Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three)

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Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three) Page 24

by Driscoll, Maureen


  But how he wished providence would lend a hand.

  “Lynwood!” came an admonishing voice from behind him.

  Liam turned to see his paternal Aunt Agatha, Countess of Crenshaw. The woman was one of the highest sticklers in the ton. She’d been apoplectic when Lizzie had published her treatise, and now blamed Liam whenever something wasn’t as she wished it in the Kellington family.

  “Who is the chit who has been following Arthur about town? I hear tell she even had the audacity to come here tonight. Surely you’ll throw her out on the street, will you not?”

  Liam calmly turned to his aunt and bowed. He took his responsibility to family seriously, even when that family member was behaving like an ass. “Aunt Agatha, I believe you refer to Miss Gans, an agent with the Home Office.”

  “Is that what they’re calling lightskirts, these days?”

  “No, that is what they’re calling agents with the Home Office. She and Arthur have risked their lives on a mission for King and country. She is also a guest in my home.”

  “Your home! Lynwood, have you gone mad?”

  “Not yet, although the night is still young. I repeat, Aunt Agatha, that she is my guest and is to be accorded the greatest respect. I trust you take my meaning.”

  Aunt Agatha narrowed her eyes at him, proving she took his meaning all too well. “Arthur’s not getting the fool notion to marry her, is he? That mesalliance between Edward and the midwife was bad enough. I couldn’t go to my whist luncheons for weeks after they married, as it was all anyone could talk about. But it would be simply outside of enough if Arthur married anyone so common. He would be cut by everyone. It could even tarnish my reputation, if you could imagine such a thing.”

  Liam very much wanted to tell his Aunt Agatha how little the opinions of the ladies she played whist with mattered to him. But she was right in that a marriage between Arthur and Vanessa would very likely result in the two of them being cut by most of the beau monde. He didn’t think Arthur would care, but there was the future happiness of their children to consider.

  “This is what you are to do, Lynwood,” began Aunt Agatha, her voice beginning to carry to those around them.

  But they were interrupted by a woman slightly older than Lizzie, with non-descript brown hair, spectacles and beautiful eyes. “I do apologize for interrupting, Lady Crenshaw. It is unforgivably rude of me,” said Miss Rosalind Carson as she sank into the perfect curtsey. “But Lady Elizabeth needs your advice on a matter of etiquette. She asked that I send you to her posthaste.”

  “An etiquette question,” said Aunt Agatha, nodding. “Lynwood, I hold you responsible for not teaching my niece properly. She’s soon to be a marchioness, don’t you know. Never mind, I shall take the gel in hand myself.”

  With that, Aunt Agatha set a direct course for Lizzie on the other side of the ballroom. As soon as Lizzie saw what was coming her way, she gave a perfect imitation of prey wanting to flee, before schooling her features and giving in to the inevitable.

  Liam turned to Rosalind. “I take it my sister does not have an etiquette question for our Aunt.”

  “Lud, no. And she’ll likely be mad at me for a week when she learns the trick I played on her. But as I was walking by, I could not help but hear…well…”

  “You couldn’t help but hear my Aunt’s scathing remarks about Arthur and Miss Gans,” Lynwood finished for her. It felt good to talk to her. Even if it was in the middle of a hot, stuffy ballroom. Even if she was engaged.

  “Yes,” said Rosalind sheepishly. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Miss Gans yet, but I know Lizzie likes her very much. I’ve been rather busy lately with….” She trailed off once again.

  “Planning your wedding?” said Liam quietly.

  “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 lif
e. 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 immediate
ly 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.

  “A few days ago. You told us repeatedly how clever you were to break the code without the use of the chest. Yet, when we told you we’d recovered the chest, you expressed no interest in seeing it, whereas both Sir Lawrence and Lord Willingham wanted to have a look. That’s because you’re the only one who knew the chest we had was a fake, since Mortimer and Cassidy had the real one. Or, even if they had disposed of it, you knew there was no code in the chest. It was all an elaborate ruse to get the Crown to steal the sword, the chalice and the spike for you.

 

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