Page 25

T iffany’s last missive to Mr. Sprat had resulted in no reply. She thought she’d at least get a thank you from him, for Wolf had told her he was working on the Melville problem. She wanted to know if Sprat had received the payment and whether her money was no longer at risk. But the silence was deafening. She’d talk to Wolf again today. Even with his mother in attendance, she’d find a way.

The one bright spark of the morning had been when she’d checked the Armley and Park Mills’ share prices in The Times. She was in the lead by quite some margin.

On their short walk to Wolf’s townhouse, Claire said, “Farah and Valora heard some interesting gossip at the ball last night. Apparently, the Marquess of Titchfield is building a railroad in Scotland for his coal transport. Blackstone considered investing but decided it was too risky.”

Tiffany’s mind stopped worrying about Sprat and concentrated on Claire’s news. “Railways are risky. It’s huge capital investment and the returns are slow to eventuate. I have heard of the Kilmarnock and Troon Railway. I like that the Marquess already has customers lined up to use it, and it will carry passengers as well as coal. That is forward thinking.”

Claire looked at Tiffany with admiration. “Your plan is working. The men think nothing of talking business in front of us. They really have no idea who is behind the challenge.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” Tiffany chewed her bottom lip. Wolf knew she invested. Would he guess who was behind the challenge? Perhaps he’d be too arrogant to consider that the women would issue such a challenge. “No talking about investing or business or shares in front of the men. We can’t have any of them guessing what we are up to.”

Claire nodded. “I feel the news about the location of our charity stall will keep the men otherwise engaged. Rockwell will have told Wolf and he’s not dumb. He was there when we said we wanted to go. Has he said anything to you?”

“No.” Claire looked at her. “I don’t think they have guessed. I was at his house after Rockwell asked for the details of the stall, and Wolf didn’t say anything to me or his sisters.”

“Valora might think her looks, and title of the ton diamond, will save her from the scandal of going to Mrs. Buchanan’s, but she could destroy her chances with Northbrook. After Northbrook, I can’t think of any other gentleman who would be good enough for her.”

“Fane,” stated Tiffany bluntly.

Claire shook her head. “He’ll never notice Valora. When he decides he needs an heir, he’ll marry the debutante of the season and then treat her as nothing but a glorified baby maker. His wife will lead a lonely life. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

“I think you’re being too hard on Fane. When he meets the right lady—”

“Is that what you think Wolf is doing? He’s met his right lady—you? What triggered his sudden interest in you?”

Tiffany wished she knew the answer to that question. Part of her believed that Wolf had suddenly seen her in a different light when he’d caught her at Capel Court. Maybe he liked the assertive, clever Tiffany. But the other side of her was filled with doubts. She wasn’t pretty enough for such a handsome lord. She wasn’t desirable. She wasn’t wealthy, and an alliance wouldn’t benefit Wolf at all.

Tiffany shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see how his courtship goes. He might decide we’re not well suited.” She hoped not. The minutes in his company were becoming the best parts of her day, and now, because he was painting her, she’d be in his company a lot more.

On that exciting thought, she and Claire made their way inside the house. Ivy met them and dragged them up to her bedchamber.

“Wolf has asked me to help you dress in this,” Ivy said, pointing to a glorious emerald green velvet gown on the bed.

Tiffany looked down her person. “What’s wrong with my gown?” It was her best and she thought it flattered her figure.

“Nothing. I assume Wolf has an artist’s view of what he is trying to deliver in this painting. I think the color will look amazing on you. It will really enhance the green of your eyes.”

Claire said, “I agree. Did Wolf pick the gown?” Ivy nodded. “He does have a wonderful artist’s eye for color.”

Tiffany could feel her face heat. How was she supposed to wear a gown Wolf had selected for her? It was—very personal. Still, before she could think on it for too long, she reached out to stroke the beautiful, seductive fabric. “I did agree to sit for him and if this is his vision, then who am I to argue,” Tiffany declared, and she began to undress.

Her two friends stood silently in surprise as she turned toward them in the glamorous gown. “You are shining with light, like a gemstone,” Ivy said wistfully.

Her reward for her bravery was the stunned look on Wolf’s face as she made her way across the grass to where his easel sat waiting. His eyes darkened with heat as he watched her approach. She could see a pile of fur rugs and cushions under the tree.

“You look beautiful,” Wolf said as he bowed low and pressed a kiss to her gloved hand. “But we will have these off,” he said, beginning to tug at the ends of her gloves. She tried to stop him but he gathered both her wrists in one large hand and said softly, “I know what I am doing. Can you trust the painter in me?”

Tiffany nodded, and he finished sliding the gloves from her hands just as his mother arrived. “You look lovely in that gown, my dear.” Lady Wolfarth settled into a large chair and took out her crochet. “I hope the weather stays warm, at least until Wolf has enough of this painting done for us to venture back inside.”

Ivy and Claire sat next to Lady Wolfarth, watching Tiffany and Wolf as if they were at the theater.

Wolf led Tiffany to the rugs under the tree. “I want you to curl on your side and look as if you’re reading this book,” He handed her a book. When she glanced at the cover, it made her knees almost buckle. Wolf merely winked. “Educational, I feel.”

Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure by John Cleland. She glanced at Lady Wolfarth and then lay it down next to her on the rugs. Wolf had known she’d accept the book because he understood her very well. Her curiosity made it impossible to turn away.

But she’d hardly gotten over the shock of the book when Wolf’s hands went to her hair. “What do you think you are doing?”

“It’s rather obvious. I’m taking your hair down.” He had her hair unpinned and uncoiled within seconds, and it annoyed her because she realized he’d done this many times before. He ran his fingers through her hair, placing it about her shoulders. Once he was satisfied, he stood back to admire his work.

“One more thing…” He stepped forward again and removed her glasses, then casually opened the book to a page. “There. Now try to stay still. I need to get this beginning sketch done quickly before the light changes.”

Tiffany wondered how long she could lie still. Ivy and Claire were making the most unusual noises. Whispering and giggles were all she could hear and she couldn’t move to look at them.

“Did you manage to take care of the matter we discussed the other day?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she wondered if he had posed her like this so she couldn’t look at him, or anyone else for that matter.

He didn’t answer.

Ivy spoke instead. “He won’t answer. Once he begins painting, the world could end and he’d not notice. It’s very boring. That’s why I never agree to sit for him.”

“I can’t even read as I don’t have my glasses.” She squinted at the words on the page.

“Don’t squint,” he barked at her.

“Please talk to me, Claire.”

Claire heeded her call while trying to stir the pot. “The Reverend has the tables set up ready for our stall.” Was she deliberately trying to scuttle Valora’s plan to attend the soiree? Or ruin Wolf’s concentration. But Wolf said nothing.

“That’s good. Perhaps we could ask the Reverend to spread the word at his service on Sunday.”

“I believe he already has. They are expecting quite the crowd. Courtney has organized plenty of grooms and footmen to ensure the day runs smoothly.”

“I do think you ladies are marvelous the way you raise money for Ivy’s orphanage. In my day, it just wasn’t done,” Lady Wolfarth added.

“Oh, Mother. You donated to lots of worthy charities in your day, and you still do.”

“But you ladies seem to be having so much fun together. I envy you your youth and the excitement of finding a handsome young man to be your husband. In my day, our fathers had the final say.”

“I suspect Wolf will be equally ridiculous when I find my young man,” Ivy teased. Again, no reply. Wolf was totally engrossed in his art. “But, Mother, you loved father.”

“I was lucky, I admit. Wolfarth was so handsome. But it was his kindness and humor that won me over. A kind heart is worth far more than a handsome face. Just you remember that advice.”

“It’s very nice when they are handsome and kind,” Ivy said.

“And do you have your eye on anyone in particular?” Claire asked.

Tiffany wished she could see Ivy’s face. She suspected it was bright red at this moment. Did Claire know Ivy liked her brother Dayton? Tiffany had guessed because Dayton had called one day to visit Rockwell, and Tiffany caught Ivy hiding on the stairs peering over the banister at Dayton. The look on Ivy’s face… Tiffany wondered if that was how she looked at Wolf, with love in her eyes.

“I’ll share if you share,” Ivy challenged her friend.

Claire scoffed. “I am in no rush to wed. The current ton bachelors do not have much to recommend them.”

Tiffany wished she could give Claire a hug. Fane’s behavior had made Claire wary of all men. She thought they all had mistresses, and Claire wanted a husband who would be true to her. So did Tiffany, and that’s what worried her. Wolf had given his word he would not have a mistress while courting her, but what if they married? Could he stay true to her—especially if he didn’t love her?

Soon the muscles in her back were screaming. Being told not to move only made her want to move every inch of her body. She needed to stretch so badly. Instead, she tried to read the print on the page in front of her. She had just about managed to read the top line, which was something about bare breasts, when Wolf told her she could move.

“That’s enough for today. I’ll need you again tomorrow morning at the same time if that’s convenient for you?”

She stretched her arms up over her head and eased the numbness in her legs. She wanted to say no, but how could she? He needed this painting and she’d agreed to sit for him. “Fine.”

“You can change in Ivy’s room again, leave the gown here. It can’t be damaged.” He handed her glasses back to her but, to her dismay, took the book. “Once you’ve finished posing for me, I may let you read it, or perhaps I’ll read it to you,” he whispered so only she could hear. Be still her pounding heart.

“May I see the painting?”

“Oh, yes, please let us see it, Wolf.” Ivy begged.

“Absolutely not. You know no one sees my work until it’s finished.” Then he threw a cloth over the canvas before anyone could approach. “Tiffany, may I have a word in my study before you leave? I know you have an invitation to Lady Fairfax’s masquerade costume ball and I’d like to co-ordinate our outfits.”

Thank goodness. She’d bet a gold coin that he didn’t wish to talk about a ball. He must have some news regarding Melville. “Of course.”

With that he walked off, his canvas safely carried inside by the footmen.

“My son has finally set his sights on a young lady, and I’m very pleased it’s you, Tiffany.” Lady Wolfarth gave her arm a squeeze.

“You are?”

“Absolutely. Did you know your mother was one of my best friends?”

“Yes, she sometimes shared your letters with me. You wrote such vivid accounts of the season when we were stuck in Yorkshire.” Stuck because they’d had no money to come to town. But Lady Wolfarth had never deserted her mother.

“Your mother and I had agreed I would sponsor you for your come-out since your father could not afford it…but sadly they had passed by then. I’m not sure Lord Marlowe has afforded you a stellar come-out, but my son was sensible enough to see what a catch you are.

She sighed. “You have your mother’s eyes. You’ll make Wolf a fine countess. A woman who is his equal. He needs that. He needs someone to make him forget Lady Margo. She was a mistake in more ways than I can count.” With that she pressed a kiss to Tiffany’s cheek and retreated inside.

Tiffany turned on Ivy. “What did she mean when she said Lady Margo was a mistake?”

“I have no idea. I can’t really remember her. I was only sixteen, so not out in society. You weren’t either. All I can remember is that she was very beautiful. And that she died the day of their wedding. I can remember Wolf going crazy…”

“It must have been dreadful for him. How did she die?” Claire asked.

“We ladies were never told.” Ivy’s eyes welled with tears. “I never thought Wolf would get over her death. He did, but not for a long time. Everyone was worried about him, especially Rockwell.” Ivy hugged Tiffany. “That’s why I’m so pleased he’s decided to court you. It’s a sign he’s ready to move on with his life.”

Tiffany pondered on Lady Wolfarth’s words as she changed out of the vibrant gown. Another mystery. Why were relationships so complex? Was that why Wolf wanted to marry her? Because she wasn’t beautiful and so she couldn’t remind him of Margo? She wished she had the courage to ask him.

Perhaps she would. But not today. Today all she needed to discuss was Mr. Sprat. She knocked on the door to Wolf’s study and he bid her enter.

“Have you news on Lord Melville’s debt?”

Wolf’s smile faltered. “And it’s nice to see you too, Tiffany.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “You do know how to bring a man down.”

“I’ve already seen you today.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“But not privately. Not in a way in which I can greet you properly,” he said, pressing a kiss to her lips.

She glanced worriedly at the open door. “Sorry, it’s just I’m worried about Mr. Sprat.”

“You shouldn’t be. Why is this debt of concern to you?” With a smooth nod he elegantly indicated she should sit.

What to tell him? If she revealed too much, the wager in the White’s book might well be a lot less anonymous. She wished the door wasn’t wide open. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. She turned to face Wolf and for a moment her breath faltered. He wore no cravat, allowing her to glimpse tufts of dark hair, and she longed to see him without his shirt on. She knew the sight would be breathtaking.

“Well?” He smiled reassuringly.

“My father helped me invest, but not with my share selection. Instead he helped by telling Mr. Sprat to take my investments. Since the South Sea share debacle over fifty years ago, many stockjobbers won’t touch a female investor. They blamed females investing in the market for the last big bear run and many people lost everything.”

“Surely that’s not the case now. I’m sure a stockjobber would—”

“Would you take a woman’s order and hope she paid up? Many stockjobbers are concerned that a woman has no money of her own. Would her husband approve? Would he honor any debt?”

“But not your Mr. Sprat. He took your orders?” The way Wolf looked at her suggested he had a suspicion about what she would say.

“Not exactly.” Tiffany twisted her fingers nervously in her lap.

“Oh, my God. You paid him upfront.” Wolf leaped from his chair and began to pace the study. With his long legs, he was turning pretty frequently. Suddenly he stopped and faced her. “How much of your money does he have?”

She swallowed. “I’m not sure that’s any of your concern.” But what concerned Tiffany was it was no longer just her money he held. It was the DD’s. “Besides, if Melville pays his debt all will be fine.”

“Melville insists he never placed any share orders with Sprat, or anyone. Rockwell is asking around at Capel Court right now. If Melville has never dabbled in shares, I’m inclined to believe him.”

Was it Wolf’s proximity that made her brain so fuddled? “I don’t understand, why would Sprat tell this tale… Oh!” The warmth drained from her face and she closed her eyes in disbelief.

“Yes. It’s a swindle. I’m also investigating if Sprat has done this before. If he’s ever targeted a lord down on his luck and threatened him with bogus purchase orders.”

Why did her father’s face suddenly swim into view? Surely not?

“What do you know of your father’s dealings with Sprat? Were there any problems?”

“Father never mentioned anything. Surely he would have told me to be careful if he had any concerns over his stockjobber?”

“What if he didn’t know until it was too late? What if Sprat tried to say your father had invested in shares when he hadn’t? Just like he’s doing to Melville.”

Tiffany’s mouth dried and she could hardly swallow. It had always concerned her that her father, who was a shrewd investor, had lost everything. Had Sprat swindled her father? But her father would never have stood for it. She thought back to the last time she’d seen her parents. They were packing hurriedly. Maybe Sprat had tried to swindle her father. Whatever had happened, it was enough to see her father suddenly head to London. Was that why he’d urgently needed to see Sprat? Had Sprat’s deceit led to her family’s downfall and her parents’ deaths at the hands of highwaymen?

“I feel sick,” she said as the enormity of what Wolf was insinuating hit.

“I don’t want you anywhere near Sprat, and I’m going to insist he hand over any shares he holds for you to my stockjobber, Mr. Lane. If you want to trade, I’ll ensure Lane honors your orders.”

He was dangling a dream in front of her. To work with a stockjobber of Mr. Lane’s skill… But would Mr. Lane tell Wolf what she was investing in, and would Lane guess who was challenging the men? How did she keep the secret that the DD’s had issued the share challenge? Her next thought was even worse. What if Sprat was swindling her and he’d taken all her money and never bought one share? The room began to spin as she realized the gravity of the situation. She might not have a penny to her name, and the ladies had trusted her with their hard-saved pin money.

She looked anxiously at Wolf. “Have you spoken to Sprat about your concerns?”

A cunning smile curled his lips. “No, but I think he’s suspicious. I sent my uncle home to my estate in disgrace and the carriage was waylaid on the way.”

Shivers covered her skin as she whispered, “Was it highwaymen?”

“No. However, I believe they wanted me to think they were, and their target was definitely Melville. All they wanted was to kill him.”

“How do you know that?”

“Highwaymen try to make the carriage stop so they can rob it. These men simply shot it up, and then rode away without looking for loot. I know Sprat had someone watching the house where Melville was staying and saw him departing London.”

Tiffany clutched her stomach. “My parents…” Wolf had just painted a horrific picture of what could have happened to her parents.

“If my uncle dies, I will be honor bound to pay Sprat because Melville is not here to defend himself. The scandal should I deny the claim… I need proof. I won’t have my family name dragged through the mud and Sprat knows that.”

“That’s his game, isn’t it? Did he do this to my father?” She stood up and opened her mouth to request clarification, but Wolf suddenly pulled her into his arms and pressed kisses to her cheek.

“I don’t know, but we need to be suspicious given the attack on Melville.” She sobbed silently, and tears fell on his shirt. “I’m sorry, sweeting.”

“I’ve been such a na?ve, trusting fool.” Her world grew dark and the joy of investing escaped like smoke up a chimney. She knew, deep in her soul, that Sprat had killed her parents. And Tiffany vowed there and then: she would have her revenge.

She let Wolf’s strong arms support her. “I’m going to ensure he never does this to anyone again. I don’t know if I will be able to prove he was complicit in your parents’ deaths, but I will get him for fraud and for the attempt on Lord Melville’s life. That will likely see him hang.”

She pushed out of his hold and wiped the tears from her face. “What can I do to help?”

Wolf’s fingers wrapped around her chin, and he tilted her head so he was looking directly into her grieving eyes. “Tomorrow, when you come for the painting session, bring me copies of your purchase orders and a list of the shares you believe Sprat holds for you. I’m going to pressure Sprat to give me the share notes. I suspect he doesn’t have them. That will be the start of us uncovering his tangle of lies. But you are not to contact him. He’s extremely dangerous.”

Her tears continued to fall as reality hit. “He was never going to pay me my money back. He simply fed me some dividends and some sales income to reel me in further. My money is gone, isn’t it?”

He let go of her chin and cupped her cheek. “I suspect so, but if we can arrest him before he can dispose of the money, we might recover at least some of it.”

She took the handkerchief he handed her and wiped her face. She would not waste a single tear on Sprat again. “You’ve won our wager. I can’t get the money off Sprat.”

“No, I haven’t. We wagered on whose shares would rise in price the most, not on who made the most money in the month. This wager had nothing to do with actually buying the shares. But I’m hoping I don’t need to win the wager for you to realize I am courting you because I truly want you to become my wife. Would that be so terrible?” Wolf asked temptingly.

If she didn’t get her money back, her bid for financial freedom would take quite a few more years because she’d have to start all over again. Thankfully, Wolf had ensured she could earn it back by promising her Mr. Lane’s services. Did he realize she’d have less choice if he didn’t help her? That it would make her situation untenable and that perhaps she’d be best to marry him? But that wasn’t the kind of man Wolf was. He wanted to win her agreement to wed, but honorably. Or he knows how desirable he is and is confident of you accepting his offer of marriage. Words were whirling in her head.

Tiffany straightened and held herself stiffly. “I’ll consider your suit, my lord, if you can tell me why you want to marry me.”