Page 1 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous (Matchmaking Mischief Makers #2)

“M e? Frivolous?” Miss Caroline Weston’s obvious objection to the term rang across Devonshire House’s grand ballroom, which she immediately followed up with a peal of laughter that made several nearby dowagers turn with narrowed eyes.

Eugenia, Lady Townsend, winced as she watched the spectacle from her position beside a marble column.

“Yet another example of that chit’s gross lack of decorum,” Eugenia’s friend, Lady Pendleton muttered from her seat opposite her, her crimson turban bobbing with disapproval. “That gel will never find a husband if she continues to behave like a hoyden.”

“She will not,” Eugenia agreed, albeit with grudging admiration as she watched Miss Weston cross the ballroom, golden ringlets escaping her elegant coiffure, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Behind her trailed her friend Miss Venetia Playford, and it was this contrast that caught Eugenia’s attention.

While Caroline was all bright energy, the equally striking, golden-haired Miss Playford moved with the careful restraint of someone perpetually under scrutiny.

“Miss Playford seems subdued this evening,” Eugenia observed. “Not at all like the spirited girl from your Ghostly Gathering two years ago.”

“She, at least, has learned how to behave,” Lady Pendleton replied crisply. “Unlike her bosom friend.” Her pointed look returned to Caroline, who was now attempting to engage a marble statue in conversation, to the horror of nearby matrons. “I hope her mama—Oh!”

Eugenia turned her gaze to that which had caused Lady Pendleton’s now interested look, and then she, too, drew in her breath. Despite herself, her gloved fingers pressed to her throat where her pulse had begun to race.

“My, my, the adventurer returns. I did not know Lord Thornton was back in town.” Lady Pendleton’s remark was almost drowned out by the ripple of whispers that swept through the crowd.

For, indeed, Lord Thornton cut an impressive figure in evening black, framed in the entrance of the double doors that had just been opened to announce him.

“At last, the evening becomes interesting. I haven’t seen Thornton since that hot-air balloon escapade of yours,” Lady Pendleton went on, adding with evident satisfaction, “Ah, he is coming this way.”

Eugenia, for her part, was tongue-tied and hoped her fiery blushes did not give her away as Thornton approached with that devastating smile Eugenia remembered from her debutante days. In all the decades since, it had never failed to make her heart race.

Now he stood before them, bowing gracefully, a little grayer at the temples but just as handsome. “My dear Eugenia. Lady Pendleton. You both look radiant.”

“Flatterer,” Lady Pendleton replied, though she preened. “So good to see you back in England. Sit and tell us of your adventures. We heard tales of elephants and exotic princesses.”

“All greatly exaggerated, I assure you.” His eyes twinkled as he accepted the seat Eugenia indicated. “Though I confess, after two years of diplomatic tedium, even London’s drawing rooms seem thrilling.”

Eugenia was about to respond when another burst of laughter drew their attention. Miss Weston had somehow procured a serving tray and was curtsying elaborately before a group of gentlemen, offering them imaginary delicacies with such theatrical flair that even the stiffest among them were smiling.

“That child will be the death of her poor mother,” Lady Pendleton declared.

Lord Thornton raised his eyebrows. “I remember her as a spirited lass when she first drew our attention at your Ghostly Gathering, Lady Pendleton.”

“However, her particular friend seems much altered.” Eugenia nodded toward Miss Venetia Playford, who stood apart, accepting refreshments with downcast eyes while her aunt, Mrs. Pike, hovered nearby. As usual, the older woman radiated disapproval.

Lady Pendleton sniffed. “I was remarking earlier at how pleasing it is to see that Miss Playford, at least, has learned how to deport herself with proper ladylike grace. Mrs. Pike has been most successful in teaching her niece grace and refinement.”

Eugenia studied the pair more closely. Was it good manners that accounted for Miss Playford’s apparent grace and refinement?

Or was it fear?

She frowned. Mrs. Pike’s watchfulness seemed less protective than predatory.

“Indeed, the girl appears greatly diminished from my memories of her from two years ago,” Thornton observed.

“Nonsense.” Lady Pendleton waved a dismissive hand. “She’s simply learned to conduct herself as befits her station. One cannot be a penniless ward and expect to carry on like—” She gestured toward Caroline.

“Penniless?” Thornton’s brow furrowed. “I thought the Playfords were well-situated.”

“Not anymore,” Lady Pendleton replied, with the satisfaction of one privy to insider knowledge. “The father gambled away the family fortune before his death. Poor Mrs. Pike has made great personal sacrifices to provide for her niece these past twelve years.”

Eugenia watched Mrs. Pike’s thin smile as she steered Venetia away from a group of laughing young people toward a corner where Lord Windermere waited. Something cold settled in her stomach.

“How fortunate then,” she said carefully, “that Lord Windermere appears interested in Miss Playford’s welfare.”

“Indeed!” Lady Pendleton brightened. “Wouldn’t that be a most advantageous match for a girl in her circumstances? Mrs. Pike is beside herself with joy that he has taken such a particular interest in her niece.”

“And Miss Playford?” Eugenia asked. “Is she equally joyful?”

They all looked toward the corner where Windermere was bending over Venetia’s hand with possessive attention. The girl’s face was carefully blank, but Eugenia caught the almost imperceptible way she leaned away from him.

“She’ll learn to be grateful,” Lady Pendleton said firmly. “A girl with no dowry cannot afford to be particular.”

Thornton’s expression had grown thoughtful. “Windermere seems unusually determined in his pursuit. I confess I am surprised at his interest…given what I know of his character.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Lady Pendleton enquired.

Thornton shrugged. “With no disrespect intended towards Miss Playford, I would have imagined he’d have set his sights higher.”

Lady Pendleton considered this a moment. “Lord Windermere has one of the finest estates in Gloucestershire. No doubt he is in London because he wants a sweet, obedient chit of a girl to wed. And Miss Playford suits, because money is not a requirement.”

Eugenia felt that cold sensation spread, but before she could probe further, Caroline’s voice rang out again as she swept past their group in pursuit of some new amusement. This time, however, she wasn’t alone—she’d collected Venetia along the way.

“Come, dearest Venetia,” Caroline declared loudly enough for half the room to hear, “you simply must see Lady Harcourt’s new necklace. The emeralds are nearly as large as turtle eggs!”

For the first time that evening, Venetia smiled—a real smile that transformed her pale features. But as they passed Mrs. Pike, the older woman stepped smoothly into their path.

“Venetia, dear.” The honeyed tone was at odds with the look in her eye. “Lord Windermere wishes to escort you to the supper table.”

“Actually,” Venetia said, and Eugenia was pleased to hear a spark of defiance in her voice, “Caroline wishes me to visit her tomorrow so we are going to speak to her mama—”

“Impossible,” Mrs. Pike cut her off with a sharp smile. “You are promised elsewhere tomorrow. Come along now.”

With that, she steered Venetia firmly toward Windermere, who received them with the satisfaction of a hunter claiming his prize.

Eugenia watched Venetia’s shoulders droop in defeat and felt something fierce kindle in her chest. This would not do. Not if she could help it.

“Thornton,” she said suddenly, “what would you say to another wager?”

He turned to her with interest. “Upon what would you wager?”

“Miss Playford’s future.” Eugenia kept her voice light, but her resolve was iron. “I propose that true affection will triumph over mere convenience—regardless of pecuniary desperation.”

Lady Pendleton gasped. “Eugenia! You cannot be serious! The girl is penniless and a charge upon Mrs. Pike’s purse. She has no choice in the matter!”

“Everyone has a choice,” Eugenia replied quietly. “Sometimes they simply need someone to help them see it.”

Thornton smiled. “You want to see Miss Playford escape Windermere’s clutches? You truly believe she does not wish to wed a man with a title or have the opportunity to run a magnificent estate with no financial cares in the world?”

“I believe,” Eugenia said carefully, watching as Venetia cast one longing glance toward Caroline before being steered away, “that young Venetia would wish to assert her right to wed a man who would make her happy .”

“And you are confident that Miss Playford does not believe Lord Windermere is capable of making her happy?”

“I believe she knows he will not make her happy,” replied Eugenia. “And I believe that she has enough strength of will to assert her desire to wed a man of her choosing … regardless of what scheming aunts and predatory lords might prefer.”

Thornton’s smile was admiring. “And if she doesn’t? If Windermere claims his prize?”

Eugenia’s heart skipped, but she kept her voice steady. “Then the Persephone is yours.”

“Ah.” His eyes gleamed. “The painting you’ve guarded so jealously. And if you’re right?”

“Then you’ll owe me a favor of my choosing.”

From across the room, Caroline’s laughter rang out again—irrepressible, joyful, free. And suddenly Eugenia knew exactly what favor she would ask for, should she win.

“Agreed. We will decide the terms at a later date,” Thornton said, and the warmth in his voice sent shivers down her spine. “In the meantime, let the game begin.”

But as Eugenia watched Venetia being led away like a lamb to slaughter, she knew this was no game. A young woman’s happiness—perhaps her very life—hung in the balance.

And Eugenia intended to make sure that fortune and success, in this instance, favored not the powerful and predatory, but the weak and deserving.