Nearly three quarters of an hour late.
But for good reason.
By chance or good fortune, Simmons had a meeting scheduled with another solicitor, this one familiar with Chancery Court proceedings.
Seems Pierce needed to file a petition straightaway and pad the complaint with a hefty bribe so that the case would be heard swiftly. He needed to prove but two things to bring a valid case before the court.
Was Bianca in peril, immediate or in the future, by remaining Fairfax’s ward, and was Pierce willing to accept her guardianship?
A resounding yes to both questions.
A statement from her expressing her concerns about remaining in Fairfax’s custody, and her reasons for wanting the guardianship reappointed might be considered helpful as well.
Trifling snag there. She didn’t necessarily want the custody transferred, didn’t want to be anyone’s ward, truth to tell. But once Pierce explained his plan, she was bound to come ’round.
Anyone other than Fairfax would be better. Surely she would agree.
The unfortunate wager proved a much bigger obstacle.
Absolutely no mention should be made of the nature of how Pierce and Bianca first became acquainted. Even his difficult-to-startle solicitor’s eyes had widened, and he’d blinked owlishly behind his spectacles when Pierce divulged that succulent tidbit.
Still, it was entirely possible the Lord Chancellor, a number of the common law judges, or even a clerk might’ve heard of the ill-fated bet. If the court refused Pierce guardianship based on that fiasco, then he was prepared to ask Timberly to take on the role. In the meanwhile, Pierce intended to trundle Bianca off to Halverstone House until the matter was decided once and for all.
She would like Halverstone. The estate possessed pleasant gardens and several walking paths meandered through the copses of trees and around a miniature lake. Very peaceful and inviting.
The closest neighbors, Jules and Jemmah, the Duke and Duchess of Dandridge were over a half-mile away. Bianca would get on well with the duchess, one of the few peeresses Pierce admired. Probably because her grace didn’t affect pretentious airs. Their graces seldom journeyed to London, preferring the country’s serenity to raise their growing brood.
If Fairfax pursued Bianca, he wasn’t likely to find her sequestered at the seldom-used hunting lodge either. Why, Pierce hadn’t visited the place himself in nearly five years. A skeleton staff managed the upkeep, so he would need to hire Bianca a lady’s maid.
With a final lurch, the landau rumbled to a stop before Lenora’s house. As Pierce stepped from the conveyance, he touched his beaver hat and gave a cordial nod to the passersby. Something he’d never done before, but he must make himself an agreeable chap for Bianca’s sake. One never knew who might be on intimate terms with a stodgy fellow over at the Chancery Court.
“Ho, there, Wainthorpe.”
Already at the risers, Pierce cut an impatient glance to the approaching gentleman. “Farley.”
Owning the intelligence of a cod fish, Farley was not high on Pierce’s list of favored persons.
“Heard you won yourself a delectable piece last night.” A gust of wind nearly wrenched Farley’s top hat from his head, and he clapped a pudgy hand to the brim. “Sampled her yet?”
“Pardon?” Pierce stepped back onto the pavement, ire for Bianca welling behind his breastbone.
Never one to catch on quickly, Farley grinned wider and winked. “The red-head you won at cards last night. Heard she’s a tempting armful. Everyone knows your appetite for women, so naturally I assumed you bundled her straight to—”
Pierce jerked his hand up, palm out. “You may wish to stop there, since if you continue and besmirch my ward’s reputation with your vulgar insinuations, I’ll consider it cause to call you out.”
Farley’s already pasty face paled further.
“I… I beg your pardon.” Shaking his head, he backed up a pair of steps. “I swear I didn’t know she was your ward.” He swallowed hard and retreated a few paces further, looking to his right and left as if seeking a place to sprint to. “Must’ve misunderstood the whole affair, Wainthorpe. Serves me right for heeding the scandalmongers.”
Pierce gave a sharp nod. “Indeed. Immediately upon the game ending, my sister, Lady Timberly saw my ward to this very residence. I am just now calling upon them. You might want to spread that about.”
Pierce resumed his climb, but forced his lips upward and spared Farley a forgiving glance. “I’d be most grateful if you’d make the truth known at White’s and Brooks’s as well.”
Farley’s countenance brightened, and color flowed back into his features. He nodded eagerly. “I’d be happy to. Don’t want people getting the wrong impression. You know how easily facts get misconstrued.”
“Precisely.”
Fifteen minutes later, a cup of heavily sugared oolong tea in hand, he lounged in Lenora’s very feminine drawing room. She refused to serve coffee, more was the pity. Said it was un-British. She and Rebecca sat across from him on a jade silk brocade settee and Amanda perched beside him on its twin.
To his consternation, Bianca had yet to make an appearance.
After his third polite sip of tea, he set his cup aside. “Is there a reason Miss Salisbury hasn’t joined us yet?”
“I cannot imagine what the delay is, but I’m sure she shall be along shortly. She did mention a slight headache plagued her. I had powders sent to her room.” Lenora rose, and after ringing the bell, paused at a side table and fussed with the floral arrangement. “May I ask what your solicitor advised?”
Pulling his earlobe, Pierce dragged his attention from the window again.
“I’d rather wait until Miss Salisbury is present, so I don’t have to repeat myself. But the gist is that if the Chancery Court can be persuaded she’s in jeopardy by remaining Fairfax’s ward, my petition should garner serious consideration. I’m probably off my bloody head for even considering taking on the responsibility of the chit.”
Amanda tutted. “No such thing. I think it very amicable of you.”
He gave Lenora a sheepish half-smile. “Though Simmons did warn,” rather bluntly, “that my, ah, repute might factor unfavorably. He suggested it would be helpful if I were to have writs from several character witnesses.”
At once his sisters volunteered theirs and their husbands’ as well. Although, those staid chaps mightn’t be as eager as their wives to vouch for him. On the other hand, perhaps his brothers-in-law would think he’d finally come ’round to a respectable track and back him whole-heartedly. Several mutual acquaintances’ names were bandied about as possible candidates who might lend Pierce support, too.
He could actually claim a few respectable friends himself as well.
Sutcliffe, of course. The Dukes of Pennington, Harcourt, Dandridge, and Manchester. Even Coventry might do in a pinch.
A queer, warmish twinge behind his ribs reminded him how fortunate he was to have such devoted sisters. Lest any of them confuse this singular genial act toward Miss Salisbury as a permanent change in his nature, he clapped his palms upon his knees.
“And if that doesn’t suffice, I mean to impose upon you and Timberly, Lenora,” Pierce said. “I know it will be a monumental inconvenience, and for that I apologize. Surely the Chancery cannot object to your appointment. Far better you than I act as her guardian, should it come to that.”
“I anticipated as much,” Lenora said, standing back and perusing her handiwork. She tweaked a blossom. “I’ve already mentioned the issue to Mason, and he’s in agreement. We cannot abandon the girl. He did ask a few questions, discreetly of course, about her background. Her parents were Ayra and Kevin Salisbury.”
Pierce cocked a dubious brow. Mayhap Timberly was not such a bad sort after all.
He combed a hand through his hair and fought a yawn. Damnation he was tired, but even wearier of his hatred of Bertram Normand impacting his life. “I swear,” he said. “Not a single minute has passed tha
t I haven’t regretted ever setting eyes on Fairfax.”
Making a sound of agreement in her throat, Lenora tilted another flower just so. “Have you considered what’s to be done if the Chancery should rule against you? Perhaps even in favor of this Fairfax person?”
“I suppose I’ll have no choice but to find someone to wed Bianca.” Out of the question. “Or if that fails, marry her myself.” Not all that objectionable. “But honestly, I don’t foresee it coming to anything so drastic.” More’s the pity.
Hadn’t only a few hours passed since he’d resolved he mightn’t ever wed?
Bianca truly had him at sixes and sevens, and worse, the notion of calling her wife didn’t appall as much as it ought to. That reality was far more worrisome than his noble intent to become her guardian.
After some consideration, Rebecca selected a scone. Pulling it apart, she tilted her head and scrutinized him. “I must say, Percy, I’ve never known you to take such keen interest in someone else’s welfare. Did I actually hear the words ‘marry her myself’ come from your mouth?”
“Pshaw,” Amanda said, bestowing a doting smile upon him. “He’s always been most considerate of those who hold his affections.”
What the devil did she mean by that? Surely not that he held Bianca in warm regard?
Did he?
Impossible on such short acquaintance.
Hendricks entered before Pierce could put her straight. “You rang, my lady?”
“Yes. Please send a maid to check on Miss Salisbury.” Lenora sat once more and took up the teapot to refill her cup. “Tell her Lord Wainthorpe awaits her.”
Another ten minutes passed while his sisters plotted what flattering flummery they intended to include in their missives that would most likely sway the Chancery Court.
Pierce found himself staring at his cooling tea atop the table, the brew only a slightly lighter hue than Bianca’s eyes. A mixture of excitement, anticipation, and dread made him tense. Uncertain even.
He couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to analyze why he was making such efforts on her behalf. Common decency, he assured himself. It was the right thing to do, he argued. Any person with any sense of integrity would do the same.
Ballocks his altogether too forthright conscience mocked.
Restless and eager to get on with it, Pierce shifted on the settee. Once again he perused the drawing room entrance, then the music room’s doors, and finally the scene beyond the window.
Legs cramping from sitting on the too short settee, and a headache yet pressing behind his eyes, Pierce stood, then wandered to the window.
He’d missed his morning ride through Hyde Park today.
He favored the outdoors, and now that he’d succeeded in Fairfax’s ruination, he might actually consider a move to the countryside. Mayhap even Halverstone House.
His driver Burroughs stood at the head of the team, speaking gently to the horses.
People bustled hither and yon on either side of the rather busy, tree-lined street. The unseasonably pleasant, if somewhat breezy weather, brought Londoners out in droves. Pierce counted no fewer than nine nannies pushing buggies. An equal number of governesses were taking the air, their charges’ hands firmly ensconced within theirs. Dozens of conveyances and riders crowded the cobbled street as well.
“Your pardon, my lady.” The butler reentered on silent feet.
Pierce took one final glance down the lane before facing the servant. He halted halfway and swung back around whilst shoving the filmy panels aside.
By thunder! He hadn’t imagined it. That little minx.
Miss Salisbury, wearing that atrocious gown and an equally ghastly cape that looked to have been fashioned from a grain sack, hurried from the narrow track between Lenora’s house and the neighboring manor.
She meant to sneak off, did she?
“Devil fly away with her!” Pierce bolted to the door, not even taking time to explain to his open-mouthed sisters what he was about.
Hendricks stepped neatly aside. “She turned right, my lord.”
Pierce charged out the front entrance, pausing for an instant to locate his wayward ward.
With a sharp whistle and two bent fingers, he signaled Burroughs to follow. Before Pierce trotted down the last stair, the driver had gained the landau’s seat. Determination in every step, Pierce lengthened his stride. His footsteps swiftly eating up the distance between them, he gained on Bianca.
Shoulders slightly pulled forward and arms tucked to her sides, almost as if she were frightened, she trod onward. Her protective posture made him want to wrap his arms around her and assure her he would keep her safe.
He was almost upon her now, and still she plowed forward, seemingly oblivious to the curious, occasionally rude stares she garnered.
It was not just her ghastly attire.
A bearing surrounded her, a presence that commanded attention. And her bright hair, unadorned by a bonnet, caught the sun’s rays. Like precious metals, ribbons of burnished copper and dark gold threaded the shiny tresses.
He glanced to his left. The landau rattled along just behind.
Good man, Burroughs. He was due an increase in wages.
Neck bent, Bianca strode purposefully onward.
Where to, Pierce couldn’t imagine. Surely not that rented hovel. Not only did the lodging house lay miles from here, she would have to pass through more than one seedy neighborhood to reach the establishment. Wearing her unfashionable attire, she risked being mistaken for a light-skirt and getting accosted.
Besides, last night he’d paid the holster to pack Bianca’s belongings and send them to his residence. Something he forgot to mention when the women invaded his bedchamber this morning. After mentally inventorying her meager belongings, Pierce had made it clear that the landlord would incur his displeasure should as much as a hairpin be unaccounted for. Bianca’s possessions had arrived shortly after she and his sisters left.
A few more paces, and he caught up to her. Unaware of his presence, she marched resolutely onward, all the more reason she could not trundle to the unfashionable neighborhood unattended.
Should he shake her or embrace her for her foolishness?
Bianca’s thoughts intruded upon one another as she rushed forward, her feet seemingly moving of their own accord. Her sore ankle protested the swift pace, but she pushed the discomfort to the back of her mind.
She must get away from the Timberlys’ residence and that despicable man.
“I mean to impose upon you and Timberly,” Lord Wainthorpe had said to his sister.
Of course he did. Heaven forbid he actually take responsibility for his actions.
Yes, but if he hadn’t accepted the wager, you’d still be at Bertram’s mercy.
That truth galled her to no end. From one unpleasant circumstance into another.
What was it Uncle Sylvester used to say?
From the frying pan into the fire? He’d quote an adage for almost everything, and a twinge of loneliness encompassed her.
She missed him. Unlike kind but aloof Aunt Florencia, Uncle had been warm and affectionate. Bianca didn’t doubt he loved her, just like she knew Mum, with her sable hair and big, sad eyes had.
Bianca sighed and pulled her cape more snugly across her chest.
Never could she have imagined her one trip to Town would come to this.
Her greatest fear was upon her. Possible ruination.
After taking the headache powders Lady Timberly sent up, Bianca had put aside her obstinacy and decided she should at least hear his lordship out. Who knew? He might actually have a satisfactory solution. Not likely, to be sure, but what other options did she have at the moment?
Feeling slightly more optimistic, she’d re-pinned a stray strand of hair, pinched her pale cheeks, and straightened her spine.
But then she took a wrong turn and found herself in the music room, rather than the drawing room. Unsure as to the propriety of using the entrance, she hesitated just behind the ne
arest open door.
“…the Chancery cannot object to your appointment,” his lordship drawled. “Far better you than I act as her guardian, should it come to that.”
Pressing her palm to her mouth, surely to keep from exposing her hiding place rather than from any emotional upset, Bianca remained rooted to the parquet floor.
“I swear, not a single minute has passed that I haven’t regretted ever setting eyes on Fairfax.” Such animosity weighted Lord Wainthorpe’s words, she actually flinched.
Wainthorpe despised Bertram.
She knew it with absolute certainty. And if he hated Bertram, was it not possible that his lordship might also loathe her, Bertram’s kin? Could there be more to Wainthorpe demanding her cousin assign him her guardianship?
The thought made her physically ill and all the more determined to escape the earl.
Stupid ninny for thinking his lordship meant anything other than asking his sister to stand in his stead when he said he came up with a solution. Irrational to feel disappointed or hurt.
Or betrayed.
Exhaustion and worry must be affecting her emotions.
Desperate to put as much distance as possible between herself and Lord Wainthorpe, she pelted to her chamber, changed her clothes, and fled the house. From this point onward, she would determine her own future.
Her instinct to escape from where she was not wanted, where she would be a burden and a nuisance once again—and yes, her stubborn pride—urged her along. Glancing upward, she squinted at the street sign. It might as well have been written in Arabic, for it gave her no clue which way she should go.
She tried to ignore the few curious stares her attire garnered from other pedestrians. For certain, she would need something more sensible to wear than this hideous ball gown. Not easily done when she had no idea where she was or how far away her let rooms were from here. Only that they were near Great Portland Street. For that matter, she didn’t even know if she was headed in the right direction. But if she were to attain a respectable position, she must retrieve her meager wardrobe.
How many nights had Bertram paid for their lodgings in advance? Would he be there? If so, that complicated matters. A hidden pocket she’d sewed into her oldest gown contained a small stash of money. He would claim it his due for feeding and housing her.
Earl of Wainthorpe Page 7
