Anabelle Bryant - Defying The Earl

Rigby paused and a flash of conflicted sympathy colored his eyes.

Val’s right brow climbed. Delicate nature? Oddity of circumstance? The very devil. What did Jasper suggest to the man?

“When our business is completed, you’ll be richer by five thousand pounds.”

Rigby’s last three words yanked Val from his Jasperian considerations, and this time he remained silent, any final comment dissolved by the prospect of financial recovery.

Wilhelmina lowered the brim of her bonnet a full two inches before darting a glance beyond the overstocked shelves of McMulberry’s Literary Emporium. In a stroke of pure serendipity she’d visited Bond Street Millinery two days previous and found herself unwittingly involved in a conversation debating the intricacies of tatted blonde lace. Lady Rigby insisted the finest fripperies were imported from Belgium, while her companion, a formidable dowager with silver hair, insisted the most delicate creations originated in Spain. Wilhelmina, having entered the shop to purchase an agreeable muslin befitting a matchmaker’s gown, was drawn into the argument by fault of proximity and asked to settle the issue. She had no opportunity to object as a swath of each trimming was forced into her hands. Wilhelmina had chosen Belgium lace much to the overt disagreement of the silver-haired dowager who stormed off mumbling her discontent. In turn, she’d won the allegiance of Lady Rigby, who’d come to the millinery to purchase a gift for her son to offer the lady who’d caught his eye. Without pause, Lady Rigby launched into a lengthy dissertation on her yearning for grandchildren, thus presenting Wilhelmina the ideal opportunity to extend her matchmaking services. With alacrity, Lady Rigby accepted.

Now, awaiting an assignation with a woman she hardly knew, Wilhelmina hoped the marchioness proved the answer to her prayers. If things went well, Lady Rigby might inform other exacting mothers, anxious to see their sons and daughters settled, and Wilhelmina’s temporary foray into the business world could flourish.

She huffed a small breath to steel her courage. It all equaled money for Livie’s treatments. This solitary reason eased Wilhelmina’s anxiety and smoothed her far ruffled feathers touting she should not be in public unescorted nor keeping secrets from her aunt. The clock on the wall showed half past noon. She would need to craft a solid excuse for having stayed away so long. Since coming to live with Aunt Kate, life had proceeded with a predictable and simplistic pattern. She occasionally joined the tea social, favored morning walks to take the air, and often read a book in the modest garden behind the town house. She could never be labeled a social butterfly, her range of activities fairly conservative.

Much to her relief, Lady Rigby entered a heartbeat later. They made eye contact and together melted into the back shelves of the biography section, guaranteeing a modicum of privacy away from the Palladian glass windows decorated with literary enticements aimed to lure customers.

“Thank you for meeting me under such unusual circumstances, but if there is one place I know my husband would never enter, it’s a bookshop. Never mind the biography section. He’s too interested in his own point of view to expand his mind with ideas from others.”

“I see.” Wilhelmina thought it best not to remark further. The sooner she concluded their agreement, the better. “As I explained, it is vital my identity and purpose be kept secret, so your subterfuge serves us well. Do not give it another consideration. Now how may I help you?”

Lady Rigby darted her eyes left and right and lowered her head, her voice a conspiratorial tone. “My son is very interested in Lady Fiona. He speaks of her ad infinitum, and I can tell from the twinkle in his eyes, she is firmly planted in his heart. Yet for an unidentifiable reason, the lady appears reluctant. Leonard couldn’t be more dashing, his cravat is always freshly starched and his manners impeccable. He epitomizes the proper gentleman.” Her face displayed unconcealed worry. “I would despair were he heartbroken, but with your assistance, perhaps the lady may come to recognize the fine prospect my son represents.”

Wilhelmina considered the situation, despising her need to manipulate the truth and interfere in love’s path, but in truth, she would merely encourage the couple. Notwithstanding her reservations, matchmaking was a common practice among the ton and this effort was purely for Livie’s benefit. Were Wilhelmina to achieve success with this scheme, his mother’s recommendation would reach far within social circles ensuring more funds for her sister’s care. Her conscious inched closer to assuagement.

“Of course, I’m prepared to pay you handsomely if you accomplish this goal.”

The mention of money was the very incentive to snap Wilhelmina’s attention to the forefront. The ladies finalized the remaining details and Lady Rigby strode away, mixing with the other shoppers exiting the bookshop as if planning her son’s future composed a daily occurrence.

Not so for Wilhelmina.

Her heart pounded a fierce beat at the thought of entering society under false pretenses, conversing with strangers, and encouraging their advances. Her reserved, quiet nature was never challenged in the country and as of yet, her experiences in London had been limited to Aunt Kate’s weekly tea social. Attending large-scale engagements reached beyond her comfort, but she’d manage for Livie. For both of them, truly.

Head bowed for fear of being recognized by an acquaintance, Wilhelmina concentrated on the tips of her slippers as she swept from the bookshop and pushed forward into the crowded London walkway. Anxiety took a stronger hold with each step on the pavement, echoed in the rattle of carriage traffic and vendors hawking their wares. A newspaper boy’s call for customers was accompanied by the steady bark of a dog near his feet. The crack of a leather whip, a horse’s whinny, the sudden laughter of shoppers as they passed her within the crowded bustle, suffocated from all sides.

Had she not been lost in thought or preoccupied with manufacturing reasons as to why her actions were justified, she may have paid more heed to her progression and noticed the large wheel ruts, filled with gravel and murky water, just beyond the curb. Lost in deliberation as the dense crowd flowed along the pavement and parted for no apparent reason, Wilhelmina forged ahead, unaware the smarter patrons had moved aside to avoid the roadway disaster. By the time she’d realized her mistake, it was too late. She splashed into the pitted grooves and lost her footing, her best slippers, stockings, and hems drenched on contact with London’s thickest muck. Arms flailing in panic, her gloved hand landed upon a solid wooden banister and without a glance, she held tight, scrambling to hoist herself up before she fell bottom down in the middle of the avenue.

Yet a second later, the railing gave way, and a string of expletives filled the air no matter the loud din of the city surrounding her. Exuberant cursing continued, but there was no time to consider it. A gentleman splashed into the puddle beside her, the weight of his intrusion splattering muddy water across her cheek and chin. She sputtered an exclamation over his tirade as he chided her desperate attempt to gain leverage by use of his…arm.

Oh dear.

Wilhelmina met his gaze and her breath caught. London had resumed its bustle, dismissing the two muddied people knee-deep in dirty water near the edge of the walk; still she could hear nothing but the heavy thud of her heart.

“You have no idea what you’ve done.” A warning sounded in his voice as the words lashed her ears in a thunderous tone.

Oh, but she did. Paralyzed, Wilhelmina dropped her eyes and a heavy knot settled in her stomach. Muck squished between her toes. The grit of gravel and roadway scratched through her wool stockings. Her slippers were forever ruined and with no money to purchase a new pair, her careless, clumsy mistake left her utterly bereft. Yes, she knew the predicament well.