Gentleman's Trade (9 page)

Trevor looked at him, stunned, then burst out laughing. “That is such a ridiculous idea that it might work. And if you really wish to divert her, talk business and politics with her, she has an unslaking thirst for knowledge in those subjects.”

Hugh pursed his lips. “Interesting,” he murmured, his mind immediately formulating discussions bound to disrupt Vanessa.

“But seriously, Hugh, what of Miss Mannion? Is this fair to her?”

“Is letting her marry Wilmot fair to her?”

Trevor paused, exhaling sharply. “That is a point well taken, my friend. Very well taken.”

Hugh nodded and took another sip of port. Truly, his motives were suspect. They were as convoluted as the twistiest maze, for now the problem was how to insure Trevor’s place as suitor in Vanessa’s mind and heart. Perhaps a few jealous words on his part, a seemingly unconscious praise of his accomplishments. Yes, it could be done. He would also draw Mr. Wilmot’s fire; he only hoped the gentleman was a poor marksman.

Richard Mannion stood before the French windows, his hands behind his back, tapping out a restless rhythm when Vanessa peeped in around the open library door.

“Come in, Vanessa, and close the door,” he said softly, his back to her.

She started, for she didn’t know he was aware of her presence. When Jonas informed her she was wanted in the library, a frisson of dread went through her. Her father never asked anyone into the library unless it was for a private upbraiding. She searched her mind for an explanation of the summons, but none came, unless by chance he’d found out about the newspapers. She approached the library quietly, hoping to hear something that would give a clue to her father’s mood. Now she was baffled. Usually if called in for some perceived fault, he would stand rigidly by his desk, his face a study in disappointment and anger. Sometimes, if the error was great enough, he would pace the room and mumble darkly to himself before turning to address the miscreant. But he never stood staring out the window, and he never, ever, spoke softly.

Quickly she stepped into the room, gently shutting the door behind her. She tipped her head to the side, studying her father. He looked old. Odd, she’d never noticed how he was aging, how worn he’d become. She took a few tentative steps toward him, uncertain what to say or do.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Vanessa?” he sadly asked.

She blinked, her mind racing to understand. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

He turned toward her, dropping his hands to his sides. “Why didn’t you inform me of Russell Wilmot’s impropriety last night?”

“Who told you?” she gasped.

His fists clenched reflexively and his features shifted into anger for a moment, then relaxed. He laughed shortly and turned to walk over to his desk. “He did.”

“Mr. Wilmot?!” She clutched the back of one of the chairs in front of the desk for her knees felt strangely weak.

Her father reached out to guide her gently into the chair. She murmured her thanks, her mind struggling with the information.

“Why did he tell you?” she finally managed, looking up at her father’s deeply lined face.

A wry smile tilted up the corners of his lips and he snorted softly. “Why? Because the man is clever.” He rounded the corner of the desk to sit across from her, his hands resting on the polished surface expanse between them. “He came to my office this morning, said he had offended you last night. He told me how he first took the liberty of putting his hand on your shoulder and then of clasping your hand, ignoring your attempts to pull free. Is that correct?”

“Y-yes.” She felt like a mouse, caught in a corner and uncertain which way to run to avoid the cat.

“Why didn’t you tell me? It’s my duty as a father to protect my daughters.” He surged out of his chair, pacing the room agitatedly. “Damn it, girl, I felt like a caper-witted fool this morning, not knowing what the man was talking about, and that’s not a position to be in when dealing with a man like Wilmot.”

“I’m sorry, Father, but after Mr. Talverton made him stop, I thought it best to forget the incident, and I didn’t wish to worry you unnecessarily.”

“Mr. Talverton? What has he to do with this?”

“You don’t know? Mr. Wilmot didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Last night, during the play, when Mr. Wilmot so insistently held my hand, Mr. Talverton crashed his foot into the side of my chair.”

“I remember the accident.”

“It wasn’t an accident, Father. He did it as a means to end the situation without embarrassing all of us.”

An arrested expression captured Mr. Mannion’s features. Slowly he sank back into his chair. “So, he did that on purpose.” His eyes shifted and a tight smile curled one corner of his mouth. Vanessa watched, wary of his changing moods.

“Hmm . . . Tell me, Vanessa, what do you think of Mr. Talverton?”

“I’m not sure I understand the question,” she hedged. She leaned forward in her chair, closely watching her father. He was not behaving in character. It was totally unlike him to solicit opinions from any of his daughters.

“Come, come, my dear, you’re being too missish. Do you like the man? Do you like his company?”

Vanessa sat straighter in the chair, clasping her hands primly on her lap. “If you are thinking of wedding me to Mr. Talverton, I advise you to think again,” she said austerely, twin flags of red blazing on her cheeks. “Aside from last evening’s fiasco, he and I have been continually at crossed swords. He is entirely too toplofty for my tastes. And regardless of my sentiments, Paulette has staked her claim on him.”

Impatiently, he waved her protest aside. “I wasn’t thinking marriage. I’ve got plans for you, girl.”

“Plans! What sort of plans?” An incipient panic threaded her voice. What was her father about? A sense of caution began seeping through her.

“Never you mind that now.”

“Father!”

“No, and I’ll not say another word on the subject. Now, tell me what you think of Mr. Danielson.”

Bewildered, Vanessa sighed and shook her head. “Mr. Danielson has charm, manners, intelligence, and a manner of gallantry that is appealing,” she enumerated patiently. “He is a true gentleman.”

Her father grunted and scratched the side of his nose. “What about Mr. Wilmot?” he persisted.

Vanessa closed her eyes. Her father knew things he wasn’t saying, and as always, he was setting traps for the unwary. It irritated her to consider her position. Was she to be the hunted or the bait? It wouldn’t do any good to ask, for he wouldn’t answer her. Whatever, she’d wager it was business related.

She opened her eyes to stare steadily at her father. “Earlier last night,” she said crisply, “I considered myself fortunate to be in his company. He seems to be a popular gentleman, for he knows everyone. He is handsome in a devilish fashion, successful through his own efforts, intelligent, and gives a woman the feeling of being the center of his world by his attention and possessiveness. It is here, I hasten to add, that his possessiveness becomes suffocating and deadens his appeal. I believe that is what occurred last evening. He stopped thinking of me as a person and considered me as one would the purchase of a horse or new article of clothing, and treated me with the same carelessness as one would those objects.”

Richard Mannion leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his chest, and nodded, a wry smile twisting his lips. “All right, I’ll remember your words,” he promised.

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed as she studied his suddenly complacent, smiling demeanor. In the past three to four years, her father had rarely smiled, and never joked. If she had ever given the matter thought, she would have suggested that with the press of weighty business matters, he had forgotten how. Yet since the evening of the Langley Ball . . . nay, more precisely since the arrival of Mr. Talverton, she had on more than one occasion witnessed the upturn of the corners of his mouth and heard the deep rumble of rusty laughter. She was delighted to see humor restored to her parent, but fretted at its source.

“Now,” he continued, sitting straighter in his chair and shifting his clasped hands to the desk surface, “I’m going to tell you what I want from you, and none of your mulishness.”

“What?” she exclaimed indignantly, hastily dragging her errant thoughts back to the discussion at hand.

“First, you’ll continue to be nice to Mr. Talverton, especially after last evening.” He paused a moment, his thumbs circling each other. “Second, Mr. Wilmot will be coming to call this afternoon to apologize,” he baldly announced.

Vanessa groaned and closed her eyes, her body sagging at the thought of again meeting the gentleman.

Her father ignored her and continued. “And if the rains hold off, you’ll allow him to take you driving.”

“Father, that’s not fair!” she protested, gripping the arms of her chair until her knuckles whitened. “The man grossly insulted me. He treated me like a—a—a common trollop.”

“You’re exaggerating the matter,” he said dismissively. “He only touched you without permission.” He held up a hand to forestall her protests. “I know you feel he acted ungentlemanly, but, to use Paulette’s words, he hasn’t, as it were, been raised to the manner born. He claims he was swept away by your charm and beauty last evening and could not resist.”

“Swept away?” She laughed hollowly. “I’m sorry, Father, but I doubt his truthfulness. Mr. Wilmot is a very determined, intelligent and deliberate man, oriented toward one thing: success. Everything else is merely a means to an end.”

“Don’t be too hasty,” he said, favoring her with another of his rare smiles, this one baring his teeth. “The more tender emotions rarely equate with the intellect.”

Vanessa blinked in surprise. That was what she had been discovering for herself. Could Mr. Wilmot be struggling with the same confusing notions as she? Impossible. He was a confident and forthright man. But what if? No
,
she thought, hardening her heart. Even if it was true, it was no excuse for his behavior, for she was certain he delighted in her discomfiture. She remembered that predatory look in the depths of his eyes and shivered.

What was her father about? She didn’t want to be the bait in some grandiose hunt. Was he going to exchange her for business dealings and concessions, settlement and dowry on both sides? But for whom?

“And do you have instructions for my dealings with Mr. Danielson, too?” she ventured caustically.

He frowned at her tone, his brows descending in a thick iron bar shielding his eyes. “Yes.” His voice was clipped, and instantly Vanessa regretted her tone to him. He stood up and proceeded to pace the room again, this time in a leisurely manner. “You shall be as friendly as always, yet remain somewhat distant, particularly around Mr. Wilmot. When Mr. Wilmot is not nearby, you may treat him with warmer affections, within the bounds of propriety, of course.” Vanessa bit her lower lip and held her eyes downcast to hide the rage seething through her. It was a game, but the ultimate prize was unknown. Somehow, she was certain she was merely the pawn, not the prize.

Adeline, crouching down beside a thick patch of deep purple violets, looked up at the sound of Vanessa’s footsteps. The expression on her sister’s face made her quickly place the fragile blossom she held into her workbasket and rise to her feet. She wiped the dirt from her hands on the oversized apron she wore to protect her dress, and crossed to her side.

“Vanessa?” she said tentatively, disturbed by the degree of sadness and confusion evident in her face. “Are you all right? What did Father want?” She laid a gentle hand on her arm.

Vanessa looked at Adeline, slowly focusing on her presence. Her sister’s wide-brimmed sunbonnet framed her face charmingly, despite her concerned frown. A genuine smile flickered briefly on Vanessa’s lips before they twisted into a wry grimace. “I’ve always known Father holds our intellectual capacity in low regard; nonetheless, I am shocked to discover he has the nacky notion we are mere hubble-bubble creatures. I was quite ready to pull caps with him.”

“Oh, no, Vanessa!”

“Rest assured, the opportunity did not present itself, and I also had the presence of mind, despite my increasing ire, to realize such action on my part would serve no purpose.”

“Did he give you a trimming?”

“On the contrary, he was curiously soft-spoken. He even smiled.”

“Vanessa, you have me on tenterhooks. What happened?”

“I’m sorry, Adeline. I must sound as obscure as Father did to me. Here, let’s sit in the shade and I’ll tell you all.” She led her sister to a wooden bench at the edge of the courtyard. “By the way, where is Paulette?”

Adeline leaned down to place her basket under the bench. “She told Mama of some lace she saw that she wishes to purchase, for she’s convinced that Mr. Talverton has only to see it on her to fall madly in love with her,” she said, smoothing her skirt and sitting down.

Vanessa groaned. “I know what lace she was speaking of, and it is very dear. I thought I had distracted her sufficiently to forget its existence.”

“Hardly. Anyway, that scapegrace child wheedled Mama into a shopping excursion to procure the lace and other materials necessary to make up a new gown.”

“She is scarcely a child. Remember, you and she are of an age,” Vanessa reminded her.

Her sister sighed heavily. “Sometimes I feel the aged anecdote.”

Oh, really, Adeline.”

“No, truly. Take last evening. Do you know what that hoyden did on the way to the theater? At every bump and curve, she threw herself across Mr. Talverton, claiming that the faults of the road, the coachman, and the carriage forced her to fall.”

Vanessa laughed. “She has always displayed a sad lack of sensibility.”

“She displays none at all!” contradicted Adeline. “Occasionally I wonder at her family relationship to Charles. She is so different from her brother in temperament.”

Her sister shrugged, mimicking Paulette’s expansive Gallic motion, and Adeline fell to laughing, clutching her sides.

“Oh, please, enough,” she pleaded. She wiped her streaming eyes with the back of her hand. “Sometimes, Vanessa, I don’t know how you can claim you are serious minded. You are forever bringing me to whoops of laughter.”