Page 72 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
“All is not fair in love and war,” said Thornton. “Poor Miss Playford is completely at the mercy of that menacing aunt.” He sighed. “And Henry Ashworth has been the center of the most dreadful scene. Yes,” he said at Eugenia’s enquiring look. “The lady in blue returned, and Mr. Barnaby outright accused the young man of all manner of fiendish dealings.”
Lady Pendleton twirled her glass. “And I think Mrs. Pike just ended the betrothal for both of them.”
Eugenia let out a gasp! “No! That cannot be allowed.” She tried to see triumph in Lady Pendleton’s tone, but could not.
“And you must accept that there’s nothing to be done, Eugenia,” Lady Pendleton went on. “For a moment, I thoughtyou were about to throw down your glove at Lord Windermere’s feet. Pistols at dawn, and all that.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” said Thornton. “Your boldness of late has been… unexpected.” Admiration colored his tone.
“I saw you speaking to the aeronaut,” Lady Pendleton added. “Trying to meddle in the course of true love again, I suspect? It won’t work. If Windermere has the aunt’s blessing, there’s little anyone can do. I think it’s all over for your wager.” She sighed. “Poor Miss Playford. A young lady is so vulnerable.”
“Not if she has independent means,” muttered Eugenia, rubbing her temples. “Poor Venetia is being bartered like a token. Lord Windermere is obsessed—with her beauty, and perhaps her compliant nature. Why else pursue her if she has no dowry? At leastIwas provided for,” she added. “Poor Miss Playford… to have her papa gamble everything away. So out of character!”
“Very out of character,” remarked Thornton. “Didn’t know much about the family but I heard nothing of financial or gambling problems. Strange.”
“Well, he did tarnish his reputation by jilting Elizabeth Pike for her younger sister,” said Lady Pendleton. “Perhaps that explains the aunt’s spite.”
“I didn’t know that,” Eugenia said, looking up. “Why, that explains a great deal! No kind relative would force her niece into marriage against her will—which is clearly what’s happening—unless she had a good reason.” She straightened. “If this is due to spite—or anything else, for that matter—I won’t allow it!”
Thornton chuckled. “You’re a matchmaker to be reckoned with.”
“Indeed,” said Eugenia, with a faint smile. “You say she’s not in love with Ashworth? That may be. But with no other options, the least I can do is ensure shedoesn’tmarry that scoundrel,Lord Windermere.” She exhaled. “Matchmaking is not for the faint-hearted.”
Lady Pendleton’s eyes gleamed. “And your wager with Lord Thornton? That hasnothingto do with your concern?”
Eugenia felt her cheeks grow warm. “The wager is now… incidental. What matters is doing what’s right.”
“Of course,” Lady Pendleton said dryly. “And what if your aeronaut’s instructions have already been countermanded? I saw Windermere with him not half an hour ago. A purse exchanged hands.”
“What?” Eugenia sat bolt upright. “He wouldn’t dare!”
“I think he would,” Thornton said quietly. “Men like Windermere don’t stop when they want something. And he clearly wants Miss Playford—or whatever fortune she might possess.”
“But the girl has no fortune.” Eugenia worried at her lip as her mind raced. “We all know that—”
Thornton’s eyes were fixed on Miss Playford, now seated between her aunt and Lord Windermere across the lawn.
“Yes, that’s what we were meant to believe,” he murmured. “But I’m beginning to wonder if there’s more to her story than meets the eye.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“You’re to goand bear your friend, Miss Playford, company,” Barnaby said, his hand heavy on Charlotte’s shoulder as he gestured towards the supper table. His fingers pressed through her silk gown—a physical reminder of his control. “She’s too jittery for Windermere’s liking, and we don’t want a repeat of that nasty business from a few weeks ago.”
Around them, lanterns strung between the trees cast golden, flickering light, throwing dappled shadows across the manicured lawns.
Charlotte swallowed and tried to steady her voice. Barnaby had taken to speaking to her in this curt, bullying tone more often, and she felt powerless to stand up to him. The last time she’d objected—even mildly—he’d gripped her wrist so tightly the bruises had lingered for a week, dark beneath her lace gloves.
And now he wanted her to sit with Venetia and Windermere? The very idea made her skin crawl.
Still, she summoned a modicum of courage. “I’m not sure Venetia really wants to marry Lord Windermere.” Her voice was soft but steady, barely audible above the string quartet playing nearby under the canvas pavilion.
Barnaby’s head whipped around. His voice snapped like a whip. “Windermere is wealthy and powerful. Venetia will want for nothing. And she can’t marry your brother—not after his disgraceful behavior. It’s a lucky escape, I’d say.”
His eyes glittered with a familiar hardness, his cheeks flushed with champagne.
Charlotte swallowed again, resisting the truth that threatened to spill from her lips. “I still can’t believe you really found evidence against Henry—my own brother.”
“You saw it yourself,” Barnaby said, squeezing her shoulder. “The letter. The signed draft. Now go and sit beside Venetia. Keep her at the table. Windermere can’t afford for her to faint or make a scene.” His fingers dug deeper.
