Illusion of Innocence: Regency Rebelles Series

Chapter 2.

Friday 22nd November 1816 – Seven Months Later – Pennington Towers

‘Seven bloody days without a scrap of good honest skirt in sight. Can’t guarantee I’m going to survive that long.’

Mr. Sinclair Wolfenden looked up at the imposing towers of the home of his brother, the Earl of Pennington. Structured in the shape of an ‘H’ with great copper-capped turrets at the extremes of each wing, Pennington Towers was a proud and stunning example of Elizabethan architecture.

A national treasure no doubt.

While Sin could appreciate the beauty and value of the place, he did not envy his brother the responsibility, either for the people who relied on the estate and him for their livelihood or for the upkeep on such a vast and ancient building.

‘Is that all you’re thinking about?’ demanded the man at his side as they traversed the sundial garden. Immaculately laid out with four intricate and symmetrical Elizabethan knot gardens, a brass sundial mounted on a stone plinth stood at the center. ‘You’re not one of those randy young bucks who can’t go a day without dipping his wick.’

With a fleeting appreciation for the artistry and skill involved in the creation and maintenance of such a showpiece, Sin slowed, then turned an ugly scowl in his friend’s direction.

‘You’re right. That’s not the problem,’ Sinclair answered, his words almost a snarl. ‘It’s what we will find that’s like to curl my liver. Give me a good honest whore who knows what she is and what”s required of her, not some high-maintenance bitch who”s made vows of fidelity she never intended to keep.’

Anik Woodburn, Viscount Lewiston, was probably as far from his preferred milieu as was Sinclair. Half Indian prince and half English nobleman and belonging in neither world, he was most at home with his feet planted firmly on the deck of a ship.

‘Or some simpering debutante on the hunt for a title or a rich husband,’ Nik muttered.

A shudder wracked Sin’s body from the top of his head to the toes in his boots. He had no title thankfully, since he was the second son of the brother to an Earl. That his own brother now held that title made no difference to his status, thankfully.

But wealth he had claimed—by the shipload. Many would overlook his lack of title in order to secure the kind of pampered existence they imagined his wealth would provide.

Nik on the other hand, was not only fabulously wealthy, but was a member of an Indian royal family as well as heir to the Earl of Ainslee. Not even his mixed blood or light coffee colored skin could deter the determined husband hunters.

They’d known each other since Oxford, were partners in a shipping line they’d built from scratch and always had each other’s backs.

He was looking forward to seeing his brother again. Lucy had given birth to their first child in September, hence the week-long house party to celebrate Theodore Thomas’s christening on Sunday. It was also likely Nik’s cousin, Lord Jackson Arlington, would be present with his new wife. The last time Sinclair had visited the Towers was during the preparations for Jack’s wedding the next day.

That thought conjured the image of an enticing faerie creature who’d been creating floral arrangements of exquisite delicacy for the happy event. She’d embodied everything that appealed to him most about women—although she could not possibly have been out of the schoolroom.

Too dangerously enchanting by far.

Best he came up with some unarguable reason why he could not stay the full week, like—urgent business in London. No one could dispute that.

Not even Nik.

Princess Shipping, the line he and Nik owned, now had six ships and the newest, the Princess Jeshael, was due in port in London within the next couple of weeks.

Or he could legitimately claim the need to swing by Haddon Grange, the family estate in Berkshire Gabe had signed over to him.

But he was also keen to spend time with Jackson and the woman who’d stolen his hardened heart. Apparently she was actually Lady Caroline Weatherby, the daughter the Earl of Winstanley had lost to Jackson’s brother in a hand of poker some ten years ago. She’d assumed a disguise and an alias and hidden in plain sight for years as Lucy’s amanuensis.

Damn, he could only hope the enchanting faerie temptation would not be in attendance.

A hope doomed as soon as they passed through the neatly clipped hedges onto a larger expanse of lawn, at the center of which played the famous wolf fountain. Three wolves, cavorting with the exuberance of playful puppies spouted plumes of water high in the air.

Wolves were a major feature of the statuary to be found all about the vast grounds of the ancient home of the Wolfendens, Earls of Pennington since the time of Queen Elizabeth.

It wasn’t the wolves restricting his airways and setting his blood to simmering through his veins.

Despite the distinct nip of late autumn in the air, several nursemaids and their young charges played with balls and hoops on the well-kept lawn. Romping among them with the abandon of a six-year-old was the fair, curvaceous nymph he”d last seen flitting like a butterfly from one flower arrangement to another in the Great Hall back in April.

A small boy sat on the grass, his face twisted in a deep scowl, and the fairy person, for so she appeared with the sun catching in the silver nimbus of white-blonde curls dancing about her head, jumped and fluttered her arms and made hilarious faces at the little fellow who was determined to maintain his level of disapproval.

Her feet danced and kicked higher and her bell-like laugh reached Sinclair from across the expanse of lawns. Clearly, she was unaware of her audience of two, and no one else seemed to be taking any notice. Perhaps they were used to it.

‘She might entertain us with a handstand if we hang about. At least we would appreciate her efforts more than that curmudgeonly little fellow at her feet,’ Nik commented.

Sin was about to make some comedic rejoinder when a stern, dark-browed man stepped onto the small terrace at the side of the house.

In tight-lipped silence, he observed the spirited performance, then leaned over the balustrade.

‘Verity!’

The commanding voice carried across the lawns and the faerie dancer, floating about as light as thistledown, collapsed suddenly, the limbs she’d been tossing about with unconcerned abandon, bent to one side with the flying skirts settling properly to cover them.

The man turned as abruptly as he’d appeared and vanished back into the house.

The Earl of Stannesford, the magical creature’s father. Sinclair recognized him from the wedding, but his attention was all on the young woman who’d collapsed to the lawn like a kite when the wind stopped blowing.

As far as Sinclair could tell from this distance, her face was now a mirror of the child”s.

For a moment, the two sat and scowled at one another.

‘Come on, Sin,’ Nik said. ‘Might as well go and make our presence known.’

But Sinclair was fascinated by the tableau playing out on the lawn.

The little fellow observed the fallen dancer for a moment, then leapt to his feet, face animated and hands clapping.

Then he held his hands out to her, but her head was down, and it seemed she hadn”t noticed.

Then the piping voice carried across the lawn as the boy grew impatient.

‘Come on, Very. Race me.’

Raising her hands to grasp his, she pushed to her feet while it was obvious she allowed the child to think he’d pulled her up.

‘I”m tired, Philip,’ she averred, while glancing surreptitiously in the direction of the house. ‘You run to the fountain and back and I’ll count how long it takes.’

In a trice the child was off, heels flashing and face bright with laughter, his discord of a moment before forgotten.

The girl put Sinclair in mind of a bright butterfly swatted unceremoniously from its joyful flight to lie on the ground with its wings bent and tattered.

‘Sin?’

He turned from the scene, struggling to understand why he’d even noticed, let alone felt like he’d also been swatted by a careless hand.

Following Nik up the wide stone stairs to the front portico of Pennington Towers, he moved his thoughts to the new nephew he would soon meet.

Theodore Thomas Wolfenden was two months old, and since he was the most forward child in all ways according to his father, it wouldn”t be long before he”d be romping on the lawns with the other children—and the fairy dancer.

Verity wasn’t sure what mortified her more, her father stepping out to reprimand her from where he’d obviously been watching her with the children, or Sinclair Wolfenden choosing that exact moment to walk up the drive from the stables and across the lawns instead of arriving at the front of the house in his carriage like any other normal guest.

Allowing young Philip the illusion of pulling her to her feet, she pushed upright and settled herself demurely upon a stone bench. The sulky scowl she’d been trying to coax off the wee lad’s face with her childish antics had miraculously vanished.

‘Come on, Very,’ he insisted, holding his hands out to her. ‘Race me.’

She hated disappointing the child, but an excuse must be found. Papa could still be watching. And she’d promised him only this morning her days of acting childishly were in the past.

‘I’m tired, Philip,’ she sighed. ‘You run to the fountain, and I’ll count how long it takes.’

The child set off with a whoop, and Verity sat with disappointment, a twisting lump deep in her chest.

She’d disappointed herself, as well as Papa, for she’d intended to portray the most proper and sophisticated of young ladies when she met Sinclair Wolfenden again. Instead she’d been cavorting on the lawn with the children like the veriest immature hoyden.

Trouble was, she loved children and they had come to expect her to join them in their games. Somehow she had to remember to act a little more circumspectly in future.

‘How fast was I?’ Philip demanded, flinging himself against her knee and puffing exaggeratedly.

‘Twenty-five,’ Verity told him, making her eyes go round with surprise.

‘I bet I can do better than that,’ he boasted, standing and taking up an exaggerated ‘ready’ pose.

‘Oh, I’m sure you can,’ Verity encouraged. ‘Ready, set, go.’

His little boots pounded across the grass, and he turned at least a couple of yards short of the fountain and galloped back.

‘Did I go faster? Did I?’

His blue eyes were bright with excitement, and his cheeks flushed as he looked hopefully up at Verity.

‘You did,’ she agreed. ‘I only counted to twenty-two that time.’

With the exuberance of childhood, he threw his body down and turned a clumsy flip. Struggling back to his feet, his hair flopping across his eyes, he confronted Verity.

‘I’m going to tell Unca Gabe how fast I can run. How fast was I?’

‘Twenty-two,’ Verity said solemnly and pushed to her feet. ‘Now I had better go and get ready for dinner.’

The child’s face fell, but Verity ruffled his hair and said, ‘It’s getting chilly. You will all be going inside soon anyway. I’m sure there will be hot milk and cookies ready for you up in the nursery.’

At this pronouncement, the child took off to tell his nanny it was time to go indoors.

With a wave to all the children, Verity slipped around the back of the house to make her way up to Victoria’s room, which she and Angelique were also sharing.

Linnie, the maid who attended to her, and Charity were waiting for her.

‘There you are, my lady,’ she said, a hint of resignation in her voice. ‘The only time you’re never late is if you’ve promised to play with the children.’

Verity turned her back to allow Linnie to remove her clothes.

‘There’s warm water for a wash. No time for a bath, my lady.’

There was a hint of censure in Linnie’s voice.

‘Don’t you start, Linnie,’ Verity moaned as she hurried behind the screen. ‘Papa already saw me gamboling with the children and made his displeasure known. He only said one word, mind. But no one can say as much with one word as my Papa can.’

Linnie giggled.

‘Verity,’ she growled in the deepest voice she could manage, and laughter bubbled up from Verity’s chest. She never stayed down for long.

‘Exactly,’ she cried. ‘What have you put out for me to wear, Linnie? I have to be the epitome of elegance this week, for who else should come upon me in total disarray and behaving like a hoyden but Lord Gabriel’s brother, Mr. Sinclair and that terribly handsome Indian prince friend of his. I could wish Papa had chosen to chastise me earlier. But there I was, all but doing handstands to try and coax young Lord Philip out of the sulks as they walked past.’

‘Handstands?’ Linnie squeaked. ‘My lady, you didn’t.’

‘No, fortunately, but it was close. Oh Linnie, I’ve been dying to wear this dress. Thank you for pressing it for me.’

With a happy sigh she stood to allow Linnie to pull the rich mauve ribbon silk gown over her head.

‘Oh my lady, no one could mistake you for anything but the woman you are in this gown,’ the maid offered with satisfaction as she fastened the tiny hidden hooks down the back and then secured the sash beneath her breasts, which rose above the neckline with the perfect hint of plumpness.

Verity smiled at her image in the mirror. Although she lamented her lack of height, she’d always thought Nature had gifted her a perfect figure. But even she had to admit the soft lavender lace ruffles across the bodice were definitely an enhancement.

‘Now, please do something quick and amazing with my hair, Linnie.’

‘Yes, my lady,’ the maid said with a wry smile. ‘Just as well your hair looks stunning pulled up on top of your head and secured with a ribbon—in the style of the Greek ladies. Just how you like.’

***

When Sinclair and Anik arrived in the drawing room, it was humming with conversation, rumbling with male voices and high-pitched female laughter.

The men were huddled together, most likely talking politics, which gave Sin a sour feeling in his stomach. Politics was the last thing that ever interested him.

It seemed to him as though the women were artfully posed to display their figures and best assets, eyes alight and watchful. He felt like a stallion being put through his paces in the ring at Tattersall’s. It didn’t prevent his gaze from skimming over them while making his own internal assessments and instantly noting the absence of his spritely obsession.

No doubt, she had returned to the schoolroom with the children.

‘Sinclair. Lord Lewiston. I was beginning to fear you had found more felicitous entertainment,’ his sister-in-law said, rising and drawing them towards the group of women.

His gaze sweeping over the gathering in Pennington’s drawing room quickly showed Sin they were all either local friends or family, and he knew every one of them.

And actually, their interest in him was purely friendly.

There were no surprises, no unknowns, nothing to interest him at all.

Not even a fairy goddess to stir his senses and arouse his self-condemnation.

Doubtless, she was in the schoolroom.

Then again, he recognized at least three young cousins he knew also belonged in the school room, so why was the fair florist not present?

Apparently, she was a creature who danced to her own tune.

Well, first things first. He crossed the room to press a kiss to each of his mother”s delicately scented cheeks, and then his younger sister, Cynthia, and his older half-sisters, Marion and Penelope and their families. He introduced Anik to all of them.

Anik with his dark good looks and titles, Prince of Nagpur as well as Viscount Lewiston, was guaranteed to entertain his female relatives long enough for Sin to extract himself and properly greet their hosts.

Lucy, with his nephew wrapped in a cozy hand knitted blanket on her knee, was surrounded by a group of younger women.

Placing a kiss on his sister”s in-law’s cheek, he held out his arms with a questioning lift of a brow.

Barely able to conceal her surprise that he would want to hold the child, Lucy transferred the gurgling bundle into his outstretched arms. Her brandy-brown eyes were watchful, as if she didn”t trust him not to whisk the child straight off to sea as he”d teased last time he visited.

Then he looked down into the suddenly startled blue grey eyes of his nephew and had the strangest sensation of something cracking in his chest.

Was this how Gabe felt when he held his son? A tangled mess of awe, protectiveness—and love.

He lifted his gaze to seek out his brother and looked straight into a pair of mystical sea-green eyes watching him from the doorway into the hall.

And couldn”t look away.

Dear God, he was right royally damned.

Forget schoolroom chit.

Forget faerie sprite.

Forget hoydenish entertainer of infants.

In lilac ribbon silk and with her wild abundance of silver blonde curls only partially tamed by a matching riband, the creature with her gaze locked on his was all woman. The gown subtly accentuated the perfect swelling of flesh above the neckline, the daintiness of her waist and drew his gaze down to the enticing curve of her hips.

But it was the locked awareness in her eyes that riveted him where he stood, the unaccountable knowing, like a tangible visual flaring between them.

Etching images in fire on his heart.

He could clearly see her holding a babe.

His babe.

He was not just damned. He was fucked.

Feeling as if he was ripping apart some deep and visceral connection, he dragged his gaze from hers to the vulnerable wee scrap of humanness in his arms, to discover the little face all red, screwed up and ready to scream.

‘Oh—well—obviously I”m not your Mama,’ he said, the words seeming to come from somewhere far away.

Carefully, he laid the babe back in his mother”s arms.

‘He looks like my brother when he does that,’ he declared with a wink. ‘Time I went and told him so.’

Turning on his heel, he hurried across to where Gabe and several other gentlemen were crowded around the fireplace. There was a tingling down his spine, an acute awareness. The women remained silent as he fled their presence, no doubt fully understanding something had startled him and acutely curious as to what.

He”d always been careful to keep his thoughts and intrigues private, to give the dames of the ton nothing to prattle about, and that wasn”t about to change.

Nor would he give one more thought nor smidgen of attention to where the vision in lilac had seated herself.

Between Victoria and Lady Angelique Adderley.

Damn, it was going to be a long week.

‘Ah, Sinner, you”ve finally arrived. I was beginning to think you were still on the high seas somewhere,’ Gabe said, hauling him close for a moment.

‘A promise is a promise,’ Sinclair declared, ‘and I have to say, when your son screws up his face to cry he is the ugliest little creature imaginable. Looks remarkably like his Papa, in fact.’

‘Pistols at dawn or swords in the old armory?’ Gabe growled.

Sinclair smirked.

‘Oh, the latter definitely. Let”s not be hasty. In truth, he”s a handsome wee lad and I can”t wait till we can steal him out from under the women”s skirts and teach him a few manly things.’

‘I guess that time will come around soon enough,’ Gabe observed wisely.

At which point a heavy hand landed on Sin’s shoulder.

‘Sinner, my man, it”s good to see you,’ Captain Jackson Arlington declared. ‘Did you and Nik buy that ship in Jamaica?’

‘We did. She”s not rigged to be as fast as the Eloise, but she”s following us back to England so we can strip her down and outfit her as befits a ship of the Princess line.’

‘What have you named this one?’

‘The Princess Jeshael, after Nik’s wife.’

‘Will he ever marry again, do you think?’ Jackson asked, seeking his cousin out where he still entertained the women in his charismatic way. Jackson”s color ebbed a little. ‘I didn’t understand how devastating losing a wife in childbirth might be. I hope I never do. Too damned cruel.’

‘Indeed,’ Sin muttered, letting his gaze rest on Prince Anik for a moment where he seemed to be blithely content entertaining the Ladies Victoria, Angelique, and Verity.

The elegant, urbane, debonair facade Nik showed the world was a carefully constructed, well-polished mask to protect the complicated man beneath.

‘It’s a brave man who ventures into this corner of the room,’ Jack said, pulling Sin’s attention back. ‘It”s getting so the married men almost outnumber the single ones. It could be catching.’

‘I”m immune,’ Sin growled, a soft snarl writhing in his belly as he found his gaze once again seeking out the fairy in lilac.

Nik seemed fascinated by the Ladies Victoria, Angelique and Verity. As Sin watched, the small, vibrant torment of his peace asked a question to which Nik shook his head. Whereupon, she leapt out of her seat and, placing her hand firmly on Nik’s arm, dragged him across the room to where Lady Adderley conversed with his Aunt Genevieve.

It seemed she was bent on introductions and the bemused look on Nik’s face told Sin his friend was captured by the tiny, fascinating force of nature and was not entirely displeased by the fact.

Something stabbed in his chest, an emotion totally foreign and impossible to imagine living within him alongside the deep-rooted friendship and trust he held for the Prince of Nagpur.

He’d never felt jealousy in his life.

Wasn’t now.

He tried to concentrate on what Jack was saying, then wished he hadn”t.

‘The offerings are slim as this is a close friends and family party,’ Jack was saying, ‘but you couldn”t go past any one of those three ladies. Of course you know Victoria, Lucy”s sister. Her and Lady Angelique beside her are both tall enough to look you in the eye. Nik has already run off with Lady Verity. She”d be my pick actually. There”s a lot more to that young woman than she cares to let the world see. And what you do see is exquisite, is it not?’

Damn Jackson Arlington. The Captain was too perceptive by far.

‘I”m not looking for a wife, and if I were I”d not be looking for a chit straight out of the school room.’

Though he strove to keep his voice flat and emotionless, he deeply feared he’d failed.

He turned away from the perfect image of her beside Nik. It was easy to picture her in the elegant silks of India, a princess at his friend’s side. And something of his internal imbroglio must have shown in his face for Jack”s voice took on a soothing tone.

‘That”s what that little minx wants the world to think,’ he said with a smile, his glance flittering back to where the object of their discussion had now abandoned Nik and was talking in her animated, and unsophisticated way to his younger cousins.

The fire in his belly eased.

‘How old is she?’ he demanded gruffly. ‘Until I saw her this evening, I”d have put her at sixteen at the most.’

‘She”s twenty, I believe,’ Jack said with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Twenty?Well, that changed everything—No it didn”t.

He did not want a wife, and no matter how she stirred his baser instincts, Lady Verity Davencourt was an innocent and only to be approached by a man with marriage in mind.

He was not that man.

He turned a scowl on Jackson.

‘You”re a damned turncoat,’ he growled. ‘It”s not so long since you were resisting all attempts by matchmakers determined to ruin a man”s life, and now you”re turning into one of them. Marriage must be agreeable then?’

‘It”s the best thing that ever happened to me, Sin,’ he said, a softness creeping into his voice as his eyes rested on the golden head of his wife, Lady Caroline, where she sat with Lady Lucy, Lady Raquelle, and Lady Charity.

‘I”m happy for you, Jack,’ he said sincerely and turned his back on the women.

One more reason to eschew any such entanglement. Allowing himself to care about a woman made a man soft and vulnerable.

Sin was a respected and wealthy shipping magnate.

Soft and vulnerable, he would not entertain.

‘Oh, Very,’ exclaimed Alice Woodhouse, Gabriel and Sinclair”s niece, ‘that gown is divine. I so wish my Mama would let me wear colors.’

‘Your chance will come,’ Verity soothed the impatient fifteen-year-old. ‘I”ve been out three seasons. I”ve not had a London season—though that may change this year. I think the parents may be thinking it”s time I grew up and found a husband. Truth to tell, I”ve decided it”s time.’

It wasn”t easy preventing her glance from darting to where the gentlemen clustered about the fireplace. Sinclair’s dark mahogany locks and broad shoulders clad in bottle green superfine were strongly magnetic.

She so wanted to pirouette for Alice and show off her lovely gown, but the whole point of this movement in her wardrobe choices was so she might project a more mature, womanly appearance in keeping with her age.

Besides, she’d promised Papa she would henceforth put all childish—hoydenish—behavior behind her and act with the restrained gentility she”d been taught.

And had long chosen to ignore.

She”d not had much chance to flirt, or even interact, with unknown gentlemen and Viscount Lewiston had seemed like a safe haven on which to try out her proper manners. What she hadn”t realized was how hard it would be to suppress her natural tendency to skip and dance and wave her arms about with the childish enthusiasm so natural to her.

At least, she knew Sinclair had noticed her and hadn”t been able to disguise his shocked reaction to her appearance.

The first step.

A tiny step.

Nevertheless, it was a step on the road she knew they were destined to travel.

To this end, she probably should not linger over long with the younger lasses lest Sinclair still consider her to be one of them.

She moved along to where a group of older women were gathered around baby Theodore.

As soon as she joined the group, she found herself the object of Lady Genevieve”s bold appraisal. The dowager Countess of Carradene, stepmother to Quinn Masterson, Earl of Carradene, was Gabriel and Sinclair’s aunt.

The woman was fascinating—and scary. By dint of her childish habits to date, Verity had managed to avoid more than the most cursory contact with her. She was beautiful in a mature, slightly brash way, was not inclined to step daintily through the sticky quagmire of drawing room chit-chat, and was often seen to be admiring the shapely display of a manly leg, or even other parts a young innocent like Verity shouldn”t even know about.

But she did, and had secretly decided she would be as open and uninhibited as Lady G when she grew up.

Nevertheless, one should be wary if cornered for conversation by the woman.

‘That color suits you, Lady Verity. It”s time you began to look and act your age.—Oh, I could see what you were up to, missy,’ Lady Genevieve chided, noting the flare of indignation her victim couldn”t quell.

It was apparent, Verity decided, she needed more practice at maintaining the bland societal mask that completely hid one’s feelings.

‘You gave everyone what they expected to see and that enabled you to avoid the mores and demands of adulthood. But that won”t catch you a husband.’

How had the woman seen so much?

‘I haven”t seen one I wanted to catch so far,’ Verity answered, deciding direct was likely best with Lady G.

Despite probably being in her early fifties and having several adult sons, there were only a few streaks of grey in the rich auburn of her hair and her striking green eyes danced with amusement. She regarded Verity as if she was a particularly clever child.

‘There are one or two prime articles on offer at this party though, and you have precious little competition. There”s really only your sister, and the Ladies Victoria and Angelique. The others are too dewy-eyed and not out yet.’

Lady Genevieve”s bright gaze swept over the large group of gentlemen lounging about the fireplace in varying degrees of manly pulchritude.

‘A word of advice, Verity. An older, experienced man has more to offer in every way and is more likely to be ready to settle down into domesticity, even though he might not think he is. Trouble is, he also probably knows what he likes in a woman—and in the bedroom. It”s highly unlikely he”s going to be interested in naive, or terribly proper. However, he will no doubt expect your total attention and fidelity. They’re hypocritical like that,’ she finished with a wink, returning to perusing the gentleman as if choosing a mount from a stable full of choices.

Verity couldn”t think of anything to say in response. Although Lady G was not a stranger, nor had they spoken more than a handful of words to each other before this.

Angelique had mentioned her outspokenness, wicked tongue and tendency to overshare information. Angel had also said she loved chatting with the woman because she was guaranteed to entertain, if not shock.

Well, she had decided to be a grown-up, Verity told herself, therefore sophisticated had just become her middle name—and she needed to speak up for herself.

‘You”re right, my Lady, it is time I got serious about choosing a husband. Do you—have a recommendation?’ she asked with a dip of her eyelashes and a quick glance towards the fireplace.

The prince had now joined the group and he and Sinclair were deep in discussion with Lord William Adderley, Raquelle and Angelique’s father, and Sir Jonah Parkins and Lord Berkeley, Gabe and Sinclair’s brothers-in-law.

The habitual scowl was missing from Mr. Wolfenden’s features, his expression animated and even a little excited.

He looked younger, more approachable, human.

Verity snapped her gaze back to Lady G, not wanting to give herself away. But that lady was still blatantly perusing the offering of manly charms across the room.

‘Well, you can cross off Carradene, my eldest stepson. While he”s an attractive man with a title and an extremely healthy bank balance, he”s in the midst of a messy—and expensive—divorce. It”s probably going to be a while, if ever, before he considers remarrying—and that bank balance could be considerably diminished by then. But those military friends of his and Gabriel”s have a lot to recommend them. Well-muscled, and handsome every last one of them, and if they”re in Gabriel”s inner circle, they”ll be honorable. I”m not sure of their titles and incomes however.’

Verity fought not to squirm or show in any way she was discomfited by Lady G’s plain manner of speaking. It seemed somehow wicked, if permissible all at once.

And made her feel quite the adult. Which was her aim after all.

‘What about the prince?’ she asked, hoping to steal Lady G’s attention away from the true object of her desires.

‘Lord Lewiston? Very pretty, and wealthy, as I hear it. But his mixed parentage is against him. Sinclair Wolfenden on the other hand—’

Lady Genevieve stopped, licked her lips, and then turned a considering gaze on Verity.

‘Now, Sinner Wolfenden is a man to satisfy any woman, I would guess. No title, but he”s done very well for himself with that shipping line of his—and with those stormy, brooding eyes, I would wager he understands passion in all its nuances.’

A shiver of heat and wanting scorched Verity’s bones and melded her tongue to the roof of her mouth. No one had ever spoken to her as frankly as Lady Geneviève was doing.

‘But a man like that would eat an innocent like you for breakfast,’ Lady G went on pensively. ‘Perhaps one of my twins might suit. Much more carefree—and fun. Not really ready to embrace the estate of marriage yet though—’

‘Verity, my dear,’ Lucy spoke beside her ear. ‘Excuse me pray, Aunt Genevieve, but I was hoping Very would consent to play for us. With Victoria on the harp and Angelique singing. Would you, Very?’

Playing or dancing, Verity never needed asking twice.

‘Of course, Lucy, I’d love to. Are Vic and Angel ready?’

‘They”re waiting for you,’ Lucy said with a nod in the direction of the grand piano before the central bay window.

Verity couldn”t help wondering what other gems of wisdom Lady G would have shared with her if Lucy had not interrupted, and decided she probably had enough information to make a choice—if she hadn”t already chosen—or if she really even had a choice.

‘Thank you, Lady Genevieve,’ she said quickly. ‘I will keep all you have said in mind.’

‘You”re welcome, Verity,’ the woman responded, and further teasing Verity’s composure by sending her on her way with a slow droop of one eyelid over a twinkling emerald eye.