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T iffany had hoped Wolf would be at home when she and Farah called on Ivy and Ashleigh. She’d planned to get an update on the Lord Melville situation. But he was out. Her spirits lifted when Ashleigh informed them he’d been summoned to His Grace’s house. All the men they had challenged were attending. The ladies laughed so hard… The challenge was underway.

Tiffany and Farah were there to collect items for their charity sale. Ivy said they could go through some of the ladies’ clothes. Valora had suggested they also offer some men’s clothing, as the ladies who were likely to buy at the stall might also buy for their husbands.

They spent over an hour in Ivy’s room, selecting all sorts of clothing, from gowns to petticoats, to gloves and hats. They then added the selection to Ashleigh’s pile.

Now they were in Rockwell’s wardrobe. Well, a very scant wardrobe as Rockwell had taken bachelor accommodations, away from the family townhouse.

“Are you sure Rockwell won’t mind us raiding his attire?” Farah asked. “These Hessians look as if they’ve never been worn.”

“He’s probably forgotten he even owns them,” Ivy responded.

Soon the pile of men’s gloves, cravats, waistcoats and boots had grown considerably large. Ivy left Tiffany and Farah to go in search of a trunk to put everything into.

“Look.” Farah kicked off a slipper and lifted her skirt to slide her foot into one of the Hessians. “Gosh, he has very large feet, and the boot comes all the way up my thigh.” She pulled her gown almost to her waist.

Tiffany was about to comment when a deep voice said from the doorway, “But they don’t look nearly as good on me.”

Startled, Farah tried to step out of the Hessian and instead began to fall backward. Before Tiffany could move, Rockwell sprang across the room and caught Farah before she could hit the floor. He slowly set Farah on her feet, and just like the prince in the French fairy tale Cendrillon , he reached for her slipper and, after pulling the Hessian off her leg, placed the slipper back on her foot. Tiffany couldn’t help noting Rockwell’s hands lingered longer than necessary, while Farah appeared motionless as if under his spell.

Just then Ivy appeared in the doorway. “Rockwell, what are you doing here?”

He rose slowly, all six feet of him. Farah’s face had flushed a pretty pink, while Tiffany had started breathing again.

“Silly me. I was under the impression this was still my room. And—” he gestured to the pile of his belongings “—these were my clothes.”

Ivy crossed the room and embraced her brother. “We didn’t think you’d miss a few items. We’re having a charity sale to raise money for my orphanage. You don’t mind, do you?”

Three sets of ladies’ eyes turned his way and he took a step back. “I would have preferred to have been asked, but as it’s for a good cause… But you know, Ivy, I’m happy to donate actual money if you need it.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I know, but I do like to try and do it without my two wonderful brothers’ help.”

“And when and where is this charity sale to take place?” There it was—the question Tiffany had been dreading.

Ivy, without a slip, said, “Thursday next at Reverend Smith’s hall, next to his church near Russell Square. He will be there to supervise, so don’t get all brotherly concerned.”

Tiffany waited to see if Rockwell thought the location or date odd, but he merely smiled and said, “If you ladies wish to raid Wolfarth’s room, I suggest you do it soon. He’s due home any minute to meet with me. I’d say I’ll be able to keep his attention away from his bedchamber for a good hour.”

“Any tricks on how we can get past his valet, Simpson?”

Rockwell headed for the door. “Where would be the fun in that? Good day, ladies.”

Once Rockwell had exited, silence reigned. Farah stood where she was—staring after him.

“He didn’t even blink at the date or place”, Ivy said. “I don’t think he realized it’s the same day as Mrs. Buchanan’s soiree, or that our location is very near to said event. So that’s a relief. I don’t want Wolf or any of the men putting two and two together.”

Tiffany nodded. “They will be so surprised, or appalled, when Valora and I turn up.” The ladies had decided that only two of them would attend, and as Valora was the one who most wanted this. And because she was loved by the ton , she’d be easily forgiven. Therefore, it was agreed she would go and Tiffany would accompany her. Tiffany had the least to lose if caught. Most of the ton didn’t even know who she was, although Wolf’s attentions were changing that rather too quickly for her liking.

When the ladies remained standing in the middle of the room, Ivy said, “What is the matter with you two? Come on, we have an hour to raid Wolf’s things.”

“We need the trunk,” Tiffany reminded her, barely able to hide her excitement at getting to explore the wolf’s den.

Just then a footman arrived with said trunk, and the ladies filled it with Rockwell’s things. Tiffany looked up and caught Farah sniffing one of his fine linen shirts, and she smiled. It would seem Claire knew a bit more than she let on in regard to whom each of the ladies had set their sights on. Farah and Rockwell? Farah was a timid mouse and Rockwell was larger than life. Claire couldn’t possibly imagine they were suited. Or that Rockwell would pay any attention to a woman scared to have any part of her hair out of place.

But then again, the way he’d looked at Farah when she wore his boot… Tiffany shook her head to clear the images of romance. Why was romance filling her head when she should be thinking about their investments? Wolf’s handsome face swam into her mind’s eye.

She stood just inside the door of the Marquess’s bedchamber and although calm on the outside, inside she shook. The room was vast and the huge four-poster bed drew her attention like a quill to parchment. Before she could stop herself, she moved to the bed and ran her hand over the quilt. If she married him… She swallowed hard, though whether from fear or thrill at the idea of having to sleep with him in this very bed, she wasn’t sure.

“We’re not here for quilts, although they might sell well too.”

Tiffany pulled herself together at Farah’s comment and made her way into Wolf’s dressing room, where Ivy was rifling through shirts. Tiffany wanted to copy Farah and smell one. She’d just picked up a shirt made of the finest linen when a voice said, “Ladies, is there something I can help you with?”

Ivy swung to face Wolf’s valet, Simpson, who stood in the doorway. “Well timed, Simpson. I’d like some of Wolf’s clothes for my charity auction.”

Simpson walked in and removed the shirt from Tiffany’s hands. “I shall talk with His Lordship and see what he is happy to donate.”

Ivy’s smile dimmed. “I’m sure we do not need to disturb him.”

“Disturb who?” And there he was, filling the doorway. “Ivy, what is going on? Simpson, perhaps you could excuse us for a moment.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I was hoping you’d donate some items to my charity sale.”

Wolf looked at each of the ladies in turn, then said, “Miss Tiffany and Lady Farah, perhaps you could wait for Ivy in the drawing room while we have a conversation.”

“May I have a talk with you afterward?” Tiffany asked. She wanted to learn about Melville.

Wolf nodded. “Of course. We should also discuss our painting schedule. Taylor will show you to the drawing room.”

Tiffany looked at Farah, and the two ladies sent Ivy a sympathetic look before following Wolf’s butler downstairs to the drawing room. “I’ll organize some refreshments for you,” Taylor said, and shut the door as he left.

“I hope Ivy’s not in too much trouble,” Farah said, just as Ashleigh breezed into the room. With the door open, they could hear Wolf’s raised voice from above.

“Oh dear. It would seem Wolf is not in the best of moods. It’s nothing to do with any of us, it’s my Uncle Melville. He’s apparently been gambling all around town and his creditors are asking Wolf to cover his debts.”

Tiffany sat forward. “Gambling? Debts? That goes a long way to explain…” She broke off, remembering she didn’t want the others to know of her predicament with Mr. Sprat just yet.

“What does it explain?” Ivy asked.

“Why Wolf seemed preoccupied today. I thought he’d seek me out for the painting earlier than this.” The other girls simply nodded in agreement. Shortly after, Wolf arrived with Lady Wolfarth on his arm. As his mother danced into the room, he stayed in the doorway.

“My son says he’s going to paint Miss Tiffany. How exciting for you, my dear. Of course, I shall chaperon so it’s totally respectable.”

Oh dear, thought Tiffany. That would not allow her to discuss Lord Melville with Wolf, or their wager.

“What will be the setting for the painting?” Ashleigh asked.

Wolf smiled at Tiffany. “I would like to paint Tiffany under the oak tree in the back garden. I may need your help, Ashleigh, in regards to Tiffany’s dress and…positioning. Is tomorrow at ten agreeable? It will have to be the same time every third day, I’m afraid. Can you commit to that?”

“Absolutely. Although I have no idea why you would want me as your subject. Farah or even Ivy would be more suitable.”

Wolf leaned against the drawing room door, as if too scared to enter the room full of women. He smiled as though he was keeping a secret. “I have the artist’s eye, so believe me when I say you’re exactly who I wish to paint.” Tiffany’s mouth went dry. What was he trying to tell her? “If you’ll excuse me, ladies. Rockwell is waiting for me in my study. Until tomorrow—”

“Are you not attending Lady Carthor’s ball tonight?” Ivy asked.

“Probably not.” He looked at Tiffany. “I have a business matter I need to take care of.”

Melville, Tiffany thought.

“Business at night?” Ashleigh added, but Wolf was already walking down the hall.

“Your brother works too hard,” Lady Wolfarth said.

Under her breath, Ashleigh said, “More like business with a female companion.” She looked at Tiffany. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

Tiffany remained silent. Wolf had told her he’d broken off his arrangement with Lady Delia, and one thing she respected about Wolf was his honor. He would never lie. He didn’t need to. A wealthy, handsome Marquess could do as he pleased.

Most likely he and Rockwell would go looking for Melville tonight. Tiffany tamped down her frustration. She wanted to speak to Wolf alone—before tomorrow’s painting session. Although it was risky, she would have to pay him a private visit. She just hoped she didn’t get caught, or Wolf wouldn’t need to win their share wager. She’d be forced to marry him.

And why didn’t that thought didn’t upset her at all?

*

Wolf entered the study, and Rockwell rose to pour him a drink. “Were they in your dressing room?”

“Yes. Ivy even let Tiffany and Farah rifle through my clothes. The cheek… I’d hate to think I now have to lock my bedchamber door every time I leave the house. Poor Simpson was mortified.”

“They are determined. Speaking of which, you do know the day and time and place of this charity stall? It’s Reverend Smith’s church hall in Russell Square.”

Wolf didn’t even glance up from the notes he was looking through. “And?”

“It’s the same day as Mrs. Buchanan’s soiree.”

This time his head snapped up. “I beg your pardon?”

Rockwell laughed. “It’s the same day. I hardly think it’s a coincidence, do you? They have all threatened to attend.”

“They would not dare.” But Wolf then swore under his breath. They absolutely would dare. “It would be the end for Ashleigh. Her reputation could not stand another scandal.”

Rockwell’s smile died. “Is Ashleigh the reason you are pursuing Tiffany? Did you decide to accept Marlowe’s ridiculous proposition. I cannot see Ashleigh being happy married to Fane.”

“It had crossed my mind. But no. I am not pursuing Tiffany for that reason.”

Rockwell’s smile was back. “But you are pursuing her. This new interest is a tad strange. Care to share why? Not that she isn’t a lovely young lady but… Well, she is a bluestocking. I would have thought Valora more to your taste. She reminds me of—”

“Don’t say her name.” Rockwell shook his head, a worried frown on his face. Wolf sighed. “Don’t worry about me. I will tell you the reason when I can. At the moment I am honor bound to simply say, trust me. Miss Tiffany Deveraux will suit me perfectly and will make a fine countess.”

His brother stood looking at him for a few moments. “I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy. Margo’s death wasn’t your fault. I know you blame yourself, but there was nothing you could have done. You were lucky to both get away with your lives.”

Margo hadn’t thought so. She’d killed herself two months after the incident, on their intended wedding day. And it was his fault. Changing the topic, he asked Rockwell, “I’m thinking of investing in some shares. Have you heard anything about an Armley Mill or a Park Mill?”

Rockwell cocked his head in thought. “I’ve just invested in Armley Mill. The owner is quite progressive and has been using this new merino wool. Park Mill is a sound investment too, but probably not in the long run as the owner needs to modernize and I’ve heard he’s refusing to look to the future.”

“So, in the short term Park Mill would be the better share to buy.”

“How short term?”

“Say a month from today?”

Rockwell sipped his drink. “I’m not sure, but there is more demand for Armley shares, so that might increase the price over the coming month. Investors will want to get in before the price rises if the mill’s profit forecast is met. Why this sudden interest in mills?”

“Park Mill was a recommendation from Mr. Lane.”

“Well, to ensure you spread your risk I’d also buy Armley Mill shares too.”

“Thank you.” Damn. Wolf took a long gulp of his brandy. If Tiffany won the wager… He’d have to gain her hand in marriage the old-fashioned way—seduction. He would have to make her want to become his countess. Painting her portrait should allow him the time to turn her head.

First, he needed to take care of Melville. “Have you managed to learn Melville’s habits and where he’s likely to be tonight?”

Rockwell nodded and settled back into his chair. “He’s been staying at Lord Lincoln’s townhouse. The two old codgers have been gambling like the world is about to end. I have some young urchins watching the house and they will follow the men should they leave.”

Wolf rose to his feet. “Then let’s pay Melville a visit before they leave for the night. I’d prefer to have this conversation in private.”

“And if they’ve already left?”

Wolf made for the door. “Then we drag him home and have a none too pleasant conversation with our uncle.”