Page 51 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
She lifted her head. Her aunt was speaking again, and the name that dropped from her lips made her tremble.
“Lord Windermere will call tomorrow. You will receive him properly, and you will accept his suit.”
Venetia gazed at the glittering ruby ring upon her aunt’s finger that tapped impatiently upon the desktop. Like a drop of blood, it looked in the dim light. “Yes, you will wed Lord Windermere, who will take you off my hands. It’s time you paid the debt your mother incurred.”
“I cannot—” Venetia began, but her aunt seized her arm, fingers digging painfully into her flesh.
“You have no choice. Unless you wish your illegitimacy to become common knowledge! Imagine the scandal—your saintly mother revealed as a scheming harlot who trapped a man into marriage.” Her eyes glittered with malice. “Lord Windermere knows everything, and he is still willing to marry you. You should be grateful.”
Still gripping Venetia’s arm so that Venetia cried out in pain, she propelled her towards the door. “The choice is simple: marriage to Windermere, or complete social ruin.”
“But I’m promised to Henry Ashworth—”
“You love him so much that you would risk everything? Even his good name?” There was skepticism in her aunt’s tone.
“I would marry anyone rather than Lord Windermere.”
“But no one else will have you. Well, they certainly will not once it is known that not only are you penniless, you are a bastard. Granted, Mr. Ashworth is fond of you, just as you are fond of him. But no passion burns in his breast. He did the honorable thing after the Gascoynes discovered the two of you alone and unchaperoned at an inn. No, I do not think that Mr. Ashworth will cross a thousand oceans to be with you, Venetia, though he is the kind of passionate young man who would do that for a woman he truly loved. But that is not you.” She took a slow breath, then asked softly, “Is it, Venetia?”
Venetia stumbled back to her room, her aunt following close behind. Once inside, she threw herself onto the bed, bringing her hands to her ears as her aunt turned the key in the lock.
“You will remain here until Lord Windermere calls,” Aunt Pike’s voice came through the door. “And you will receive him with the gratitude his generosity deserves.”
After a long silence, she added ominously, “Within the next two days, I expect you to call off your marriage to Mr. Ashworth.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Eugenia frowned asher protégé made her entrance at Lady Henderson’s ball the following evening, looking pale but composed in a gown of dove gray that did nothing to flatter her complexion.
She had so hoped Miss Playford would be radiating joy with so few days left before her nuptials. Ten, to be exact.
“The poor child looks positively wretched,” Eugenia murmured to Lord Thornton, who stood beside her.
“She does,” he agreed, following her gaze. “And see how closely Mrs. Pike hovers. As if she fears the girl will bolt at the first opportunity.”
“Which is precisely what any sensible young woman would do when Lord Windermere enters a room.” Eugenia did not hide her distaste. “The way he looked at her at the masquerade—like a wolf eyeing a lamb. It quite chilled me to the bone.”
Thornton’s eyebrow rose slightly. “You’ve grown quite protective of Miss Playford.”
“As is rational,” Eugenia countered. “I have wagered that she and Henry Ashworth are the perfect match, and I do not intend to lose. Last night, it was made clear how much Mrs. Pike favors Windermere over young Henry. And with these absurd rumors circulating about the young man, I fear that she may prevail.” She shook her head in frustration. “Indeed! Someone must intervene before the girl is pushed to renege on her currentarrangement and enter into a most unsuitable alliance with the arrogant Windermere.”
“And that someone is you, naturally,” Thornton remarked, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Well, I can’t see anyone else stepping forward. Henry and Venetia complement each other beautifully and I gravely fear that they will be parted by Mrs. Pike before they make it down the aisle.” Eugenia’s eyes narrowed as she observed Mrs. Pike guiding Venetia towards a circle that included Windermere and several of his closest associates. “What they need is time alone together, away from her aunt’s interference and society’s gossip so that they will fight with all their might against Mrs. Pike’s machinations.”
“My dear Eugenia, you make this sound like a Shakespearean tragedy,” said Thornton with a smile.
“True love is not to be trifled with,” Eugenia said severely, and with a lurch in the region of her heart. After a short pause, she added, daringly, “I know what it is to yearn for lost opportunities.”
For a long moment, Thornton gazed at her. And just when she thought he might quiz her further, a very interesting gentleman obviously crossed his line of vision, for he started visibly.
“What captures your attention?”
“Rothbury,” Thornton replied, nodding toward a tall, serious-looking gentleman engaged in conversation with Caroline Weston. “Hadn’t thought about his father for years, but I knew him when he was bailiff to the Playford family. To Miss Venetia’s grandfather, in fact.” He frowned. “Thornbury left England to serve on the high seas when he was very young. And then I met him in Italy briefly.”
“You never said!”
“I met a lot of people in Italy.” Thornton smiled. “But none who then returned to England, and who clearly evince a very great interest in a young lady who is, to all intents and purposes, quite insignificant. Yes, I’m talking about Miss Venetia Playford.”
