Page 4 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous (Matchmaking Mischief Makers #2)
T he following afternoon was drawing to a close and Caroline was preparing to dress for dinner when her maid appeared with a note, her usually composed face betraying obvious agitation.
“Please, miss. It’s from Miss Venetia. Her abigail gave it to me and says she is very distressed and that I must wait for an answer.”
Caroline took the note with raised eyebrows, her stomach clenching with foreboding.
Venetia was not hysterical by nature—quite the opposite.
She had matured greatly during the last couple of years, far more so than Caroline, she had to admit.
But then, Caroline was given free rein to pretty much do as she chose, while Venetia…
Having reassured her brother, Sir Frederick, of her good sense by not eloping with Mr. Greene several years before—though that had been a near thing indeed—Frederick was now so caught up in marriage and fatherhood that as long as Caroline didn’t cause a major scandal, he didn’t interfere in her day-to-day dealings.
It was a freedom she perhaps took for granted.
Of course, she did still live with her Mama who had, fortunately, made a miraculous recovery having been so ill during Caroline’s debut, which had been brought forward for fear that Lady Weston was indeed on her deathbed.
But unfortunately, it now seemed her mama wanted to exert an even more rigid parental eye over her unmarried daughter to make up for her absence when, perhaps, Caroline’s waywardness had frightened off any potential suitors.
Other than the duplicitous and now thoroughly disgraced Mr. Greene.
Venetia, by contrast, lived under the iron rule of her very exacting aunt, where every nuance of behavior was reported back to Mrs. Pike with the efficiency of a military intelligence network. The poor girl could scarcely sneeze without permission.
So Caroline now wondered whether Venetia’s letter was merely the latest cry of distress due to her aunt’s impossible strictures, or something more serious.
Quickly scanning the note, she felt the blood drain from her face.
This was no mere complaint about social restrictions.
Her hands trembling slightly, she hastily put aside the gown she was about to don before appearing for dinner in an hour and instead opted for a fashionable walking gown and a pair of sturdy half boots.
“Millie, you can tell whoever is waiting that I shall meet Venetia in the park in five minutes, but that I can’t stay long if I’m to be home in time for dinner. I will meet you at the front gate as I’ll need you to accompany me, obviously.”
So, knowing that her message was going to be relayed in half that time, Caroline was able to make a more measured progress through the house in order not to attract attention and to arrive calm and unflustered at the gate of the park which Venetia had obviously had just unlocked.
Calm and unflustered was decidedly not how her friend appeared. Spying Caroline from beneath a plane tree, Venetia virtually flew toward her and threw her arms about her neck with such force that Caroline staggered backward.
“Aunt Pike has invited Lord Windermere to dinner!” she cried, her voice high with barely controlled panic.
“I’m sure that won’t be so terrible,” Caroline soothed, though her earlier confidence was rapidly evaporating in the face of Venetia’s obvious terror. “Remember what I said. He can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“But that’s the thing!” Venetia’s grip on Caroline’s arms was almost painful.
“My maid told me she saw Aunt Pike packing some of my things in a traveling bag. When she asked her what she was doing, Aunt Pike looked a little red and reassured her it was for our visit to Bath next week. But Caroline—” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“I don’t believe we are going away next week. ”
Venetia put her hands to her face, and Caroline was alarmed to see actual tears leaking through her fingers. “I think she means for Lord Windermere to take me away tonight. She knows how resistant I am to his overtures and so she means for him to take me forcibly.”
At first Caroline was shocked by the audacity of such a suggestion, then she smiled as she put what she hoped was a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder.
“That is all rather dramatic. I’m sure there is quite a reasonable and rational explanation.
Of course, your aunt was not packing a bag to give to Lord Windermere in preparation for his kidnapping you and forcing you to wed him.
That is the stuff of sensation novels and this is ordinary life. ”
But even as she spoke the words, Caroline felt doubt creeping into her mind. Mrs. Pike’s desperation to be rid of her ward was no secret, and Lord Windermere… well, he made her skin crawl.
Venetia shook her head violently. “You don’t know my aunt as I do.
You don’t know—sometimes I think she is quite mad with resentment, and I truly believe Lord Windermere has persuaded her that he would be doing us both a favor by taking me off her hands.
” She shuddered so violently that Caroline instinctively drew her closer.
“Maybe he’s involved in something terrible—perhaps he means to sell me, or worse. ”
Coming from her normally sensible friend, Caroline almost laughed before she quickly sobered. The fear in Venetia’s voice was all too real. “Oh my, I truly thought you were being overly dramatic. But you aren’t, are you?”
“I am not, because I know in my very bones that something terrible is about to happen to me, and I have no one in the world to help me except for you.” Venetia grasped Caroline’s hands with desperate strength.
“You would help me, wouldn’t you, Caroline?
” she pleaded. “You would rescue me if it turned out I was not wrong?”
“Well, of course I would!” Caroline declared without hesitation, though her mind was already racing ahead to the practical impossibilities.
“But my dear Venetia, I must return for dinner, otherwise Mama will send out a search party.” With a final reassuring squeeze she added, “You only have to send me a note, and I will be there!”
But that did not seem to satisfy her friend. “Caroline, he will be here tonight. What if I am right and he tries to force me tonight? What if by tomorrow it’s too late?”
Caroline thought for a moment, studying her friend’s pale, frightened face. The idea that there was even a grain of truth in Venetia’s fears seemed quite ludicrous, yet… “I will have someone on standby to respond at the earliest,” she said finally. “Now I really must go.”
Poor Venetia. As Caroline sat through dinner with her mama, mechanically responding to her remarks while her thoughts churned, she realized the girl really did need a champion. Someone like kind Mr. Rothbury—though he seemed far too mild to be of use in an actual crisis.
Though, if Venetia really were in danger, as she suggested, perhaps this would be a good test of the young man. He did appear rather dull and ineffectual, but perhaps learning that Venetia was at risk of being forced to marry against her will would prompt him into action.
Her thoughts kept circling back to Henry. He would know what to do. He always did. But Henry was dining at his club tonight, and even if she could reach him…
The pudding was just being cleared away when a tap on her shoulder by one of the serving maids was the precursor to a screwed up piece of paper being dropped in her lap. Caroline’s heart began to pound even before she unfolded it.
“Caroline! Are you listening to me?” her mother snapped. “You have contributed very little all evening. And your attention is certainly not where it should be. Is there something I should know?”
“Not at all, Mama,” Caroline reassured her, fighting to keep her voice steady as she glimpsed the desperate scrawl.
“I beg your pardon. I had not meant to be rude, for you are generally more inclined to scold me when my tongue runs away from me rather than when I am quietly occupied by my thoughts.”
She rose, for fortunately dinner appeared to be at an end. Regardless of her strictures, her mama appeared to be more occupied with a worsening megrim than with her daughter’s behavior and wished to go immediately to her bed.
Back in her bedchamber, Caroline smoothed the crumpled note with shaking hands, her heart lurching as she read Venetia’s desperate words: “He is here. The carriage waits. Aunt insists I travel with him tonight to his country estate. She says it’s proper as we’re to be married within the week.
Help me, Caroline! I beg you—there is no one else! ”
Caroline’s mouth went dry, and her heart pounded even harder. Her earlier dismissal of Venetia’s fears now felt not just foolish but potentially catastrophic. She rose and began to pace.
If this were truly happening—and clearly it was—there was no time to waste. Mr. Rothbury would be of no use now, even if she could locate him. This required immediate, decisive action.
But what? What could she, a mere girl of twenty with no experience beyond the drawing room, do to help her dearest friend?
And then, like a bolt of lightning, she remembered Henry’s quick thinking during her own near-disaster.
How he’d adopted the guise of a postilion in order to escape notice on the post chaise that Mr. Greene had ordered to whisk Caroline to the Scottish border.
Henry had been prepared for anything, even willing to risk scandal and arrest to protect her.
The memory sent a stab of longing through her chest. If only Henry were here now! But he wasn’t, and time was slipping away like sand through her fingers.
What did it matter that Caroline was a girl? Her slender frame might even be an advantage in disguise. And if Henry could transform himself for her sake, surely she could do the same for Venetia’s.