Free The Wolfe Wager by Jo Ann Ferguson

mantel. Vanessa should have returned from the modiste more than fifteen minutes ago. The girl had developed an uncomely habit of being late when some task she disliked faced her. Carolyn had suspected the attention they must give to overseeing the final plans for this evening’s entertainment would slow Vanessa’s return.
    Vanessa was so like her father. Grant Wolfe had exhibited a single-minded determination to do what he thought was right. Although that manner had lost him a few friends on occasion and gained him more than a few enemies, he had remained steadfast to those who understood his ways. Vanessa was in good pax with only a handful among the élite , but she held those friendships dear.
    Despite herself, Carolyn’s eyes rose to a painting set in prominence on the chimney-piece. Even in the portrait, her sister-in-law Julianna appeared a frail wraith, for she had succumbed to a fever in less than a year after the painting was completed. Carolyn’s gaze settled on the other faces in it. Dear Grant, his eyes burning with the ideals he had not lived to see come to consummation. Sitting next to him was Vanessa, a younger version of her mother’s beauty, but with a set of her shoulders that suggested her father’s strength. Lastly, Carolyn looked at the lad with his hand on his father’s shoulder. Corey Wolfe had inherited a large share of the Wolfe stubbornness and indifference to others’ opinions. That had led to his death on a distant battlefield.
    A pulse of the sorrow she had tried to set aside coursed through her. So much grief this family had suffered. Only Vanessa remained, and Carolyn repeated her silent pledge that the last of the Wolfes would not come to disaster as the others had. If only Vanessa could learn to compromise, she might escape the pain and failure that had haunted her family.
    “We shall speak of bringing out your niece once I have Vanessa settled with a good match.” Carolyn smiled sadly. “My brother’s final wish was that I would see to his only surviving child’s future. That must be my sole concern.”
    “And of your own future?”
    Her smile became warmer. “Vanessa is both my present and my future concern at this time. Perhaps—when she is happily married with a husband who dotes on her—I can turn my mind to more personal matters.”
    “If you are putting your life aside until she is wed, then, my dear Carolyn, you should make certain that Vanessa is given more opportunities to meet suitable men.”
    “Exactly why I invited the baronet to join us this evening.” Carolyn reached for her cup. “I also have extended an invitation to others of my acquaintance so the party shall have a merry air.”
    Penelope tapped her finger against her chins, then nodded. “That should work. Allow Vanessa to see the differences among the gentlemen who join you this evening, so that she might appreciate Sir Wilbur Franklin’s noble mien.”
    Carolyn doubted that anyone save Penelope, whose generous spirit was well known, would use the word noble to describe the baronet. Yet her neighbor’s advice was sound. A bit of competition for Vanessa’s attention might urge the baronet to present his suit in short order. She smiled. Who would have thought that Penelope would give her the idea that was sure to turn this evening from a quiet party into a chance to resolve Vanessa’s future once and for all?
    Carolyn raised her cup in a silent salute to her own thoughts. This could be the solution she had sought all Season.
    Vanessa settled her bonnet more securely on her head as the tiger assisted her from the carriage in front of the house on Grosvenor Square. Leale followed. Vanessa was in a bang as she went toward the steps, bracing herself for having her ears boxed with her aunt’s dismay. Not only had Madame deBerg, the modiste , been eternally slow, but Leale had been in a fidget over waiting at the modiste ’s shop for hours. The abigail had been furious that Vanessa did not explain