Gentleman's Trade

by Newman, Holly

  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.”

  “Now and then I do seem to suffer a sad want of dignity, but never in company.”

  “It might be best if you did.”

  “I wonder if I could chase Mr. Wilmot away by becoming excessively silly,” mused Vanessa.

  “It would be too out of character; he’d know it for a ruse,” Adeline replied. “But I thought, after last night, you were not going to have anything more to do with him.”

  Vanessa sighed. “I don’t have much choice.”

  “Why?”

  “He visited Father this morning and made a full confession of his misdeeds. He claimed he was swept away by my charm and beauty.”

  “Gammon,” scoffed Adeline.

  “Why, don’t you think I have charm and beauty?”

  “Vanessa! Of course I do, now stop teasing.”

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’re right of course; he pitched quite a tale at Father.”

  “And Father believed him?”

  “That’s the strange thing. I don’t believe he does; however, somehow it’s to his advantage to accept and forgive Mr. Wilmot his actions.”

  “How odd,” Adeline said.

  “Yes, but it gets stranger still. He told me to accept Mr. Wilmot’s apology and continue considering him a suitor, be friendly to Mr. Talverton, and ignore Mr. Danielson when Mr. Wilmot is around.”

  A tiny worried frown marred the perfection of Adeline’s features, and her hands fluttered agitatedly in front of her. She looked away from her sister, then back. “W-w-why?” she stammered. “Does he think Mr. Wilmot might harm Mr. Danielson?”

  “I cannot say,” Vanessa replied distractedly, failing to notice the extent of her sister’s dismay. “My summation is it has something to do with business. Perhaps the negotiations for a wedding settlement or dowry,” Vanessa suggested sardonically. “I have the feeling Father is playing games within games and I resent my involvement.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I need to contemplate this further.”

  Adeline shivered slightly. “It terrifies me to even consider it.”

  The sisters sat silently for a few moments, considering their father’s strange behavior. Finally Adeline roused herself, shaking her head as if to shake out all troublesome thoughts.

  “Oh, dear, I nearly forgot my flowers. I must get them between blotting paper and weighted before they wilt.”

  “I’ll help you,” offered Vanessa. “Perhaps I shall have an easier time solving my dilemma if I don’t dwell on it constantly.”

  Adeline laughed softly. “I suppose at this juncture you could do no worse. Come, before Father returns and reclaims his library, let’s see if we can get all these pressed.”

  “That’s all of them, now what?” Vanessa asked as she slid the last blossom and leaf set between the pages of a heavy law book.

  “Now we check on the progress of some I laid down earlier this spring. Let’s see. I used the Greek books for those,” Adeline said, dragging a small stool over to one of the tall bookshelves and climbing up on it. Standing on tiptoe, she reached up to grab a thick volume of Greek plays and pull it off the shelf.

  “Do you keep track of what you press by what type book it’s in?”

  “Yes. Well, actually that’s how I record when I pressed it.” She handed the book to Vanessa before turning to grab another. “For example, today we used all law books, so tonight in my journal I shall make note of what we pressed and where they are.”

  “How many Greek books are there?” Vanessa asked as Adeline passed her another heavy tome and she staggered under the weight.

  “Four,” Adeline replied distractedly, tugging at a particularly thick book of Greek essays.

  “I hadn’t realized the Mannion women were bluestockings,” said a warm deep voice from the door.

  Vanessa, her ar
ms full of books, turned around to stare in surprise at Hugh Talverton standing in the doorway of the library.

  Adeline teetered on the stool as she spun around, her arms flailing outward to restore her balance.

  “Vanessa! Look out!” Huge warned as the heavy book in Adeline’s hand swung in a wide arc and smacked Vanessa in the face.

  He caught her as she fell sideways.

  “Vanessa!” screamed Adeline. Jumping off the stool, she ran to her sister’s side, the book she held falling heedlessly to the floor.

  “Vanessa! I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”

  She moaned, a hand fluttering up to her face as she sagged against Mr. Talverton.

  With a grim expression marring his handsome features, he picked her up in his arms as if she were a featherweight. “Where can I lay her down?”

  Adeline jumped at his harsh tone. “What? Oh, yes, of course. The parlor, I believe.”

  Carrying his precious burden, he turned on his heel, heading for the parlor. In his arms, Vanessa moaned and whimpered. Adeline ran behind him, her hands twisting together.

  They passed Jonas in the hall.

  “Jonas,” called Adeline, “Vanessa’s been hurt. Get some lavender water from Leila.”

  “No,” contradicted Talverton harshly, “fetch a side of beef.”

  “A side of beef?” echoed Adeline faintly.

  “Yes, a piece of raw beef,” he ordered over his shoulder as he strode into the parlor, “else she’ll have a wicked black eye.”

  Adeline jerkily nodded permission to Jonas, shooed him on his way, and then followed in Talverton’s wake. She entered the parlor in time to see him settle her sister gently on the largest sofa in the room. Swiftly he turned to gather up pillows from other chairs and gently place them behind her head and shoulders.

  Vanessa’s eyes fluttered open as he smoothed her skirts down around her ankles, tucking them about her. “What?” she muttered, struggling to sit up.

  “Hush,” he said quietly, his voice sending odd, comforting ripples through her.

  “Oh, Vanessa, I’m so sorry,” wailed Adeline.

  Vanessa furrowed her brow against an incipient pounding in her head and tried to concentrate. “What happened?”

  “Your sister planted you a facer,” explained Hugh as he smiled down at her. “Her form was questionable, but it was a nice flush hit.”

  “How can you jest about it?” complained Adeline, sinking to her knees beside Vanessa.

  “It’s all right, Adeline,” assured Vanessa weakly. “Actually it was Mr. Talverton’s fault,” she declared, trying to glare at him but giving it up when it increased the pounding in her head.

  “Somehow I knew you’d come round to blaming me.”

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” Vanessa demanded aggressively, then winced as a sharp pain pierced her cheek and eye.

  “You’ll probably feel better if you keep the eye closed,” he counseled. “I was in the neighborhood and decided to pay an afternoon call. When your butler left me standing while he went to search out your location, I became restless. I heard female voices coming from the library, so I merely came to investigate.”

  “Excuse me, Miss Adeline, but I got the beef the gentleman requested,” said Jonas from the doorway.

  “Excellent,” declared Talverton, striding over to the butler. He took it from Jonas, testing the weight and thickness in his hand before crossing back to the sofa where Vanessa lay.

  “What’s that for?” she asked in dismay as she saw him approach.

  “For that black eye you’re going to get if you don’t put this on it.”

  “Black eye?”

  “Yes, black eye,” he said, pushing her back down among the pillows and laying the slab of beef over the left side of her face.

  “This is ridiculous,” Vanessa protested, reaching up to remove the meat.

  He caught her hand, holding it firmly in his. “Leave it,” he commanded, “unless you desire to resemble a pugilist who has lost a round.”

  “Perhaps you had best do as he says,” Adeline said weakly, biting her lip in dismay.

  “What’s going on in here?” a harsh, gravelly voice demanded.

  Vanessa looked toward the doorway and groaned. Mr. Wilmot had arrived, as promised.

  Jonas pushed past him, scurrying to the sofa. “I tried to tell him you were indisposed, Miss Vanessa, but he wouldn’t listen. Came right on in, he did, saying as how he was expected.” He turned to glare resentfully at the man, his old face heavily lined, though his eyes stared out fiercely at the intruder.

  “I understand, Jonas,” she said. Suddenly she realized Mr. Wilmot’s angry gaze was settled on her hand, which was still clasped in Mr. Talverton’s. “You can let go of my hand now, Mr. Talverton,” she said, pulling it free. “I promise I shall suffer the meat to stay in place for it is certainly not my desire to resemble any prizefighter.”

  Hugh allowed her hand to slide free and straightened to face Mr. Wilmot, though he maintained his position by the sofa.

  “I apologize for not rising to meet you formally, Mr. Wilmot; however, I’m afraid I met with a slight accident.”

  “What did this man do to you?” Wilmot growled, striding forward to tower over her.

  “Mr. Talverton? Do not be ridiculous, sir. If anything, he has been my savior.”

  Hugh’s sandy brows rose at her comment. Just moments ago she had been blaming him. His lips tightened to suppress a smile.

  Adeline rose from her knees to move away only to feel her sister’s arm restraining her. Vanessa edged closer toward the back of the sofa, making a space for Adeline to perch beside her.

  Casting a nervous glance in Mr. Wilmot’s direction, Adeline settled herself next to her sister. “Oh, it was all my fault,” whispered Adeline, folding her hands over Vanessa’s. “I’m afraid I hit her with a volume of Greek essays.”

  “My classical studies professor at Oxford always said the Greek essays carried power,” murmured Hugh, “but until now I failed to understand his precise meaning.”

  His wry sally was rewarded with a flickering smile from Vanessa and a hostile glare from Mr. Wilmot.

  “What are you doing here?” the man demanded.

  “I could ask you the same, with much more justification,” replied Hugh calmly. He stood at his leisure, appearing totally unintimidated, a circumstance Mr. Wilmot was not accustomed to when he was angry. Men quaked and placated him; they did not stand nonchalantly. His eyes narrowed.

  “I’ve come to take Miss Mannion driving,” he said challengingly.

  “Yes, beautiful day for a drive. I could wish for a rig of my own on a day like today. Pity she’s no longer up for it,” drawled Hugh.

  “How did this happen?” Wilmot ground out, turning to fix Adeline with a malevolent stare.

  She blinked and slouched a little, closer to Vanessa.

  “You have no call to browbeat my sister, Mr. Wilmot!” Vanessa declared, pushing herself up on her elbows to address him. “And I’ll thank you to mend your tone. I have a splitting headache that your insistent thundering is aggravating.” She sank wearily back against the pillows.

  He flushed and instinctively stepped back at her ferocious words, and Hugh Talverton smiled at his unconscious action. It was obvious the man was not used to people standing up to him.

  “Adeline!” called Mr. Mannion from the hallway. “Adeline, what happened in my library?” He strode angrily into the room, stopping short when he saw the assembled tableau. “Egad, what’s going on here? Wilmot, if you’ve harmed my daughter . . .”

  “What?” demanded Mr. Wilmot.

  “No, Father—” interrupted Vanessa exasperatedly.

  “It was all my fault,” chimed in Adeline.

  “Quick assumptions can be quite amusing,” said Mr. Talverton to no one in particular.

  Vanessa tilted her head back and attempted to frown at him, only to burst out laughing at his insouciant expression. “Oh, please, don’
t make me laugh, it only hurts more.” She looked back at her father. “I was helping Adeline retrieve some of her pressed flowers. They were in your Greek works, and she needed to stand on a stool to reach them,” she explained patiently. “While on the stool she lost her balance and hit me in the face with the book she held. That’s all. It was a silly accident and now I just wish everyone would go away. This grand assembly only increases my embarrassment.”

  “Your wish, fair damsel in distress, is my command,” responded Hugh with alacrity, his voice almost whisper soft, subtly reminding her of the first time he’d played the gallant knight. He smiled at her and raised her hand to bestow a chaste salute. She looked so interestingly wan, laying back against the pillow, her brown hair sagging out of its formal coiffure, leaving wispy tendrils to wave across the pale skin of her brow and echo the tiny frown lines etched there, mute testimony to her battle with pain. A strange wave of tenderness surged over him. He paused, staring at her a moment as he rode out the wave of feeling.

  “Just remember,” he added with a wink, in quite his normal arrogant manner, “keep the beef in place. I shall return tomorrow with Trevor to see how you are faring, if that is permissible.”

  She nodded, sinking back limply into the pillows.

  He turned to bid adieu to the others, his voice hushed. He was pleased to hear them respond in equally hushed tones.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Trevor Danielson closed the door to his office and joined Hugh on the banquette. “You say Wilmot acted as though he was expected?” he said as they strolled up the street in the bright afternoon sun.

  Hugh nodded slowly. “Yes, and I was nonplussed by his appearance, I’ll admit.” They sidestepped a couple of ragamuffin street urchins laughing and chasing each other. Hugh turned to watch them a moment, an amused smile lighting his face. When he looked back at Trevor, his features sobered and he shook his head. “Yet, I’d hazard Vanessa was not surprised at his appearance,” he continued dryly. “I believe she may have been expecting him. Regardless, I gathered she was grateful for the accident which prevented their outing.”