The Wolfe Wager (21 page)

She opened her mouth to answer, but the sound vanished beneath his lips. Unwilling to fight the dulcet assault on her senses, she knew there could be but one answer. She loved Ross. She was sure of it, for her days were empty without him. Mayhap everything said about him was true, and she was an air-dreamer to believe he loved her as she had come to love him. Mayhap that was so, but she knew her heart would offer her no answer save one.

“Yes,” she whispered, her lips only a breath from his, “if you think that marrying you will make you as happy as it will make me, yes, I will be your wife.”

He laughed. “If I think? I was like a man infected by the madness of a Midsummer Moon tonight when I thought I might be too late to keep you from marrying Franklin.” Leaning her head on his shoulder, she could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “I have never been as certain of anything as I am that I would have done anything to win your heart.”

Chapter Thirteen

“… and a party!” Eveline danced around the breakfast-parlor. “We must have a grand party to announce Vanessa’s betrothal!”

Aunt Carolyn had not stopped smiling since Vanessa had shared the news of Ross’s proposal nearly an hour before. She raised her cup of cocoa, then lowered it, for it had grown cold while they had talked. “Penelope Downing is having a small gathering tonight. No more than fifty people.” She stretched across the round, oak table to take her niece’s hand. “What do you say to announcing your betrothal to Lord Brickendon this evening?”

Eveline interjected, “Do you think she could keep it a secret any longer?” Laughing, she sat and propped her elbows on the table. The
Morning Chronicle
crinkled beneath them.

“And you?” Vanessa asked, her happiness brightening every word. “How long can you keep your secret?”

When Aunt Carolyn insisted on being told the rest of the news, her smile grew broader. Standing, she folded her hands in front of her. “We have much to do. Eveline, you must write to your father posthaste. I realize Lord Greybrooke intends to call on him to present his suit, but your father should hear such wondrous tidings from your hand. I shall send a message to Penelope that I must speak with her this afternoon.” She tapped a finger against her chin as Eveline rushed out to do as she had been bid. “If I tell Penelope that we wish to announce your betrothal, she is sure to spill the secret on any ear that will heed her. And Eveline—”

“She is a prattle-box,” Vanessa owned.

“She must stay in today, or she’ll babble the news to the whole
Beau Monde
. I must discuss this with Victor. Oh, he should be here any minute.” Without looking at Vanessa, she went out of the room, still debating aloud how she would handle the ticklish problem.

Vanessa, left alone, leaned back in her chair. Ross would be amused if he saw how flustered Aunt Carolyn was. Last night, he had urged her to delay announcing their betrothal until he could be sure his friends would be present, for he wanted to share their happiness with them. She jumped to her feet as she realized she must send him a note, so he could let Penelope know which of his friends to invite. How would he explain that to Penelope? She laughed. Ross would charm her neighbor into believing any loud one he devised.

Going into the blue sitting room, Vanessa took a sheet from the writing table. It was a delicious feeling to know this letter did not have to be written in secret. If Ross was able to break through the stone wall set up by the government, she would never need to write another clandestine letter. Once Corey was safe, her last missive to the government would be a thank you.

“My lady?”

“What is it, Quigley?” she asked without looking up as she reached for a bottle of ink.

“Lord Brickendon, my lady.”

Her fingers halted inches from the bottle, and she drew them back slowly. A mixture of excitement and astonishment flowed through her that Ross had beat up her quarters, but she presented a serene face to the butler. Rising, she said, “Show him in.”

The butler nodded.

Hoping she did not look a complete rump, Vanessa wished for a glass bigger than the one over the mantel. She adjusted her short sleeves, which were the same lilac as her muslin skirt. The white bodice matched the flounce at the hem. Realizing her hair was loose about her shoulders, she pulled a ribbon from the trio edging the Vandyke ruff and tied her hair back at her nape. She had no time to do more before she heard Ross’s assertive footsteps.

When he entered, she admired the flattering cut of his coat and the way his shining boots followed his lean legs. He held out his hands, and she put hers in them.

“I was just about to write a note to you,” she said, her delight at seeing him adding music to her voice. “Aunt Carolyn suggests we announce our betrothal at the Downings’
soirée
this evening. If you will tell me whom you wish to invite, I shall arrange for them to be there.”

He did not return her smile. Instead he enfolded her hands in his. “I must speak with you. Now! Alone!”

“Ross—”

“It is about your brother.”

Vanessa was glad he held her hands as her suddenly weak knees threatened to dump her face first onto the floor. She whispered, “The garden.”

“Is it private?”

“I don’t know.” She tightened her hold on his hands. “Ross, what is wrong?”

“I shall tell you in the garden.”

The stern set of his jaw warned her that prying his message from him would be impossible. She had waited for so long to hear of Corey. She must wait a few moments longer. But what had Ross discovered so quickly?

Going down the back stairs, she led him across the brick terrace to a small arbor set in the very center of the garden. Rose vines arced over it, leaving the interior scented with freshly overturned earth and cool with shadows.

Vanessa sat on the wooden bench. Ross did not sit next to her until she reached up to take his hand with both of hers. The lace at his cuffs tickled her icy fingers as she whispered, “You told me that grief is meant to be shared. Is that why you hesitate? Is the news about Corey so bad?”

“Your aunt is in?”

“Yes, but she shall be leaving soon with Captain Hudson.”

He smiled swiftly. “Are you certain ours will be the only announcement tonight? Those two are as close as a court plaster, and this party would offer a most convenient opportunity for them to proclaim their own plans.”

“Aunt Carolyn has said nothing of that.”

“Words are not always necessary.” He stroked her cheek with a single finger. “Haven’t you discovered that, Vanessa?”

Although she wanted to surrender to the bliss of his touch, she asked, “What have you learned of Corey?”

“Your brother is alive.”

She gripped his sleeve and searched his face, fearing she might discover he was teasing her. She could not believe how swiftly he had obtained the information she had sought so long. “Alive? Are you certain?”

He smiled gently. “Aren’t you?”

She rose and put her hands on the splintered edges of the arbor. Looking across the empty garden, she whispered, “I had thought I was. I wanted to believe it with all my heart, but I have listened to other doubts too long.”

“Then listen to me, Vanessa.” He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her back to rest against him. “He is alive. He is a prisoner of war, but he is alive.”

She put her hand on his chest. “A prisoner?”

“If my sources are correct—and they always have been—your brother is a prisoner in a
château
on the Loire.”

“Then we can retrieve him.”

He walked away. His hands tightened into fists as impotent fury scored his voice. “Blast it to perdition! Those damn castles are as impenetrable as a spinster’s heart.”

“There is no way he could escape?”

“If there is, he has not found it yet.”

“Oh, Corey,” she choked. She pressed her face to his shoulder and wept.

Ross stroked her back, wishing he could find some words—any words—to ease her tears. Resting his cheek against the silken softness of her hair, he listened to the ragged sound of her sobs. They threatened to shatter her, but she was strong enough to combat even this.

“Vanessa,” he called softly. When she continued to cry, he led her back to the arbor. He sat next to her and repeated her name. Her tear-streaked face rose, so he could see the agony in her expressive eyes.

“I told him I never wanted him to return,” she choked. “Now he is a prisoner of that Corsican beast!” Clutching his ruffled shirt, she gasped, “There must be something we can do. Bribery?”

“It would take more money than even the Wolfes possess.”

“Could an exchange be arranged?”

“I asked, and I was told Napoleon refuses to release your brother in any prisoner exchange.” His jaw grew taut with his furious frustration. “There is an accusation of spying against him.”

“But they will kill him!”

“They have not killed him yet,” he answered gently.

The wild expression faded from her eyes. Brushing the tips of his fingers against her damp cheek, he watched as she closed her eyes and leaned toward him, trust in every motion.

Ross stood and locked his hands behind his back. She rose, too, and looked up at him, astonished. Not that he blamed her, because she had come to have faith in him. Damn, he had been a stupe to bring her this information today. If he had waited until after this evening, he might not feel like such a blackguard.

“I must do something,” she whispered. “I cannot let him die thinking I hate him. What can I do, Ross?”

“Do nothing now.”

“Nothing?”

“Give me a chance to learn more. I have secured an appointment with the Prime Minister on the morrow. I vow that I shall endeavor to do everything I can to bring Lord Wulfric home to England alive.” He brushed her hair back from her damp face. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, leaning her head against his chest again.

Ross was glad she could not see his face as he heard the unwavering trust in her voice. He knew how little he deserved it.

Pink silk swirled around Vanessa’s ankles as she turned so she could see herself from every angle in the cheval glass. The pink slip ended in a row of flounces below her new gown of white, French gauze. Her gown’s short sleeves and deeply rounded neckline were decorated with the same silk roses as those flowing along its skirt. The edges of her demi-skirt flared as she reached up to her hair which Leale had styled
à la grecque
. Curls edged her face, but her hair was pulled back sharply and held in place by roses of the same soft shade as her slip.

Leale clucked like a mother hen with a single chick as she brought Vanessa’s elbow-length gloves. “You look perfect, my lady.”

“I must tonight.” She bent to be certain the laces on her soft slippers were tied according to Cocker about her ankles. Her open-work stockings peeked from beneath the hem of her slip. Smiling, she opened the bottom drawer of her writing table and took out the locked box.

Her fingers paused on Corey’s last letter, but she did not open it as she had so often. She slipped it into her bodice before lifting a gold choker with a single diamond from the box. It was the one piece of her mother’s jewelry she had never been able to bring herself to put on, because her mother had been wearing it the night she fell ill with the fever that had taken her life. Tonight Vanessa wanted to have a bit of each member of her family with her.

“Leale, please bring me the small, velvet box from the back of the armoire,” she said as she ran her fingers along the gold strand. If only her mother could be with her tonight to see that the lessons Lady Wulfric had tried to inspire in her recalcitrant daughter had been learned.

Leale was unusually discomposed as she handed Vanessa the box that was no larger than a half crown. Vanessa opened it and took out the signet ring. She slipped it over her middle finger. With the bulk of her gloves beneath it, the ring fit. She ran her finger over the crest of the Marquess of Wulfric. She had wanted her father to wear this ring to his grave, but her aunt had insisted it must be kept for his heir. Aunt Carolyn has assumed that Vanessa would send it to Papa’s cousin who, with Corey’s supposed death, could claim the title. Now she knew for sure that Corey was alive. With luck and Ross’s help, she soon would be able to give this ring to Corey.

Vanessa endured her aunt’s fussing and then stood for Eveline’s inspection. They concurred with Leale, although she saw her aunt give the signet ring an odd look. Aunt Carolyn said nothing as Quigley announced Lord Greybrooke.

The earl seemed distracted, for his greeting was perfunctory. He swept Eveline out the door to walk her the few steps to the house next door.

“Could Mr. Clarke have so quickly rejected the earl’s plea for Eveline’s hand?” Vanessa asked.

Her aunt wore a puzzled expression as she turned from the window where she was watching for Captain Hudson. “What are you prattling about, Vanessa?”

“Lord Greybrooke. He was quite terse.”

“Dear child,” she said with a laugh, “it is not unusual for gentlemen to be overwhelmed by the hubbub of a betrothal.”

“But my betrothal is a secret still.”

“Do you think Eveline could refrain from sharing the news with her fiancé?” Patting Vanessa’s arm, she turned back to the window. “Have pity for poor Lord Greybrooke. Probably he is anticipating—with much foreboding—when
he
is the butt of jokes by his tie-mates on the end of his bachelor days.”

Vanessa was not convinced, but said no more as Captain Hudson entered the house a step ahead of Ross. Following her aunt and her beau out of the house, Vanessa considered mentioning her concerns to Ross. She missed her chance, for they were greeted by an exuberant Penelope Downing.

Kissing Vanessa’s cheek, she exclaimed, “How happy I am for you, my dear! And for me! I’m so pleased you are going to announce—”

“Penelope!” warned Aunt Carolyn in a low voice. “Hold your tongue. It shall not be long before you can loosen it to flap as you wish.”

“But I am so happy.” She continued to twitter like an overweight songbird as Vanessa walked with Ross up the curved stairs and into the ballroom.