by Cheryl Holt
“YOU’VE DRIVEN ME MAD.”
“Have I?”
Michael flashed his most charming grin, the one that made young ladies swoon with delight.
He and Veronica were lurking in another dark garden, having snuck out of another grand ball. They were in a secluded arbor, and it was raining lightly so they couldn’t linger for long or she’d have to explain to her chaperone why her clothes were wet.
His affair with her had spiraled out of control. When he’d started the flirtation, he hadn’t imagined she would leap in with such reckless abandon. She could lose everything by trifling with him, but she’d forgotten that fact. It was beginning to seem as if she’d like to be discovered which was deranged and dangerous.
He’d planned to use their relationship to extort money from her parents, but he’d given up on that scheme. He’d like her to cry off from her betrothal so Annabel could snag Captain Grey instead, but if his fling with her was exposed, there might be demands that he shackle himself to her. He was only twenty-two, and he wasn’t ever going to wed, but if he eventually broke down, it wouldn’t be to a ninny like Veronica.
No, he’d pick someone like Annabel, someone who was tough and shrewd and could make her own way in the world. So he had to extricate himself from the paltry romance, but he needed Veronica to believe it had been her idea.
“Kiss me again,” she begged, “and don’t ever stop.”
“I’m sure you’ve been missed by now. We’re courting disaster.”
“I don’t care if we are,” she insisted.
He sighed. “Veronica, you can’t mean that.”
“I do mean it. You’ve opened my eyes, Michael.”
“How?”
“I shouldn’t have accepted Captain Grey’s proposal. We’re practically strangers, and he doesn’t even like me.”
“You’re being absurd, Veronica. Who wouldn’t love you?”
“He’s so much older than me, and he’s stuffy and grouchy. Being wed to him will be like being wed to my father.”
“A fate worse than death!” he teased, but she was completely serious.
“Yes, it would be. I should have another sort of husband entirely.”
He nearly groaned. This was the affection that had been building, but it was never his ploy to have her shift her focus from Captain Grey to him. Wasn’t she anxious to be a countess? How had he misread her?
She was gazing up at him with such yearning, expecting him to agree that she needed a different type of spouse and Michael should be that spouse.
But if his name ever became publicly connected to hers, he truly thought Captain Grey would murder him. He had alarming visions of an empty field at dawn, pistols drawn, loyal acquaintances counting off the steps as the Captain prepared to fire.
Or the Captain was a renowned swordsman. He might choose swords instead, might stab Michael to death before Michael could pull his blade out of its scabbard. He’d be hacked to death at twenty-two, and he couldn’t permit that to happen. He was determined to live to a ripe old age.
“I think you’re distraught,” he gently said.
“I’m not. I know exactly what I want.”
“Every girl has jitters before her wedding.”
“These aren’t jitters! I’ve changed my mind. I can’t marry him.”
“Hush!” He laid a finger on her lips to silence her. “You shouldn’t say such a thing. What if you were overheard? Your family would be so upset, and the Captain would be devastated.”
Suddenly, she looked young and lost. Obviously, it hadn’t occurred to her that he didn’t share her infatuation, that he wouldn’t immediately declare himself. They might have had to hash out distasteful details, but a couple walked by out on the path so their conversation halted, and he wasn’t about to have it commence again. The instant the coast was clear, he took her arm and started toward the verandah.
He probably should have let her proceed on her own, but she was so morose he figured she’d refuse to go, and he had to be shed of her. The ball was such a crush that he didn’t suppose anyone would notice them together.
“When can I be with you again?” she quietly asked as they reached the stairs. “Will you come to town tomorrow? Say you will!”
This was precisely the kind of situation he couldn’t bear. He simply wanted to be back at Grey Manor where he could keep an eye on Annabel. The servants claimed she was off with the Captain, but no one knew where.
Michael was bothered by her privately consorting with him. Captain Grey was an imperious type who’d demand Annabel fall all over herself to please him, but he’d decline to have any strings attach, and Michael wouldn’t allow her to give the Captain anything for free.
“I can’t come tomorrow, Veronica,” he told her.
“You must! I can’t abide that a day would pass without you.”
He chuckled as if she was jesting. “You’ll survive.”
“You can’t be serious,” she woefully moaned.
“Veronica,” he scolded, “you’re being too loud.”
“Where will you be? What will you do instead?”
“I’ll be at Captain Grey’s party. There’s a card game for high stakes, and I really need to play. You’re aware that I gamble to earn my living.”
“I could travel to Grey Manor. I could meet you there!”
Michael actually blanched. “That’s not a good idea, Veronica. There are many dissolute people in attendance. I’m sure Captain Grey would be vexed if you arrived.”
“It’s not up to him. Grey Manor is about to be one of my homes. Who is he to tell me I can’t visit?”
Michael felt as if he’d waded into a bog and the mud was sucking him under. “Perhaps you should discuss it with Wesley. He could explain better than I can.”
“Wesley! As if I’d take his advice on any topic. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s an adult event, Veronica,” he tried again. “Doxies and libertines are the only guests. If you put in an appearance, imagine the scandal it would cause.”
“I would risk any amount of gossip to see you!”
On her uttering the statement, there was a glow about her that looked like religious fervor, and Michael was desperate to flee from it. He guided her onto the verandah then bowed and hurried away, the crowd swallowing him up.
He was terribly afraid she’d run after him, but if she wanted to race to folly, she’d have to glom onto some other idiot to make the journey with her.
“WHO IS THAT YOUNG man with Veronica?”
Wesley was loitering on the edge of the ballroom with his mother, and he glanced over to find Michael with Veronica. Their heads were pressed close as if they were engaged in a fraught conversation.
Apparently, they’d been out in the garden, and they must have strolled for quite a while. Their hair and shoulders were damp from the mist that was falling.
Wesley scowled. He was aware that Michael had met Veronica, but he wasn’t aware that Michael had pursued a relationship. When and how had Michael spent enough time with her to be that attached?
“He’s a friend of mine,” Wesley said. “Michael Boswell.”
Yet as Wesley mentioned Michael’s surname, he shifted with discomfort, remembering Benjamin’s insistence that Michael had been lying about his identity.
Wesley liked Michael very much. He was full of fun and mischief, always merry, always in a happy mood. The notion that he might have deceived Wesley was deeply disturbing.
“Boswell, is it?” his mother mused. “I’m acquainted with the Boswells. They’re wealthy merchants. A bit stuffy for my taste, but upstanding citizens nonetheless.” She sniffed as if with affront. “He doesn’t resemble them at all. He’s much too handsome. It must not be the same branch of the family.”
“I didn’t know he and Veronica were cordial,” Wesley muttered aloud while intending to keep the comment to himself.
“I’ve seen her with him recently. I believe I’ll have a talk with her mother. If she’s
not careful, they’ll be stirring gossip.”
“Michael is very sensible. He wouldn’t imperil her reputation. I’m certain they’ve just been chatting.”
“He’s much too dashing and urbane—as well as being too near her own age. With the wedding approaching, we can’t have any bumps in our road. I will talk to her mother.”
The whole discussion had Wesley very unnerved. So had his observing Michael with Veronica. They’d seemed...intimate, as if they’d been quarreling, and his mother was correct for a change. If Veronica didn’t watch out, she’d generate gossip.
Maybe he should have a word with Michael who must not have realized how others might view his being out in the dark with another man’s fiancée.
“Will you excuse me, Mother? I’ve signed a dance card for the next dance.”
“Yes, you should dance, Wesley. By all means. Find a girl who tickles your fancy so you can obsess over someone besides Veronica.”
“I’m not obsessed with Veronica!” he huffed.
“Aren’t you? I think it’s about time you were married yourself.”
“I’ll get working on the situation right away,” he sarcastically replied.
“And after the big proclamation, I’d like to go home immediately.”
“I’ll be ready to go then too.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, he slipped away. They were at a betrothal ball hosted by Lord Wood for his daughter, Theodosia. Wesley was shocked that his mother had attended, but she and Lord Wood’s first wife—Lady Theodosia’s mother—had been friends when they were children.
At midnight, Lord Wood was announcing his daughter’s engagement, but it was to a man Wesley didn’t know. He didn’t know Lady Theodosia either so he wasn’t much interested in the happy couple.
He’d come because his mother had wanted his escort, because Michael had been excited about it. Lord Wood’s new wife was becoming a prominent hostess, and her galas were rumored to be lavish and decadent.
The celebration was a mad crush, with so many guests crammed into the parlors that dancing was hardly possible. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter then meandered through the crowd.
He caught up with Veronica over by a buffet table. She was dabbing at her damp hair with a napkin.
“You silly goose, have you been outside?” He tried to sound as if he was teasing her. “I heard it’s raining.”
“It’s so hot in here that I needed some fresh air.”
“You were walking alone? Is that wise?”
“I wasn’t alone.” She frowned as if he were an annoying insect. “There are a thousand people inside as well as out. I was completely surrounded at all times.”
She specifically hadn’t mentioned Michael being with her, and he was anxious to inquire if they’d been together, but couldn’t figure out how.
“Do you have an empty space on your dance card?” he asked instead. “Could I jump in as one of your partners?”
“No, sorry, my card is full.” She was craning her neck, searching for someone.
“I have to warn you about something,” he said.
“What is it, Wesley?” He’d exasperated her which was the case more and more.
“My mother noticed you were out in the garden with Michael.”
“What of it?”
“She’s seen you with him on other occasions, and...ah...she plans to talk to your mother about it.”
“Talk to my mother?” She sputtered with offense. “First of all, Wesley, if I decide to stroll in the garden, it’s none of your mother’s business.”
“I realize it isn’t.”
“And second of all, I don’t appreciate your hurrying over to tattle about it.”
His cheeks flushed. “My apologies. I thought you’d like to be apprised before being accosted by your own mother.”
Evidently, she couldn’t find the person for whom she was looking. She pulled her gaze away from the throng and focused it on him.
“Is Benjamin’s bachelor party still proceeding?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You’ve been begging me to travel to Grey Manor to observe what’s happening, and you’re correct that I should check it out. Could you escort me tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow...well...”
He was flummoxed by the request. He’d been eager for her to visit Grey Manor, but with her actually wanting to he was disconcerted. It wasn’t a suitable venue for her and Benjamin, apparently, was pursuing an amour with Michael’s sister. Wesley would hate for Veronica to stumble into the middle of it.
“Why are you hesitating?” she asked. “You’re the one who insisted I barge in.”
He felt as if his collar was choking him. “Yes, but I didn’t imagine you would.”
“Why shouldn’t I go? I‘ll load up a carriage with several of my friends. We’ll make a day of it. In fact, I’ll bring my maid and we’ll spend the night. We can have a picnic in the afternoon, and I’ll host dancing in the evening. It will be very fun.”
Wesley suffered a quick vision of his brother strangling him to death. “You really shouldn’t, Veronica.”
“I don’t care what you think, Wesley. Will you escort us or not?”
“Ah...ah...all right.” He supposed it was best to accompany her rather than have her pop in on her own. Hopefully, he could contain some of the damage.
“Let’s depart at eleven, shall we?”
She sauntered off, and he was so uneasy that he was too stunned to chase after her.
This was a disaster! She couldn’t show up at Benjamin’s party. She knew better! How could he stop her though? Should he tell his mother? Should he inform her mother? Should he gallop to Grey Manor and warn Benjamin?
The guests were to stay for another week. Could Wesley round them up and send everybody packing before she arrived? He doubted it was possible, and even if he tried, he and Benjamin would be laughingstocks. Every man in the kingdom would titter over how Benjamin’s bacchanal had been ruined by his fiancée, and there was nothing Benjamin loathed more than to have gossip disseminated about him.
Wesley wandered again, searching for Michael, and he noted a peculiar buzz in the air. People were snickering, nodding toward the stairs as if a shocking event was occurring on the upper floors.
Usually, Wesley loved a good scandal, but with his own catastrophe brewing, he couldn’t generate any interest. He found Michael in the front foyer drinking a glass of champagne.
“There you are,” Michael said. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.”
“I could ask you the same.”
“I was in the garden with Veronica,” Michael admitted with no prompting.
Wesley feigned surprise. “Were you?”
“She’s a brazen minx, isn’t she?”
“Veronica? Brazen?” Wesley scowled with disbelief, although with her abrupt desire to trek to Grey Manor, he was definitely questioning what he actually knew about her.
“She dragged me outside,” Michael claimed. “I explained that it might raise some brows, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“My mother saw you. She was a tad startled.”
“Well, be sure to tell her it was totally innocent. Veronica was hot, and she demanded I take her, but it was raining. I brought her back in the minute I could.”
The account sounded plausible, but Wesley couldn’t forget how Michael and Veronica had had their heads pressed together, how they’d been having a desperate conversation. What was he to make of it?
It was all a bit dodgy, and he might have interrogated Michael about it and his fake surname, but people surged into the foyer, and they were pointing and gesturing.
“Everyone’s in a lather,” he said to Michael, “and rumors are spreading like wildfire. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Lord Wood’s daughter.”
“Lady Theodosia? What about her?”
“She’s missing.”
“Missing! But it’s almost midnight. Her father is about
to announce her betrothal.”
“Precisely, and no one can find her.”
The crowd erupted with gasps and boisterous exclamations. There were also shouts, laughter, and clapping.
A man was stomping down the stairs, and he was carrying a woman as if he were absconding with her. She appeared to be undressed—as if she’d been seduced and ruined. Wesley could see bare shoulders and a bare arm. For the most part though, she was covered with a knitted throw so it wasn’t exactly risqué, but it wasn’t a sight one ever witnessed at a formal ball either.
“Ho-ho! Look at that!” Michael hooted with glee, joining in the merriment. “This party just got a lot more interesting.”
“What’s the oaf doing?” Wesley asked. “Is he kidnapping her?”
“It certainly seems like it.”
“Is that Lady Theodosia?”
“Most likely,” Michael said.
“She must be fleeing from her engagement.”
“In a very public way!”
“Who’s the man?”
“I don’t know.”
The odd, brash couple passed by as Lord Wood rushed into the foyer and bellowed, “Theodosia! What have you done now?”
“I guess it’s probably just what you would have expected of me, Father,” she replied.
“Hello, Lord Wood,” the man blithely said. “I am Soloman Grey.”
On hearing the name, Wesley was so stunned he nearly fainted.
Soloman Grey! His cousin? Could it be?
Wesley peered closer and thought, yes, yes, it was his cousin stirring the tempest. He hadn’t seen Soloman in a decade and had been a boy when Soloman had had his fill of tragedy and innuendo and sailed to Egypt.
Benjamin had servants scouring London, searching for Soloman, and here he was in the middle of a horrid scene. It occurred to Wesley that he should step up and announce himself, but he couldn’t make his feet move.
Lord Wood seethed at Soloman, “Release her, you fiend!”
“I can’t, Lord Wood,” Soloman responded.
“Why can’t you?”
“Because she’s mine, and Bernard can’t have her.”
Soloman exchanged a few more words with her father then Lady Theodosia spoke to a man standing next to Lord Wood who turned out to be her hapless fiancé, Bernard.
