Page 46 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
“Tomorrow, meet me at the lending library at two,” Henry responded urgently.
With a quick nod, Caroline hurried towards her mother, composing her features into innocent enjoyment as she located Venetia amid the throng.
“Do you know if Windermere is here this evening? Or what costume he is wearing?” Caroline asked her friend, glancing about. “Perhaps he is with Barnaby. It appears the two of them are thick as thieves.”
Venetia’s brow furrowed. “Barnaby and Windermere? You’re not suggesting they’re in this together?” Then, at Caroline’s nod, she added on a gasp of outrage, “How can Barnaby have anything to do with this when he is Charlotte’s betrothed and therefore Henry’s future brother-in-law? He would be the last person to wish Henry harm.”
Caroline shrugged. “You would think so. And yet when Amelia discovered this mysterious lady in blue, she was told that Barnaby hadpaidher to approach Henry and create that terrible scene.”
Noticing her mother’s gimlet eye upon her, Caroline assumed an innocent expression, smiling as she gazed about the room. To an outsider, she was merely admiring costumes. A stout gentleman dressed as King Midas wobbled past, deep in his cups. The Duchess of Pembroke swept by in an elaborate swan costume.
And then, with a shock that felt like ice water in her veins, Caroline spotted a tall figure in a wolf’s costume, the silvery mask covering the upper portion of his face, eyes glinting coldly as he conversed with Aunt Pike.
Lord Windermere. It could be no other.
As their gazes locked for a second through his mask, a shiver ran down her spine. What a malevolent creature he was. But there was no return flare of recognition—thank the Lord, he did not connect her with the stable lad he’d incarcerated.
What a ghastly experience that had been. And yet, she had to acknowledge it was through this ordeal that she had discovered her feelings for Henry—feelings which had translated into such joy as she had ever known. That had to be worth something.
And yet here they were, with only two weeks before Henry and Venetia were to marry. Time was running out to publicly expose the association between Windermere’s evil designs and the false accusations surrounding Henry.
Caroline’s mind worked feverishly. How could she achieve what no one else had? They still were no closer to discerning the motivation—Aunt Pike’s for selling her niece to Windermere, Windermere’s for wanting to marry penniless Venetia, and Barnaby’s for bribing an actress.
She turned back to Venetia, whose fingers worried at the beaded trim of her costume. “There must be something deeper at work here. Something that connects all of them.” She paused, damping down the impulse to reveal that Mr. Rothbury’s fatherhad once worked for Venetia’s father and might be able to help, for the young man had not been seen these past few days.
But struck by a sudden thought, she asked, “Venetia, is there anything in your family’s past—any connection to Windermere that might explain his persistence in pursuing you, despite your lack of fortune?”
Venetia’s eyes widened behind her mask. “I—I don’t believe so. Though…” Her voice faltered. “My aunt said something—” She gulped on a sob, unable to continue.
Horrified, Caroline bent to comfort her while shielding her from prying eyes. Tears would be seized upon as gossip. “What did your aunt say?” she whispered, drawing Venetia toward a quiet alcove behind a potted palm.
Venetia dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “She said my father was in love withher. With Aunt Pike, and that my mother stole him from her.” Venetia gulped again. “She said I was the reason my mother tricked my father.” Raising her chin, she asked in a whisper, “Can you imagine hearing anything more dreadful?”
Caroline was lost for words. Then her questioning mind had her asking with a frown, “What evidence did your aunt have to support such a claim?”
“She said she had letters to prove it. But I suppose I have only her word.”
Caroline clapped her hands. “Letters? If your father truly was in love with your Aunt Pike—which I can’t possibly imagine—then those tender missives must be shown to prove this.”
Putting her head closer to Venetia’s, she asked hurriedly—for her mother was bound to claim her soon—“Does your aunt have a secret compartment in her desk? Do you know where she might keep something as valuable as a love letter?”
Venetia shook her head. “My aunt is very secretive about everything.”
Caroline smoothed her shepherdess’s crook thoughtfully. “I would imagine the library or a locked box in her bedroom. I’m sure it won’t be too hard to find.”
Her friend’s eyes grew wide. “What are you suggesting? That I rummage among my aunt’s private things? Dear Lord, she’d flay me alive if she caught me.”
“Which is all the more reason she mustn’t catch you.”
Caroline saw the wolf turn his head slowly in their direction. “You must find those letters, Venetia, or at least some written evidence that makes sense of Windermere’s interest in you and his vendetta against Henry,” she whispered, watching as Lord Windermere began making his way through the crowd towards them.
Venetia shook her head. “No, Caroline, I cannot. The servants will find out—they are my aunt’s spies. It’s not possible. If you only knew how close an eye she keeps on me.”
Caroline made a noise of frustration. She wanted to shake her friend, then tried to remember how terror could make one immobile.
As Lord Windermere’s malignant presence bore down upon them, she made one last attempt. “Unless this is the future you want,” she hissed, flicking a glance at the gentleman in wolf’s clothing, “I truly think you should.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
