Gerald ground his teeth together audibly as he adjusted his black satin cravat. His green eyes hardened but he managed to put even more contrition into his tone and tried again.
"I am sorry. I came up here to invite you to have a glass of sherry with me before dinner, so we could discuss things in perhaps a less heated fashion. We're having oysters tonight, your favorite."
Vanessa bit back a sharp retort. She was not about to be mollified with a glass of two of wine and a good meal.
At the same time though, he was her half-brother. She had to allay his suspicions while she came up with some sensible plan to avoid both marriage to the odious Clifford, and her family's ruin.
She straightened her back and rose from the small upholstered bench. "Are our cousins still here?"
Gerald started violently at the question. "Er, no, they were otherwise engaged."
His sister gave him a cool look. "You mean you had words with Peter and he was disinclined to stay?"
"More like I didn't invite him," Gerald admitted. "I have to confess he has been, well, encouraging me to gamble, and holds some of my vowels. He has made it clear that as a result of my windfall last night at the tables, he expects payment post-haste."
Vanessa shook her head. "So much for fine family feeling. That is tantamount to kicking someone when they're down. I expected better of him."
"He saw the pot last night. I can't really blame him."
Vanessa fumed. "I can. Tell me how much he is asking for. I shall apply to the solicitors for relief at once. I wouldn't put it past him to declare he had the prior claim just to try to secure me for himself despite all that has happened with Clifford and the card game."
"Does that mean you're less angry about that now?"
She sighed. "Less shocked might be a more accurate description. But no, Brother, I am not furious with you any longer. There's no point in bemoaning my fate. You've made a mistake, but you're still my nearest blood kin. And blood is thicker than money so far as I'm concerned, though Peter and Toby would not appear to agree. Let's go have a glass of sherry together, by all means. I suddenly feel the need for one."
She got to her feet abruptly and swept past him out of the chamber so quickly Gerald had to run to catch up.
He dredged up a memory of his more polished Town manners and was charm itself as he led her downstairs into the dining room. The drafty, ill-heated room with its scarred furniture did nothing to improve her frame of mind. It was a sad contrast to the well-ordered and elegant dining room she had used daily for almost a decade down in Dorset.
She tried not to look around at the gaps on the wall, where many of the family portraits had once hung. Willfully ignored the peeling burgundy wallpaper and marred, unpolished walnut table. Attempted not to notice the nicks in their crystal goblets or the fact that they were eating with mismatched third-best silver and china.
So long as they did not talk of Clifford Stone, Vanessa was able to maintain her poise. Whenever Gerald tried to change the subject to her impending nuptials, she would shake her head and whisper, "Please, Gerald, not in front of the servants."
Gerald relented, tugging at his cravat as though it were choking him. He gave her what he hoped was a sheepish look, and turned back to the matter at hand. Perhaps it would not be so bad. Marrying Vanessa to his neighbor had seemed a terrible misfortune last evening, when his plans with his associates had gone awry thanks to Clifford's meddling and Malcolm Branson's insistence upon fair play.
Yet now he not only had the money from the card game, but the chance of infinitely more if he just paused to consider this new set of developments in a more rational manner. After all, the Stone estate was prodigiously fine.
But Gerald was not noted for his patience. Was it possible just to make the most of what had fallen into his lap? He certainly didn't like Vanessa's plans for him one jot. To sign Hawkesworth House over to her? To live upon an allowance like some poor relation? That was not for him.
However, those were her conditions for the marriage. There had to be some sort of loophole. That was it. Between that and his other schemes, he could have his cake and--
"Gerald! I said, I want to see Mr. Stone in the morning. Will you accompany me in the carriage or not?"
Perspiration beaded his brow and fiddled anxiously in his pocket, as nervy as a hare confronted by a pack of hounds. "Whatever for? I have told you, he is adamant that the wedding take place as soon as possible."
She set down her fork and knife carefully. "I believe that given the extent of my objections, and the force of public opinion as to the questionable nature of our so-called engagement, he might be willing to listen to reason. Or at the very least arrange sensible terms for re-payment so the bank will not foreclose on the estate."