“Ah, there he is.” Patrick pointed at a distant rider at the opening to the park. A man astride a roan gelding waved his crop at them. Venetia tried to keep calm and remember that Patrick would not attempt some scheme in such a public place. He was a fool, but he was not stupid. Still, Venetia kept a tight grip on her riding crop. She would use it as a whip if they tried to manhandle her.
“Hello, Bernard. May I present my fair cousin, Venetia? Venetia, Mr. Bernard Kenyon.”
The man, not unpleasant in looks, offered her a dangerous smile. “It is indeed my greatest pleasure to meet you. Patrick has done nothing but sing your praises. I find his description of you falls quite short, however. He failed to mention your sunny-colored hair or those rich doe-brown eyes. You are quite enchanting.”
Simpering compliments, just as her father had said. But beneath those compliments, what lay in Bernard’s heart? Was he in league with her cousin to get her fortune? She’d wager anything that he was.
“Thank you, Mr. Kenyon. I am sure we shall become better acquainted in time, but if you do not mind, I would very much like to exercise my horse.” She gave the beast, a lovely white mare named Snow, a gentle pat on the neck, then urged the horse into a brisk trot. As much as she knew she needed to delay things to give Gran time to pack, she did not want this fortune hunter attempting to compose more false compliments. It made her uncomfortable. The two gentlemen soon caught up and settled on either side of her, which left her feeling distinctly trapped.
Do not panic, she reminded herself. But it was hard to convince her heart to listen. It was beating too fast, and an unwelcome heat flushed her cheeks as she soon became flustered. She tried to picture Gran marshaling the servants to pack faster, and a feeling of hope briefly distracted her from her rising panic.
“Will you be in London this fall?” Bernard asked her.
“Yes, of course.” Another lie, but she carried it off beautifully. If she and Gran were successful, perhaps they could even purchase a place in the country for a year and avoid Patrick entirely.
“That is excellent news indeed. I have high hopes that you and I will see more of each other.” Bernard offered her what she supposed was meant to be a charming grin. However, it was so clearly a performance that Venetia nearly cringed. She masked her reaction by fiddling with her reins.
“Would it not be lovely, cousin?” Patrick urged with a lift of his dark brows.
“Yes,” she replied.
After Patrick’s show of temper earlier, Venetia was quite sure he could do her and Gran a measure of harm if they were not careful. It was best to play along. For now.
“I heard that Lord and Lady Helmsley are hosting a ball in two days,” Bernard said casually. But the measured pace of his announcement hinted that he had practiced it. “I would be honored to claim your first dance.”
Venetia had been raised a lady and nearly every moment of her life had acted like one, but right then she had no desire at all to dance with him or anyone else. So she did the sensible—but unladylike—thing and promised she would when she had no intention of keeping that promise.
“See? What a lovely day this has been.” Patrick leaned in closer to her to whisper with a smug smile. “I told you, Venetia, that I would see you married, and it will be soon.” Despite his smile, his words dripped with poison.
Men truly did believe women were dolls to be moved about, dressed, played with, and put away until the mood suited them. Well, Venetia wouldn’t allow it. She nearly growled in frustration but swallowed the urge. There was too much at stake.
As much as she didn’t wish to agree with Patrick, she’d come to the sad conclusion that Gran was right. The only way to be safe from Patrick’s schemes was to marry, but someone of her choosing. Someone who would not threaten her, cage her, or strangle the life out of her by degrees over the decades.
But did such a man even exist? Someone who was kind, compassionate, and passionate, who believed in an equal partner in a marriage? If he did, she would do everything in her power to find him and marry him.
She smiled at Patrick, the expression laden with sugary sweetness. “Yes, I believe I will be married soon enough.”
He thought he could browbeat her into submission? He was even more a fool than Gran had thought.
She kept the two men at the park for nearly an hour and a half, and while they were content to enjoy the ride further, she was not. She suddenly winced and bent over on her sidesaddle.
“Oh heavens,” she exclaimed dramatically, calling the attention of both men.
“I say, are you all right, Lady Venetia?” Bernard inquired.
“I . . . Yes. That is to say . . . Oh, this is most distressing, but the matter is one of a feminine nature, and even telling you this much has caused me quite a bit of distress.”
“A feminine nature?” Patrick said, then his eyes widened with horror. “You must wish to return home at once.”
“Yes, but please go on with your ride. It would only pain me further to make you witness my embarrassment by having you escort me home. It might become . . . unsightly.”
Both men turned ruddy cheeked and looked bashfully away like schoolboys. Venetia held back a giggle. Leave it to men to run away at the first mention of anything connected to the feminine body that did not immediately lead to their own pleasure.
“By all means, go. We’ll be fine, won’t we, Bernard?”
“We certainly will.” Bernard offered her a congenial smile. Venetia had to remind herself to act disappointed before she turned her horse in the opposite direction.
When she reached home, she found that her grandmother had managed much in such a short time. A large wagon was out front, loaded with at least a dozen trunks. Footmen were piling more small boxes upon it. Their coach sat behind the wagon, already prepared for them.
“Heavens, Gran has been busy,” Venetia murmured as she rushed into the house. “Gran?” she called out.
“Up here, my dear.” Gwen peered at her from the top of the stairs, cane in hand, but she was looking livelier than ever. Phoebe was ready to assist her down.
“I’ve already secured a townhouse to accommodate everything we don’t need for the house party. Half the staff will move in to set up the house for us, it will be ready when we return from Hartland Abbey.”
“How on earth did you find a townhouse so quickly?”
Gwen’s eyes glinted with mischief. “When you are my age, you learn to plan. I secured the townhouse a week ago in case of such an emergency. I didn’t tell you, my dear, because I didn’t wish to worry you.”
Gwen reached the bottom of the stairs, and Venetia caught her free hand, gently holding it. “No more secrets, Gran. Please. If we are to survive this, we need truth between us.”
“No secrets? Child, half the fun in life lies in secrets. But yes, I’ll agree to the spirit of those terms. Now come along. Phoebe and I were preparing the coach when you arrived. It’s time we left for Hartland.”
“Isn’t the party two days away? Surely we cannot arrive earlier than expected.”
“Yes, but we will need to stay at an inn on the way. We can extend our stay at the inn another day and then finish the journey to Hartland.”
It seemed that Gran had planned for everything. Venetia should have been relieved, but she wasn’t. Her grandmother intended to see her good and married.