. In another moment, all on end, she might throw herself into his sturdy arms and beg him to soothe her with his bewitching kisses. He was sure to repeat her own words back to her, reminding her that eavesdropping was a deplorable habit. Yet if she had not chanced to hear the damning conversation, she would be ignorant of Ross’s true reason for winning her heart.
She should demand that he be honest with her, but she was afraid he would be. That would complete the defilement of her dreams. Not tonight, she told herself. Not yet.
“Are you sure you are suffering from just fatigue?” he asked when she drew away.
His concern nearly broke through the thick wall of her pain, but she simply said, “I need time to come to terms with all I have learned today.”
His fingers stroked her shoulder. Bending to place a kiss on the downy skin beneath her ear, he chuckled when she gasped involuntarily. She tried to submerge the delight his touch invoked, but it was impossible. He was a profligate, who knew so well how to twist a woman’s heart into believing him when he lied with a hatchet, but she loved him.
She whispered another good night and scurried up the stairs. Although she was tempted to look back, she resisted. She must find some way of ending this betrothal, which would be easier to put aside than the pain eating at her heart.
Sending Leale away, Vanessa pulled out the tear-stained letter from the bottom drawer as she had so many nights. “Corey, he lied about loving me. Was he as false about helping to find you?” She lowered the letter to her lap. “I trusted him as I dared trust no one else, but he proved that I was a noodle. But I shall not be a noodle again, nor shall I be diverted from searching for you until you are home for good and all. Never again.”
The gray light of morning had barely peeked over the houses on the eastern side of the Square when Eveline burst into Vanessa’s room. Still dressed in her nightgown and her muslin wrapper, the redhead asked, “Did I wake you?”
Vanessa almost laughed. Her one attempt to escape her anguish in sleep had left her in the midst of a nightmare nearly as horrifying as the truth. She had used the night to map out what she must do next. Although the answer had been simple, she had sought to discover a more uncomplicated way to bring her shattered dreams to fruition. She had found none, so she had the choice of doing what she must … or letting her brother die at the hands of Boney’s soldiers.
Standing with a rustle of the green crêpe gown she had put on more than an hour before, she motioned for her friend to sit by the window. “You did not wake me.”
Eveline perched on the very edge of the chair and was silent while Vanessa dropped to the window seat. She wrung her hands until her knuckles bleached. “I have been grappling with my conscience all night, and I can bear it no longer. I must speak with you as I should have last night. Oh, dear, how can I say this?”
“You find the idea of me marrying Ross repulsive.” Vanessa did not make it a question. There was no need, because she knew Eveline better than she knew herself. Certainly better than she knew her heart, which had led her so foolishly into this predicament.
“Vanessa, I was so thrilled for you until last night. I wanted you to be as happy as I am with Edward. But then I heard about …” She shivered.
“I know what you have heard. Do not berate yourself that you had no idea of it before last night. It was—to say very the least—a surprise.” She stared across the Square and saw little as fog obscured everything beyond the walkway. Nothing was clear any longer. Corey was alive, but a prisoner of this appalling war. Ross was dallying with her heart as it was rumored he had with so many others.
“I do wish you would reconsider this betrothal.”
“You know as well as I do that breaking a betrothal is not something to be done lightly.”
Eveline’s eyes lit with green fire. “Then you are thinking of putting an end to it?”
“What bride has not had second thoughts?” Vanessa asked, looking away before Eveline could discern the depth of her pain.
“Please have second thoughts and third thoughts and more, Vanessa.” Eveline’s dressing gown whispered as she stood. “Edward was so distressed when we spoke of this.”
“I am curious how he learned about Ross’s plan when I remained as wise as Waltham’s calf until last night.”
Eveline put her hands on Vanessa’s arms and brought her to face her. When Vanessa saw her sorrow mirrored on her friend’s face, she struggled to restrain her tears. That Ross had played her false was crime enough. He should not have been allowed to hurt Eveline as well. She moaned as she thought of Aunt Carolyn’s grief when she learned the truth.
“Edward and the viscount are friends of long standing.” Eveline strangled on a sob. “I should as lief say they were friends of long standing. Last night, Edward said, if his fears are true, he hopes never to come face to face with the viscount again. I pray he gets his wish, for, on their next meeting, Edward might demand that the viscount name his friends for grass before breakfast in the Park.”
“A duel? No!” Although Ross had speared her heart with his cruel antics, she did not want to imagine him dead or—more, likely—ostracized because he had killed the earl.
“You must listen to this.” Eveline urged her to sit.
“Eveline, talking of this helps nothing.”
“I insist you listen to the whole.”
Vanessa sighed and nodded. “If you must.”
“I must.” Eveline clasped her hands in front of her mouth as she thought deeply. Then, just when Vanessa was about to demand she get this over with, she said, “Edward and the viscount both belong to Brook’s. When the viscount spent little time there during this Season, Edward became concerned. The viscount was seldom there last year, because of his mother’s ill health. After she died, just after the beginning of last year’s Season—”
“I did not know that.” Vanessa blinked back tears while Eveline paced. How much else of himself had Ross hidden from her?
“—Edward expected, with the end of mourning, Lord Brickendon would resume his old habits of stopping into Brooks’s regularly. Lord Brickendon still has patronized the club infrequently. Even when he came in, he avoided the gaming room. It is whispered that the viscount is about to leave the key under the door.”
“Bankrupt?” Vanessa shook her head. “Impossible.”
“Edward is beginning to ask questions among their mutual friends and business acquaintances, but he fears the viscount wishes to wed you solely for the Wolfe fortune.”
“Impossible,” she said again. “Ross knows that the fortune is not—” She faltered, not wanting to share, even with her bosom-bow, that Ross had reassured her that Corey was still alive. Then comprehension struck her. By telling her that he would assist in the search for her brother, he was keeping her from doing anything. Citing the slow rumblings of the government, he could delay giving her a definitive answer until after they wed and he could lay claim to her father’s money. Would he do something that horrible? With a shudder, she knew, even if it was truth, that treachery seemed less despicable than his other subterfuge of betting on her heart with his friends. “Is this all you wanted to tell me last night?”
“All?” Eveline whirled, her face almost as ruddy as her hair. “You mean there is more?”
For the first time in her life, Vanessa lied to Eveline. She reassured her friend that she appreciated being told about what Lord Greybrooke had discovered. Nodding when Eveline said that the earl was searching for proof of the rumors and hoped to have something to tell them soon, Vanessa was glad when her friend left.
Sitting on the window seat again, Vanessa leaned her head against the cool glass. She had never guessed that happiness could be so fleeting.
Vanessa owed her aunt the duty of the truth. Now that she knew the truth, Vanessa needed have no worry about marrying the baronet, who was as culpable as Ross in this bizarre bet, to ensure her aunt’s happine
ss, but she wanted Aunt Carolyn to learn of the truth from her instead of when she was upon the gad.
When Vanessa came with trepidation into the breakfast-parlor, her aunt poked at the newspaper. “See? Right here in the Morning Chronicle? The announcement of your betrothal. I have made an appointment with Madame deBerg. She will be coming here just before tea.” She smiled, for the couturière seldom called on patrons at their homes. “We must make plans for your wedding trousseau.”
“Aunt Carolyn,” she said, gripping the back of one of the oak chairs, “I must speak to you of an important matter.”
Folding the paper, the older woman shook her head. “I shall hear nothing about the wedding being held at Wolfe Abbey. I know it has been a tradition since the house was established in Good King Hal’s time, but you shall have a wedding here in Town. By the elevens, half of our intended guests have never been so far from London.” With a wag of her finger, she stood. “Do not look at me like a forlorn kitten. You must listen to my experience in these matters.”
“But, Aunt Carolyn—”
“Victor is calling within the hour, and I must look presentable.”
“So early? But, Aunt Carolyn, I must speak with you about—”
“Cut line, Vanessa!” she said with more fervor than Vanessa had expected. “Now that I have you settled, I can think of my own life. Did you think that I would sit on the shelf forever?” Coming around the table, she kissed Vanessa’s cheek. “I wish only to be as happy as you must be right now.”
“Aunt Carolyn, this is important.”
“Of course, Vanessa. I—” The clatter of carriage wheels slowing in front of the house added pretty color to Aunt Carolyn’s face. “That must be Victor. Do go and talk with him while I get my pelisse.” She paused by the door and smiled. “My dear, I promise you we shall have time to talk about all these important details many times before your wedding.” The ruffles on the bottom of her light blue gown bounced as she hurried from the room.
Vanessa went to a window to watch Captain Hudson emerging from his carriage. Writhing fingers of fog were losing their grip on the cobbles, and she could see the shadow of the houses on the other sides of the Square. She closed her eyes to the familiar sight and turned from the window as she heard Quigley greeting the captain.
“Good morning, my lady,” Captain Hudson said with a genuine smile as Vanessa entered the foyer.
“Aunt Carolyn will be here directly.”
“Then I shall take the opportunity to say again that I wish you every happiness in your marriage to the viscount.” He put one booted foot on the lowest riser and leaned on the bannister. His blond hair caught fire in the light from the candles overhead.
Without a preamble, she said, “Captain Hudson, I would like to see the reports of my brother’s disappearance.”
His nonchalance vanished as he straightened. Shock raised his voice. “My lady, surely you must realize that such reports can be seen only by the eyes of our military leaders.”
“I want to know the truth about the events of that day.”
“That is impossible.”
Taking a slow breath, she asked, “Could you see them?”
“No, he cannot.” Vanessa looked up the stairs to see her aunt coming toward them. Aunt Carolyn patted the captain’s arm gently, but her lips were tight with irritation as she turned to her niece. “Vanessa, I thought I had made it clear that you were to have nothing more to do with this senseless, worthless search for your brother’s remains.”
“For my brother! He is not dead!”
“Vanessa!” Her aunt gripped her arm. “Child, you must put this madness from your head. It shall ruin your life. I shall hear no more of it. Nor will you pester Victor with your cockle-brained demands, or—”
Knowing she sounded like a petulant child, but not caring, Vanessa demanded, “Or what? What can you hold over my head now that I have done as you wished and arranged to leg-shackle myself to Ross?” She nearly strangled on the angry words.
Aunt Carolyn did not answer her. Instead, she said to the overmastered captain, “Excuse her, Victor. I believe she is overwrought from the excitement of the past few days. Once she has rested, she will be much her winsome self again.”
Captain Hudson glanced back at Vanessa as he let Aunt Carolyn herd him out of the house. Seeing Quigley coming into the foyer, Vanessa did not wait to see his chastising frown at her sharp words to her aunt. She rushed up the stairs.
New tears added to the ones already clogging her eyes. Clenching her hands, she acknowledged the truth. She could wait no longer for anyone else to help her. She would do what must be done … now … alone.
Vanessa heard the chiming of the tall-case clock as she opened her chamber’s door. In one hand, she carried the letter she had written, in the other, a small satchel. She could not take more, for that would garner attention she wanted to avoid. Keeping the satchel hidden beneath her full cloak of blue Vigonia cloth, she descended to the foyer.
It was two. Ross would be calling before the hour was over to take her for a ride. By then, she must be far from London. Deceit troubled her, but Ross had been deceitful from the first. If she wished to salvage even a small part of her happiness, she must do this.
The few words of the note to Ross played through her head.
Meet me at Madame deBerg’s shop. It is on Bond Street near Mr. Willoughby’s apothecary. My appointment will be completed by half-past three.
She had not signed it, not wanting to put her name to such a blatant plumper.
“The carriage is waiting, my lady,” Quigley said as she crossed the foyer. “Lady Mansfield will wish to know when you expect to return.”
Vanessa hated the tears that billowed into her eyes when she discerned that the butler was concerned about her going out alone. More than anyone, she loathed being false with him, for he had never failed to be honest with her.
“Tell Aunt Carolyn I may be late for the appointment she has set with Madame deBerg.” She longed to tell him more, but she could not. If he suspected the truth, he would prevent her from leaving. Holding out the note, as if it was unimportant, she asked, “Will you give this to Lord Brickendon?”
“If you are expecting his lordship—”
“I must hurry, or I shall be late.” She rushed out the door, so she did not have to tell him another out-and-outer.
The tiger assisted her into the carriage and nodded when she instructed the coachman to take her to Madame deBerg’s shop. Sitting back against the thick cushions, she stared at the familiar front of her aunt’s house. The immensity of what she was about to attempt struck her, stealing her breath, but not for a moment did she consider turning back. It was time to go forward with her life. She would not return to Grosvenor Square without her brother.
When they reached Madame deBerg’s shop, Vanessa did not alight from the carriage. She asked the tiger to have the coachman come to speak to her. She noted the dandies strolling along the street and wanted to avoid any chance of a confrontation with the Bond Street Loungers, who held the street as their own territory during the afternoon. The brilliantly dressed gabies made a great cake of themselves, but their pranks were bothersome.
“Yes, my lady?” asked Scoville with a tip of his tall hat. “Did you wish to speak with me?”
“I assume these horses are fresh.”
“Yes, my lady.” The coachman’s brow threaded, caking the dust and soot that had come up off the street.
“They are strong?”
“The best of the stable, my lady. On my word, the black can—”
Vanessa had no interest in hearing a litany of the horse’s genealogy and talents. “I wish to go to Dover.”
“Dover?” he gasped.
“Immediately.”
“Dover?” he asked again, glancing uneasily at the lad on his right. “Today?”
“At once, Scoville. You do know the way?”
“Y-y-yes, my lady.” He aimed a hand at the boy’s ear and growled
an order for the tiger to get back into his place at the rear of the carriage.
Vanessa ignored the small voice in her head. She must not give anyone a chance to persuade her to give up her mad determination to sneak into France and arrange to free Corey. Otherwise she might accede to their good sense. She was queer in her attic to attempt this, but she would not turn back when she was sure no one else cared about Corey as she did.
And when she had no one who cared for her as much as he did.
No one at all.
Chapter Fifteen
Once Vanessa’s carriage had left London behind, the fog dissolved into mist, then to rain that fought its way past the curtained windows of the carriage to soak Vanessa’s cloak. The cheerless countryside was brightened by their arrival at the cathedral city of Rochester. She considered calling for a stop at the Crown. The fine hostelry was known even in London, and, for that reason, she did nothing to stay Scoville’s hand from the whip. They would have to stop for the night, but not in such a well-known place. If they could reach Chatham before they paused, they could reach the docks of Dover before the next night’s high tide had the smugglers underway.
Vanessa kept her satchel close and hoped no knight of the pad would set his men upon her carriage. The bag contained what money she had and her mother’s diamond necklace. She was not sure how much an interloper would demand in exchange for taking her across the Channel, but she had to be certain she had enough money to buy Corey’s freedom and get them back to England.
She tried to make plans, but her eyes wore lead manacles on each lash. Each time she blinked, she found it more of an effort to reopen her eyes. A night without sleep was exacting its price on her. She drew aside one of the leather curtains, hoping she could stay awake by watching the sights they passed. An icy wind and driving rain forced her to lower it again.
She slumped against the seat, which rattled with the roughness of the feather-bed lane. Her excitement had disintegrated into grim resolve. Nothing now must be allowed to turn her back from rescuing her brother and begging his forgiveness for the words that haunted her sleep. Then they would go home to Wolfe Abbey, leaving behind only her illusions of finding a man she could love and trust as a casualty of what would be her sole Season in Town.
The Wolfe Wager Page 18
