Page 35 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
Caroline considered this statement. She’d certainly not noticed him at many previous such events. Mr. Rothbury was such a quiet, charming, unexceptional gentleman, he was easy to overlook with his pleasant face and pleasant manners.
Unexceptional? She thought quickly. He had a modest income, but it was sufficient to keep a wife. And the reason he didsometimesappear at such events was, surely, tofinda wife.
Yet, he’d certainly not be looking for an heiress.
No, surely a sweet, pretty wife who would manage the finances with good sense and who had no reputation for vanity or obvious fondness for show and fripperies would answer to his needs?
Suddenly, Mr. Rothbury appeared the answer to her dreams in more ways than one. Hopefully, he had information about Venetia’s father’s finances…
But wouldn’t he make the perfect husband for Venetia? He’d certainly shown interest before.
“I wonder if you enjoyed the performance ofMuch Ado About Nothingon Thursday last?” Caroline ventured, keeping her voice light.
His eyebrows shot up. Yes, it was indeed an unladylike gambit that suggested Caroline’s potential interest in him, which of course must be debunked, so hurriedly she went on, “Oh, I wasn’t there, but my dear friend Venetia mentioned she’d seen you there.”
In fact, it was Caroline and not Venetia who had attended the Shakespeare comedy in company with her mama and brother and sister-in-law, but he’d never know that.
“She did?” he asked, blushing hotly—a very good sign. He glanced across at Venetia, who was standing by Henry’s side, silent and looking as she usually did. Deeply unhappy.
“Oh yes, she spoke so highly of you after making your acquaintance last week at Lady Montague’s ball.” Caroline hesitated, glanced at Henry, then added in a whisper, “Poor Venetia is my dearest friend, and it is so sad to see how her aunt dictates her life.”
Mr. Rothbury frowned, and sent an uncertain look at Caroline’s mother, now in conversation with Mrs. Pike. Caroline took a step away, hoping Mr. Rothbury would follow. She was treading on dangerous ground and dared not risk either the older women overhearing her conversation with Mr. Rothbury.
“She does?” he asked, his expression troubled.
Caroline nodded, then dropped her voice even lower. “It is Venetia’s third season out and her aunt insists that she accept the first marriage offer that comes her way.”
Of course, this was the point at which Caroline knew she needed to find a way to gracefully end the discussion before Mr. Rothbury quizzed too deeply, and too close to the older women.
It was also the point at which fate conspired to aid her.
“Henry?”
The plaintive voice cut through the conversation, and all eyes turned towards the young lady in blue who was now making her way uncertainly across the ballroom floor.
“Henry, is that really you?” Flicking open her little ivory fan, the combination of hope, fear, and desperation in the strange woman’s expression was quite shocking.
“Why, Henry, at last!” The young lady’s voice was just a little louder than acceptable, and her English slightly accented.
Rooted to the spot, Caroline observed the exchange with the same uncertainty, it appeared, as Venetia. And everyone else.
The room seemed to hold its collective breath.
“My dear madam, I think you have me mistaken with someone else,” Henry replied, his smile bland.
By this stage, everyone in the local vicinity was gawping at the scene.
“Henry, why did you leave me after—” She broke off upon a sob. “Finally, I was told I would find you here.”
Caroline bit her lip and a sudden flare of rage lit her from within as she glanced from Henry and the young lady towards…
Towards whoever had set Henry up. It took all her willpower not to hurl herself at Lord Windermere when she saw his satisfied countenance. A satisfaction Mrs. Pike clearly shared. No, Caroline was not imagining it. This was all part of some grand design to further their ends, she was sure of it.
Across the room, Charlotte broke away from Barnaby and hurried over, joining their small group as the orchestra struck up another dance, their attempt to restore normalcy failing as dancers hesitated to take their places.
“Henry, what is Barnaby talking about? He says—” She stopped, biting her lip, her eyes darting nervously between her brother and the mysterious woman.
“I’ve never laid eyes on her in my life!” Henry muttered, taking a step back from the young lady who was clearly hellbent on making a scene.
