Chapter Twenty-Two

T he Rose Room smelled of lavender, a trivial incongruity that should not trouble Vanessa as much as it did. Perhaps it was because she had nothing to do except breathe it in. Or, perhaps it was because every thought in her head was troublesome.

Jasper’s mother hated her. Well, fine. She’d expected as much. But the countess accused her of turning Jasper into some sort of libertine. Which was nonsense. Yet how long until his mother’s disapproval influenced the way Jasper saw her?

She was afraid of what might happen tonight. It was silly to be fearful—as silly as Jasper wishing to hide her from God knew what. He was investing a good deal of time and effort into merely embarrassing Hilyer. Vanessa was pleased to envision the marquess’s humiliation, yet she worried that it would prove both too much and not enough. Hilyer would slink away from London. But what prevented him from just slinking back?

What were they attempting to accomplish? Jasper wanted her to be comfortable in his world. Perhaps, in some small way, she could be. He had friends who were kind enough to make her welcome in limited settings. Yet if Hilyer chose to make trouble for her, she would find herself shunned even by them. So Jasper meant to strike first.

He understood the ton. He knew what he was doing. She accepted this. She wanted Hilyer gone. But she was frightened.

What if he did call Jasper out? Or worse. What if Jasper lost his temper and challenged Hilyer? The marquess would choose pistols.

Oh, dear God, don’t let her be the cause of Jasper’s death too. Surely Hazard would not let that happen. Or Crispin.

And that was another thing bothering her. Why on earth was Crispin here? She couldn’t decide if the man’s presence reassured her or frightened her. It seemed too odd, too serendipitous, for him to be home. Jasper hadn’t known he was coming. That much was clear. Jasper had been shocked to see him. And yet, here he was. Now.

She was surely making too much of this. But.

She would never say anything to Jasper, but there had been whispers amongst those in their regiment about the lieutenant. She’d paid the rumors little mind. If men admired their superior officer, they tended to inflate his importance, and by extension inflate their own. Henry had been very, very drunk one night and boasted that their lieutenant gathered intelligence for the War Office. He said it with such slurring admiration that Vanessa gave it as much credence as silly Marybelle claiming the lieutenant was a pirate.

But now she’d heard from Crispin’s own mouth that General Wellesley had put letters into his hands.

Yet how ridiculous to read anything into that. How long had Crispin been in the army? A year? A little over a year? His father was an earl. That was why he was carting letters to and from London. It was a posh assignment for a well-connected young lord. That was all.

His presence in London had nothing to do with Jasper’s ploy to publicly embarrass Hilyer. How could it? She was only on edge because Jasper was. She wished he’d simply left her at home.

Vanessa ceased her pacing and lay down on the bed. It was comfortably soft. It, too, smelled of lavender. The ceiling, she noted, was decorated around the edges with painted tea roses. Pink and white. Quite lovely.

Everything she’d seen in this house had been lovely. Such a contrast with her father’s mansion. He might as well have plastered the walls with banknotes. Mother never once stood up to him. Never. And Freddy…Freddy was timid. She’d tried to take his part when Father rampaged, but that made things worse. So Freddy, her sweet little brother, had come to resent her for stirring up Father more.

Seeing Jasper and Crispin together hurt her somewhere deep in her heart’s core. They might bicker, but no one else had better dare cross them. They were a force. Together, a force.

She supposed she needn’t worry about Hilyer.

She jumped up from the bed and strode to the window. She pulled back the curtain and looked out—out upon a rose garden of course. The bushes were all trimmed back neatly. It would be gorgeous if it were not midwinter.

It would not be difficult to escape. There was a trellis against the wall with a few trailing vines. She could climb out the window and down. There must be a back gate from the garden to the street. She could escape the countess’s wrath and go home.

Or she could escape and make her way to Brooks’s. They would not let her in, but she could wait outside for Jasper.

And do what?

She could see Lydia shaking her head. Don’t go looking for trouble. There’s enough of it looking for you. Women were just as prone to foolish heroics as men. Lydia had prevented untold disasters by reining in desperately frightened—or just desperate—wives. If she were here now, she would order Vanessa to lie down in that comfortable bed and quit fussing over nothing.

She let the curtain close.

Then heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

A maid entered, followed by a second. The first carried a bowl of water and had clean towels draped over her arm. The second brought a covered tray.

“Supper, miss. If you please.” The maid bobbed a curtsy and put the tray on the table.

The first said, “If you’ll be needing help with your dress or your hair, I’m to attend to you.”

Vanessa blinked at them, wondering who had sent them. Jasper? Before leaving? Or the earl? Surely not the countess.

“Thank you. But I won’t need anything else.”

She would be a fine soldier’s wife if she could not get in and out of her own clothing.

The maids dipped their heads and went out. Vanessa lifted the lid from the tray. A veritable feast. Chicken or perhaps duck. Gravy and peas. Bread thick with butter. Cherries. And a small cup of wine.

She sat to eat. The food was piping hot. Except for the chilled cherries and wine.

The meal was not resentfully provided. It was not bread crusts and water.

She tasted it all, though she was not hungry. She wouldn’t send it back to the kitchen untouched in case the fact might be reported to someone. She wouldn’t add rudeness or ingratitude to her faults. Then she rose, went to the door, and put her ear against it, listening for house sounds. Just wind and creaking. No voices. No footsteps.

Oh, for Heaven’s sake. She was being foolish. It was only a snub. Jasper had marshaled a small army for a snub. If this were all it took to ruin a man, the ton’s pretensions to superiority were ludicrous. When her father had ruined rivals, the men were left destitute.

It was too early to try to sleep. The evening would be endless.

Something spattered against the window. Like hail, but rapid fire, then quiet, then spattering again.

She stepped to the window and looked out once more. A tall, slender, blond man stood in the garden, draped in a dark greatcoat. Crispin. She pushed open the window, and he began ascending the trellis. She watched, gaping, as he rose.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Something that he had to hide from the earl and countess.

“Ouch! Damn it!” He swore as his head crested the sill.

“Is Jasper all right? What happened?”

“Jasper?” He laughed shortly. “He’s fine. I am bleeding.” He held up his finger to show her the prick. “I forgot the vines had thorns.” He stuck the finger in his mouth.

“What are you doing?” She could hear her blood pounding in her ears. Jasper was fine. Crispin said he was fine.

“There is a…complication. I need to know, quickly, about your brother. His character.”

“My brother ? Crispin, what on earth?” She shivered, not only from the cold evening air. How could Freddy be involved in anything that would interest Crispin?

“How would you describe his character? Please.”

She thought a moment, perplexed, frightened, then answered as best she could.

“Weak.”

“Ah.” He looked past her, chewing his lip. Then he said quietly, “Vanessa, if someone were to harm either of my brothers, or my sister, even inadvertently, and I were to find out, I would never forgive them. Ever. So…”

“Someone wants to hurt Freddy?”

His face softened. “ Freddy ? Not Frederick?”

“Oh, not to me. He’s a boy, Crispin. He’s sixteen.”

“Hell.” Pity and frustration washed over his features. “So his character is malleable.”

He started to lower himself back down, but she grabbed his wrist and held tight.

“What is happening? Crispin, tell me.”

Crispin emitted an annoyed sigh. “Your father’s son is in a place he shouldn’t be. I needed to know if it was worth the effort of extricating him. It seems it is.”

“He’s in danger?” Vanessa’s heart clenched and clenched again when Crispin nodded. “What can I do?”

“Nothing. Except let go of me.”

She let go. “I want to help.”

He started to shake his head, but then paused and peered at her. “What motivates him? What would be the best way to lure him from one place to another?”

“From where to where?”

“It’s best I don’t say.”

“For Heaven’s sake.” She glared at him. “Do you know how absurd you sound?”

“Yes. Sorry.” He rubbed his injured finger against his coat. “Would money lure him? Or a girl?”

“He has money enough. I don’t know about girls. Surely he’s too young.” Freddy’s motivation? “He wants to please my father.”

Crispin gave her a pitying look. “I suspect that’s why he is where he is now.”

“You need only to make him leave a place?” How curious. And that shouldn’t be so hard. “Nothing more?”

“He needs to leave quietly and stay away for a few hours.”

A few hours. “Maybe…” Oh, it was unlikely, but Crispin was looking at her expectantly, so she continued. “Maybe if I were to send him a note. Asking him to meet me somewhere.”

Crispin shook his head. “You can’t meet him.”

“All right.” She wasn’t sure that she actually wanted to see Freddy. “But I could ask him to meet me all the same.” She considered the possibilities. “If I were to tell him I was in trouble and needed to flee…I could tell him I’m afraid Hilyer will claim me after all and make me suffer for insulting him by running away.”

“Go on.”

“I could tell him to please bring me ten pounds, enough to flee to the countryside. To a friend’s house.”

“Would he go, do you think, to Trafalgar Square? To the bronze Charles? That is a good distance and should keep him busy for a while. If you were to ask him to meet you after midnight, perhaps one o’clock, would he go? And wander and wait, looking for you?”

“I think he would.” She shrugged, saddened to think of it. He hadn’t tried to help her when she needed help, but what could he have done? Perhaps he regretted his inaction. Or perhaps he resented her for the trouble she’d caused. “Either he will bring me the ten pounds, or he will come with one of my father’s bully boys to see me delivered to Hilyer himself.”

“Christ.” Disgust contorted Crispin’s face. “If that’s even a possibility, I should leave him where he is.”

“I don’t want him harmed.”

“No, of course you don’t.” Crispin shifted his weight and the trellis creaked beneath him. The wind blew hard, and Vanessa wrapped her arms across her chest, but Crispin didn’t seem to notice the cold. “There is paper in the top right desk drawer. Foolscap. And there should be pens and ink too. Will Freddy recognize your handwriting? He will believe it’s from you?”

“Yes. How will you deliver it?”

He flashed a grin at her. “I ask the questions, Vanessa.” The smile fell away. “Don’t say too much. Just what you said. You need help. Ten pounds. Trafalgar Square. Close to one o’clock.”

She moved to the dresser and found the writing materials. She scribbled out the words and signed it: Devotedly, Nessa . Then she folded it and took it back to the window to put it into Crispin’s hands. He glanced at it and nodded.

“Vanessa, I make no promises. But you should know I tried, and you did your best. And Jasper knows nothing about any of this.”

Jasper’s ignorance relieved her more than she could say.

“All right.”

“And, Vanessa, if your brother should come to you in the next few days, or write to you, you have to deny any knowledge of this. Deny all of it. You did not write this. You have no idea who forged your signature or why.”

“But I signed it Nessa .”

“Is that a secret between you two?”

“No. Not a secret. Just not well known outside of the family.”

“That’s all right. He is your father’s heir. It should make sense to him that your father arranged his rescue. Vanessa, if my name is mentioned at all, Jasper will be dragged into something he should not be dragged into.”

That sounded like a warning.

“Frankly, Crispin, I am frightened enough of you without explicit threats. If you tell me to lie to my brother, I will.”

He smiled delightedly. “Smart girl.” He tucked the letter into his shirt. “I have to go.” He lowered himself a foot, then looked up. “Oh. Lie to Jasper, too, if you can.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“No matter. I can.”

Then he climbed down another few feet, jumped to the ground, and disappeared through the garden.