Like a gentleman, he bent to retrieve the handkerchief and offered her a graceful bow. “I believe this is yours, madam?”
As he politely presented the article to her, his long fingers brushed hers, whether by accident or design she wasn’t certain. More startling than the warmth of his touch, though, was his glance. Penetrating her mask, his gaze connected with hers and held her captive.
For a moment, Vanessa stood frozen, staring up at him. The half-smile on his sensual lips held a measure of his famed charm, yet his face was alert, the gray eyes filled with a keen intelligence. It would never do to underestimate such a man, Vanessa warned herself.
She forced a smile of her own and murmured her appreciation as she accepted the handkerchief. “How careless of me,” she replied, withdrawing her hand.
His look held a hint of doubt, but he let the lie pass without challenge. “I regret that I haven’t the pleasure of your acquaintance.”
“I am Vanessa Wyndham.”
He eyed her expectantly, as if her name didn’t strike any chords.
“I believe you knew my late husband, Sir Roger Wyndham.”
“Ah, yes. We were members of the same clubs.”
Roger had been killed in a duel over an opera dancer, but if Lord Sinclair knew of the scandal, he was too gallant- or too indifferent-to bring it up.
“So how may I serve you, Lady Wyndham?” When she remained mute, he added gently, “You obviously wish something from me.” His gaze was quizzical, probing, though his smile held a self-deprecating charm. “Forgive me, but I cannot fail to notice when a beautiful woman scrutinizes me all evening.”
Vanessa flushed at his forthrightness. Only a bold rogue would remark on a lady’s interest. “Truthfully…”
“Yes, let us be truthful by all means.” The lazy drawl held a hint of cynicism.
“Truthfully, I hoped I might speak to you on a matter of some urgency, my lord.”
“Consider me at your service.” He gestured toward the door. “Shall I escort you to your carriage?”
“If you would be so kind.”
She moved through the door ahead of him, and he fell into step beside her.
“I confess my curiosity is aroused,” he admitted as they moved down the hall toward the sweeping stairway. “Your examination of me all evening suggested interest, perhaps calculation, yet it was not flirtatious or coy or in the least amorous.”
“I fear I never mastered the art of coyness,” Vanessa replied rather tightly, annoyed that he’d managed to put her on the defensive so easily.
“Would you care, then, to tell me what engenders such seriousness?”
“Aubrey Trent, Lord Rutherford,” she said quietly, “is my brother.”
He came to an abrupt stop. The eyes he turned to her were suddenly a deep, storm-gray. There was no mistaking his anger.
His expression was potentially lethal, yet she held her ground. “If you please, I wish to discuss your wager with Aubrey.”
“Have you come to pay his debt?”
“Not… precisely.”
“Then what, precisely?”
Vanessa took a deep breath. Two nights ago, Lord Sinclair had challenged her brother at piquet. Aubrey had played recklessly and far too deep-and wound up losing his entire inheritance, including the Rutherford estates and the London town house, leaving nothing for his dependents to live on.
She herself was not especially daunted at the prospect of spending the rest of her life in genteel poverty; she’d endured worse. But she had her mother and sisters to consider. It was one thing to live with creditors nipping at your heels. It was quite another to be literally thrown out on the streets to starve.
“I’ve come on behalf of my family. I was hoping… you might consider, at least partially… forgiving Aubrey’s debt of honor.”
Sinclair stared at her. “Surely you jest.”
“No,” she said quietly. “I am entirely in earnest. He has two younger sisters to care for, you see. And a mother who is ailing.”
“I fail to understand how your family circumstances concern me, Lady Wyndham.”
“They don’t, I suppose. Except that in claiming the Rutherford estates, you will take away their only means of support.”
“That is indeed unfortunate.” His tone conveyed no remorse.
Disheartened, Vanessa made another attempt to plead her case. “My lord, my brother is no gamester. He had no right to gamble away our family home.”
“Then he ought not to have done so.”
“As I understand it, you left him little choice. Surely you don’t deny deliberately challenging him to cards?”
“I don’t deny it. He may count himself fortunate I didn’t follow my first impulse and put a bullet through him.”
Vanessa felt the color drain from her face. Sinclair was known to be a crack shot and an expert swordsman. He had fought two duels that she was aware of, and doubtless more that she wasn’t.
“I wonder that you didn’t,” she murmured.
His jaw hardened. “A duel would only have compounded the scandal to my sister.”
“I’m not aware of every particular,” Vanessa said in a low voice, “but I do know of your sister’s injury.”
“Then you know she was crippled, perhaps for life.”
“Yes. I’m dreadfully sorry.”
“Are you?” The terse question was cynical, even savage.
“Yes, as is my brother. Aubrey deeply regrets his actions toward your sister. They were cruel, unforgivable. The behavior of a spoiled, thoughtless youth.” When Lord Sinclair made no reply, Vanessa gave him a beseeching look. “I well know how selfish my brother can be. He’s young and a trifle wild. Surely a man of your reputation can understand that. Rumor has it that you’ve indulged in your fair share of wildness.”
“My character is not at issue here.”
“No, but… I entreat you to reconsider. My brother is a mere boy.”
“Obviously. A man would not send his sister to beg in his place.”
She started to protest that Aubrey had not sent her, but that wasn’t quite true. Certainly he hadn’t objected when she declared her intent to seek out Lord Sin.
Vanessa placed an imploring hand on the nobleman’s sleeve. “My lord, have you no mercy? No compassion at all?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Your brother is not deserving of compassion. He destroyed something precious of mine. And I intend to destroy him in turn.”
The declaration was cold, ruthless, implacable.
He glanced dismissively down at the slender hand that detained him. “My carriage awaits, Lady Wyndham. It is not my practice to keep my horses standing.”
Deliberately he stepped back. Then he turned away, leaving Vanessa to stare after his retreating back in dismay and despair.
Vanessa fiercely fought back tears as she entered the London town house that had been in her family for four generations. She had seldom cried during the unsavory period of her life when she was wed to a notorious libertine, or in the two difficult years following Sir Roger Wyndham’s death-and she would not cry now.
A hollowness in her heart, she climbed the stairs to the drawing room. Her brother had opened the London house for the Season, even though he could ill afford it.
Aubrey was waiting for her in the drawing room, anxiously pacing the carpet. For a moment Vanessa watched him, wondering how the loving boy she remembered from childhood had turned out so wild. But she knew the answer. The favorite and only son, he had been raised in unchecked license by parents who coddled and indulged him. The lack of discipline would doubtless prove his ruin.
“Well?” Aubrey asked the instant he spied her. “Did you see him?”
Aubrey was tall like herself and possessed similar coloring. His tawny, light brown hair was almost a shade of amber, while his dark eyes were luminous and could sparkle with laughter. Just now they held only anxiety.
“I contrived a meeting with Lord Sinclair, yes,” Vanessa replied, coming into the room. “He refused to speak to me once he discovered my connection to you.”