Defying The Earl. Anabelle Bryant

from poverty, not sink further into the bowels of destitution.” Valerian schooled his voice with an unmistakable didactic tone and swept a glance around the interior. “Given our lack of financial choices, Beaufort’s generous offer is a boon, although it goes against my integrity to hang on someone’s sleeve.”

      “Consider it a favor between friends.” Jasper poured two healthy portions of brandy and handed a glass forward. “So how did it go with Rigby?”

      “As well as could be expected, I suppose. I’m to start destroying Leonard’s hopes and dreams as early as tomorrow evening.”

      “So you’ve laced your endeavor with dismal intention. I expected that, although you’re the ideal person to execute this plan and the last man to act like a chocolate box over a pretty face. Why not consider the peaceful salvation your service will provide? I’ve heard Fiona is a regular church-bell. There could be no sanity shared when married to a gabster.” Jasper dropped into a nearby wingchair, entirely undisturbed by the implied ramifications of interrupting someone’s emotional goal, no matter his friend lay prone on the floor from unrequited love.

      “I’ve known Leonard Rigby since Eton and I’m not so sure the boot isn’t on the other leg.” Val took a long swallow of brandy in hope it would smooth the wrinkles of his discontent, then glanced at his own boots, caked with mud and water-stained. An image of the unsettled beauty he’d met earlier flittered through his mind with intense clarity and this time he allowed it to remain. Perhaps if he concentrated on her delicate features and lovely sable eyes he could escape the ever present absurdity of this situation. He scoffed at the fleeting proposition. “Nevertheless it matters little. At the end of this venture we’ll be that much richer and on our way, albeit in a small stride, to financial recovery. That is as long as you mend your ways. If cavorting is on your schedule, make damn sure Randolph is doing the spending.” He flicked his eyes to the front window. “Where is One-Eyed Jack? Does Beaufort rent stalls in the nearby mews? I left Arcadia tied to a post near the curb. The last thing I need is to have my horse stolen.” Arcadia was the one constant in his life and a dear friend. A dependable, strong animal who didn’t talk back, spend money, or tread on his emotions.

      “There is a stable around the corner. I’ll bring you afterward. Let me show you abovestairs and you can choose your room. I suspect you’ll need use of a tailor, although Beaufort has an extensive wardrobe. He may not mind if you borrow a coat or two.”

      Valerian eyed the black velvet waistcoat abandoned on the couch with obvious distaste, then dashed his eyes to Randolph’s collapsed form. The vivid embroidery of his puce ensemble merged with the ambitious pattern of the Persian rug. “No, I think not, Jasper. Our tastes do not run parallel.”

       Chapter Five

      Wilhelmina returned home in great hurry. Having directed the hackney to let her off on the corner, she’d walked with vigor to Aunt Kate’s town house. A little out of breath and mentally disassembled, she rushed through the door and directly to her bedchamber, hoping no one would question her disheveled state of dress, although falling into a muddy puddle would supply a needed excuse for her tardiness if anyone inquired. Her thoughts whirled with a flurry of excitement and curiosity, but not from meeting Lady Rigby. Encouraging a match between Leonard and Fiona should prove easy since they already held each other in esteem.

      Instead, her thunderous heartbeat and quivering nerves were due to the stranger and their interesting, almost intimate, encounter on the street. Why, the gentleman had been condescending, overbearing, rigidly stoic and undeniably handsome. She lingered on the last observation, recalling the wondrous shade of his eyes, the hard line of his chin, and the strength of his hand as he assisted her from the roadway. She should feel outrage at his treatment, and disapproval at his rudeness, but curiosity and desire swamped her, drowning the righteous objections and encouraging she relive the encounter with exacting detail.

      Shedding her soiled skirts and slippers, and thankful she’d dried enough not to dirty everything in her wake, Wilhelmina dressed in a simple day gown and settled at her escritoire near the front window. Setting pen to paper, she detailed every specific she could remember about the mysterious stranger and their unlikely encounter. Then she allowed it to dry and pasted it neatly onto a fresh page in her keepsake book.

      She paused, her fingers skimming the words. She could hear his voice in her imagination; the deep tenor of his words causing goosebumps to trace her arms. Good heavens, how fanciful. She slammed the book closed before burying it below the extra coverlet inside the trunk at the foot of her bed. Then she hurried to her sister’s bedchamber intent on regaling Livie with the details of her morning, but with every stride she reconsidered.

      By the time she reached Livie’s rooms, Wilhelmina had decided it best not to mention the overbearing and terribly dashing gentleman on Oxford Street. Perhaps that encounter was one left to her heart and imagination. She’d never see him again, one stranger in an overpopulated city…most especially when she hardly left Aunt Kate’s town house. Truly, where was the harm in harboring one little fantasy about an elusive, mysterious stranger? It could lead nowhere except when replayed in her overactive memory.

      In the same fashion as a monotony of mornings, she found Livie sitting upright in her bed, her eyes bright behind her wire-rimmed spectacles. A lap desk was pushed off to the side as if she’d been reading or writing earlier in the day.

      “I have quite a bit of news to share. Are you up for the details?” With a cheery smile, Wilhelmina swept into the room intent on retelling her adventure with Lady Rigby in such descriptive language Livie would experience it too. A shadow of regret caused her smile to falter before she buoyed it back into place. Livie deserved a proper come out, extravagant parties, and a bevy of suitors instead of the torment served her by their parent’s carriage accident.

      A shiver traced her spine with the ever present memory. The coach had lost a wheel, diverged from the roadway, throwing the driver to his death before rolling down a steep embankment and settling on its side. Their parents were killed, but the worst of the accident, if there existed any one pinnacle to be labeled singularly cruel, was that Livie remained pinned beneath Mother and Father’s bodies, her legs broken and useless, her strength weakened from blood loss and a traumatic strike to the head. She lay helpless under the weight of her beloved parents, waiting. One could only imagine what she heard during that time or the distraught agony of her thoughts while she suffered through the night.

      Livie refused to discuss it at any length, and Wilhelmina prayed her sister was unconscious for the duration, as it took nearly ten hours before the coach was recovered from that countryside roadway ditch.

      A violent wave of despair squeezed her heart. The accident had been Wilhelmina’s fault. She would never recover from her foolish decisions that night.

      “Yes, yes. I have been able to think of little else.” Livie patted the comforter beside her. “Come and tell me everything.”

      The following evening, under no guise, Aunt Kate and Wilhelmina climbed into a hired coach and left for the Collingsworth dinner party. Having received an invitation instigated by Lady Rigby’s meddling, Wilhelmina had the sharp mind to request her aunt accompany her, more of a companion than a chaperone although both labels applied. The mild manipulation of truth assuaged Wilhelmina’s burdened conscience. At first Aunt Kate had declined, knowing Livie would be left at home with only her nurse for company, but eventually she’d relented.

      “You do look lovely, Whimsy. How clever of you to choose the lavender silk. A few bright trims and you’ve turned last year’s fashion into a bright vision, although I refuse to allow you to dissuade me again. One day very soon I insist on purchasing new gowns for you, most especially if you choose to become more active in society.” Aunt Kate tapped Wilhelmina’s knee with the tip of her fan. “I’m afraid I owe you an apology. I answered too quickly when you first presented this invitation. While we both worry over Livie’s welfare, I cannot neglect my duties in seeing you experience the season as well. Please know I am thrilled to accompany you this evening and hope tonight leads to many more exciting