Wedding Wagers

by Donna Hatch

  “What is the reason for this rude interruption?” Lord Stratford blustered.

  Victor ignored Lord Stratford and scanned Juliet from head to foot.

  She was wearing a gown that had been made over from something of her mother’s, yes, but she hadn’t thought of the full impact that wearing it might have if Victor should see it. Beneath his assessing gaze, her skin flushed warm.

  “We have not spoken our vows,” Juliet said, surprised she could speak at all.

  “Hear, hear,” Lord Stratford said, his face growing as red as Juliet’s but for a different reason. “You had better not be about to oppose this wedding.”

  Neither Juliet nor Victor replied to Stratford.

  “I am sorry to hear about your father,” Juliet said.

  “I’m not sorry his misery was put to an end,” Victor replied in that frank way of his.

  Those in the congregation who sat close enough to hear the quiet conversation gasped at Victor’s words.

  “Now, listen here, Locken,” John said, crossing to the couple.

  Juliet noticed that he walked with trepidation, keeping an eye on the other men Victor brought with him.

  “Leave my sister in peace,” John said. “She’s made her decision, and you can keep your dukedom.”

  Victor turned his gaze upon John. “Who says I can’t have both?”

  John scoffed. “We all know you reached your father too late.” He narrowed his eyes. “The duke was already dead. And my sister will be no mistress of yours.”

  “My father was dead when I arrived in Locken,” Victor said with a nod. “And two weeks later my cousin arrived, ready to take over the estate. I handed him the master’s keys and left for London.”

  “You should have stayed in London, then,” John growled. “Southill Estate is no longer your concern.”

  Victor’s mouth lifted into a half smile, and she had to do something soon before these two men brawled in the middle of the church. Victor had come for her, but leaving with him would throw her brother into further scandal. Victor would despise her in the years to come when he realized all he’d given up for her. And as much as she despised many of John’s choices and actions, she’d determined to do what was necessary to save Southill Estate.

  “Lord Locken,” she said in a quiet voice, using his formal title. She stepped forward so she stood between her brother and Victor. “Please forgive me. My brother is right, I have made my choice.”

  Victor stared at her, and she couldn’t quite read his expression. All she knew was that she felt an awful twisting in her stomach. He’d given up Locken for her, but she was unwilling to give up Southill Estate for him. And then it was like her words had finally processed in his mind. His eyes darkened, and a faint flush stole over his cheeks. He opened his mouth, then shut it, his jaw clenched.

  Victor nodded to John, then to Lord Stratford, and he said, “I beg your pardon.”

  With that, Victor turned and slapped his gloves against his thigh, then started the walk back down the church’s aisle.

  All eyes watched him leave, and just before he reached the church doors, he said, “Men. Let’s go.” He turned a final time and eyed Juliet from the distance. “I brought the two bays. They are yours now. Won fairly.”

  He disappeared through the doorway before she could collect her senses.

  And when the enormity of what had just happened dawned on her, Juliet wanted to call out after him, to tell him that her heart would always be his, to beg him to return, and tell him that she didn’t mind living in the smallest of cottages.

  “Well, then,” John said, rubbing his hands together. “With that bit of excitement over, we can now proceed.”

  Juliet swallowed the painful lump in her throat and ignored the tears streaking her cheeks. She turned to Lord Stratford. The man grinned, his eyes focused on her, as if he’d just been awarded a profitable gold mine. Juliet wanted to sink into the earth and never see either of these men again.

  “Proceed with the marriage vows.” John’s blue gaze pierced Juliet as if he’d have no qualms about driving a dagger straight into her heart.

  The priest repeated the words. “I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it.”

  Juliet saw the rest of her life in a single image. Her, sitting alone as an old woman, in the dreary drawing room in the Stratford mansion, her soul wracked with pain because she’d turned down a life of love and happiness. For what? A crumbling manor and a selfish brother?

  “I confess,” she whispered. “I must confess that I cannot marry Lord Stratford,” she said louder.

  John was by her side in an instant, his fingers grasping her arm. “Juliet,” he said through clenched teeth.

  She blinked back the tears that had started again and focused on Lord Stratford. “I am truly sorry to have caused you pain and embarrassment, Lord Stratford. But I cannot marry you, ever.” She would run after Victor and beg for his forgiveness, and if he refused to give it . . . she’d find her own way as a governess.

  “Damn you, woman,” her brother started, but she cut him off.

  “Unhand me now, John,” she said in a shaking voice. “You will not dictate my future any longer. You gave up that responsibility when you gambled away your inheritance.”

  Gasps echoed throughout the church, although Juliet believed that most everyone knew of their ruin.

  John’s mouth fell open as if she’d slapped him, and it gave her the leverage to wrench away from his grasp. Before he could recover his senses, she picked up her skirts and ran down the aisle. The church doors were still wide open, and she barreled through them. She didn’t stop running until she saw that Victor had, indeed, delivered the two bays. Both were saddled, and she made quick work of mounting one, then grabbing the reins of the second. Her dress would likely never recover after the abuse it suffered as she got herself situated and started to ride away from the church.

  But she didn’t care about her dress or what anyone in all of Southill thought of her. She had a man to catch up to.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Victor should have written Juliet of his coming, but he hadn’t trusted that her brother would deliver the letter to her. Besides, he couldn’t tell her the truth in the letter. He had to find out if she’d choose him over her brother’s wishes. She was the type of woman who’d sacrifice her all for another. Was she willing to sacrifice her heart as well?

  Apparently, she was.

  When he’d heard about the banns posted for Juliet and Lord Stratford, Victor hadn’t believed it at first. But upon finding that the marriage was going to happen, he’d wrestled with himself day and night about what to do.

  And it wasn’t until this morning that everything had become official, and he realized that he could no longer put off his heart. He had to try. So, he came.

  A lot of good that had done.

  Weeks ago, he’d been willing to live a pauper’s life to have Juliet by his side, but she’d made it clear that she wasn’t willing to do the same. It was just as well, he supposed, that he discovered it now before he married the woman.

  He glanced over at the men he’d rousted on this journey. Surely they thought he was a fool. The only reason Victor wasn’t currently ranting and raving himself was because a cold numbness had settled over him. It wouldn’t last for long, though. It would soon turn to anger, then grief, then despair. Ironically, this was as close as he’d ever felt to understanding his father, and Juliet was still alive and well.

  Victor and his men would all return to London, and as soon as his back was turned, the tales would start. With the exception of Lord Hudson—who was a true friend and would likely wait a few days before he cracked and came up with his own jokes.

  “Someone’s coming,” Hudson said.

  Victor said nothing, and he wasn’t
sure why Hudson was interested in another rider on the road anyway.

  “It’s Lady Juliet,” Hudson added.

  Victor froze. Then, slowly, he turned to see a woman on horseback . . . no . . . a woman and two horses. His bays. And she was riding like she was either running from someone or chasing something.

  The cold numbness that had surrounded Victor’s heart since Juliet had turned him away started to thaw. He blinked once, then twice. No, she wasn’t a mirage. She was truly riding his bay in her wedding gown. Since she’d chosen to sit astride the horse, the hem of the dress had risen to mid-calf. Her hair had come out of its pins, and the honey gold streamed behind her. She grasped the reins of both horses so tightly in her hands that her knuckles were white.

  Truthfully, she looked like an avenging angel bearing down upon them. Victor was transfixed at the sight as his thudding heart echoed the bays’ hoofbeats.

  “Do you think she’s changed her mind?” Hudson mused.

  “Be gone,” Victor said in a firm voice. He glanced to the men, who were all gaping at Juliet’s approach. “Take yourselves around the bend of the road on the other side of those trees. Give the lady some privacy for what she’s come to say.”

  Hudson smirked, but he and the other men rode on ahead until they’d disappeared around the bend. Not that Victor was exactly watching them, because Juliet had slowed the bays as she neared. Her dark blue eyes were as wild as her appearance, and she reined the horses to a stop, then began to dismount. The dress caught, and Victor hurried to dismount his own horse to help her down.

  But he was a moment too late to aid her in a graceful manner, and she nearly tumbled against him as she tried to free her dress from its entanglement. He caught her by the waist, and once she had her balance, he released her and stood back. Holding her in his arms was not the way to keep his mind rational.

  What if she were merely demanding that he keep the horses?

  She turned to face him, and before he could question her, she sank to her knees.

  “Forgive me, Lord Locken,” she said. “I have been careless with your heart, and I have hurt my brother and Lord Stratford in the process.”

  Victor stared down at her, then he grasped her upper arms and drew her to her feet. “Do not kneel before me.”

  She gazed at him for a moment, her breathing rapid, then she threw her arms about his neck. “I am so sorry,” she said into his neck.

  He had no choice but to place his hands on her waist, if only to steady himself.

  “I don’t mind being poor,” she said in a breathless voice. “I’ve grown quite used to it. But I don’t want you to give up all you have—”

  “Juliet,” he said, trying to find his sense of reason in all of what she was saying. “What have you done? Why are you here?”

  She pulled back so that their gazes met. “I’ve called off the wedding,” she said. “Lord Stratford will now forever hate me. I told him if you will not have me, then I will become a governess. I have never seen my brother so shocked and furious. John will never forgive me, and I’m afraid that I am now without home or family.”

  “And you mounted the bay and rode after me?” he asked. “Why?”

  Her voice fell to a whisper. “Because you came for me.” Tears filled her eyes. “And I wanted to tell you that I do choose you. And I love you. Even if we can’t marry, you deserve to know that.”

  Victor wondered if he should laugh at the turn of events or simply kiss her. “There is no reason we cannot marry.”

  “But—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “I need to tell you something.”

  She stilled.

  He lowered his finger and rested his hand on her shoulder. “After the funeral, I packed my things in preparation for my cousin’s takeover of the dukedom. While sorting through papers in the library, I found a copy of my father’s will. Sure enough, he’d revised it to state that I would have to marry Lady Diana by the end of the year in order to keep the dukedom. But something stuck out to me—there was no signature or date. I assumed the signed version was with the solicitor, and I didn’t think much about it until I’d returned to London.”

  “What are you saying, Victor?” Juliet asked.

  “I’m saying, my dear, that I looked into the issue,” he said. “And I discovered that my father never signed the new will, for whatever reason. I had to go through a mess of litigation with the courts, but as of yesterday, I am the rightful Duke of Wycliff.”

  Her eyes widened. “And you are not married to Lady Diana?”

  His smile was slow. “I am not married to Lady Diana. My bride will be of my choosing.”

  “You are free,” she whispered, new tears in her eyes. She touched the sides of his face in a caress.

  Victor rested his forehead against hers. “I am free to marry you and to love you for the rest of my life.”

  She moved her hands behind his neck, threading her fingers into his hair. “We will probably need a special license after the scandal I caused in the church.”

  “No,” he said. “We will go to Locken, post the banns there, and then you’ll marry me in a wedding ceremony befitting a duchess.” He pressed a kiss against the edge of her mouth.

  “I will need a new gown,” she murmured.

  “You shall have one.” He kissed the other side of her mouth.

  “The bays are still mine, since you’re only my second proposal.”

  He laughed before kissing the edge of her jaw. “You’ll need a carriage to go with them. Maybe that can be my wedding gift to you.”

  She sighed with contentment, and he took the opportunity to trail more kisses down her neck until he reached her collar bone.

  “Victor,” she said in a quiet voice. “What shall we do about my brother?”

  He lifted his head. “We will give him a year to clean up. Then, you’ll make the decision whether to help put Southill Estate to rights.” He traced her jawline with his fingers while gazing into her blue eyes. “It will be your decision, my dear, solely yours. Because if it were up to me, the outcome would not be sweet.”

  Her smile was faint, but her eyes were deep pools of gratitude. “You’re a good man, Victor Roland.”

  He grinned at her. “In that case, I must do this properly.” He released Juliet and knelt on one knee.

  She covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes widening.

  “Don’t tell me you’re surprised,” he said. “I mean, I did travel quite a way to crash your wedding.”

  “You’re kneeling in the dirt.”

  “We’ll make a matching pair, then.” He winked. “Your dress has half the road on it.”

  A smile spread across her face.

  “Lady Juliet Baldwin,” he said, grasping her hand. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  She didn’t hesitate. Her smile only grew wider as she leaned down and pressed her lips against his.

  While her kiss was lovely, she still hadn’t answered. “Is that a yes?” he asked after a moment.

  She drew back and leveled him with her blue gaze. “It most certainly is, Your Grace.”

  “Perfect.” He rose and pulled her into his arms. “Let’s do this properly, then.” He kissed her most thoroughly then, as one must do in the middle of a road, after a proposal of marriage is accepted. And as her arms wound around his neck, he inhaled everything that was Juliet—sun, wind, flowers, and promises.

  Victor was quite sure they had an audience, and no doubt Hudson and the other men had a good view through the trees. But Victor didn’t mind in the least. Juliet was finally his.

  And she’d been absolutely right that first night they’d met. Whatever challenges they would face in life as a married couple, if she was his wife, they would find joy.

  He would bet on it.

  More romances by Heather B. Moore:

  About Heather B. Moore

  Heather B. Moore is a USA Today bestselling author. She writes historical thrillers under the pen name
H.B. Moore; her latest are The Killing Curse and Breaking Jess. Under the name Heather B. Moore, she writes romance and women’s fiction; her latest include the Pine Valley Novels. Under pen name Jane Redd, she writes the young adult speculative Solstice series, including her latest release Mistress Grim. Heather is represented by Dystel, Goderich & Bourret.

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  An Improbable Wager

  Michele Paige Holmes

  Shropshire, England

  June 1805

  Chapter One

  “You’re still here?” Sherborne Alexander Rowley III swung a leg over his horse and jumped off, landing crouched in the mud before the animal had come to a full stop.

  Young Eli Linfield glanced over his shoulder then resumed his work, knee deep in a posthole. “I am. Though you won’t make it to your eleventh birthday, if you keep up stunts like that.”

  Sherborne grasped the reins and led his horse through the large puddle to the other side. “That was nothing. Last month I jumped from the school roof.”

  “Mmm,” Eli mumbled, both skeptical of Sherborne’s bragging and jealous as well. He didn’t have a particular desire to jump from a roof, but he thought boarding school sounded exciting—a lot more exciting than preparing posts for a gate in the south pasture. “I wasn’t talking about you breaking a leg. It’s your boots and breeches that’ll be the end of you. Your mum’s going to see you thrashed sound for ruining them.” Eli knew from sorry experience how averse Sherborne’s mother was to any sort of messes or untidiness.

  Sherborne shrugged. “I’ll just say old Pegasus threw me.”

  “No, you won’t.” Eli got a leg up and hoisted himself out of the hole. “Pegasus is old, and you say something like that, they’ll get rid of him for sure.”