The Wallflower Wager

by Dare, Tessa

  “Gabriel . . .” She wanted to beg him to stop, but that didn’t seem fair. She couldn’t refuse to hear it, when he’d lived it.

  “Do you want to know what those years of my life were worth? Can you guess the price a mother sets on her own child?”

  Penny suspected she knew the answer. A sick feeling gathered in her stomach as he reached inside his coat.

  “A shilling.” He produced the coin from his pocket and held it up for her to see. “That’s what I was worth. A single shilling.”

  “Don’t say that. You were always worth more than a shilling.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “A shilling was an absurdly low price. If she weren’t so desperate to buy gin, my mother could have haggled for as much as a half crown.”

  “I won’t listen to you speak that way.” Penny wrested the coin from his hand and tossed it on the ground.

  “Oh, you will. You will listen, and you will hear.”

  He grabbed her by the wrist and led her down a dark pathway scarcely wide enough for the two of them to walk side by side. When they’d reached a place out of view, he turned to her.

  “Do not speak to me of homes or comforts or love,” he said through gritted teeth. “There is nothing the two of us could share. Nothing.”

  “Why not?”

  He tugged at his hair. “Look around you. We’re not in Bloom Square, Penny.”

  “I don’t care whether you were born in a gutter or a palace, whether your mother was a beggar or a queen. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Perhaps it matters to me. Have you thought of that? You’re so enamored with the idea of deigning to be with a lowborn man, you haven’t stopped to wonder if I want anything to do with a highborn lady.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in class distinctions.”

  “This isn’t a matter of different classes. We come from different worlds. When you were eating buttered toast and jam for your tea, I was starving. While your nursemaid was dressing you in crisp white pinafores, I went without shoes. While you had candles burning in every room, fires laid every night, quilts heaped atop a warmed bed—I shivered in the street, in the dark. Waking at the slightest noise, ready to flee at any moment. I couldn’t trust a soul in the world, and you’ve lived to the age of six-and-twenty believing every problem can be cured with a goddamned kitten.”

  “I do not believe every problem can be cured with a kitten. I do believe in love. And perhaps love can’t cure every problem, but it makes the wounds heal a bit faster, with fewer scars. I understand why you don’t believe that. How could you, if you’ve never known it yourself? But perhaps you should give it a try. Let someone care for you, Gabriel. It doesn’t have to be me, but—” She broke off. “No. Forget that last. It does have to be me. I’m generous, but I’m not that generous. When it comes to this, I’m not willing to share.”

  “Penny, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about.”

  “I love you.” She exhaled in a huff. “There. Is that simple enough?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Simple?

  Gabe stared at her. No, it wasn’t simple. It was incomprehensible.

  “I love you,” she repeated.

  “And what of it? You love everyone.”

  “Not this way.” She reached for his hand and gave it a tender caress. “I love you.”

  “Penny, stop.” Emotion held his throat in a vise. “You have to stop.”

  “I don’t think I could if I tried. And I don’t want to try.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.

  Her gesture was wrong, so wrong. Gentlemen kissed ladies’ hands, not the reverse. And they most certainly didn’t do so in reeking, filthy slums.

  His blood pounded at the door of his soul, and it would not be denied.

  She kissed him first, bless her, moaning softly against his mouth, granting him permission to take control. He slid his hands to her backside and lifted, pushing her up against the brick wall.

  “Here,” he rasped. “Now.”

  “Yes.”

  They raced for the same goal, her tugging at the buttons of his trousers, him hiking her skirts. By the time her touch skimmed the shaft of his cock, he was already primed and aching. When he slid two fingers into her wet heat, triumph surged through him.

  Yes, she wanted this. She wanted him.

  He withdrew his touch and brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean. God, she was sweet. And he was depraved, base.

  She arched against him in a silent plea. He couldn’t wait another moment. Reaching between them, he took his cock in hand and guided it home.

  She gasped as his first thrust sank deep. Her fingernails bit into the nape of his neck, making him wince with joy.

  She came quickly, her inner muscles clenching into a slick fist. He thrust through every sharp, keening wave of her pleasure, shredding her frock to tatters against the brick wall. Sheathing himself to the crude, thick hilt. Faster, harder. Her soft, rhythmic sobs of passion mingled with his harsh, guttural sounds.

  He was surely hurting her, and yet he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even bring himself to slow down. If he paused for a single instant, the truth would catch up with him. He’d be forced to reckon with the fact that he was taking her in an alleyway like a whoring brute. And he’d be reminded, once again, that he didn’t deserve her—could never hope to deserve her.

  So he galloped onward, desperate. Racing through that dark, lonely tunnel of yearning until he emerged into blinding light. The place where eternity was measured in heartbeats, and nothing mattered that wasn’t joy.

  In the aftermath, he slumped against her, shuddering with the pleasure of release.

  And then, as the pleasure ebbed, the inevitable shame and disgust crept in. He looked around them, wrinkling his nose at the reeking alleyway and the puddled God-knew-what at his feet. Bile rose in his throat. He forced himself to meet her eyes—those lovely blue eyes. Eyes shining with an emotion he called foolishness and she called love. Perhaps they were one and the same.

  Whatever name it went by, that emotion had found its way inside him, stretching his ribs and carving out space in his chest. Settling in.

  How had she done it? Of all people, he knew how to lock up his heart, shutter the windows, bar the doors. She’d wormed through a keyhole somehow, made herself at home.

  Damn it, Gabe couldn’t let her stay. He knew how to force an eviction with a ruthless, cold-blooded strength. He’d allowed his willpower to slacken over recent weeks.

  Now it was time to flex.

  The danger was too great. Not to her reputation—her life was hers to do as she wished—but to her heart. Her lovely, shining soul. If he destroyed her trusting, generous nature, he wouldn’t know how to live with himself.

  Gabe lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the labyrinth of the rookery. He wasn’t going to allow any further damage to her frocks. Not on his account.

  When they reached the main thoroughfare, he waved for a hackney cab. “Mayfair,” he told the driver. “Bloom Square.”

  He tucked Penny inside the cab, carefully settling her on the seat. She moved over to make room for him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “For this.” He slammed the door of the hackney shut and motioned to the driver.

  “Gabriel, wai—”

  The cab carried her and her objection into the London streets. When they’d gone, Gabe turned on his heel and walked the other way.

  There. It was over. Forever.

  If Gabriel thought this was over, he was fooling himself. Penny was not so easily deterred. However, she decided to allow him a day to recover his senses. When the hackney deposited her at home in Bloom Square, she wanted nothing more than to have a bath and perhaps a healthy cry.

  However, when she entered the house, it became evident that both bath and tears would have to wait.

  Aunt Caroline looked over her muddied, bedraggled frock. �
��Oh, Penelope.”

  “What a delight to see you, Aunt Caroline.” With a dejected sigh, Penny dropped into a chair, unable to think of anything else to do. “Have you been waiting long?”

  “Too long, I daresay. I’ve been having a disturbing conversation with your parrot.”

  “I don’t suppose ‘I love you’ was part of the dialogue?”

  Her aunt’s eyes were steely. “No.”

  Drat. Penny couldn’t convince anyone to believe those words, it seemed—man or bird.

  “I’ve also been reading.” Her aunt lifted a copy of the Prattler. “When I said I wanted to see you in the society column, this is not what I meant.”

  “I’m not in it.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” Her aunt held up the page and shook it at her. “It’s right here in black and white. ‘Unidentified woman’? That can only be you. Who else would attend a fete and leave before speaking to a soul in attendance?”

  Penny covered her eyes with one hand and moaned. “I’m trying, Aunt Caroline. I truly am. The otter swam away, and the farm animals are headed to the country in a few days’ time. Just this morning, we delivered the kittens to . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to complete the sentence. “I’m trying.”

  And yet, somehow, all her effort wasn’t enough. Not for her aunt; not for Gabriel. Not even for the parrot.

  “Now about this ball your detestable neighbor is giving.”

  “You needn’t worry. I don’t plan to attend.”

  “Oh, yes, you will.” Her aunt harrumphed. “You are running out of time. If you wish to remain in London, there is only one way certain to succeed. An engagement. Or at least the prospect of one. If you have a suitor or two waiting in the wings, Bradford won’t drag you from Town.”

  “If it was so easy to line up a suitor or two in the wings, I wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  “We both know very well that you haven’t been trying. And this ball is your ideal opportunity. The Duke of Ruin has a great many lords and well-placed gentlemen dangling on the loose threads of his tailcoat. They won’t fail to answer his invitation.” She rose to her feet. “In short, you—and your handsome dowry—will be surrounded by financially desperate men. You’ll never have a better chance at snaring one.”

  “As always, Aunt Caroline, you do wonders for my confidence.” Penny accompanied her aunt to the door.

  “It’s given me no pleasure to watch you hide away all these years.” Aunt Caroline patted her shoulder fondly. “Believe it or not, I’m pulling for you. You deserve to be an identified woman.”

  Penny was momentarily speechless. “Thank you.”

  Of all the places to find reassurance, she never would have expected it to come from her demanding Aunt Caroline. Her aunt’s gesture wasn’t precisely effusive, but Penny wasn’t in a position to be choosy. She would take what she could get.

  This rare display of affection concluded, her aunt opened the door to leave. “I’ll see you at the ball, then. Do try to look . . .”

  “Presentable,” Penny finished. “I know.”

  Her aunt clucked her tongue. “Presentable won’t do on this occasion, I’m afraid. If you want to win this little wager of ours, you had better look magnificent.”

  Magnificent.

  Penny had no interest in accumulating desperate suitors of the ton. She had a singular interest in winning the heart of one man, which meant she’d be betting everything she had on love. If attending his ball and looking magnificent could help in the least . . . ?

  Well, then. She had little time to waste.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Hurry along.” Gabe kicked the blocks in place to keep the wagon wheels from moving, while Ash and Chase adjusted the wooden ramp to the wagon bed. “We need to have this done before the ladies return from the shops.”

  “What’s the hurry?” Chase said.

  Gabe hedged. “So they can arrive at Ashbury’s country estate before nightfall. Safer for men and beasts that way.”

  In truth, he didn’t want to risk meeting with Penny. Conversation was to be avoided at all costs. Nothing she could say would change his mind, and nothing he could say would make it any easier.

  “Come on, then.” He clapped his hands. “Angus is waiting. We need to have Marigold loaded before I can settle the hens.”

  “We have a problem,” Ashbury called from the mews. “The goat won’t move. She keeps stamping at the ground and bleating. Her belly doesn’t look right. It keeps bunching and shifting.”

  Chase and Gabe followed him into the stalls.

  “Penny always says the creature has sensitive digestion,” Gabe said. “Perhaps the goat ate something that didn’t agree with her.”

  “Or maybe it’s something else,” Chase said.

  “Like what?”

  “I’ve been reading up on things.” Chase jammed his thumb in his waistband. “You know, since it will be Alexandra’s time soon. Humans and goats are different animals, but some qualities among females must be universal. A contracting abdomen and a great deal of moaning being two of those qualities.”

  Ashbury wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Chase, what the hell are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I think Marigold is preparing to give birth.”

  Gabe smacked his gloves against his thigh. “Damn it, I knew it. I knew this goat was breeding.”

  Ashbury braced his hands on his hips. “She’s been too free with her favors, eh? The scarlet strumpet.”

  “Watch yourself,” Gabe snapped. “Marigold’s not that kind of goat.”

  “Yes, let’s not shame the poor girl,” Chase added. “Perhaps it was star-crossed love.”

  “Bringing this back to reality for a moment, if you don’t mind,” Gabe said. “What the hell are we supposed to do?”

  “We definitely can’t move her in this state,” Ashbury said.

  “Don’t animals know what to do on their own?” Chase asked. “It’s instinct. All we need to do is wait.”

  And so they waited.

  And waited.

  After what felt like hours, Gabe paced the stall back and forth. “Should she really be making that noise?”

  Ashbury shrugged. “Have you ever heard a woman in her labors?”

  “No,” Gabe cautiously replied.

  “I regret to inform you, it doesn’t sound much different than this.”

  “Why are you telling me these things?” Chase complained.

  “That’s it,” Gabe said. “I’m sending for a veterinarian. Two of them. Three. We’ll wait on their advice.”

  And so they waited.

  And waited.

  After what felt like hours, no veterinarian had appeared.

  Marigold braced her head against the side of her stall, pawing the ground and bleating. Her tail lifted.

  “Hold a moment. I think something’s happening.” Gabe beckoned to the other two. “One of you should look.”

  “You do it, Ash,” Chase said.

  “Why me?”

  “Because your wife’s given birth. You said that you were there.”

  “I said I heard it. I didn’t look.”

  Chase rose to his feet and went to the hind end of the goat. “I’ll look. I’m not afraid. I intend to be there for every moment of the miracle of my own child’s birth.” He crouched and squinted. “And . . . I’ve changed my mind.”

  Chase retreated to the far corner of the stall and sat on a crate, his pallor having turned a pale, sickly green.

  “Fine,” Ashbury said. “I’ll do it. If I could stomach my own injuries from that rocket blast, I can stomach this.” He went to look, then reeled a step backward. “Oh, God. Something’s coming out.”

  “Of course something’s coming out,” Gabe said. “A baby goat.”

  “No,” Ash said grimly. “No.”

  “If it’s not a goat, then what is it?”

  “It’s a punishment for all my earthly sins, is what it is.”

  “Describe it,”
Chase said. “I’ve done my research. What does it look like?”

  “Picture a soap bubble,” Ashbury said slowly. “Then picture a soap bubble blown in Hell, by a demon with a phlegmy cold.”

  Chase doubled over. “I think I just vomited in my mouth.”

  “Maybe it’s the placenta,” Ashbury suggested.

  “Ash, you idiot.” Chase had his head between his knees. “The placenta comes after. That’s why they call it the afterbirth. Didn’t you do any reading when Emma was pregnant?”

  “Yes. I did all sorts of reading. I read every other type of book to take my mind off the entire affair.”

  “Rather cowardly, Ashbury.”

  “Yes, and you’re an exemplar of courage over there, heaving your luncheon into a milk pail. Reading about it does nothing but tell you everything that can go wrong. I didn’t need that. I could imagine too many things going wrong on my own.”

  “Thank God one of us prepared.” Gathering himself, Chase wiped his brow with his sleeve. “That thing you’re seeing is no doubt the bag of waters. Also known as the amniotic sac.”

  Ash stood up. “It went back in. Jesus. It went back in.”

  Gabe turned to Chase. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “You just said you’ve done your reading.”

  “That wasn’t in the book.”

  “Wait, wait. She’s pushing it out again. There’s more of it this time, and it looks . . . phlegmier.”

  Chase retched. “Ash, please.”

  “You’re right, I think it is the bag of waters.”

  “Well, what do you see inside? A nose? A leg?”

  “How should I know? Why does it even matter what part it is?”

  “A nose means it’s headfirst. And that’s good. A leg would be bad. I think.”

  “You think?”

  “It depends on whether it’s a foreleg or hind leg.”

  “How do we tell which it is?”

  “I don’t know!” Chase exclaimed. “I’m not a veterinarian!”

  Ashbury threw up his arms and walked in a circle. “Now it’s gone back in again.”

  Gabe lost his patience. He didn’t know where the hell the veterinarian was, but it didn’t matter. Sooner or later, Penny would return home, and Gabe would rather die than be the one to tell her Marigold was gone. “Listen, the two of you. This goat is not dying tonight. We need to stop bickering and do something.”