Authors: Anabelle Bryant
“You make it sound far more exciting than it is, I assure you. I doubt the man in question has given me a second thought.” Wilhelmina busied herself with the folds in her skirt, arranging the fabric this way and that while her mind spun, attempting to formulate a sound explanation of how she felt toward Lord Dashwood and exactly what type of relationship they shared. It couldn’t be labeled friendship. Certainly not anything more, yet acquaintance didn’t ring true either, although it was the closest moniker that fit.
“Please tell me what you’re thinking, Whimsy. Sometimes I languish here for hours with only my imagination for company.”
The heartfelt confession stabbed a pain of regret straight through Wilhelmina’s heart. She’d been so preoccupied matchmaking, she’d neglected her sister. “I’m sorry, Livie. I’ve been so busy trying to succeed with Leonard and Fiona, I haven’t been home very much. But it’s all for the greater good.” She reached for her sister’s hand and stopped when her charm bracelet snagged a loose thread on the counterpane.
“Here let me help you.” Livie bent forward and worked to free the charm. “There you are.” She didn’t release the bracelet immediately. “I wonder why Father chose this piece. The charms are rather fanciful, though they comprise a wonderful little assortment.”
Livie touched each adornment with her fingertip as if counting them in kind. When she reached the empty loop where a charm had gone missing, her mouth fell into a disappointed frown.
“I wonder what was here. When I was younger, Mother would sit on my bed and read and I would invent stories and wishes involving the charms.”
“You did?” Wilhelmina laughed, her voice bright. “I did as well. Oh, we must share. What did you imagine for the little silver dove?”
Wilhelmina laid her hand down on the counterpane, palm upward and spun the bracelet on her wrist until the dove charm lie over her pulse.
“I would wish that I could fly above the highest clouds. I believed the dove symbolized freedom. How peculiar, when I had no idea someday I would be confined to this bed.”
“Only temporarily, Livie, and you must believe it. Just the other day you ventured downstairs for tea with Aunt Kate. You’re growing stronger and healthier with each of Dr. Morris’ treatments. I won’t hear another word to the contrary and besides…” Wilhelmina touched the charm, a wry smile curling her lips. “I believed the dove to represent freedom of another kind; freedom of the heart perhaps or freedom to choose life’s path.” She spun the bracelet the smallest degree before her sister could comment. “And this one, the crown with the diamond chip, I fantasized it represented great riches. How good it would serve us now, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, well, we could still sell the bracelet. It is solid silver. Some of the charms have gem stones. Perhaps it has comparable worth.”
Wilhelmina snatched her wrist back from where they’d both examined the bracelet. “No, I won’t consider it. Something deep inside tells me this bracelet is important, not just a sentimental reminder of Mother and Father. I can’t explain it, but I know it to be true. You’ll have to trust me in this.”
“I do.” Livie reclined against the pillows at her back and sighed. “I only hoped to make things easier for you. No matter people often ask your advice and you’ve enjoyed your new-found friendships in society, I thought to alleviate the burden of this matchmaking scheme all put in motion for my welfare. I despair to cause Aunt Kate any financial burden but have only traded that worry for this one, where I force my sister into service.”
“Dear Livie, those are some very big thoughts.” Wilhelmina couldn’t stifle her laughter. “I have enjoyed entering society and playing the role of Cupid.” The sharp memory of Fiona wrapping her arms around Dashwood’s neck intruded on her declaration and she shoved it to the side, focusing on Livie’s bright face. “Everything I have perpetuated is poised for a positive outcome. Whether to fund Dr. Morris’ treatments so you will continue to improve, to help Lady Rigby become a grandmother that much sooner, or to assist Leonard and Fiona as they find their way to true love. It is easy to see they adore each other. If only society and doubt wouldn’t intrude on their romance.” This time it was Dashwood alone who popped into her mind’s eye. Heaven, he was handsome. Clever too. But what was his role in all this? Friend to Leonard Rigby or perpetual annoyance?
Her attention fell to the bracelet again; the filigree heart with silver and gold threads entwined around a small, perfectly formed ruby, lay across her wrist. It had always been her favorite charm, a companion to her cherished wish. She fancied the design to represent true love, the gem embraced by the duo of threads, as if male and female embraced. She’d entertained the daydream more times than she’d care to confess, although now, as she stared at it, strewn against her pulse, it appeared as if the heart was beating. Such nonsense. She flicked her eyes to Livie, but her sister reclined with her eyes closed, her mind busy with a daydream of her own.
Valerian. Since their kiss, all waking moments were consumed with the dashing earl. His name caused a shiver of anticipation, chased by a melting desire to press her lips against his, to shred any trepidation lingering in her conscious. His mouth…well his mouth was the source of all her misery thus far. His poorly placed comments and trite criticisms. The intriguing man’s mouth was the core of all things devastating. Most especially, his kiss.
Oh, the whimsy of it all. Wilhelmina rose from the bed with a silent sigh and tiptoed from the room not wishing to disturb Livie asleep on the pillows.
“I need to leave London.” Valerian threaded his fingers through his hair in an act of frustration before he pulled an empty valise from under the bed in the guestroom of Beaufort’s town house.
“Why would you do that? You’ve hardly had any fun,” Jasper objected, his tone pointed, no matter his words contradicted.
“We’re not here to have fun, Jasper. Lest you forget we’ve come to perpetuate opportune devastation and break apart otherwise blissfully, besotted couples. But never fear it’s not a case of conscience that has brought this decision to bear.” Valerian flipped the lid of the case open and moved toward the dresser. “I received a letter from Turner this morning. A portion of the kitchen roof has collapsed and the carpenter will no longer accept our credit. I either return home to repair it myself or somehow convince the man we’re closer to funds than when he rebuilt the front door framework and I promised prompt payment and never delivered.”
“No wonder you’re in high dudgeon. How dare the carpenter react so irrationally?” Jasper dropped into the wingchair near the hearth and slid easily from one subject to the next. “I suppose it does no good to mention he overcharges? His fees are too smoky by half.” He settled further into the chair, his shoulders eased in relaxation, legs crossed at the ankles. “You’d do better to hire Old Tabby. People regard him as a loose screw, but as a workman, he’s dependable. That distasteful rumor concerning faulty bridge construction was put into play by Widow Bartleton after Tabby refused to escort her to the May Day gathering last spring. It proved pure rubbish; the rumor that is, not the gathering.” He took a much needed breath before continuing his string of nonsense. “A collapsed roof? Leave it to a few shingles to throw a rub in the way of our holiday.”
“Jasper—” Valerian slammed the lid on his valise and pivoted to face his brother whose eyes flared wide. “Never was this a holiday.”
“Not by my standards, at least, in that you’re correct. I’ve hardly had the time to kick up a lark. But you’d have to admit things were proceeding swimmingly.” He reached to the bed and plucked a throw pillow from the counterpane to slide behind his head. “Staying rent-free at Beaufort’s and frequenting the worldly trumpery of London’s uppity has done wonders for my morale. Not to forget the guaranteed benefits…”
“Jasper!” Exasperation sharpened his tone to a knife’s edge. “Have you learned nothing from your succession of failed ventures, gambling debts, and shady associations, all which have caused our near ruin? When will the truth lock into place and you realize this is no joking matter?”
“Come now, Dash, you’re doing it a bit brown. It’s not entirely my fault our finances are cucumberish. Father left us broken, with a pile of bills and overdue notices as tall as my knee. I’ve tried to remedy the situation. What I’ve won at the tables has gone directly into financial investment, and while the newfangled ideas I’ve supported have not provided profit, eventually one of them will come to fruition bringing with it a windfall of funds to save the day. Problem solved.”
“I realize you’re well intended.” Val offered his brother a patient smile. “But perhaps a more traditional approach would be to our benefit rather than outlandish inventions that show no true promise. Little fire sticks one carries in pocket? Spectacles that shade from the sun? Do you have any idea how farfetched these ideas sound? What was it you were blathering about yesterday?”
“Now see here, Macintosh’s idea is quite clever.” Jasper nabbed the eiderdown blanket to add to his soporific comfort, and looked upward with a heavy-lidded glance.
“A coat to protect from the rain is an ill-conceived notion. Umbrellas already provide the service you wish to replace. If you sincerely cared about fortification from the rain, your monies would have been better spent fixing the roof at Kirby Park, which returns me to the impetus of our conversation.” Valerian hefted the suitcase from the foot of the bed and moved it to rest against the doorframe. “I’ll travel home, see to the repairs, and return as soon as possible. In the meantime, you’ll need to monitor Leonard’s relationship and notify me immediately if anything goes awry because our very life depends on those five thousand pounds. If nothing else, it’s a small step on the road to respectability.”
“As you wish, Dash.”
Jasper’s response was absent of his usual cake-headed jocularity and Valerian’s eyes narrowed as he considered the words. “Not an objection or a disgruntled word?”
“No need for suspicion. It’s high time I took your words to heart and focused on overcoming our problem in a more responsible manner.”
His brother’s concentrated compliance had every iota of Valerian’s sensibility screaming in protest. Best he repair the roof and return to London with haste.
“Leonard is not the man I believed him to be.” Fiona leaned closer to Wilhelmina as they maneuvered through the throng of shoppers on Oxford Street. Fiona had instigated the excursion this afternoon and Whimsy had grasped onto the invitation as a much needed opportunity to plead Leonard’s case.
“I implore you to rethink the circumstances. It’s easy to see Leonard is confused by his emotions and your sudden affection for Lord Dashwood.” She matched Fiona’s eyes with a meaningful stare.
“Affection? For Dashwood? Oh, that’s not true at all. I may as well have been kissing a lamppost. It was a ploy, nothing more, although I can’t express complete happiness with the outcome. Leonard was angry, yes, but he didn’t declare his emotions as I expected. He didn’t defend my honor and reputation. Instead he circled the shuffleboard at the garden party with an air of indifference and argued with me over trivial matters.”
“Kissing a gentleman in public is no matter of insignificance.”
Despite the man might be inconceivably handsome and charming
.
“Good heavens, Whimsy, no one saw us save the two of you. And it’s clear even to a blind man, you despise Dashwood. Every time he comes near, your expression queers as if you’ve swallowed too many olives.”
Wilhelmina didn’t know what to make of that. Although she remained certain the remembrance of Dashwood’s heated kiss still warmed her from the inside out. No olives involved. “It must be the inappropriate advice I’ve heard Dashwood offer Leonard.” Her argument sounded weak and unsupported.
“It doesn’t matter, really. I possess tender feelings for Leonard, if he’d only realize I desire a husband who’s an independent thinker; one not swayed by another’s opinion. He needs to stand up to his father and declare his intentions and then make the same known to my parents. They all assume I’m unaware of the conversation that circulates through the households, but I’ve stayed current every step of the way.”
“And then…” The fleeting promise of payment for a match well made begged for attention, but Wilhelmina dared not put the cart before the horse. At times, Fiona proved flighty and fickle. Until the banns had been posted and the announcement made public, she would take nothing for granted.
“Then, I will be able to marry Leonard.” Fiona’s face lit with wonder and joy to solidify her statement was more than impetuous emotion. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Valerian surveyed the damage to the roof on the outer casement and strode around the corner of the house and into the kitchen through the back door. The delicious scent of partridge with brown gravy greeted him and his eyes shot to Cook near the firewood stove stirring a large cast iron pot. He hadn’t eaten in hours and the aroma all but seduced him, the journey to Kirby Park tedious, his body fatigued. Tired and discouraged, yet resolute in his predicament, he collapsed into a ladderback chair and traced a long scar in the wooden tabletop with the tip of his index finger.
“We’ll have none of that.” Cook placed a bowl in front of him, a plate of biscuits, a spoon and napkin to follow, before she returned her attention to the stove. They remained in companionable silence for several scrapes of the wooden spoon against the circumference of the pot. “I will ask my brother to repair the roof, milord. He’s handy with a hammer and owes me more than one favor as I’ve helped him aplenty when he’s tipped his cups. He’s a much better man now that he’s married, settled, and a newcomer to religion.”
Valerian raised his eyes to meet Cook’s comforting stare. She’d been with them for years, never complaining of the circumstances or inadequacies of the kitchen nor the short supply of fresh food in the pantry. “You’re too good to me, Cook, and if your offer is made sincerely, I will avail myself of your brother’s generosity.”
“It’s as good as done. Now eat. You look as though the weight of the moon rests on your shoulders.” She set the spoon diagonally across the top of the pot and wiped her hands on her green apron. “I’d guess it’s Jasper who has you well-worn. He’s a lovable sort, but how he could try the patience of a saint. Since he was a child he’s always been a handful. Your father tolerated his antics with a fond chuckle, but now, under these circumstances, I suppose his casual lack of concern weighs heavily upon you.”