Page 64 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
What?
Henry nearly dropped his paper. What was Barnaby alluding to? Venetia had no relatives other than her Aunt Pike.
He waited for Rothbury to knock down Barnaby’s argument with contempt and was surprised when instead he said, “I cannot respond to such speculations, Mr. Barnaby, and I am surprised you would think I would.”
Henry carefully lowered the paper to view their expressions. Barnaby looked almost smug and expectant. Rothbury, for all his containment, looked wary, almost cornered. He made moves to rise, but Barnaby hurried on.
“You do know what I’m talking about, then, Rothbury. You are saying nothing.”
“It is not my place to offer any thoughts on Miss Playford or her future prospects.”
“But you know more than you’re saying.” Barnaby tried to detain him. Almost desperately, he continued, “My dear Charlotte is sick with worry that Miss Playford will become an heiress and free to do as she pleases… but only when it is too late.”
“Then why does your betrothed not communicate her fears directly to Miss Playford?” Rothbury asked reasonably. “I have no idea why you think I can throw any light on the matter.”
“Because you know the truth and you are doing Miss Playford a disservice by not revealing it—”
“I do not deal in speculation, Mr. Barnaby.” There was a glint of something dangerous in Rothbury’s eye. “Though perhaps I will, in view of what you’ve told me.”
“No! No, you must not do so!” Barnaby responded with the first hint of real urgency. “I merely wished to understand where Miss Playford’s future was placed. I asked out of concern, but I realize now that her hopes or fears should not be aroused.”
Henry’s heart thundered as Rothbury curtly excused himself and left the club while Barnaby followed at a distance, his intentions clearly foiled.
DroppingThe Times, his whisky forgotten, a cold realization settled over him. This was no mere social maneuvering. Whatever inheritance Barnaby had alluded to was clearly real enough to cause genuine panic—not just in Barnaby, who wanted his suspicions confirmed, but in Rothbury too, who clearly knew the truth of it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Caroline stared atHenry, open-mouthed. “Are you telling me that Barnaby insinuated that Venetia may be in line for an inheritance?” This was not something she had expected or even considered. But when she reflected upon the interview with Mr. Rothbury, it was plausible.
“Barnaby was certainly trying to pry information from Rothbury that, I must say, was not forthcoming,” Henry replied, his brow furrowed. “Mr. Rothbury showed himself to be a man of few words and a great deal of caution. Barnaby simply showed himself up as a bully and a thug.”
“That is exactly what he is, and I am distraught that Charlotte does not see it.” Caroline fidgeted with the end of her shawl and sent a nervous glance at the entrance to the park. Mary, her maid, hovered nearby, her attention divided between her charge and a flower seller crying her wares at the gate. But as Mary was watching them, Caroline refrained from reaching out her hand to stroke Henry’s arm.
The moment she’d received word from Henry, she’d slipped out of the house and across the street. Everyone, it seemed, was so involved with the competing events that night—with Lady Townsend’s Comet Viewing Gala the most noteworthy—she felt confident her truancy would not be noticed.
Henry shrugged. “The sister who was once my greatest ally has been bewitched by Barnaby. And when he tells the worldthat I’m guilty of some foul felony, she will look at me sadly and agree with Barnaby.”
“Then there is no time to lose in order to counter Barnaby’s threat. He is working for Windermere, so it stands to reason that both men suspect Venetia is in line for an inheritance.”
“And that is obviously the reason Windermere wishes to marry her.”
“And perhaps Barnaby got wind of the information. Yet he is already in collusion with Windermere, is he not? Oh, Henry, there is much to discover and the sooner we speak to Rothbury, the sooner we will have answers,” Caroline declared. “Clearly he knows everything.”
“Yet is saying nothing.”
“Well, of course he wouldn’t, in public, to Barnaby. But time is running out, so I am going to petition him for the truth.” Caroline swung round, her bonnet ribbons dancing in the breeze.
“Don’t I even get a kiss?”
Caroline turned at Henry’s plaintive tone and sent him an arch smile, her heart softening despite her urgency. “You will get a kiss after we get Venetia and Mr. Rothbury in that basket beneath Lady Townsend’s balloon tomorrow afternoon. Come, Mary!”
And without waiting for a reply, Caroline hurried back home, quickly changed her clothing, and then made for her brother’s house. She was relieved to find he was away, but her sister-in-law Amelia was at home.
Amelia, who was looking larger than Caroline remembered, even in the space of such a short time since she had last seen her, looked up with a smile when her sister-in-law was announced. She reclined on a blue damask sofa, her embroidery abandoned on a nearby table.
Caroline came straight to the point. After all, there was no time to lose. Lady Townsend’s Comet Viewing Gala would be tomorrow, and there was much to do before then. Like find the reason behind Windermere’s villainy and prevent Venetia from having to wed Henry so that Henry could marry Caroline.
“Please come with me this last time to Mr. Rothbury’s townhouse. I promise I won’t misbehave as I did the other day,” she begged, clasping her hands before her. “I have found information that he will have to either endorse or deny, and Venetia’s happiness depends upon it.”
