Impatiently, he waved her protest aside. “I wasn’t thinking marriage. I’ve got plans for you, girl.”
“Plans! What sort of plans?” An incipient panic threaded her voice. What was her father about? A sense of caution began seeping through her.
“Never you mind that now.”
“Father!”
“No, and I’ll not say another word on the subject. Now, tell me what you think of Mr. Danielson.”
Bewildered, Vanessa sighed and shook her head. “Mr. Danielson has charm, manners, intelligence, and a manner of gallantry that is appealing,” she enumerated patiently. “He is a true gentleman.”
Her father grunted and scratched the side of his nose. “What about Mr. Wilmot?” he persisted.
Vanessa closed her eyes. Her father knew things he wasn’t saying, and as always, he was setting traps for the unwary. It irritated her to consider her position. Was she to be the hunted or the bait? It wouldn’t do any good to ask, for he wouldn’t answer her. Whatever, she’d wager it was business-related.
She opened her eyes to stare steadily at her father. “Earlier last night,” she said crisply, “I considered myself fortunate to be in his company. He seems to be a popular gentleman, for he knows everyone. He is handsome in a devilish fashion, successful through his own efforts, intelligent, and gives a woman the feeling of being the center of his world by his attention and possessiveness. It is here, I hasten to add, that his possessiveness becomes suffocating and deadens his appeal. I believe that is what occurred last evening. He stopped thinking of me as a person and considered me as one would the purchase of a horse or new article of clothing, and treated me with the same carelessness as one would those objects.”
Richard Mannion leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his chest, and nodded, a wry smile twisting his lips. “All right, I’ll remember your words,” he promised.
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed as she studied his suddenly complacent, smiling demeanor. In the past three to four years, her father had rarely smiled and never joked. If she had ever given the matter thought, she would have suggested that he had forgotten how with the press of weighty business matters. Yet since the evening of the Langley Ball . . . nay, more precisely since the arrival of Mr. Talverton, she had on more than one occasion witnessed the upturn of the corners of his mouth and heard the deep rumble of rusty laughter. She was delighted to see humor restored to her parent but fretted at its source.
“Now,” he continued, sitting straighter in his chair and shifting his clasped hands to the desk surface, “I’m going to tell you what I want from you, and none of your mulishness."
"What?” she exclaimed indignantly, hastily dragging her errant thoughts back to the discussion at hand.
“First, you’ll continue to be nice to Mr. Talverton, especially after last evening.” He paused a moment, his thumbs circling each other. “Second, Mr. Wilmot will be coming to call this afternoon to apologize,” he baldly announced.
Vanessa groaned and closed her eyes, her body sagging at the thought of again meeting the gentleman.
Her father ignored her and continued. “And if the rains hold off, you’ll allow him to take you driving.”
“Father, that’s not fair!” she protested, gripping the arms of her chair until her knuckles whitened. “The man grossly insulted me. He treated me like a—a—a common trollop."
"You’re exaggerating the matter,” he said dismissively. “He only touched you without permission.” He held up a hand to forestall her protests. “I know you feel he acted ungentlemanly, but, to use Paulette’s words, he hasn’t, as it were, been born to the manor. He claims he was swept away by your charm and beauty last evening and could not resist.”
“Swept away?” She laughed hollowly. “I’m sorry, Father, but I doubt his truthfulness. Mr. Wilmot is a very determined and deliberate man, oriented toward one thing: success. Everything else is merely a means to an end.”
“Don’t be too hasty,” he said, favoring her with another of his rare smiles, this one baring his teeth. “The more tender emotions rarely equate with the intellect.”
Vanessa blinked in surprise. That was what she had been discovering for herself. Could Mr. Wilmot be struggling with the same confusing notions as she? Impossible. He was a confident and forthright man. But what if? No,she thought, hardening her heart. Even if it was true, it was no excuse for his behavior, for she was sure he delighted in her discomfort. She remembered that predatory look in the depths of his eyes and shivered.
What was her father about? She didn’t want to be the bait in some grandiose hunt. Was he going to exchange her for business dealings and concessions, settlement and dowry on both sides? But for whom?
“And do you have instructions for my dealings with Mr. Danielson, too?” she ventured caustically.
He frowned at her tone, his brows descending. “Yes.” His voice was clipped, and instantly Vanessa regretted her tone to him. He stood up and proceeded to pace the room again, this time in a leisurely manner. “You shall be as friendly as always, yet remain somewhat distant, particularly around Mr. Wilmot. When Mr. Wilmot is not nearby, you may treat him with warmer affections, within the bounds of propriety, of course.” Vanessa bit her lower lip and held her eyes downcast to hide the rage seething through her. It was a game, but the ultimate prize was unknown. Somehow, she was sure she was merely the pawn, not the prize.
* * *
Adeline, crouching down beside a thick patch of deep purple violets, looked up at the sound of Vanessa’s footsteps. The expression on her sister’s face made her quickly place the fragile blossom she held into her workbasket and rise to her feet. She wiped the dirt from her hands on the oversized apron she wore to protect her dress and crossed to her side.
“Vanessa?” she said tentatively, disturbed by the degree of sadness and confusion evident in her face. “Are you all right? What did Father want?” She laid a gentle hand on her arm.
Vanessa looked at Adeline, slowly focusing on her presence. Her sister’s wide-brimmed sunbonnet framed her face charmingly, despite her concerned frown. A genuine smile flickered briefly on Vanessa’s lips before they twisted into a wry grimace. “I’ve always known Father holds our intellectual capacity in low regard; nonetheless, I am shocked to discover he has the nacky notion we are mere hubble-bubble creatures. I was quite ready to pull caps with him.”
“Oh, no, Vanessa!”
“Rest assured, the opportunity did not present itself, and I also had the presence of mind, despite my increasing ire, to realize such action on my part would serve no purpose.”
