Page 13 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous (Matchmaking Mischief Makers #2)
H enry stared, frozen, as Venetia’s words sank in. The single candle in the room guttered in a draft. Shadows danced across Venetia’s worried face while, outside, the wind had picked up, rattling the ill-fitted window in its frame.
“That was… Caroline? Flash was Caroline?” he repeated, his voice cracking, while Venetia tugged urgently at his arm. His mouth had gone dry, his heartbeat thundering in his ears like a galloping horse.
“Yes, and I’ve tried so hard to tell you, but you have to go back. Now,” she said, her breath hitching.
Of course, he had no option, but his stomach roiled with horror and fear as to what might have happened to his dear friend in the meantime. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight as he paced the small confines of the room.
Caroline would surely not be where he left her, he thought as he went through all the alternatives, each worse than the last.
What if Windermere had discovered her? What if he’d discovered she was a woman?
Or her real identity? Would that bode worse for her?
After all, if he were so desperate to elope with Venetia, taking her by force, would he consider Caroline a second-best option?
She obviously came with a handsome dowry. But he’d know he couldn’t force her.
Wouldn’t he?
A log shifted in the dying fire, sending up a shower of sparks.
Windermere had powerful allies within government, while Caroline’s brother Sir Frederick had alienated some in power with his progressive ideas and sometimes outspoken stance.
Lord Windermere had friends in high places.
Friends who might turn a blind eye to a noble’s indiscretions.
“I’ll go now.” Already he was pulling on his boots, sitting on the bed, frowning while his mind raced over the best course of action. The leather was still damp from their earlier journey, cold and stiff against his skin.
He glanced up at Venetia, noting the strained pallor of her face in the candlelight.
“What will you do, Venetia? You have to stay here. Alone and unchaperoned. Oh Lord.” He sank his head in his hands a moment when the second boot was on, the weight of his dual responsibility pressing down on him.
“What have I done to you and your reputation?”
“You were doing the only thing you could have done. It was the most miraculous coincidence that you crossed paths with Caroline when you were alone and could come after me,” said Venetia, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“You know that she was hiding in a wooden trunk on the back of Lord Windermere’s carriage when he pushed it off and her with it.
He was going to fetch her when you arrived.
You saved her—even though you didn’t know it was her.
And after that, you did everything in your power to save me . At her behest.”
Grateful, Henry patted her hand. She was a plucky girl. Not the kind of girl who excited him from a romantic point of view. But she’d shown her true colors on this journey and instead of crumpling into a tearful heap, she’d persisted in trying to make things right.
“I wasn’t alone when I came upon Caroline. Barnaby was with me, but he elected not to follow. He didn’t believe Flash.” He grimaced, the muscles in his jaw tightening painfully. “Caroline. Oh Lord, if Barnaby were only with me now.”
“I don’t know what your sister sees in that man,” muttered Venetia. “I wouldn’t say it to her face, but she could do much better. Granted, he’s handsome and charming—when it suits him. But now you must go.”
Together, they went to the door. Wincing as the rusty hinges protested, Henry eased it open, peering cautiously into the dimly lit corridor.
“You go back to your room, Venetia, and I’ll return as soon as I can. Do you have money in case I’m delayed?”
She shook her head, and he dug in his pockets, handing her a gold coin as they stepped into the corridor.
“Good Lord! Miss Venetia Playford?”
Guiltily, they turned at the shocked aristocratic voice and found themselves looking into the scandalized eyes of Sir Gideon Gascoyne, a gentleman of advanced years who had served with Henry’s father in Parliament and whose reputation for moral rectitude was legendary in their circles.
His nightcap sat slightly askew on his balding head, and his dressing gown was belted tightly around his substantial middle.
“And Mr. Ashworth?” he went on, glancing up and down the corridor as if looking for someone who might lend legitimacy to the midnight disbursement from Henry’s bedchamber and the public exchange of money in the corridor. His spectacles glinted in the low light, magnifying his disapproving gaze.
“Sir Gideon, this is not at all what it looks like,” Henry said, striding forward, signaling over his shoulder that Venetia should go back into her room.
“I have just been called away to fix a great miscarriage of justice. I can’t explain more, but suffice to say that Miss Venetia has done nothing wrong. ”
“Cryptic, Ashworth, but my eyes did not deceive me.” Sir Gideon’s outraged tones carried loudly in the quiet corridor, despite his attempt at a whisper.
“Gideon? What is it, my dear?”
The door behind him opened with a soft creak, and the face of presumably his wife appeared, her forehead beneath her nightcap creased with curiosity. Her gray hair was plaited in a single braid that hung over one shoulder, and her eyes looked puffy as she rubbed them.
“I fear I have encountered a gross example of lax morals, and I am considering what is to be done,” said her husband, still frowning at Henry, who shook his head and raised his hands.
“Please, Sir Gideon, I can’t allow myself to be detained any further,” said Henry, bowing at Lady Gascoyne. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes as he contemplated Caroline’s increasing peril. “I must make the most of this full moon before the clouds gather. I shall return as soon as I can—”
“Young man! I recognize this child, and I know you! What would your poor father say about such conduct?” Lady Gascoyne pulled her shawl more tightly about her and focused scandalized eyes upon them, for Venetia still stood guiltily in the half-open doorway.
Caught between his duty to Caroline and his duty towards Venetia, Henry felt like sinking into the ground with shame while simultaneously galvanized into being the rescuer he must be.
Rain began to patter against the windows at the end of the corridor, a soft drumming that seemed to echo his racing heart.
Windermere was dangerous. What would he do with Caroline if he caught her—and there was a very great chance that he would have in the several hours that would have elapsed before he could get back to her?
His mind conjured an image of Caroline at Windermere’s mercy, and a cold dread settled in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. Windermere would not take kindly to discovering how he’d been deceived.
“My father… my father would fully endorse my conduct,” he faltered. “Yes, it is late, but as you see, Miss Playford and I are by no means in a compromised position.” He indicated their full dress and then realized that the disarray of Venetia’s hair hardly bolstered this statement.
Lady Gascoyne scowled, the lines on her face deepening in the shadows. “You’re Mrs. Pike’s niece, are you not?”
Venetia nodded while Lady Gascoyne contemplated the matter, her fingers worrying at the fringe of her shawl. “Penniless, are you not? Yes, I’ve heard Mrs. Pike lament the fact. She’s been your guardian for many a year. She’d be outraged by this insult to her nurture.”
As Venetia looked on the verge of tears, Henry interrupted, “With all due respect, Lady Gascoyne, Mrs. Pike is delighted by the state of affairs which is that I…” He cleared his throat, nearly paralyzed by fright at the ramification of what he was about to say.
His collar suddenly felt too tight… Like a noose. But how else could he atone to Venetia?
One hurdle at a time, his father had always told him.
And that meant ensuring Venetia’s good name held before he plunged headlong into clearing the next hurdle: rescuing Caroline.
“Have offered for the girl?” Sir Gascoyne broke in with clear relief, his bushy eyebrows lifting toward his nightcap.
“That’s what you’re trying to say, young man, is it not?
And Mrs. Pike is asleep and waiting for her niece to finish her farewell to her intended.
Is that not so? So we’ll lower our voices so as not to disturb her. ”
Henry blinked, his heart sinking even as he saw the path of least resistance open before him. The rain outside intensified. “Er… yes!”
And before he knew it, Sir Gideon was pumping his arm and Lady Gascoyne was twittering her own endorsement of the happy occasion, saying she’d be delighted to congratulate Mrs. Pike on the news when the two ladies could take tea in the parlor in the morning.
The couple’s voices seemed to come from far away, as if Henry were underwater, drowning in the consequences of his words.
“And now I must leave you all, for I do have an important mission to accomplish,” he said, his desperation rising, taking a few steps backwards, and casting an imploring look of apology towards Venetia.
“I shall be back as soon as I can to… to bear you and your aunt company home to London tomorrow.”
Finally, he escaped down the corridor, the weight of what he’d just committed to weighing on his shoulders like a physical burden. He’d essentially agreed to marry Venetia to save her reputation. Yet Caroline—his Caroline—was in even more dire straits.
Yes, Caroline’s rescue came first, he thought as he took the stairs two at a time. Then he would face the consequences of this tangle of honor and obligation that had suddenly ensnared him.
In the stables, he found the drowsy stable lad who, with the promise of another coin, quickly saddled a fresh horse. The boy’s movements were slow with sleep, each second of delay an agony to Henry.
In one fluid moment, Henry mounted, his thoughts in disarray.
He’d set out to rescue one lady in distress, only to find himself honor-bound to marry her while racing to save another—the one who, if he was honest with himself, had always held his heart in her hands, even when they were children crossing swords with sticks.
The memory of Caroline’s laugh, bright and fearless, echoed in his mind, spurring him onward.