She caught herself before she said more, her throat constricting with grief. "But of course you wouldn't recall them in quite the same way. The three of you were all off to university that year, when you weren't kicking up your heels in London after your various japes, leaving Paul and I behind."
Toby colored again. "It was nothing more than youthful high spirits. Like Peter and Gerald, it's high time I thought about taking a decent wife. Surely you can't hold our past peccadilloes against us?"
"It's none of my business, I'm sure, except insofar as you disgrace our families' good names, or not. I wish you luck in your quest, Toby. A few hours more in churches and a few hours less in the stews might yield you a decent bride after all."
A strange light sparked in Toby's beady eyes. "My, you certainly have been raised differently. More worldly than I ever could have imagined if you know so much about brothels. But then they always do say red-haired women are the most passionate."
Vanessa sidestepped him before he got too close. She rubbed her arms hard under her black silk sleeves to subdue her crawling skin. "Just because I know houses of ill repute exist does not make me a passionate woman, as you put it. I'm chaste, and intend to stay that way until such time as I marry. If I ever choose to wed. But with a good home and money, I have no reason to wish to relinquish my freedom, not even for love.
"So pray do not waste your time and mine with lover-like blandishments. You're my cousin, Toby, no more and no less. Please remember that and we shall get along fine."
"I'm sorry, but-"
"And now, I'm going to dress for dinner. I would invite you to stay, but Gerald is master here and I'm sure you and Peter have pressing matters back at the manor. So I bid you adieu."
She nodded to him and swept out of the depressing drawing room before he could attempt to kiss her hand, and hurried up the stairs.
Once in the safety of her own chamber, she shut the door quickly and put her back against the panel with a sigh of relief. Her knees soon began to tremble. How had she dared? Her cousins were of an age with Gerald, and the three of them had always made common cause with one another against her and Paul. She had surprised herself with her firmness, her refusal to be cowed.
Perhaps her fury over Gerald's behavior had provoked such an unladylike display. Or perhaps, since she was in such dire straits anyway, she had got past caring what people thought.
All she knew was, if she went to Stephens Manor, she would never manage to disassociate herself from the three brothers, and would be forced to marry one of them.
At least with Clifford Stone she had the chance to get him to see reason. Even if she could not persuade him to relinquish his claim upon her, her solicitors would undoubtedly raise all sort of objections which could drag things on for weeks, months. Even years.
With that promising thought, she reached for her writing desk and began to note down the most salient facts of the case, feeling more and more confident as she wrote. There had to be a way out of this dire muddle. There simply had to be. She didn't want a husband taking away all her freedom when she had just started spreading her wings.
And while she could not fault Clifford Stone for looks or education, she had a feeling that becoming the wife of a debaucher such as she had heard him described would be to turn her world upside-down, and truly drive her to despair and madness.
CHAPTER SIX
Vanessa worked without pause for several minutes, jotting down her ideas as they came to her. Then she hastily dressed for dinner, and returned to her desk to write out a clean and coherent letter to Mason and Rogers.
She had no idea how long she had been working when a knock at the door suddenly interrupted her flow of words. She put her pen down and quickly shoved the papers into the desk, wondering even as she did so why she was acting as if she had something to hide.
At her command to enter, her half-brother poked his head around the door. He gave her his most winning smile. The rictus on his handsome, normally impassive face made him look like he was suffering from dyspepsia. "I had the feeling that you might still be upset about our conversation earlier. You know I never meant to cause you any pain."
She gave Gerald a withering glance. "I find that hard to believe, given you gambled me away without thinking of the consequences of an enforced marriage."
"Please, Vanessa. I know I've been weak and foolish. Rubbing my nose in it is not going to solve our predicament."
"Your predicament, you mean," she said, smoothing down her newly donned frock, black velvet with a modest square-cut neckline and three-quarter length lacy sleeves.