Chapter Two

S o, it was over. Time to move on.

Travel light. That was rule number one. Of all the lessons Mrs. Vanessa Wardrip had absorbed from the other wives while “following the drum” on the Peninsula, this was the one she still took most to heart. She did not need things. Yet for all that, over the last four years she had accumulated quite a lot of them. They had to be jettisoned.

She chose only a few serviceable dresses to keep and allowed her lady’s maid and her cook each to choose two. The rest she bundled up and sold to a rag-and-clothing shop. Things might not be important, but money was.

She kept her jewelry. Jewelry was portable. The necklaces, rings, brooches, and bracelets had never been payments; they were gifts. Now they would serve as her pension. She had always known that she would have to part with them, so she had not allowed herself to become attached, despite the giver’s exquisite taste and thoughtfulness. She knew he had chosen each piece himself.

Everything else, she would leave behind. It was his property. She was not being petty by leaving it all for him to dispose of. The furniture, the pianoforte, the bedding, the kitchen implements, this too-large-for-her house that he leased—they had never been hers.

Even her cook and maid were his. References provided by his hand would serve them much better than any from hers.

She burned all his letters. Memories were too burdensome to carry.

Be prepared .

That was the second rule, and it was subordinated to the first. Preparation was not synonymous with stockpiling. Preparation meant having a plan. Ever since the beginning of their arrangement, she had been planning for its ending. The inevitable ending when Jasper became the Earl of Iversley.

Jasper’s father had passed nearly two weeks ago. The funeral had been held in Iversley just before Christmas. Vanessa didn’t know when Jasper would return to London, but as it was now New Year’s Day, she suspected it would be soon. She intended to be gone long before. Last week, she’d put the final signatures on the papers needed to purchase the cottage in the lake district where she would disappear. Poor Henry’s death, four long years ago, had given her a widow’s freedom to sign her own papers.

She packed her trunk and hired a coach to transport her to Cartmel. The coach would be in her drive within two hours.

Sitting in the drawing room of the Bleeker Street townhouse, Vanessa closed her eyes for just a moment and let sadness wash over her. She would miss him. Angry as she was, she would always miss him.

She heard Madeline’s light footsteps in the hallway and prayed she was not coming to announce a visitor. She had told her maid that she was not at home to anyone.

“Ma’am?” Madeline appeared thinner and plainer than ever. Uncertainty did not sit well with her. Vanessa hated that she could not take the poor girl along, but she had to cut all ties, and Jasper would see to it she would be re-employed.

“Yes, Madeline? What is it?”

“There is a caller. Lieutenant Taverston.”

Crispin . If she’d thought Jasper could not infuriate her more, she was wrong. Sending his brother was the worst thing he could have done.

“I am not at home.”

“Yes, I told him so, ma’am, but he wouldn’t be put off. He says he will sit on the front stoop until you admit him.”

She would let him do just that if not for the scandal it would cause.

“Oh, show him in.” None of this was Crispin’s fault, but she had wanted to avoid any painful scenes. Surely he had the sense to know that.

She stood up, hoping he would recognize he was unwelcome and would not stay long.

“Lieutenant Taverston,” Madeline announced, then backed out of the room.

Crispin came forward, such an absurdly skinny man, yet there was steel in every sinew. He looked sharp, dressed in his officer’s uniform, greatcoat slung over one arm, but he carried the mud and slush of the road with him. Had he come straight from Chaumbers without bothering to rest or change his clothes? How like him.

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant.”

He put his heels together and gave a small bow.

“Mrs. Wardrip.”

He took in the room at a glance. Nothing was out of place. The drapes had not been taken down; the rug had not been rolled up. Knickknacks remained on their shelves. But he would not be fooled. It had the empty atmosphere of a leased house about to be abandoned.

“I’m not here to make excuses for Jasper.”

“No?”

“I will not plead his case.”

“Good.”

He gave her the weakest of smiles. “So will you be good enough to offer me tea? I’m parched.”

Her resolve to quickly see him off crumbled. She owed him far too much to refuse him a cup. She pulled the bell for Madeline to return. “Tea, please, and biscuits for Lieutenant Taverston.”

“Just tea,” he said. “Please don’t go to any additional trouble.”

When Madeline left the room, Vanessa gestured to a chair.

“May I offer my condolences again?” She had written to him. To him, but not to Jasper.

“Thank you.” He sat with an officer’s straight-backed rigidity. That gave him away. He was uncomfortable too. Otherwise, he had a terrible tendency to sprawl. She sat in the nearest chair. With his long legs, their knees almost bumped.

“Why have you come? Did you think to rescue me again?”

“Do you need rescuing?” he asked in a flat voice, betraying no expectation and no condescension.

“No.”

“I thought not. Despite the difficulties at Corunna, I have always thought there was no creature in the world more resourceful than a British soldier’s wife.”

It was good of him to say that. To prop up her sagging pride. Even so, she knew if she were to have said yes, he would determine what she needed and provide it, without question.

He breathed deeply, then got on with it.

“I have a bit of news to share with you. Something I’d like for you to know first .”

He emphasized the word. So he knew of Jasper’s betrayal. Moreover, Jasper had evidently compounded the error by discussing it with his brother. Good God, Jasper! She shook her head.

“Whatever it is, I don’t care. And if you are carrying back a report, you may tell him that. Since apparently nothing between us was private.”

“I’m not doing his bidding. In fact, he would be furious at me for interfering. Nevertheless, I’ve come to give you this: the lady refused him.”

For a moment, his words made no sense. Then they did. Vanessa gaped. “Hovington’s daughter? Refused Jasper?”

Crispin was nodding, amused, but Vanessa was not. Jasper was the perfect catch. Titled, moneyed, courteous, and the most handsome man in the ton. By far. Strikingly blue eyed, with well-behaved, thick blond hair, and a dimpled cheek accompanying an array of beautiful smiles, he was almost a caricature of male perfection. It had taken her months to finally discover that one earlobe hung lower than the other. “What is wrong with her?”

The near-grin left Crispin’s face. His eyes narrowed, only slightly, but a darkness entered behind them. Her mouth dried. She recalled Henry saying that men under Lieutenant Taverston’s command claimed they would rather be captured by Boney’s soldiers than fall on the wrong side of their lieutenant.

“That was unworthy of me and, I’m sure, of her,” she whispered. How horrid to blame Lady Georgiana for exercising the one small concession granted to her: the right to refuse. If Vanessa had been allowed as much, how different her life would be.

The disapproval disappeared from Crispin’s expression. She would have thought she’d imagined it if she didn’t still feel a bit queasy.

He said, “Lady Georgiana is a gem. I gave you that information because I expect you will hear it soon enough elsewhere, and I wanted you to be prepared.”

Be prepared. Of course, he knew the rules too.

“Thank you. I will not gossip.”

“I know. I have trusted you with worse.”

She swallowed hard. Then, because she also trusted him, she let her hurt show.

“Nevertheless, your news has no bearing. I will not be here when Jasper returns. This lady may have rejected his suit, but the next will not. I won’t wait around to be discarded a second time.”

Crispin winced. She read in his expression that he knew she was right. Marrying well was Jasper’s duty. He would do it—once he got over the shock of being refused.

She tossed her head, still unbelieving. “How could she have said no? She may be a duke’s daughter, and beautiful, but Lady Georgiana has spurned half the ton! How much does she believe she is entitled to?”

“Love, I suspect.”

She sniffed. Lady Georgiana must have someone unsuitable in mind. She was testing her parents’ resolve. “I hope she does not plan on running off with a soldier.”

Crispin laughed, making Vanessa flush. “Oh, Crispin, I don’t suspect you.” She recalled how very careful Jasper had been to make sure there was nothing between her and Crispin. “You would never approach a lady Jasper meant to court.”

“No.” He smirked. “But Reg is evidently not so scrupled.”

“Reg? Reginald? Your brother , Reginald?”

Vanessa had met him twice, briefly each time, more than a year ago. He was very young, quiet, and very polite. He was going to be a clergyman, so Jasper had told her. He hadn’t needed to tell her; she could have guessed. Who on earth would choose Reginald over Jasper?

Crispin nodded, a crooked smile on his face.

“I expect he’ll be speaking with Hovington in a day or two. I hope the man is smart enough to see what a prize of a son-in-law Reg will be. But Reg’s suit is disadvantaged by his being a third son. That might matter to the duke.”

“I suspect if you think they should be together, they will end up so. You would realign the stars if a constellation did not suit you.”

“Stars are easier to budge than dukes.”

Madeline returned with tea. Vanessa dismissed her and then rose to pour.

“Sugar? Cream?”

“A little sugar, if you please.” He waited for her to bring it to him. “Thank you.”

She poured her own cup, too, then returned to her seat.

“Vanessa, Jasper worries me. I fear he will stop living his life. He courted Georgiana as though sleepwalking through it.”

With or without enthusiasm, she didn’t want to picture him courting. It hurt too much. “Jasper is no longer any of my concern.”

“The only thing that pierced his armor was whatever correspondence you two were carrying out. It befouled his mood. Truly befouled it.”

“I hope you are not fishing for what we wrote to one another.”

“Of course not. However, I did take note that more recently he has received no letters from you other than his own, returned unopened.” Crispin shook his head. “A masterstroke, Vanessa.”

“It was not a scheme. I simply saw no point in repeating hurtful recriminations and apologies that meant nothing.”

“I’m not accusing you. Nevertheless, it was masterfully done. Frustration is oozing from his neatly buttoned edges.”

“Crispin, please.” A chasm opened in her heart. “I don’t know what you want from me. I have nothing to give. You know that. The kindest thing I can do is disappear gracefully.”

“I don’t agree. But before you point out that I am no expert in affairs of the heart, I will draw my unwelcome visit to a close. I have to speak with Bathurst this evening and board a transport in the morning. I should have been in Spain a week ago.” He drank the last of his tea and set down his cup. He stood. “The real reason I came was to extract a promise. If you find your advance preparations in any way lacking, get word to me.”

“I won’t need anything.”

“If it’s urgent, and I cannot be located, get word to Reginald.”

She started. “Reginald? I couldn’t! He barely knows who I am.”

“He’s a Taverston. And as far as I’m concerned, so are you. In every way that matters.”

“Crispin! Enough!” If she started to cry, she would never forgive him. “Please go.”

“Not until you give me that promise.”

“Fine. If I need rescuing I will count on you. But I won’t need rescuing.”

He smiled at her. His smiles often held a touch of sadness, she thought. As well as she knew him, she didn’t know him at all.

“Will you tell me where you are going?” he asked.

“No.”

“I won’t tell Jasper.”

“Perhaps not,” she allowed, “but it would be unfair to put you in that position.” She had made the same excuse to Rose Posonby, her first London friend and her fiercest, and to Lady Effie Andini, her truest friend, who had known similar loss.

He gave her a long, studying look. “You truly do not wish to be found?”

A significant question. Vanessa knew Crispin. What he did. How well he did it. She could not flee far enough to hide from him if he chose to find her.

“This is not a game to me.”

He blinked and looked away. Then he shrugged. “And so, farewell, Vanessa. I will see myself out.”