Defying the Earl (21 page)

“There’s more.” A tight smile twitched the lady’s lips. “I have a suitor in mind for your efforts, although I’m sure he would refuse my card were I to call. He will not be pleased by my attention although I hoped you would smooth the path and persuade him to spend time with me. With enough conversation and enticement, I believe I’ll convince him our futures are meant to be spent together.”

Wilhelmina released a short breath and forged ahead. “This all sounds a little unusual. If the gentleman refuses to speak to you, I don’t know how much I can accomplish in the way of romance.”

Lady Worsley laughed, her lips curved in a cunning grin. “He is poor, bled dry, and in need of a very rich wife. His family estate, sentimental property he cherishes dearly, is dilapidated and on the verge of collapse. My mother has kept me informed to the best of her knowledge. My available wealth might change his mind concerning his choices for the future, or at the least, a conversation about the present. Once I have him within reach, I doubt he will deny me. As I mentioned, he has great attachment to his childhood home and is on the verge of losing everything.”

Wilhelmina reacted with an audible swallow chased by a long sip of tea.

“He is a good man, one ruled more by morals and ethics than pleasure and popularity, yet he had a weakness for me once.” Lady Worsley gave a throaty chuckle and leaned closer. Wilhelmina fought the urge to draw back at her whisper. “Men are easy to manipulate.”

Overcoming a shudder, Wilhelmina straightened in her chair. “I don’t understand how you’ll need my assistance. You seem confident your reunion will be successful.”

“You are perceptive.” Lady Worsley nodded with the words. “And it is true, although as I mentioned, his initial reaction will be to reject me. Detestable pride and a variety of other noble characteristics will interfere with his judgment. That’s where I’ll need your skillful arrangement. I’m sure you can manage one invitation and then a generous payment will be yours. It’s that easy.” She flicked her eyes in a sidelong glance from the top of Wilhelmina’s head extending to her brown walking boots. Wilhelmina had the sudden urge to scoot her feet under the table but Lady Worsley had already returned to her tea, her final words no more than a hushed whisper. “I think you’ll find good use for the money. Naturally I could never ask this favor from a friend. I’m not seeking additional scandal.” She didn’t pause for long. “You’ll need to arrange this meeting as soon as possible. I have not notified anyone I’ve returned to London, but word travels through the streets like a horse free of ribbons. I’d just as soon take the earl by surprise rather than make the situation more complicated.”

“Yes, of course.” It was the most Wilhelmina could manage, though her brows climbed to her hairline. Whoever the poor devil turned out to be, it sounded more of a mismatching than a matchmaking, but her participation was only to bring them together and she could feel no poor conscience for what happened afterward. The payment was vital. Her emotions would not play a role. “I will do my very best to help you. Is there anything else you need to tell me?” She said a silent prayer that the task wouldn’t become more difficult by way of her question.

“No, I believe I’ve shared everything necessary.”

Was it her imagination or did the words sound guarded, as if they possessed a bit of untruth?

“As time is of the essence, notify me as soon as the arrangements are made. This is where I may be reached.” She opened her reticule and retrieved a folded slip of paper to hand forward. “And of course, you’ll need the gentleman’s name.”

“Yes.” Wilhelmina matched eyes with Lady Worsley, her concentration keen.

“Valerian St. David, Earl of Dashwood.”

Although Wilhelmina already held the page, her hand convulsed at hearing the name, nudging her teacup off its saucer to roll in a circle on the linen tablecloth. Luckily it was empty or she’d have caused an embarrassing mess. She righted the china and schooled her emotions. Only the devil could contrive this situation. Yet she’d already accepted the task.

“Do you know him?” Lady Worsley’s eyes, bright with an unsettling gleam, drilled her with curiosity.

Wilhelmina answered her question with honest sincerity. “I thought I did, but I was mistaken.”

With new understanding, she assessed Lady Worsley’s attractive appearance and exacting attitude before saying goodbye and leaving the shop, her heart pounding with a troublesome unnamed emotion.

It really shouldn’t matter. At least that’s what she told herself as she turned at the corner and aimed for The Serendipity Shop. Valerian had proved she meant very little to him. She repeated the words, although they would not take hold.

The ineradicable memory of his intense stare across the Nobles’ drawing room flitted to mind with vivid clarity. There was a message in his eyes that she, by her own odd mixture of oblique innocence and naïve inexperience, could not decipher. What had he wished to tell her? What did he need her to know? That he regretted what he planned to do? That there was a reason for his unforgivable behavior?

Wilhelmina shook the thoughts away, aware her heart leapt at any opportunity to make excuses for Valerian’s despicable dishonesty. Yet what of their dance only minutes before the debacle in the drawing room? He had been handsome and charming, their kisses downright wicked. Her heart had become engaged and she’d begun to believe he might harbor feelings for her as well. But was that also part of his plan? His kisses and attention meant to stall her from interfering in a scene already set into motion? Another ruse to detract attention from Lord Rigby’s unsettling accusations? Valerian had colluded with Rigby to destroy the betrothed couple full knowing the benefits of their union would allow her to secure funds for Livie’s care and wellbeing. She would not allow her emotions to interfere with intelligent reason. Only the worst kind of gentleman would do such a thing.

A wry smile turned her lips.

One who was equally matched for a woman set on her own shade of deception. Lady Worsley, indeed.

Chapter Seventeen

Valerian tied Arcadia’s reins through the iron loop at the curb, flipped a coin to the eager lad waiting for opportunity, and took a moment to straighten his attire. After visiting the bank he’d rode directly to The Serendipity Shop, anxious to reclaim his mother’s charm and leave for Kirby Park, a long list of payments and repairs tucked safely in his pocket.

His gnawing sense of regret would only be healed by the country air and natural simplicity, a reminder of why he’d agreed to Jasper’s ridiculous scheme in the first place. Wilhelmina’s confusion, followed by the enlightened awareness in her sable-brown eyes, haunted his soul with perpetual unrest. It didn’t matter that the ploy was utterly necessary to his survival and nothing more than a reckless attempt to avoid ruination, he’d already decided in heart and mind that he could never betray Whimsy’s valiant sacrifice. Now she believed he was connected to Rigby’s insidious plans, and on some level, more or less, she was correct. He would bear the scar of his mistake if it bettered Wilhelmina’s welfare.

It didn’t matter if she understood the truth of it all
.

He entered the storefront and waited patiently as the shopkeeper attended to an older woman, busy at the counter examining a pair of brass candlesticks. It provided Valerian time to examine the glass showcases, his mother’s charm no longer displayed on the velvet tray in the store window. He soon discovered it nowhere in view.

Pricked with impatience, he moved his eyes to the soffit where a large cat reclined inside a brocade carpetbag. Its tail flicked back and forth in lazy occupation until keen to Valerian’s observation, the feline slunk from its perch to a shelf where it startled the old woman completing her purchase. An agile leap brought the overfed pet near his feet. With frisky expedience, it wove a figure eight between his legs, its glittering collar tapping a musical jingle against his boots. In silence he observed as the animal launched to the counter and returned to the carpetbag, the keeper paying no heed of the tabby’s lassitude. The old woman left and Valerian approached with an intolerant grimace.

“I need to reclaim an item I left here a few weeks ago.” He presented the ticket and the shopkeeper took it gingerly although he made no move to retrieve the jewelry.

“I’m afraid you’re too late. The pearl charm is no longer available. The detail and workmanship were extraordinarily executed.”

“If you could please tell me who bought it, I would be happy to offer double the price to have it returned.” He tapped his fingers against the counter, his temper barely contained.

“My business isn’t run in such a manner. I would never divulge the identity of a buyer any sooner than I would reveal your name as the seller.”

Anger drenched Valerian’s every pore, followed quickly by a despairing sense of loss never to be overcome. It was the same emotion he battled when considering Kirby Park. He was too late. Had he come to the shop last week, he might have recovered his mother’s charm, but at the time he needed the money for payments long overdue, placing the care of servants before his personal wishes.

“I had no choice.” He muttered the words with disgust but the shopkeeper answered as if they remained in conversation.

“Sometimes that’s how things seem.”

Valerian silently cursed Jasper’s poor choices and fruitless endeavors, despite an underlying inkling urged he include his father in the blame. Both men had wasted funds and spoiled the earldom with careless habits. His father may be deceased, but his brother was very much alive and Valerian intended to have a vehement discussion with him in the immediate future.

The brash trill of the bell above the door disrupted his regretful contemplations and the tabby in the soffit responding with a loud yowl.

Valerian nodded to the shopkeeper. “I’ve no business here then. Thank you for your time.” He spoke with great irritation, and turned, colliding with the woman who’d entered the shop a minute prior. “Pardon—”

Wilhelmina’s face showed pure confusion, although recognition transformed her expression to fractious annoyance in less than a heartbeat.

“You? Again?” She took a step back. “How is it in a city of such population, you find your way into my path at every turn?”

“There’s no explaining coincidence.” The shopkeeper interjected as he collected the cat and moved behind the partition.

Valerian took in Whimsy’s tightly set mouth, the hurt mirrored in her eyes, and his heart shifted in opinion.

It did matter if she understood the truth of it all
.

It mattered very
much
.

Wilhelmina examined Valerian’s face, void of malice or guilt, as handsome as always, although a slight furrow in his brow replaced the charming smile of his eyes. “You’re in my way, Lord Dashwood. Allow me to pass.” She didn’t care if her tetchy request bordered rudeness. Her mother’s bracelet had prompted this errand and after last evening and her meeting with Lady Worsley this morning, Valerian was the last man she wished to encounter.

“We’ve not returned to formals, have we, Whimsy? I can’t go backward now.”

If only she could reverse time.

He smiled and her anger melted a little. A very little. It was all she’d allow. “There’s no need to pretend a friendship exists.” Truly, how could she consider him a friend when he’d plotted against her? “I understand your alliances better than you perceive.” He deserved any fate handed to him, including Lady Worsley’s pursuit.

“I’d like to explain. It might not mend our relationship, but at least I will have shared my motivation. Would you allow me the luxury of this morning? Walk with me.”

He continued before she could respond, no matter she had no idea how she would answer.

“Grant me a few minutes of conversation. Where’s the harm?”

She couldn’t very well confess the cost to her wounded heart, but she had set her sight on recovering her mother’s bracelet and she would not fiddle away time listening to Dashwood’s excuses. “I’m sorry but I have an important matter to settle. I cannot walk with you.”

He appeared both disappointed and determined, his body still blocking her path although his words suggested an alternative. “I’m traveling to Kirby Park and I’d like you to visit. I can explain. I promise you. If only you’ll hear me out. Perhaps it would help you understand my course of action. One hour or two, spent away from London. You should bring your sister and your aunt. I’m sure they would enjoy the clean air and countryside.”

A twinge of panic prevented her usual sharp tongue from refusing his invitation. That, and a heavy dose of temptation, to see his home and understand his actions. And of course, the remembrance of his kisses…that prodded her acceptance twofold. He seemed so insistent when there was nothing to be gained. Could there be more than she perceived? Perhaps all was not as it appeared last evening.

Yet she’d promised Lady Worsley.

How had things become so complicated?

“My sister is not fit for travel at this time and my aunt would never leave her unattended.” Of course, no reason existed why Wilhelmina couldn’t go alone as long as no one discovered her travels. Apparently the property was not so far removed that she couldn’t visit and return in one afternoon. Still, it all gave her pause, the thought of venturing to Kirby Park without a chaperone on an errand of…
what
? She couldn’t label her motivation.

She glanced beyond his shoulder to the empty store counter and nodded assent despite her brain objected. “I will consider it.”

His face registered surprise, although congeniality quickly followed.

“I will send a carriage for you—”

“No, I will make my arrangements after returning home. Would tomorrow suit?” The sooner she resolved her heart’s unrest the better. “Or would you prefer another day to settle?”

“No,” he answered quickly. “Tomorrow is fine.” He smiled, a genuine grin that reached beyond his deep blue eyes to the charming crinkles she’d noticed the night before. “I look forward to it. I will send you my direction.”