Page 28 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous (Matchmaking Mischief Makers #2)

“What wicked thing did your brother supposedly do when he went to the Continent?” Amelia asked with a smile, her needle pausing mid-stitch. “Rumors do have a habit of taking on a life of their own when left unchecked.”

“Everyone says Frederick was quite the man about town before he settled down with you,” Caroline said, surprised. “And I can’t believe that of Henry.”

“I can’t either, but what do you really know?

” Amelia asked. “About either of them, for that matter. And what if Frederick was a man about town? It’s not like he misbehaved after I met him.

So, if Henry behaved in a way that occasions embarrassment, I maintain the same thing.

This was all before he was betrothed to Venetia.

” She bent her head to study her embroidery, teasing out a stitch that had snagged.

“I’ve no doubt Venetia will forgive him.

I’m sure it was all just a misunderstanding.

” She leaned back, her smile expansive. “Those two are made for one another. Anyone can see it. Henry’s so vibrant and Venetia’s so sweet.

” She resumed her stitching. “I’m sure it’ll all blow over before their wedding. ”

Venetia. Again.

But then her sister-in-law hesitated, her hand poised in the air, holding the needle above the hardanger as if it were a weapon, ready to strike.

“Except that it does appear a little more serious,” Amelia went on in quite a different tone, as if she’d not just spent the past few minutes reassuring Caroline.

“I’m hearing it from various quarters now, even though I don’t go about as much as before.

” Gently putting her embroidery aside, she reached out a hand.

“I know how fond you are of Henry, but this must be especially painful for Venetia. The integrity of the man she is to marry is being questioned.”

Caroline jerked back. She really didn’t know what to say. Integrity? Henry was a man of the highest integrity. Surely Amelia was not questioning that?

Then another thought intruded. Cautiously, she asked, “Do you refer to… his sudden betrothal to Venetia and how that might have compromised people’s belief in Henry’s… integrity?”

Amelia shrugged. “Well, there is that, though of course, he acted honorably in a timely enough manner to satisfy all parties.” She twitched the fabric of her skirts as if the topic made her uncomfortable, then went on, “I know how you’ve always championed Henry.

Frederick has spoken often of the childhood bonds you two have, so I understand that you are very anxious to ensure that Henry and Venetia’s marriage go ahead without the further scandal of what happened last night with this… strange noblewoman from abroad.”

Caroline swallowed with difficulty. In fact, it took all her willpower to prevent herself from revealing her true thoughts on her feelings regarding Henry and Venetia’s supposedly happy union.

“I don’t believe this story about a foreign princess,” she said stolidly.

“I think it’s a fabrication to harm Henry. ”

“Good lord, Caroline, your sentiments echo mine, of course!” Amelia raised an eyebrow.

“And your loyalty commends you, but where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

I’m not suggesting Henry did anything wrong.

But clearly this stems from something he has done.

” She sighed. “I think the sooner Henry and Venetia wed and go on a Continental honeymoon while this all blows over, the better.”

Caroline rose. What could she say to Amelia that didn’t compromise herself?

At the doorway, she paused, her hand resting on the polished wood. “Would you do one kindness for me, Amelia?” she asked.

“I would do a hundred if they were not unreasonable,” Amelia said with a smile. “You are my favorite sister-in-law, after all.”

“And the only one, so cultivating my good heart is a wise tactic,” Caroline said, grinning. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “Please, would you speak to this supposed mysterious noblewoman?”

“Why, Caroline, I wouldn’t know where to begin to find her.” Amelia’s eyes widened with surprise.

“She obviously could not leave last night without an escort and my guess is that Mrs. Pike might know something about where to take her home.” Caroline’s tone dripped scorn and Amelia nodded, her expression thoughtful.

“Of course,” she said. “It is hardly an unreasonable request and, now that you’ve laid it out plainly, it should not be difficult to ascertain at least something of the motivations of this young lady.”

“Or those who contrived for her to do as she did last night,” Caroline’s voice hardened.

Amelia smiled. “You really do believe in the grand conspiracy, do you not, my dear?”

Caroline nodded. “And you, with your greater years and wisdom, are just the one to reassure me. I look forward to hearing your opinion on the matter, after you consider this woman’s responses.”

*

So, while Caroline waited for Amelia to do her investigative work, she needed to find Henry and reassure him.

And, although it took some effort and subterfuge, Caroline was becoming increasingly adept at what it took to make secret investigations.

She’d sent her maid, Beth, to enquire of one of the maids at Henry’s London residence where he would be that day.

So, now Caroline was adjusting her bonnet, using the movement to scan the crowded Great Room at Somerset House.

The exhibition hall buzzed with conversation, the air heavy with perfume and the smell of wool dampened by the light rain outside.

Her companion, Mrs. Watts, was already engrossed in studying a particularly florid portrait hung at eye level while consulting her exhibition catalog with great concentration.

Finally, Caroline spotted Henry’s tall figure near Turner’s Temple of Jupiter Panellenius , which hung well above the line.

He stood alone, hands clasped behind his back, neck craned as he studied the artist’s dramatic use of light and shadow.

Perfect. Even from a distance, she could see the tension in his shoulders.

Poor Henry was under pressure from all sides these days.

Caroline hesitated, weighing up the best approach.

Her mama, who had agreed that morning to accompany Caroline to see the exhibition at Somerset House, had cried off at the last moment claiming another megrim.

For a tense half an hour, Caroline had feared this vital opportunity to apprise Henry of developments was about to be swept away from her.

Her final gambit, however, had succeeded. When Caroline had declared that her painting master had strongly encouraged her to study a range of Constables to assist her with her work in progress, her mama had reluctantly agreed that Caroline could go.

But with Mrs. Watts as chaperone.

Painting was the one accomplishment her mama seemed happy to indulge more than usual.

Now, Mrs. Watts, who was a friend of her mama’s, loved gossip.

In fact, she reveled so much in every little on dit that Caroline was prepared to bet that Mrs. Watts would be willing to set propriety aside—to a degree—in order to be the first one in the know.

Keeping Henry’s beloved form in her sights, Caroline maneuvered herself between her chaperone and a group of chattering young ladies.

“Why, there is Mr. Ashworth!” she said casually, her heart beating faster despite her calm exterior.

“You know he and I are childhood friends. I really must demand that he enlighten me regarding that peculiar business last night with the Hungarian princess—or whoever she really is.”

Mrs. Watts’s eyes widened with interest, her mouth forming a perfect o of surprise. “Such a scandal! And that poor Miss Playford to whom he is betrothed.” She cast Caroline a dubious look as her charge took a step towards the young man under discussion, her bonnet ribbons quivering with indecision.

Caroline sent her an artful smile. As all London was buzzing with the scandal, her mother would never have allowed Caroline anywhere near Henry.

But Caroline knew her chaperone’s weakness.

She sighed heavily, the picture of concerned friendship.

“Yes, poor Venetia. Mr. Ashworth’s betrothed is one of my dearest friends, and she knows there must be some misunderstanding.

” Time was slipping away, but Caroline tried not to let her agitation show.

Henry did not know she was here, and she was very much afraid he’d leave the building before she had a chance to speak to him.

The crowd shifted around them, constantly threatening to obscure her view.

“You are also acquainted with his betrothed?” Mrs. Watts looked interested, leaning closer. “Where is the young lady?”

“I do not know,” Caroline said. “I think I must ask Mr. Ashworth.” And without waiting for final permission, she nodded at Mrs. Watts and slipped into the crowd.

She’d find some sop to appease the woman later.

Quickly, Caroline made her way through the crush, careful to keep her pace measured despite her urgency. As she drew closer, she saw the moment Henry sensed her presence. His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn, his profile sharp against the brightly lit painting.

“I must say, Mr. Ashworth,” she said, pitching her voice to carry just far enough, “Turner’s technique is incomparable. Such dramatic light effects.”

He turned then, and she saw the flash of pleasure in his eyes before he schooled his features into polite interest. The strain of recent events had left shadows beneath his eyes, but his smile was genuine. “Miss Weston. How unexpected. Are you enjoying the exhibition?”

“Indeed.” She moved to stand beside him, tilting her head back to study the painting.

Their shoulders nearly touched, the proximity sending a flutter through her stomach.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs. Watts had found a companion of her own—Mrs. Bellworth, another determined art enthusiast. They were deep in discussion over their catalogs, heads bent together like conspirators.

“The way Turner uses light here,” Caroline continued, keeping her voice low, “creates the most wonderful illusion. Just like what happened last night. I suspect your mysterious lady in blue is not a foreign princess, after all.” The murmur of the surrounding crowd provided a shield for their conversation.

Henry’s hand tightened on his catalog. “Is that what you think?” He swallowed, his throat working. “Just as long as you don’t think she is anything to me, Caroline.”

“Indeed not, Henry. No, I believe last night was someone’s very concerted attempt to embroil you in scandal.

” Caroline pretended to consult her catalog, the printed words swimming before her eyes.

“And, of course, Lord Windermere is behind this entire charade. He means to destroy your reputation so he can step in as Venetia’s savior. ”

“But where do I find proof? And why does he want to wed penniless Venetia?” Henry’s voice was tight with suppressed anger. Then he sighed, his breath warm against her cheek as he leaned closer. “And why tell me this when surely you’d prefer my engagement to Venetia be broken?”

“Not at the expense of your good name.” Caroline turned a page, though her eyes saw nothing.

“Last night I studied the man when he didn’t think he was being watched.

I saw who he spoke to—Mrs. Pike, amongst others—and I saw how Windermere looked at Venetia.

Like a predator eyeing prey. Venetia is my dearest friend.

I would not sacrifice her only to save you.

Both must be achieved. You who are caught in the middle of this horror which unfolded so recently must be reeling.

But I have more distance and the time to consider the matter.

Yes, Lord Windermere is behind this—with Mrs. Pike’s collusion—and we must find a way to expose him while preserving your reputation and ensuring Venetia’s safety. ”

“The difficulty being that any attempt I make to defend myself will look like exactly that—mere defense against truth.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, betraying his frustration.

They moved to the next painting, maintaining their facade of artistic appreciation.

The canvas before them depicted a stormy seascape, the turbulent waters mirroring their own tumultuous circumstances.

Caroline noticed Mrs. Watts glancing their way and dutifully raised her catalog, pointing to a detail in the corner.

“What we need,” she said, “is for the false princess herself to confess,” she whispered.

“And how would we do that?” Henry asked. “If, as you suspect, Windermere is backing her, he’s paying her.” A gentleman nodded to Henry as he passed, and Henry returned the greeting with admirable composure.

“Then offer her more.” Caroline smiled, a plan forming in her mind.

“I’ve petitioned my sister-in-law to pay the woman a visit.

She will first need to seek out Mrs. Pike, who, I am sure, would like to deny all knowledge, but I suspect she cannot.

” She shrugged. “If Amelia can locate her, then surely we can discover who is putting her up to this. And why? And then we still have to speak to Mr. Rothbury.”

“And then there’s Barnaby.” Henry’s voice dropped even lower. “His claims about financial irregularities trouble me deeply. Charlotte is torn between us. I truly cannot believe it.”

“One step at a time,” Caroline murmured. “First the actress, then we follow the money. That talk of you taking money from your father’s accounts to pay this woman’s brother was surely just that… Talk!”

“Caroline—” Henry checked himself, because they were still in public. “Miss Weston. I don’t know how to thank you.” His eyes held hers for a moment longer than propriety allowed, conveying what words could not.

“Then don’t. Just be careful. Windermere is dangerous, and Mrs. Pike is firmly in his pocket, though we will discover why.” She closed her catalog. “I should rejoin Mrs. Watts before she notices our conversation has lasted rather longer than a proper discussion of Turner’s technique might warrant.”

“Of course.” He bowed slightly, the gesture bringing him momentarily closer. “I thank you for your artistic insights, Miss Weston. They’ve been most… illuminating.”