His mother smiled a cat-in-the-cream smile. “I came upon him while I was visiting Gwyn. She was the one who gave Grey the name of a respected accoucheur in London. That’s why he sought her out. Before he came here, that is.”
There was no way he could dispute that. Not without talking to Gwyn. “As I told you before, I was cozying up to Vanessa because she wanted to make Juncker jealous. That’s all.” When she opened her mouth as if to dispute his claims, he held his hand up. “And if you want to confirm that, you’ll have to ask her. I’ve already said more than I should have.”
He wasn’t about to admit his mother was right about his ulterior motive for being around Vanessa. It was the sort of thing Mother might blurt out while sharing confidences with the young woman. And on some level, he knew it would hurt Vanessa deeply. He refused to do that to her. It seemed . . . wrong somehow.
As wrong as actually using her to find out what you need to know?
Inwardly he cursed. He was on a mission. His family’s very lives hung in the balance. Four men were already dead. Someone had destroyed Olivia’s laboratory—she could easily have died in the explosion. What if Mother or one of his brothers was next? He had to determine who was trying to kill or maim members of his family.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” he went on, “I have more ledgers to go over before I can pay a visit to Vanessa. She might very well be alarmed by that article in the London Society Times. I must reassure her that it won’t cause any great damage to her plans to snag Juncker.” Not to mention, he’d promised to protect her from Lisbourne. And he took that promise seriously.
His mother snorted. “If you say so.”
“Is there anything else you need from me?”
She rose from the chair. “Not at the moment, no.”
“Good. Then I shall see you this evening.” He called out to stay her march toward the door to his study. “I hope you will keep this confidential.”
“Of course. Don’t I always?”
He stifled a skeptical laugh. “Not if you can avoid it.”
Mother didn’t seem to appreciate that, for with a sniff she exited the room. Then it was back to perusing his account ledgers once more.
Chapter Eight
Vanessa slept late and wandered down the stairs just past noon to have her breakfast. After selecting a hearty meal to see her through the afternoon’s calls, she thumbed through the newspapers laid out on the table until she found her favorite, the London Society Times. It didn’t take her long to notice an article about Thornstock’s party. The more she read, the sicker she felt. Who was this writer, that he managed to be at so many private engagements? Or to have connections to people at so many private engagements?
In a panic, she turned to the footman manning the breakfast table. “Has Mama seen this paper, by any chance?”
“I don’t believe so, miss. She hasn’t been down to breakfast yet.”
Thank heaven! Perhaps Mama really had been feeling ill when she’d left Vanessa with Uncle Noah and had come home.
But Vanessa wasn’t daft enough to go check on her. Let Mama sleep. And to make sure her mother never read this issue of the gossip rag, Vanessa tucked it under her arm, grabbed a roll, and hurried up the stairs. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it to her room before her mother accosted her in the hall.
Mama waved a page of newsprint at her. “What is the meaning of this, young lady?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mama.” Pleading ignorance sometimes worked.
This wasn’t one of those times. “No? Then what is this?” Her mother snatched the newspaper from under Vanessa’s arm.
“I’m bringing it to my room to read.”
“A likely story. I wouldn’t even have seen this bit of gossip if not for my friend next door, coming to congratulate me on your ‘brilliant coup’ last night.” Mama advanced forward, swatting Vanessa with the newspaper and forcing her to back up toward her room. “So while I lay ill in my bed, you had to defy me, dancing with Armitage not once but twice!” She thrust the article at Vanessa. “When you could have been with Lord Lisbourne instead!”
“Lord Lisbourne was in the card room the whole evening,” Vanessa protested.
“Exactly!” Her mother stabbed the article with one finger. “You could have been there, too, hanging on his arm, encouraging him, having intimate conversations. . . .”
For pity’s sake, what was her mother going on and on about? How could Mama have known that the marquess was even there when Vanessa herself hadn’t known until later?
Oh, no. Surely not.
Vanessa skimmed the newsprint. A few paragraphs down from the part about her and Sheridan, she found a mention of Lord Lisbourne.
Rumor has it that the card room was as lively as the ballroom. The Marquess of Lisbourne acquitted himself admirably, reportedly winning a pot early in the evening, with the heiress of Hitchings at his side.
This writer would be the death of her. “Mama, I can explain—”
Her mother sniffed. “Don’t bother. I know what you’re up to. And I don’t like it one bit.”
Vanessa tensed. Had Mama caught on to the real focus of all her hopes?
With one finger, her mother stabbed Vanessa’s chest. “You’re trying to make that Mr. Juncker jealous so he’ll offer for you.”
Relief coursed through her. Thank heaven Mama only saw things on the surface.
“Well, I won’t stand for it!” her mother went on. “Next time you see Lord Lisbourne, girl, you will cozy up to him or else.”
Vanessa’s temper flared. She could tolerate Mama’s machinations and ranting and attempts to marry Vanessa off, but she hated being called “girl.” It smacked too much of how Sheridan insisted on regarding her. “Or else what, Mama? You will throw me out in the street? You will try to starve me as you and Papa did to Grey?”
Her mother looked startled. No surprise there. She was used to having Vanessa ignore her behavior rather than make a fuss. “That was all your father’s doing. I had no part in it.”
“But you didn’t stop it, did you? Stand up for him against Papa?” She thrust her face in her mother’s. “I am not a girl; I am a full-grown woman who knows her own mind. I am not going to marry Lord Lisbourne, not now, not ever. Besides, I have it on good authority that the marquess is a notorious gambler with pockets to let, to use your favorite term. So he is only nosing around me because he needs to marry a woman with a generous dowry.”
Mama blanched. “That’s . . . that can’t be . . . It’s not true.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe you. Who is this ‘good authority’?”
“A very reliable one, I swear.”
“If you won’t say who it is, I have no way to assess the source,” she said with a sniff. “So you’d best be prepared to be nice to Lord Lisbourne, because—”
Vanessa sighed. “It’s Grey.” By way of Sheridan, but Mama needn’t hear that. “And you know Grey always comes by these bits of information honestly. You’ve seen him make good financial use of such things before.”