Holly and Hopeful Hearts

by Caroline Warfield

  “Ah, just in time. Mr. Durand here could use some liquid courage about now.”

  George fell into a leather chair, accepted a glass of brandy, and swallowed nearly all of it in one fell swoop.

  “We must get her back,” he said at last. “How, Nick? She could be anywhere in London. Who knows what dreadful things they are doing to her? She must be terrified, poor thing.”

  Lord Nicholas leaned back in his chair. “I can’t imagine her abductors managed to break into the house, subdue all the servants, and make off with her as smoothly as you please.” He tapped his fingers on the surface of the desk. “I expect she was complicit in some way. Is that likely, do you think, George?”

  Indeed it was, thought George grimly, recalling her previous exploit. Foolish, foolish girl. She’d received the announcement of his intention to escort Miss Sedgely to this evening’s ball with cool detachment, but he had known by her cold eyes and crossed arms that this news did not please her. He should have known that she would try to retaliate with some hare-brained scheme.

  He stood up and placed the glass on the desk. “The servants. I must question the servants once again. Surely someone must have seen something that will help us find her.”

  “I’ll go with you. Just give me five minutes to change,” he commanded, whipping his dressing-gown off as he rushed up the stairs.

  The scoundrel Gagnon—she had decided he no longer deserved the deference afforded by the monsieur—tried to insist that she drink the wine he’d poured for her. Louise, who suspected the bottle had been tampered with, closed her mouth tightly and tossed the contents of the glass in his face. While he sputtered and gazed in horror at the crimson stains on his waistcoat and sleeves, she seized the bottle and struck him in the face with it. He staggered backward, along with shards from the broken bottle and a great deal of gushing red liquid—wine or blood she couldn’t tell, but didn’t remain long enough to find out. Instead, she dashed to the door and, seeing only a deserted corridor, ran toward the stairwell.

  The foyer, however, was blocked. The muscled footman stood in front of the door, idly caressing the exposed chest of a scantily-clothed doxy who was whispering in his ear. She could never escape that way. Perhaps there was a servants’ stairway. If not, she would find a window and jump out of it. Never would she remain a prisoner in this horrible den of iniquity!

  Rushing past the gold room to the other end of the corridor, she was relieved to see Gagnon still immobile on the floor. Had she killed him? At that moment, she didn’t care if she had. She raced down the service stairs, finding herself just outside of the kitchen area, and fortunately, only a few steps from the back entrance. Opening the door, she hesitated only a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and then ran as fast as she could away from the Pleasure Palace.

  When she finally stopped to catch her breath, ascertaining that she was not being followed, she cast her eyes about in the darkness to discern her whereabouts. She could not see a thing. Tears came to her eyes and she felt her body trembling with fear.

  Oh, Papa! How I wish I had listened to you instead of stupidly asserting I could take care of myself!

  The scene at the household on Gresham Street was of great turmoil as George and Nicholas relentlessly interrogated the servants. Regrettably, no one seemed to have seen anything. As was his custom, the butler had locked every door before retiring to his bed, and even now, they were all still locked, the key in his pocket where he had put it.

  “The window,” George said. “She must have escaped through the window.” When he saw the sturdy trellis that formed a sort of ladder of ivy on the wall right next to Louise’s bedroom window, he swore angrily. How had he failed to notice that there was such a simple avenue of escape? Clearly, he had underestimated his daughter’s determination to defy him.

  One of the maids came forward, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. George recognized her as the parlor maid who had been temporarily assigned to serve as Louise’s lady’s maid. Brenna, was it? Or Bridget?

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but Miss Louise and that Gagnon fellow did more than just dancin’ when they were alone in the music room.”

  “Alone?” George wanted to shake her, but Nicholas put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “She wasn’t to be alone with him! Why wasn’t someone there with them… you, for example?”

  Brenna backed away, trembling. “I’m that sorry, sir,” she managed between sobs. “I did try, but the young miss sent me to fetch things and such, and she wouldn’t be denied.”

  George had no doubt this was true. What a fool he had been to believe that his daughter would not manage to circumvent a house full of borrowed servants! After that first stunt, he should have known that only a hardened jailer would serve to deter Louise from her foolish inclinations.

  Waving away the young maid, he hastened toward his study, calling over his shoulder for Nicholas to follow him. Together, they went through the desk drawers until they found the bundle of letters of applicants for dancing master.

  “Gagnon had references from a marchioness and two countesses,” he commented, passing them over to Nicholas.

  Nicholas groaned when he saw the names. “Forgeries, all of them. I’ve never heard of any of ’em.”

  “I’m a fool,” George said quietly, covering his face with his hands. “This is all my fault. If I had permitted her to remain with her aunt, none of this would have happened.”

  Nicholas’s lips curled. “Were you not the one who scolded me for all of my self-recriminations after the accident? You should heed your own advice, man!” He picked up Gagnon’s letter of application.

  “The direction—it could be fictional or the scoundrel could have used his actual location.”

  George felt a jolt of hope go through his body. “Let us be off, then.” He pulled open a drawer, withdrew a pistol, and loaded it. “I have another in the carriage under the seat.”

  Nicholas nodded, and the two men raced out to the street.

  Louise had been walking aimlessly in the darkness for what seemed like hours, unable to trust anyone to help her after a drunken night watchman ripped off her domino and tried to put his hand down her bodice. Fortunately, his movements were highly impaired from drink and hers were not, so she tore away from his grasp and easily outran him.

  Whenever a vehicle approached, Louise learned to flatten herself against a wall or in a doorway. Pedestrians were harder to detect, unless they were drunk, but so far she had managed to avoid them as well, just in the nick of time. But dawn was already beginning to lighten up the sky, and when that happened, she would be an easy target.

  Louise had never been so afraid in her entire life. She was so tired she was sorely tempted to just curl up under a bush and sleep, hoping to awaken to find the whole debacle nothing but a horrible nightmare. Her gown was dirty and torn, revealing a great deal more of her chest than was proper, but at that point, she would have traded all that remained of her good name for a piece of bread and a cup of tea in the safety of her father’s home.

  A lump formed in the back of her throat when she thought of her father. He wasn’t a noble or even a very wealthy man, but he had always cared for and provided for his family. She recalled with tears in her eyes the happy times they had shared together as a family—the fishing trips, the picnics in the park, the riding lessons on the pony he’d bought her, the stories he had told her about the great landscapes created by Capability Brown. Her mother, she recalled, had strongly disapproved of him talking about that stage of his life. Such work, she said, was beneath him. But now, a more mature Louise was starting to understand how much her father had given up to provide for his family—and how shabbily they had treated him for not being able to provide them with the aristocratic lifestyle to which they believed they were entitled.

  Oh, Papa, I know I have been a dreadfully ungrateful daughter. If I ever see you again, I promise I will be the most devoted daughter that ever existed.

  Not a quart
er hour later, a carriage caught up with her, and she recognized her father in the open doorway, just as he flung himself out of it to pull her into his arms. Papa!

  To her shame, she was crying so hard she could not speak, and she simply pressed as close as she could to his chest, wanting only to absorb as much of his love as she could.

  Chapter 8

  For two days, Vanessa went about her daily activities mindlessly. Even her mother’s endless haranguing about how she and Mr. Durand were the talk of every drawing room in London, how she was “ruined” and her family along with her, and how in heaven’s name had the Lord above chosen to take her little brother aloft and not his useless older sister—went in one ear and out the other without pausing to fix itself anywhere in between.

  Her father, however, after a private conversation with his daughter about the events of the evening, took the extraordinary step of sending his wife to Eugenia in Hertfordshire, to keep her from “cutting up his peace,” and with the additional benefit of preventing her from fanning the flames of the situation.

  Mr. Durand had sent her a note the afternoon following the ball apologizing for the delay and promising that it would all be explained when he came to call on her the next day. Vanessa kept the note close to her, never doubting that an offer of marriage would be forthcoming, but quite concerned that it was coming too soon, that he must feel forced into marrying her, and whether or not she had manipulated the entire affair. As much as she cared for Mr. Durand and thought they would do well together, the thought of having nothing more than a “convenient marriage” suddenly did not seem like enough.

  He was a kind man, a gentleman, respectable, well able to support a wife, and he was not likely to interfere with her activities with the Foundling Hospital. Just the sort of man she’d described as the ideal husband that fateful night at Vauxhall. The night they had first met. A coincidence or a heavenly event?

  But now that she knew about his past marriage and the problems he had faced with his wife and mother-in-law—and still did face with his daughter—she found herself reluctant to propel him into a hasty marriage that he might later regret.

  Most important of all, she wanted him to love her. As she loved him, she discovered to her great surprise.

  Marriage was no longer a practical step to be decided objectively, as an escape from her mother. It would be a life shared with the man she loved, his daughter, and any children they would have. It would be an opportunity to be his helpmate, supporter, and friend, as well as lover.

  But if he didn’t return her feelings, it could be the most miserable life she could imagine.

  So when George did appear at Sedgely House requesting an interview with her father, she could not decide whether to be relieved or anxious, and thus found herself alternating between the two. When she finally was called down to the drawing room, she had checked her hair in the mirror and smoothed her clothing at least a dozen times, despite the fact that she kept reminding herself that she was a grown woman and not a silly young chit who put her appearance above everything else.

  George was waiting near the fireplace when she entered, her father nowhere in sight. He was smartly dressed, as usual, in an elaborately embroidered bottle green jacket, with a gold waistcoat and buff-colored trousers. He seemed very happy to see her, but she thought she detected a bit of anxiety as well. Not surprising, under the circumstances.

  Hastening immediately to her side, he bowed and reached for her hand to kiss it.

  “Miss Sedgely! I am certain you have wondered about the reason for my tardiness in calling upon you. I hope you will allow me to explain the reason for the delay.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Durand. I have, of course, been concerned, but not, perhaps, for the reason you think. It is my fervent hope that the reason you were called away from the ball had nothing to do with any tragic news in your family.”

  George sighed. “All is well at present, but I shall be pleased to tell you the whole of it. Shall we sit down?”

  “Oh, yes, indeed. Can I offer you tea?”

  “Perhaps later. I have been so anxious to have this conversation with you, and your reaction to it, that I find I cannot wish to have it delayed any further.”

  “Oh my.” Now she felt concerned as well. What could have possibly caused his anxiety? Surely he didn’t doubt that she would accept his proposal. Or had he decided not to propose, and that was the reason for his concern over her reaction? She smoothed her skirts yet again to keep her hands from shaking.

  “My daughter, abetted by her underhanded dancing master, decided she wished to discover for herself what went on at a Cyprians’ Ball.”

  Vanessa gasped. This was not at all what she was expecting to hear.

  His shoulders slumped. “Louise and I have been at loggerheads for weeks since I removed her from her aunt’s home. That, I suppose, is to be expected. Her resentment has, however, gone far beyond anything I could have expected.”

  And so George recounted to her both of Louise’s scandalous episodes and how she managed to escape being permanently damaged by either of them.

  “I believe her experience at the Pleasure Palace has frightened her sufficiently to give her cause to reflect before she attempts any such thing at a future time, but I can offer no guarantee of that.” He shook his head. “On each occasion, she was contrite and remorseful and promised never to consider such pranks again. And other than hiring an armed guard, I do not know how to prevent her from her own foolishness.”

  Vanessa instinctively rose from her seat to sit next to him on the settee and take her hands in his.

  “I’m so sorry, George. She must be a very unhappy child. But a fortunate one to have such a devoted father.”

  He grimaced. “A very inept one, unfortunately.”

  “A single man raising a daughter must find it very difficult.”

  He gave a wry smile. “It is indeed. But now I find myself in an awkward position. Having come with a much more pleasant objective, I fear that you will misconstrue my motives.”

  Going down on one knee, he took her hand and looked directly into her eyes.

  “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Vanessa? Not because I have a daughter who needs a mother, nor because it is owed to you after our very public kiss at the ball, but because I admire you and love you and would be overjoyed if you would consider sharing my—our—lives.”

  Heat radiated through Vanessa’s core. She was happy and yet…

  “Dear George, do get up. Of course I will marry you, but—are you sure? Do you not think it too soon?”

  He let out a huge breath, his eyes locked on Vanessa’s. “Too soon to know I love you? I think I fell in love with you that first night, at Vauxhall. But fool that I am, I did not want to admit it. I am considerably older, you know, and I thought you could look much higher. But you didn’t seem put-off by it, and I finally decided I should be a fool to allow such a minor thing to separate us. But are you completely certain, my dear? In a few years—hopefully a very few—Louise will be married, and I will be a grandfather. How shall you like being a grandmother so soon?”

  Vanessa laughed. “So long as you do not consider my youth to be an impediment, I find I can bear the thought of being a grandmother quite cheerfully.”

  He removed to the settee to take her in his arms and kiss her thoroughly, leaving Vanessa with no thought but that he did indeed hold her in great affection.

  At the sound of a throat clearing, they broke apart.

  “Mr. Sedgely ordered tea,” said the housekeeper, trying to keep a straight face.

  “Oh, of course,” said Vanessa, still flushed from the kiss. “Would you like some, George? Milk? Sugar?” Her indulgent papa had not lost all sense of propriety, it seemed.

  They drank their tea, aware that there were eyes on them from outside the open door.

  “When should you like the wedding, my dear Vanessa? I suppose you would prefer St. George’s?”

  Vanessa set her cup d
own on the side table. “As to that, I think we should consider postponing the wedding a bit.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “Do you think that wise? Considering the-uh- what happened at the ball?”

  She rolled her eyes. “The wagging tongues? We shall announce our betrothal and not give them another thought. No doubt some other scandal will come to light before long, and they will forget all about us and our public kiss.”

  He chuckled. “I won’t forget about it.”

  “Nor I,” she agreed, her gaze focused on his lips. Ever mindful of their audience, however, Vanessa finally looked away, clearing her throat.

  “I should like for Louise and me to become better acquainted before I am thrust on her as a stepmother. If she will allow it, I should like to spend more time with her. As a friend, as well as future parent, doing such things as making calls, shopping, strolling through the park, that sort of thing.”

  “And I could escort the two of you to the opera or the theatre? A lovely plan indeed, Vanessa dear.”

  “I wonder if she would consider working with me at the Foundling Hospital. I believe she found it of great interest when she visited last, and I think associating with the children will have a settling effect on her.”

  George’s eyes danced. “Exactly what I was thinking! I declare I must be the luckiest man that ever existed, to have a helpmate—or future one, at least—who shares my sentiments so closely.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “But when shall we be married, my sweet? I shan’t wish to wait too long, you know.”

  Vanessa bit her lip. “No, not too long. Perhaps Christmastide—no, I am committed to the Haverford house party—you and Louise are going as well, are you not?”

  She stood up and began to pace back and forth. “Let us follow our plan for three months and, if all goes well, announce the date of our marriage—to be decided with Louise’s input—at the charity ball on New Year’s Eve.”