Regency Wolfe: A de Wolfe Pack Connected World collection of Victorian and Regency Tales

by Mary Lancaster

  At that moment, the door opened and the butler announced, “Lady Caroline Vernon and Lord Warenton.”

  Even the sound of his name caused Elise’s stomach to somersault. The servants must have been ordered to admit the earl whenever he called. Dismay and sudden hope warred across Sylvia’s face. Miss Renleigh scowled, no doubt at the bad timing, but hastily smoothed her face to smiles as she went forward to greet her somewhat early callers.

  Normally, Elise would have whisked herself away to the back of the room upon the arrival of any guests. But this morning, pride and sheer stubbornness kept here where she was in the middle of the room, surrounded by Renleighs.

  Lady Caroline walked in, smiling amiably. On her heels came Lord Warenton himself, instantly shrinking the room by his size and sheer, commanding personality. Today, he wore civilian dress, buff pantaloons with a plain black coat and a somewhat carelessly tied cravat when compared to Renleigh’s highly elaborate one. But there was no mistaking the breadth of his shoulders or the strength in his thickly-muscled legs. Every inch of his fine, powerful person had been pressed against her as he’d kissed her last night…

  She would not remember that here. She wouldn’t. He’d come to offer for Sylvia as he’d always intended. Part of him didn’t want to marry her, of course, or, probably, anyone, but the death of his brother was forcing his hand. Last night, he’d been intoxicated, perhaps rebellious, a last fling of freedom before he bowed to duty.

  “Do forgive us for calling so early,” Lady Caroline was saying civilly. “I hope we haven’t come at a bad moment?”

  “Of course not,” Miss Renleigh said graciously. “Do please sit down.”

  “Thank you so much for the ball last night,” Lady Caroline began. “Such a wonderful evening.”

  Miss Renleigh inclined her head, murmuring some platitude that Elise barely heard for her panic at Lord Warenton’s approach.

  “Expect you want a private word with me, Warenton,” Renleigh said knowingly.

  Oh no, I can’t hear this… From instinct, Elise was already brushing past Warenton and making for the door.

  “Not really,” Warenton said. She could feel his eyes on her face, but refused to look up as she walked on. This room had never seemed so spacious until she was so anxious to get out of it.

  “Oh, don’t run off my dear,” Lady Caroline said, catching her hand as she tried to escape. “I was hoping to speak to you while I was here.”

  Astonished, Elise lifted her eyes to Lady Caroline’s. She read intrigue, suspicion and, surely, voracious interest. “To me?” she said, believing she must, somehow, have misunderstood.

  “Why yes, I was hoping Miss Renleigh might part with you, at least for a while. I wanted to ask you to stay with me for a little while.”

  Elise began to wonder wildly if both brother and sister were actually insane. It could have explained a great deal. She stared at Caroline in bafflement. “Why?”

  Lady Caroline’s breath caught, as if she were wrestling with laughter. On any other occasion, Elise might have liked her for that. Right now, she was far too agitated to appreciate anything that kept her in this room.

  “Truthfully, because I recently heard something of your story and would like to know you better,” Lady Caroline said, with only the faintest quaver in her voice.

  Elise had no idea what to reply to that. Her first instinct was to look to Lord Warenton for guidance, but since she couldn’t do that, she turned and looked back at Miss Renleigh instead.

  “I should be very careful, Lady Caroline,” Miss Renleigh said, “before I invited a thief into my home.”

  Elise closed her eyes. At least it gave her the illusion that the floor had swallowed her up. Until Lord Warenton spoke coldly into the silence.

  “I believe my sister invited Mademoiselle de Sancerre.”

  “They are one and the same,” Miss Renleigh said tartly. “This ingrate has stolen the diamond and ruby tiara that has been in our family for nigh on two hundred years. I have given her the chance to return it without prosecution, but since she has failed to do that, I have no choice but to involve the authorities. I would spare you the embarrassment, Lady Caroline.”

  “You make a serious allegation,” Warenton said evenly. “What proof do you imagine you have?”

  Imagine. What proof do you imagine you have? Elise opened her eyes, gazing at Lord Warenton in wonder. He didn’t believe it. He knew she hadn’t done this.

  Renleigh said cheerfully, “Good question. Mademoiselle was just about to tell us where she was yesterday evening when everyone agrees she disappeared from the ball.”

  “Renleigh,” Sylvia said sharply. “Not now.”

  “Well you brought it up,” Renleigh retorted. “Seems to me it all hinges on that.”

  “Does it,” Warenton said. It wasn’t really a question and it was spoken with a sardonic contempt she had never heard him use before. “What time did this so-called disappearance occur?”

  “Just after she danced with you, apparently, before the unmasking,” Renleigh said.

  It struck Elise that Renleigh didn’t actually believe she was a thief either. None of them did and yet all the Renleighs would prosecute her for it. Because she’d danced with the man Sylvia wished to marry.

  “Then the matter is easily solved,” Warenton said, flicking a speck of dust from the cuff of his coat. “Mademoiselle de Sancerre was with me.”

  “Renleigh, you imbecile,” Sylvia uttered between her teeth.

  This, of course, was exactly the admission Sylvia didn’t want made in company. She didn’t want Warenton backed into a corner where he had to save Elise’s honor or lose his own. Now he had been forced to save Elise from accusations of theft by compromising her. She would never obtain another respectable position and so he was obliged to marry her.

  Elise drew in a shuddering breath. “I was not with Lord Warenton,” she announced.

  Lady Caroline’s eyes widened. She couldn’t look at Warenton, though he said “Elise!” in a frustrated kind of way.

  “There you are!” Miss Renleigh crowed. “By your own admission! You stole my tiara!”

  “She admitted no such thing,” Warenton said irritably. “Mademoiselle, you must tell the truth and be done with this. You know you were with me.”

  “I was not,” Elise said clearly.

  Miss Renleigh turned to her nephew. “Renleigh, send to General Lisle. His prospective son-in-law is something to do with the Austrian police.”

  “That would be ridiculous,” Warenton said calmly. “Miss Renleigh, to establish the truth of this, you will allow me five minutes’ private speech with Mademoiselle de Sancerre.”

  Miss Renleigh tilted her head stubbornly. “I will not.”

  It was a mistake. Even Elise could see that he would never now ally himself with her family. Warenton held the old lady’s gaze until she lowered it.

  “Then,” he observed, “there is no more to be said. Mademoiselle, please accompany my sister to the waiting carriage. She will send for your things. Miss Renleigh is apparently determined to be made a laughing stock. Good day, ma’am. Miss Sylvia. Renleigh.”

  Somehow, Elise found herself in the cold, fresh air. Someone, surely Warenton, took her cloak and placed it around her shoulders. Lady Caroline held her arm and urged her into the waiting carriage. She only woke from her daze when Warenton climbed in, too, and sat opposite them.

  “Wait,” she said in sudden panic. “I can’t go with you. I won’t. I won’t be made to marry you.”

  “No one will make you do anything,” Warenton said.

  “But I think what she means,” Lady Caroline said shrewdly as the horses pulled away, “is that she won’t have you made to marry her. You’re quite right, Francis. She is something out of the ordinary.” She patted Elise’s hand. “You needn’t worry, you know. The Renleighs will never repeat that story, since it reflects badly on Sylvia’s charms and frustrated hopes. I very much doubt you’ll hear anything more about
the theft either. If you ask me, Renleigh himself took the damned tiara to pay his debts.”

  “That was my first thought,” Warenton admitted.

  “And mine,” Elise confessed. “But his manner was all wrong. I don’t think he did take it. I don’t think the maids did either, though they’ll be glad enough to be rid of me.”

  “Sylvia?” Warenton suggested.

  “The same.” Elise frowned. Then, abruptly, she laughed. “I know exactly where the wretched thing is. Please, stop the carriage and I’ll fetch it for them.”

  “Oh no,” Warenton said. “You shan’t set foot in that house again.”

  Elise scowled at him. “I want them to eat their nasty words in my presence.”

  “They’re more likely to turn it against you and say you put it wherever it is you find it. Write them a note.”

  Elise considered. “Very well.” She looked up and met Warenton’s half-frustrated, half-amused gaze and, in spite of everything, she wanted to laugh.

  “Put us out of our misery,” he suggested. “Where is it?”

  “With her laundry. It’s happened before. Miss Renleigh throws everything on the bed and Beetson, her maid, bundles it all into a bag. Every so often, reticules, earrings, even necklaces end up there. Usually, she doesn’t notice until someone returns them to her.”

  “Then why is she blaming you for the tiara?” Caroline demanded. She seemed rather flatteringly outraged on Elise’s behalf.

  Elise shrugged. “Because Sylvia suggested it to her. And the maids went along with it. I knew Beetson was lying when she said she’d put the tiara away. I was just too tired and too much taken by surprise to see what really happened. Until now.”

  Warenton sat back in his seat. “Damned if I’m not disappointed,” he drawled. “I was hoping this was your first act of piracy.”

  And although she didn’t mean to, Elise met his gaze and smiled.

  “Thank you for all of this,” Elise said to Lady Caroline, somewhat shyly. She and her rather pathetically few belongings had been installed in the apartment’s spare bedchamber. She had written a note to Miss Renleigh saying merely that Beetson should look in the linen bag where previously two reticules, three earrings and a necklace had been found in the last three years. Lady Caroline’s Austrian footman had taken the letter and returned with Elise’s bag.

  “I expect they looked through it first,” Caroline said contemptuously, “and were disappointed not to find the tiara.”

  “And all the wine they claim I stole in London. Unless I drank it all.”

  Caroline laughed and sat down on the bed. “Unpleasant people. I really had no idea!”

  Elise said on a rush, “You must let me know how I can assist you while I’m here. If only you’ll give me a reference, I’m sure I can obtain another position quite quickly and be out of your way.”

  Caroline waved that aside. “Of course, if it’s what you want.”

  “It is. Thank you.”

  Caroline eyed her somewhat curiously. “He wasn’t there to offer for Sylvia, you know. Any expectation of that event was largely conjured by me and Miss Renleigh. I suppose I am anxious to see him settled and happy. And I had heard only good things about Sylvia.”

  Elise nodded. She didn’t know what else she could say or do.

  “My brother,” Caroline said carefully, “is never pushed into anything. By anyone. For what it’s worth, I have never seen him so taken with a female.”

  Elise lifted her gaze to Caroline’s. “Don’t. Please don’t.”

  “You don’t like him?” Caroline seemed surprised. In any case, it was so far from the truth that it drew a strange choking sound from Elise—half-sob and half-laughter.

  “How could I not like him?”

  Caroline smiled and stood. “Then come into the drawing room and be comfortable. My husband will be home soon and will very much like to meet you.”

  It already seemed odd to have nothing to do but be in the company of someone who expected nothing from her and, moreover, seemed glad of her being there.

  She sat on the sofa in the comfortable drawing room and tried to make herself think of the best way to acquire a new position. After some idle chat, Lady Caroline wandered away, so Elise, curiously relaxed, picked up the newspaper from the table and spread it on the sofa to look for advertised positions. She’d just found the right section, when Lord Warenton strolled in.

  She jumped to her feet in sudden, foolish panic and he paused, bowing slightly without releasing her gaze.

  “My presence disturbs you,” he observed.

  “Yes,” she admitted, before realizing how rude that sounded. “I mean, no, of course not.”

  He raised his brows, a faint smile forming on his lips.

  “Oh dear,” she said ruefully, “I sound so confused. I am confused!”

  “By me?”

  An unhappy smile tugged at her lips. “By me, mainly.” But that wasn’t strictly true, so she added reluctantly, “And by you.”

  He regarded her for several moments, while her heartbeat drummed in her breast, quickening her breath. He seemed so large and distant and unreachable, quite unlike the man who’d danced with her last night. And yet he still affected her this way. She still yearned for him, as she always had, even before he’d looked at her.

  He stirred. “Circumstances have made this more difficult than I intended.”

  She swallowed, tearing her gaze free at last. It was the only way to deal with the pain of her vanishing dreams. “Please,” she managed in a rather choked voice. “I know you have done this from kindness. I expect nothing from you. I want nothing from you.”

  His gaze burned into her averted face. He advanced towards her until, in fresh panic, she tried to turn away. But his hand shot out, taking hold of her chin and tipping it upward, forcing her to look at him once more.

  “Nothing?” he repeated. “That would disappoint me.”

  She grasped his wrist, trying in vain to loosen his grip on her chin. “I mean, I do not, I will not, hold you to anything that happened last night. You’d had too much wine and I should have known better—”

  “Better than what?” he interrupted. “Better than to dance with me? To kiss me?”

  Her face flamed.

  He said, “If you regret it, if you wish me gone from your life, you have only to say the word. I’ve found lodgings with a friend until I return to England. Caroline will still stand your friend. As I said last night, you will lose nothing.”

  Her eyes widened. “That is what you meant! I thought—” She broke off, flushing even more.

  “You thought what?” he asked softly.

  “That you meant to offer me a carte blanche,” she said in a rush.

  His fingers tightened for an instant on her chin, then relaxed, moving in a gentle caress that made her skin tingle. He looked neither offended nor found out. “And if I did, you would throw it back in my face.”

  “I don’t know,” she blurted, and at least had the satisfaction of seeing she’d surprised him. His eyes widened imperceptibly. “If you loved me, if I loved you, I would go anywhere with you.”

  His breath caught. His fingers moved from her chin, cupping her cheek with something very like wonder.

  “So you see,” she continued, her voice quite steady, “whatever your feelings, there is no need to offer me marriage. I would hate to be married for such a stupid reason as supposed comp—”

  The rest of her words were lost in his mouth as it swooped and devoured her own. With a sob, she flung her arm around his neck, kissing him back with blind, instinctive passion.

  After a few moments, she tried to pull away. “You can’t love me,” she whispered against his lips. “Not in a day.”

  “A day, an hour, a minute, it makes no difference. And I swear I will make you love me, too…”

  She took his face between her hands. “Oh, you idiot!” she said shakily. “I loved you before you even knew I existed.”

  He stared
at her, hope and wonder warring across his normally calm face.

  “Idiot is right,” he said, his thumb rubbing the corner of her lips before he bent his head, once more, and kissed her with such tenderness she wanted to weep. There was no one in the world but him.

  Until Lady Caroline’s voice interrupted. “There. I told you they would be married. Elise, my husband. Vernon, Mademoiselle de Sancerre. Shall we leave them for five minutes?”

  Warenton’s lips loosened, smiling against Elise’s before he raised his head. “No, don’t run off. You may be the first to congratulate us. Elise has just agreed to be my wife.”

  Chapter Six

  A month later, on Christmas Eve, they were married in the village church at Warenton, watched by hordes of the Wolfe family, heavily braided army officers and as many local people as could squash into the church and grounds. As they emerged onto the church porch, in the cold winter sunshine, they were cheered and waved and then ushered into their waiting carriage. Elise clasped the earl’s hand tightly throughout the short drive to Warenton House, a beautiful mansion built early in the last century.

  The night’s frost lingered in the bright cold of the day, making everything sparkle. It was a beautiful day to be married. Even nature seemed to be celebrating with them.

  On her husband’s arm, Elise stepped over the threshold of her new domain. Only the two nights she’d already spent here with Lady Caroline and a pack of other Wolfes, prevented the surroundings from overwhelming her. Wolfe ancestors stretching back for centuries, gazed down upon her as she walked across the massive entrance hall and climbed the grand staircase, both lined with liveried servants and smartly turned-out maids. She would get to know them all in time.

  It was a massive undertaking, a great adventure, and she was looking forward to all of it. But right now, all she could really think about was the powerful man at her side.

  “Where are we going?” she murmured as they passed the first landing. On this floor, the huge, formal dining room had been made ready for the wedding breakfast, as had the drawing room where they would greet their guests.