Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three) (32 page)

“Yes,” she said.  “It was rather sudden.  Liam…”

“Rosalind.”  They spoke at the same time.  He took one step
closer to her.

“There you are, peaches,” said the Duke of Fallmoor, as he
walked up to the two of them.  The man was well past his sixtieth year, but
shortly after burying his latest wife he had set out to find a new one, young
enough to finally give him an heir.  The Dowager Viscountess Worthington had persuaded
him that her daughter, while nearly on the shelf, was certainly young enough
and healthy enough to give him sons.  The two of them had worked out an
arrangement and had only to wait for his mourning period to end before drawing
up marriage contracts that would be financially beneficial to the Viscountess
and her son.  They also had to convince the bride to marry him, but since she’d
had no other proposals they told her rather forcefully that this wasn’t just
her best option, it was her only one.

“Your dear mama told me to fetch you,” said Fallmoor, as he
pulled her arm through his.  “Nice party, Lynwood.  I remember a real corker in
this house back in ’81.  Come, my dear.  It’s time to depart.”

Rosalind looked back at Lynwood as Fallmoor towed her away. 
Lynwood met her eyes.  When they lost contact, he strode through the house to
the library, poured a snifter of his finest brandy, drank it in one gulp, then
threw the glass into the fireplace.

The glass wasn’t the only thing that was shattered.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Vanessa welcomed the opportunity to get some air.  The crowded
ballroom was overflowing with those who were anxious not just to congratulate
the affianced couple, but to be seen at one of the most prestigious events of
the season.  But, truth be told, she needed a break from Arthur just as much.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t been kind.  Just the opposite. 
He’d spent the evening escorting her throughout the room, introducing her to
key members of the
ton
, including his Aunt Agatha, the Countess of
Crenshaw.   The woman had been cold, bordering on rude and the exact opposite
of Arthur’s maternal Aunt Prue and her companion Mariah, whom Vanessa had met
at the Riverton house party.  But Arthur had countered each of the Countess’s veiled
insults with a compliment toward Vanessa.  He quite clearly let Agatha – and
the extremely curious matrons standing nearby – know that Vanessa was a special
friend of the Kellington family.   He’d placed his hand on her lower back in
what one could only describe as a proprietary manner.  If she’d been well born,
the message would be clear that she would soon be his bride.

But she wasn’t well born.

Vanessa took a deep breath of the brisk air as she stood on
the terrace and looked out to the gardens beyond, lit here and there by torches. 
She could barely pick out Elizabeth standing in the distance.  Vanessa was
surprised to see that Riverton wasn’t with her, since the two were all but
inseparable.  But for some reason, Lizzie was standing alone in the distance
near the trees, reading a note.  Vanessa smiled when she thought it might be about
an assignation with the marquess.

But suddenly, she had an overwhelming sense of dread.  Then a
man stopped inches away her from her back and whispered in her ear.  “If you
don’t want Lady Elizabeth to be harmed, be quiet and come with me.”

She felt the tip of a knife press into her back, as she
wondered how Frederick Mortimer had been able to sneak into the ball.

As if reading her mind, he replied, “We came in through the
garden, while Lynwood’s staff was distracted by a small fire in the stables.” 
He gripped her arm as he pulled her toward the stairs.  “Do you see Portia,
love?  She’s well within pistol range of Lady Elizabeth, who’s even now
wondering why Riverton is late to meet her.  I had to bribe a clerk at the
bloody House of Lords to get a sample of his handwriting, but my note was quite
well done, if I do say so.”  He pulled her so forcefully down the steps, she
almost tripped.  “Make haste.  You wouldn’t want Arthur or his brothers to come
out here.  The consequences would be quite dire for their sister.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Vanessa.  “But if Lady Elizabeth
comes to any harm, I shall kill you both.”

“Brave talk for someone in your position,” he said as they
neared the garden gate.  “If you try to alert any of Lynwood’s servants as we
make our way to the carriage, the shot you hear will signal the end of Lady
Elizabeth’s life.  Do not be foolish.  The best way to save her – and yourself
– is to cooperate.”

Vanessa felt nothing could save her, but she would not risk
Elizabeth’s life.  She only prayed that Portia would have enough self-control
to refrain from shooting.  Surely, she wouldn’t risk capture by Lynwood’s
grooms by making such a foolish move, but Vanessa prayed for Elizabeth’s safety
as she let herself be guided into the alley and into a waiting carriage.  A
moment later, Portia joined them there, a look of triumph on her face, as the
carriage quickly pulled away.

“Did you hurt Lady Elizabeth?” asked Vanessa.

“She is fine for now,” said Portia, as she sat back and
watched Vanessa on the opposite seat.  “I do not know why you should so concern
yourself with her.  She and her brothers are toffs, hardly your own people. 
It’s not like they would give a damn about you.”

Vanessa didn’t think that was true.  While the Kellingtons
would never welcome her as a sister-in-law, she felt they would help anyone in
her position.  It was who they were, just as it was in Portia Cassidy’s nature
to hurt others.  Vanessa considered lunging for the door, but with Frederick
sitting next to it, she doubted she could get away.  Plus, it would be to her
advantage to learn what their plan was.  “Do you have the chalice?” she asked.

“No, love,” said Frederick, which made Portia glare at him. 
“I didn’t fancy being arrested as I tried to open Lynwood’s safe.  You had so
many agents at the house, it’s a wonder there are any others left in London. 
It was probably a good night to pull any number of burglaries elsewhere.  But,
alas, we had to bide our time kidnapping you.”

“You want Arthur to bring the chalice, don’t you?”

“Always such a quick mind,” said Frederick.  “We could have
had such a marvelous life together.  At this very moment, your Lord Arthur is
likely reading a note telling him to bring the chalice to our destination and
that if he doesn’t come alone, you’ll be killed.”

“He won’t come,” said Vanessa, wishing that were true.

“Of course he’ll come,” said Frederick.  “A man of honor
could not risk seeing you hurt.  And he’ll come alone.  I’m sure he fancies
that his bruising exercise sessions at Gentleman Jim’s boxing salon and all
that practice fencing will make him our equal.”

“How absurd,” said Portia.  “A man like him wouldn’t last
two hours on the streets.  You remember the streets, don’t you Vanessa?  The
place you came from.  The place you belong.  Even if your precious Lord Arthur
fancies taking you as his mistress, I cannot imagine the arrangement will last
for long.  He’ll tire of you soon enough.  Provided, of course, you survive the
night.”

*                    *                    *

Arthur was beginning to worry.  He hadn’t seen Vanessa for
at least a quarter of an hour.  He’d seen her go out onto the terrace just as
he’d been forced by his Aunt Agatha to ask Lady Gwendolyn Bossert to dance. 
His aunt apparently was under the impression that Lady Gwendolyn, the daughter
of an earl, would be a suitable wife.  But even if he didn’t already have his
own bridal candidate in mind, he never would’ve considered Lady Gwendolyn.  And
she would never sink so low as to marry a third son.  The cat was the same age
as Lizzie and had been angling after Lynwood since her come-out.  But even if
she hadn’t had her sights set higher, she’d been rude enough to Lizzie and her
bosom bow Rosalind Carson that no male in the Kellington family would ever
countenance the match.  And Lizzie would have his head if he even considered
it.

As he danced with Lady Gwendolyn and listened to her
questions about Lynwood with half an ear, he scanned the ballroom, waiting for
Vanessa to appear.  Both Dumbarton and Sir Lawrence had already left.  Did she
follow one of them? 

He noticed Lizzie enter the ballroom from the terrace, a
slight frown on her face.  She looked around the room, then walked to where
Riverton was standing with Aunt Prue and Mariah.  Arthur watched as Lizzie asked
Riverton a question.  The answer, apparently, wasn’t to her liking.  Then with
a few more words, she had Riverton frowning, as well.  Frowning and looking
around the room.

Mercifully, the dance finally ended.  Arthur turned to make
his bow to Lady Gwendolyn, hoping to return her to her mother as soon as
possible so he could ask his sister what was wrong.

“Thank you for the dance,” Arthur told her absent-mindedly.

“Quite frankly, my lord, it was most unsatisfactory.  I
don’t believe you listened to a word I said.  My mama was right.  If you truly
want to know a person, don’t listen to the questions they ask.  Pay attention
to the ones they don’t ask.”

Arthur was about to leave the annoying chit in the middle of
the ballroom, when something she’d said startled him.  “What was that last
part?”

Lady Gwendolyn rolled her eyes.  “Honestly, Lord Arthur,
you’re getting to be as bad as your younger brother.  If you truly want to know
a person, don’t listen to the questions they ask.  Pay attention to the ones
they don’t ask.”  With that, she turned and left him in the middle of the
ballroom.

Of course
, thought Arthur.  One of their three
suspects hadn’t asked the question he should have asked.  It was so obvious
now.  He looked around for Vanessa again.   He was halfway across the room,
when a footman handed him a note.   Arthur didn’t recognize the writing, but
tore open the seal.  What he read made his heart stop.  It was a summons to
bring the chalice to a warehouse by the docks.  He was to come right away and
tell no one.

Without hesitation, he strode quickly to Lynwood’s study.

*                    *                    *

Vanessa sat on the cold floor of a warehouse by the docks.  There
were several rows of wooden crates stacked haphazardly throughout the large
room, forming a maze of aisles.  There was a table near her. The sword and the
spike lay upon it. 

They hadn’t bound or gagged her because, as Portia had
enjoyed telling her, no one would hear her scream.  And, in the extremely
unlikely case someone did, he would probably do her just as much harm as Portia
and Frederick.

Frederick had said little on the long carriage ride.  Even
now, he was mostly silent, sitting on a stool a few feet away.  It was Portia
who seemed agitated, pacing and checking the time.  “Why isn’t he here?” she
asked.  “Perhaps, Frederick, you overestimated dear Vanessa’s charms and
Kellington decided he’d rather keep the chalice and not risk it.”

“He’ll be here,” said Frederick.  “They both will be.”

“Both?” asked Vanessa.

“Our partner,” said Frederick.  “The one who hired us.”

“All I know is he bloody well better bring the money this
time.  I cannot believe he thought we’d hand over the sword and the spike
without payment.”

Vanessa watched the scene with interest.  She had to keep
them talking to learn anything that might help Arthur.  Because, unfortunately,
she had no doubt he’d come.  And she worried for him greatly.  “Your partner
must have been quite unhappy when you failed to bring the chalice,” she said.

Portia was on her in an instant, pulling Vanessa to her by
the hair.  “We didn’t fail to do anything.  Your former lover decided to be
clever and leave the chalice.  If I’d known it at the time, you wouldn’t still
be alive.”

“As I recall, you tried to kill me anyway,” said Vanessa. 

Portia shoved her back to the ground then grabbed her
pistol.  An instant later, Frederick took the gun from Portia and pulled her
away.  “I told you,” he said.  “No killing.  At least not now.”

She looked at him with real hatred in her eyes.  “When did
you become so weak?”

He was prevented from replying by the sound of the door
opening.  One of the men they’d hired to keep watch entered, his hand gripping
Arthur’s arm.  Vanessa’s heart sank as she watched him enter, carrying the
chalice.

“Lord Arthur,” said Frederick as he bowed mockingly. 
“Portia was about to give up on you, but I had much more faith.”  He turned to
the guard.  “I trust he came alone?”

“Aye,” said the man.  “Did not see no one else.”

“Excellent,” said Frederick.  “Resume your post to ensure we
are uninterrupted.”

The man obeyed the order.  Arthur immediately began making
his way to Vanessa.

“Not so fast,” said Frederick, as he aimed the pistol at
Vanessa.  “Give Portia the chalice.”

“No,” said Arthur.  “I won’t do a thing until you take that
weapon off her.”

“You’ll do as you’re told,” hissed Portia.   “Put the chalice
on the table.”

Arthur placed the chalice next to the sword. Frederick
pulled Vanessa to her feet.  He held the pistol at his side.  Without taking
his eyes off the weapon, Arthur asked “When will Dumbarton arrive?”

For a moment, no one said a word.  Vanessa looked at him
with a quizzical expression.  Then Professor Dumbarton came out of the shadows.
 “Very good, dear boy.  And here I thought you were just another aristocratic
simpleton.”

Arthur could see the disappointment on Vanessa’s face, yet
she remained calm.  He was sure she was plotting their escape, and he had to
keep everyone’s attention on him.   “Actually, I should have caught on as soon
as you gave yourself away.”

“And when, supposedly, did I do that?” asked the professor,
all traces of the kindly old academic gone and replaced by a cold, calculating
villain.