Page 24 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous (Matchmaking Mischief Makers #2)
“No, you said that we would have to be silent until Mr. Rothbury returns to London and we can hopefully learn something about Venetia’s family history.
But inaction is not natural to me, Caroline.
As it is not natural to you.” He shrugged helplessly, his fingers tightening around his glass.
“Of course I appear distracted. I am nearly wrung out with distraction.” He lowered his voice.
“I love you, Caroline. I cannot act as if my heart belongs to another.”
“No, well, you’re not doing a very good job at it, I’m pleased to note.
” Caroline managed a wry smile while it took all her willpower not to cup his clenched jaw in the palm of her hand.
“But in the meantime, you can’t renege, and neither can Venetia, without a scandal.
We just have to wait until we’ve spoken to Mr. Rothbury. ”
“Of all the inconvenient times to leave London,” Henry muttered before sending Caroline an almost desperate look.
“Do you think there really might be truth in your maid’s claims that Mr. Rothbury was bailiff to Venetia’s father and grandfather?
And that he might know something that would help?
As you yourself said, Mr. Rothbury would have been but a boy.
What would he know after all this time?”
Caroline drew in a difficult breath. “He’s the best hope we have.”
“And are you sure it’s a good idea not to tell Venetia about… us?”
Caroline closed her eyes. The conundrum was very real. “Poor Venetia seems almost numbed by shock. I don’t know if it would register. Or, if it would make a difference,” she finally admitted. “Anyone is better than Windermere, and she likes you which perhaps, for her, is enough.”
“Oh, Caroline, you know your friend could never wed me if she knew you and I were in love,” Henry said with renewed energy. “I think you should tell her.”
“Or you should,” said Caroline, just as Venetia turned her head in her direction and took a step closer as Caroline’s mother engaged another in conversation.
“Are you enjoying the evening, Caroline?” Venetia asked. “You don’t seem to be.” Her own expression was hardly joyful. Not for one who was betrothed to the most wonderful man in the entire world.
“Of course. Are you?”
“Am I enjoying the evening?” Venetia repeated slowly, as if she truly were teasing out the question.
“Why, I have so much to be grateful for. For a start, the most wonderful friends a young lady could have.” Her eyes were moist as she put her hand on Caroline’s arm.
“You and Henry have risked reputations and lives for my sake. And—”
Before she could finish, a disturbance near the entrance rippled through the room. Heads turned, the buzz of conversation faltering momentarily.
“My, look at that young lady. How very how odd,” Venetia murmured as she frowned towards the doorway.
Caroline, too, was trying to make sense of the growing volume of murmurs but could discern nothing due to the crowd.
When a nearby group dispersed, she saw that a young lady, unaccompanied, and striking in pale-blue sarsenet with pearls threaded through her dark hair, had just crossed the threshold into the ballroom.
But, of course, the reason everyone was murmuring in scandalized whispers was that the young lady appeared to be unchaperoned and in clear distress.
“Who is that?” asked Venetia, turning first to Caroline and then her mother.
“I’ve never seen her in my life,” said Lady Weston.
“What did she say?” Caroline put her head closer to Venetia’s, who answered with a frown, “She appears to be looking for someone.”
The fact that Caroline had never laid eyes upon her was somewhat unusual. Really, there were very few people she did not recognize these days at the endless dreary balls she was forced to attend.
It hadn’t always been like that. Not so long ago, she was filled with eager anticipation prior to every event where she might see Henry.
She hadn’t thought the reason was that she loved him.
No, she thought only of the fun they would have together.
Of the way he excited her senses as they whispered foolishly disparaging comments about their fellow dancers when engaged in a cotillion together.
Now Henry was to wed another. Except that Caroline and Henry would uncover the mystery surrounding Windermere’s villainy before a wedding took place. All would be made clear, and once the pieces fell into place, Lord Windermere would be exposed for the villain he was.
Caroline slanted a look at Lord Windermere from over her mama’s shoulder and saw that he was eyeing Venetia. Still! His predatory gaze made her skin crawl.
For the tiniest fraction of a second, it occurred to her that if he did indeed succeed in whisking Venetia off with him a second time—and marrying her—then Henry and Caroline could marry one another after all.
But the moment she acknowledged the thought, she angrily dismissed it. What kind of friend would that make her? And after all she’d done already. Events, she acknowledged, which had shown her how much she loved Henry… without knowing it.
No, if she and Henry weren’t able to learn the truth about Lord Windermere, then somehow Henry must find a way to graciously withdraw from their betrothal so they could all be happy.
Though, she acknowledged, it wouldn’t really make Venetia happy to be without a husband with a fourth season looming, which would make her an old maid and condemn her to being handmaiden to Aunt Pike.
“Miss Caroline, I do beg your pardon.” It was Mr. Rothbury, apologizing for having bumped against her as he passed by.
“Mr. Rothbury! You’re back!”
It was little wonder he looked at her with as much shock as if Caroline had suggested that they take a moonlit walk by the lake. Alone. For Caroline’s words had carried a warmth that clearly had taken her own mama by surprise.
Blushing furiously, the young gentleman first acknowledged Lady Weston before saying, cautiously, “I returned from Bedfordshire this morning.”
Suddenly Caroline did not know what to say, though her mind churned feverishly. She could hardly demand if her maid was correct in her claims that Mr. Rothbury’s father had once dealt with the financial affairs of the late Mr. Playford.
Mr. Rothbury cleared his throat, sent a cautious look at Caroline’s mama, then said, “I hope you are enjoying this evening. I am not often at such events.”
Caroline considered this statement. She’d certainly not noticed him at many previous such events. Mr. Rothbury was such a quiet, charming, unexceptional gentleman, he was easy to overlook with his pleasant face and pleasant manners.
Unexceptional? She thought quickly. He had a modest income, but it was sufficient to keep a wife. And the reason he did sometimes appear at such events was, surely, to find a wife.
Yet, he’d certainly not be looking for an heiress.
No, surely a sweet, pretty wife who would manage the finances with good sense and who had no reputation for vanity or obvious fondness for show and fripperies would answer to his needs?
Suddenly, Mr. Rothbury appeared the answer to her dreams in more ways than one. Hopefully, he had information about Venetia’s father’s finances…
But wouldn’t he make the perfect husband for Venetia? He’d certainly shown interest before.
“I wonder if you enjoyed the performance of Much Ado About Nothing on Thursday last?” Caroline ventured, keeping her voice light.
His eyebrows shot up. Yes, it was indeed an unladylike gambit that suggested Caroline’s potential interest in him, which of course must be debunked, so hurriedly she went on, “Oh, I wasn’t there, but my dear friend Venetia mentioned she’d seen you there.”
In fact, it was Caroline and not Venetia who had attended the Shakespeare comedy in company with her mama and brother and sister-in-law, but he’d never know that.
“She did?” he asked, blushing hotly—a very good sign. He glanced across at Venetia, who was standing by Henry’s side, silent and looking as she usually did. Deeply unhappy.
“Oh yes, she spoke so highly of you after making your acquaintance last week at Lady Montague’s ball.” Caroline hesitated, glanced at Henry, then added in a whisper, “Poor Venetia is my dearest friend, and it is so sad to see how her aunt dictates her life.”
Mr. Rothbury frowned, and sent an uncertain look at Caroline’s mother, now in conversation with Mrs. Pike. Caroline took a step away, hoping Mr. Rothbury would follow. She was treading on dangerous ground and dared not risk either the older women overhearing her conversation with Mr. Rothbury.
“She does?” he asked, his expression troubled.
Caroline nodded, then dropped her voice even lower. “It is Venetia’s third season out and her aunt insists that she accept the first marriage offer that comes her way.”
Of course, this was the point at which Caroline knew she needed to find a way to gracefully end the discussion before Mr. Rothbury quizzed too deeply, and too close to the older women.
It was also the point at which fate conspired to aid her.
“Henry?”
The plaintive voice cut through the conversation, and all eyes turned towards the young lady in blue who was now making her way uncertainly across the ballroom floor.
“Henry, is that really you?” Flicking open her little ivory fan, the combination of hope, fear, and desperation in the strange woman’s expression was quite shocking.
“Why, Henry, at last!” The young lady’s voice was just a little louder than acceptable, and her English slightly accented.
Rooted to the spot, Caroline observed the exchange with the same uncertainty, it appeared, as Venetia. And everyone else.
The room seemed to hold its collective breath.
“My dear madam, I think you have me mistaken with someone else,” Henry replied, his smile bland.
By this stage, everyone in the local vicinity was gawping at the scene.
“Henry, why did you leave me after—” She broke off upon a sob. “Finally, I was told I would find you here.”