Page 76 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
“Miss Weston?” She heard her name being called. And then, “Where is Miss Playford?” The deep voice carried across the lawn, silencing the buzzing conversations.
“I truly think someone has come to save the day,” said Henry, using the opportunity when everyone’s attention was elsewhere to take Caroline’s hand. His warm fingers closed around hers, giving her an unexpected surge of courage.
“It’s Mr. Rothbury.” Caroline whispered his name like a prayer, watching as the last rays of sunlight caught the brass buttons on his riding coat, making them shine like gold against the darkening sky.
Chapter Forty
“Stop!” Mr. Rothbury’svoice rang across the lawn, commanding and urgent, silencing the murmur of conversation as effectively as a thunderclap.
Caroline’s heart did a leap of joy, it seemed, as the gentleman galloped directly towards the balloon, his riding coat, breeches, and stock flecked with mud. The stallion beneath him was lathered with sweat, nostrils flaring.
It must have been a hard and desperate ride.
Gasps of shock rippled through the assembled guests. Lady Polkinghorne’s fan fluttered frantically as she whispered behind it to the Countess of Lieven. Several gentlemen stepped forward as if to intercept this wild intrusion, while others merely gaped at such an unprecedented breach of decorum. Even Mrs. Pike had frozen in place, her hand still gripping Venetia’s arm at the edge of the basket.
As Mr. Rothbury reined his horse to a dramatic halt mere yards from the balloon, Caroline could see he clutched a leather portfolio in one hand. Documents spilled precariously from its edge, and carefully he ordered them, retaining his mount, high above the crowd, his eyes never leaving Venetia’s bewildered face.
“Miss Playford,” he called, his voice carrying clearly across the suddenly silent gathering, “I am here to speak urgently withyou. For you have been the victim of a grave injustice and at last I have the proof.”
“Henry, can you believe it?” Caroline turned towards Henry, gripping his hand even tighter as her heart filled with joy.
They stepped back to the periphery of the crowd. They knew what was going to happen, and it was more important for more people to hear with their own ears the proof that Caroline had feared would never be verified.
“What is the meaning of this and who are you?” Windermere demanded, putting his hands on Venetia’s shoulders in a show of ownership. By this stage, he and Venetia were both standing in the basket, the aeronaut with his meaty fists gripping the thick rope ready to cast off.
The magnificent blue-and-gold balloon strained against its tethers like a living thing eager for freedom, the silk rustling in the evening breeze. Golden flames from the brazier beneath cast flickering shadows across the faces of the assembled crowd, who had drawn into a tight circle around the scene. The ladies’ bright gowns formed a colorful backdrop against the darkening sky, while gentlemen in evening black pressed forward, expressions ranging from scandalized to delighted at this unexpected entertainment. Even the servants had paused in their duties, champagne trays forgotten as they watched the drama unfold.
“I am Edward Rothbury, but it was my father with whom you would be more familiar, I believe.” He slanted a steely look towards Mrs. Pike. “Yes, Mrs. Pike, my father was financial steward to Mr. Richard Playford—Miss Venetia Playford’s father. After his death, I went through his correspondence and discovered some anomalies with what appears to be the current status of Miss Venetia’s financial situation.”
Mrs. Pike’s face contorted with rage, her complexion changing from alabaster white to mottled crimson in an instant. “This is a private family matter!” She turned to the aeronaut.“Captain Beaumont, I insist you release the tether immediately!” she shrieked.
Around them, guests pressed closer, necks craning and ears straining. The Dowager Duchess of Richmond clutched at her companion’s arm in shock, while Sir William Elford adjusted his spectacles with trembling fingers. Young debutantes exchanged wide-eyed glances of delicious scandal, while their mamas fluttered fans vigorously, torn between propriety and the irresistible pull of emerging gossip.
“For God’s sake, cut the rope!” Lord Windermere demanded, his voice hoarse. “We need to depart immediately. And certainly before the ravings of a lunatic threaten the happiness of my bride-to-be.”
“Unwilling bride-to-be!” Parting the crowd, Henry stepped forward. “You have tried once already to spirit Miss Playford away against her will, and it was because I intervened to prevent it that your abduction plans were thwarted.”
There was a collective gasp. All eyes were on Henry now. He stood tall and proud, his shoulders squared and chin lifted in defiance. Caroline saw the Gascoynes huddled together near the edge of the crowd, Mrs. Gascoyne’s face a picture of confusion while her husband nodded slowly, as if pieces of a puzzle were falling into place.
Proudly, Caroline watched Henry finally make his mark in the way destiny ought to have engineered matters: as a noble, honest, brave young man; not the philandering forger he’d been wrongly painted.
And Mr. Rothbury let him speak for now; to fill in the gaps, because he clearly recognized that this was a story that had many sides.
And because, at last, there was an audience ready to hear the truth.
“Yes, honor demanded that I make Miss Playford an offer of marriage because we were caught in what others deemed to be a compromising position. Let me reassure everyone else that our predicament was only due to the fact that I had chased after the carriage in which you, Windermere, had forced Miss Playford in order to abduct her, and that when I tried to wrest her back to safety, you threatened me with a pistol.”
The crowd erupted in exclamations of shock and disbelief. Caroline looked about her with wonder.
Barnaby’s face had gone ashen, his eyes darting about like a cornered animal seeking escape. The Gascoynes’ expressions shifted from doubt to dawning comprehension. Windermere snarled like a wounded beast, his handsome features twisted into something almost unrecognizable. Mrs. Pike’s thin fingers curled into claws at her sides.
On the other side of the balloon, Caroline saw Lady Townsend watching with undisguised fascination, her head tilted toward Lord Thornton as if sharing observations, while Lady Pendleton’s eyes gleamed with a satisfaction that surprised Caroline.
“What utter nonsense!” shrieked Mrs. Pike, turning to appeal to the crowd. “The man who stands before you is the very man who was publicly shamed for forgery and philandering. Like a dog, he is unable to bear seeing Lord Windermere winning the hand of the young woman he loves. So he spouts lies and slander. Who would you believe?” She sent an inquiring look around the onlookers, her arms spread wide in theatrical appeal. “Would you believe an upstanding man of integrity, a man of vast fortune who wishes only to benefit my penniless niece? Or would you believe the discredited Mr. Ashworth, who is in collaboration with Mr. Rothbury? What do you know of Mr. Rothbury, who has only now arrived in London after years doing who knows what on the Continent? Perhaps he is a fortunehunter himself, or worse, someone bent on revenge for some imagined slight!”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Pike, I think the facts will speak for themselves.” Mr. Rothbury, still astride his horse, tapped the leather satchel for effect. “When I made plans to leave yesterday afternoon, it was to procure the evidence needed to support the fact that you, Mrs. Pike, were given a substantial sum of money for the care of your niece, Miss Venetia Playford.”
Mrs. Pike drew herself up, her face a mask of righteous indignation, eyes flashing dangerously in the fading light. “That money from Richard Playford, Venetia’s father, was to compensate me for reneging on his marriage offer to me.”
