Wedding Wagers

by Donna Hatch

  Enter the earl, Sherborne thought smugly as he retraced his steps toward Eli. Really, the situation could not be any easier. He and Emily were practically betrothed already. They’d been neighbors their entire lives, and everyone knew that the earl’s title had once come through a Montgomery. Theirs was a match that had been hinted at by both sets of parents since they were children.

  He’d heard Emily’d had a brief season in London, but her more reserved personality had not been a good fit with the ton, and she’d returned home early. That was five years ago, and there probably hadn’t been anyone at all interested in asking for her hand since.

  Sherborne’s gaze slid suddenly to Eli. Anyone suitable.

  “You want to help, you can put this away.” Eli thrust the saddle squarely at Sherborne’s chest.

  Unprepared, Sherborne staggered backward, nearly falling in the muck of the yard.

  “We are no longer children, Eli.” Sherborne righted himself with as much dignity as possible—not much at all, considering the saddle was still slipping and he was being pulled forward with it to keep it from falling in the spring mud. “You—can—not—treat—me like this.” He clutched the blasted contraption to his chest and noted its foul smell of sweaty horse. Fiend seize it! He’d have to change before going over to the Montgomerys. If he wasn’t going to be quite late before, he definitely would be now.

  “I was only trying to include you,” Eli said, a definite twitch to his mouth, barely visible behind the beard. “I seem to recall you always found great interest in whatever I was doing.”

  “As did you, in what I was doing,” Sherborne huffed, recalling the long summer afternoons of being badgered about everything to do with boarding school. “The truth was, then and now, that I could not be you, and you could not be me.” Sherborne said this with honest regret. Of all his friends, Eli had been the one he could most be himself around. He’d wished, more than once, that circumstances were different, that Eli’s father hadn’t disappeared before Eli was even born, or that he would reappear now—a member of the ton—and claim Eli as his own. It would have been good to be able to consider him an equal. But that was not to be.

  “Our differences have never been more apparent or true than now. Look at you—” Sherborne waved a hand at Eli. “Have you made use of a razor even once in the past six months? I’ve never seen such a face.”

  “Oh, I think you probably have,” Eli said, a slight curve to his lips this time, as if something Sherborne had said amused him.

  The response only annoyed Sherborne. “Don’t you understand? I am Sherborne Alexander Rowley III, the Earl of Shrewsbury, whereas you are merely Eli Alex Linfield—”

  “—The first,” Eli said. “Believe me, I’ve never forgotten. You are an earl. I am a stable master. It’s quite clear. Common I may be, but simpleminded I am not.”

  Stable master? If that was true, Eli had moved up in the ranks considerably. Sherborne balanced the saddle on top of the fence. “Why are you here, Eli?”

  “To exercise and care for your horse.” Eli turned his back on Sherborne and took up the curry comb. “I thought we’d established that.”

  “I mean here.” Sherborne shifted his gaze toward the Montgomery land once more. “I know you work for the Montgomerys.”

  There was a visible stiffening in Eli’s posture. His neck tensed first, then his back, noticeable beneath the sweat-soaked shirt in the straightening of every notch of his spine. After a moment, during which Sherborne guessed his old friend was struggling with something, Eli turned to face him.

  “I’ve worked for Baron Montgomery the past five years. He treats me fairly, and in return I meet or exceed his expectations—so much so that he has allowed me to come see to your horses several times a week. Baron Montgomery and I have a good working relationship. That is all.”

  “And his daughter, Emily?” Sherborne asked, deciding there was no point in hinting at the topic when he needed to hurry and Eli was a potential flaw in his plan. “What is your relationship with her?”

  Eli’s eyes narrowed as he took a step forward. His knuckles whitened with his grip on the comb.

  “Miss Montgomery and I do not have a relationship. The only interaction I have with all three ladies of the household, Lady Montgomery, Miss Montgomery, and her older sister, Lady Grayson, are limited to their requests regarding their horses. If you should so much as insinuate otherwise—ever again—I shall be forced to call you out for it.”

  Sherborne barked out a laugh filled with both relief and amusement. She is untarnished. She can still be mine. The baron was not looking to marry his daughter off for other reasons. “You would call me out like any gentleman?” It seemed the audacity of Eli’s youth had only grown more profound with age.

  “Like any gentleman.” Eli gave a curt nod. “I have answered your question, but you have not answered mine. Why are you here? Have you come home to court Miss Montgomery?”

  “I have,” Sherborne answered, though this entire conversation was beneath him. The word court was also somewhat disturbing. He hadn’t thought much on that, but likely both Miss Montgomery and her parents would expect some sort of effort from him in that respect. He supposed at least a few months of carriage rides, socials, and the like awaited him.

  “When is the last time you saw her?” Eli asked in a tone far too demanding for Sherborne’s liking.

  “I am uncertain,” he admitted. “Perhaps three or four years ago. I cannot recall. I met her sister a few months past at an event in London, and she apprised me of Emily’s—of Miss Montgomery’s—” he hastily amended at Eli’s fierce look, “availability. Since then I have been corresponding with her father, who is in favor of the match, particularly since the Earl of Shrewsbury’s title originally came through—”

  “—a Montgomery.” Eli waved his hand dismissively. “I am familiar with the family history.”

  “Just so long as you are not familiar with the lady.”

  “I warned you.” Eli’s fist sprang forward, catching the side of Sherborne’s nose as he turned away.

  Sherborne feinted to the side but in the same motion swung back, arm out, fist formed, and landed a solid punch to Eli’s middle. He’d learned a few tricks himself over the years, particularly those spent at school among other frustrated young men like himself. If ever anyone had deserved to have the wind knocked out of him, it was Eli today. Sherborne felt he’d shown as much patience as he was capable of. Old friend or not, Eli had just crossed the line.

  But Eli did not appear either wounded or discouraged. “If there is a next time it will be pistols.”

  Sherborne shook his head. “You fool. I’ve come home to marry Emily Montgomery, so if you’re still harboring that boyhood fantasy about having her yourself, you’d best forget it. She may know your name now, but you need to know your place. As for our wager, long ago, I’d have been inclined to forget that as well, but given your actions this afternoon, I’ve changed my mind. I suggest you give your notice to the Baron sooner rather than later. But don’t worry. You’ll not work here. Once Emily and I are married I’ll send you to Claymere. You can exercise and groom my horses all day long there, and I won’t even care if you pretend they’re yours.”

  Definitely late for his appointment now, Sherborne took a step toward the house. “Put the saddle away and finish grooming Sage before you go.”

  “Do it yourself.” Eli tossed the curry brush at Sherborne, who fumbled with it a second before clasping it tightly.

  His anger erupted in full blown force. “How dare you tell me what to do. I pay your wage for services here.”

  “I receive no wage,” Eli said in a tone that indicated his own temper was just barely in check. “I came here to help out of respect for the late Earl. But no more.”

  “You—are not paid?” Sherborne felt his mouth hanging open and snapped it shut. Impossible.

  “If you don’t believe me, confirm it with your steward. I am here out of a sense of loyalty and long-re
membered friendship. I did not wish your father’s estate to go entirely to ruin.”

  “How dare you suggest—It’s not—” Entirely. Sherborne glanced about, noting the neglect he’d tried to ignore. The front garden looked decent enough, if not as glorious as when his parents had lived here, but the grounds in general were overgrown and neglected. The fence needed mending, the stables a fresh coat or two of paint.

  Inside the house his personal rooms were clean, but the remainder had the appearance of being left alone far too long.

  “Since Father’s passing, my mother prefers London. There has been no reason—until now—to concern myself overly with affairs here.”

  “I hope you do now.” Eli walked toward another horse, presumably his own, grazing nearby. “I hope you take greater care here in all your doings, from the upkeep of the house to the care and courting of your bride.”

  Chapter Three

  “Wear your hair high with the silver, jeweled combs tonight. They suit you.” Lady Sophia Grayson sashayed into her sister’s bedroom, pausing to admire her own reflection in the full-length mirror.

  “They make my head ache so,” Emily complained, looking up from her book and watching her sister pose in front of the glass.

  “That’s right, see how it’s done.” Sophia exaggerated the swing of her hips as she crossed behind Emily. “If you want a man to notice you, you have to give him something to notice.”

  “A head full of heavy jewelry?” Emily made a face.

  “No, silly. The way you walk. Like this.” Sophia paraded past Emily once more.

  No, thank you. Emily would die before she’d strut around like that in front of anyone, especially Lord Rowley.

  “You want the earl to take interest in you, don’t you?”

  Emily did not answer immediately. Do I? It was what her father wanted, certainly, but she wasn’t yet sure she felt the same. Her life here was comfortable. She was content. She didn’t need a beau, or especially a husband.

  “Em-ily.” Sophia dropped down beside her, nudging Emily practically off the chair. “Do you even realize how lucky you are? The earl is near our age. He is handsome, reputable, charming. Would that papa had chosen a gentleman like that for me.”

  “You were happily married,” Emily said, aghast at her sister’s suggestion that she had not favored her late husband.

  “Henry and I managed well enough, but he was fourteen years my senior and not particularly attractive. His title and money were very admirable, though.” Sophia burst into a fit of giggles entirely inappropriate for one her age and in her circumstance.

  Emily frowned, recalling how immensely pleased their father had been when the duke offered for Sophia. Their father seemed no less pleased when the earl had called on them two weeks ago and then invited Emily for a drive a day later. They had gone driving again since and ridden together the day before. Tonight’s ball was to be the real test.

  Will the earl and I suit? Somehow Emily felt certain she would know when they danced. She would feel it when he took her hand and during those times they brushed shoulders as they passed each other and turned round. She would know when they stood across from each other and looked into one another’s eyes. She would feel—something.

  She did not expect excitement or a swoony feeling of romance, but hoped she might feel comfortable, as if she and Lord Rowley might be friends. She had never witnessed that in her parents’ relationship but, if she must be married, longed for it in hers.

  That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

  * * *

  Sherborne resisted the urge to take out his watch and check the time. He thought it had to be nearing two in the morning. Surely a country ball like this would not carry on into the hour before dawn as those in London frequently did. He’d been Miss Montgomery’s partner for the supper dance some hours ago and found her agreeable enough, if not on the quiet side.

  During the meal her sister, Lady Grayson, had also been seated nearby and had entertained both her partner and the others around her. Sherborne had requested a dance with her shortly after and now wished—as he watched her holding her gown and turning about prettily—that he might request another. But of course that would send the entirely wrong message. Sherborne’s quest here wasn’t about finding the woman who most intrigued him, it was about securing the one with the largest dowry. The Collingwood manor and estate needed it. Quickly.

  With that to motivate him, Sherborne played the part of the charming guest and danced three times more, doing his best to seek out those he felt had probably danced the least. He soon realized why they were not dancing. If their looks were little to recommend them, their wit held even less. Talk of the weather and fashions and their mad king were boring him to tears. At least the Montgomery sisters were both more interesting than that. Emily enjoyed riding and the countryside, and they had discussed horses and their adjoining property at length. Sophia had had him laughing out loud as she described the idiosyncrasies of each of their neighbors.

  At half past three, Sherborne not only checked his watch but deemed it the appropriate time to request a second dance with Emily. She consented with that same demure expression she’d presented to him earlier, and he found himself wondering what it would take to coax her from her shyness. They had spoken somewhat comfortably on their drives the past week. He wasn’t certain what had changed this evening.

  Perhaps it was that she’d been taught that reserved females were preferable. He hadn’t time for that or any other courting games. They both knew what this dance was about, and he saw no reason for pretense of any sort.

  “Miss Montgomery?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes fully met his for the first time all evening.

  She was tired, fighting a yawn this very second, and Sherborne found himself wondering what it would be like to see her sleep. His mind wandered dangerously, imagining a wedding night when they might share a bed.

  “I have enjoyed your company tonight,” he said truthfully. As much or more than anyone else here.

  “I have enjoyed yours as well.” She smiled, just for him, and Sherborne felt a sudden peculiarity. She wasn’t like the other girls he had spent time with. He’d not seen the appeal of marrying someone unaccustomed to the society he relished being a part of, but he suddenly saw possibility there as well—for all the things she might experience with him for the first time. They changed partners once more but passed each other, their shoulders brushing. Such an inconsequential touch compared to those he’d enjoyed from females before, and yet...

  She smiled at him again when the cotillion ended. Sherborne took her hand, bent over it, and allowed his lips to linger over her soft skin. “May I call on you again the day after tomorrow?” he asked boldly.

  Miss Montgomery nodded, and Sherborne felt the weight of his financial burdens lift a little more.

  Chapter Four

  “It’s true! Fortune is going to have her foal tonight?” Emily peeked into the stall, her gloved hands wrapped around the upper bars.

  “Let’s hope it is tonight.” Eli’s gaze slid from the mare to Miss Montgomery before he turned away quickly, berating himself for looking at all. One glance had been enough to note her flushed cheeks, upturned lips, and the sparkle in her eyes. Lord, those eyes. They were going to haunt him the rest of his life.

  “How perfectly vexing.” She sighed dramatically.

  “More vexing for Fortune than for you, I should think,” Eli said.

  Miss Montgomery’s laugh echoed through the stable. “Oh, Mr. Linfield. You are so amusing. I am going to miss you.”

  And I you. With a pang of regret Eli realized this might very well be the last time he saw her. He had promised to stay until Miss Montgomery’s horse was safely delivered of her foal, but no longer, preferring not to witness Emily’s developing affection for Sherborne.

  Eli had not shared with the baron or his family the particulars of his new position, only that he must take it to honor a promise made long ago. Sherborne a
nd he were the only two privy to the particulars of their arrangement.

  The wedding wager, Eli thought bitterly. What a foolish child he’d been when he’d both boasted of marrying Miss Montgomery and then wagered ten years of his life on it.

  Though the prospect of never seeing her again was painful, it was best. It had been difficult enough watching Sherborne court her the past month. Living nearby and seeing them together as a married couple would be far worse.

  “I meant no ill wishes toward Fortune and would very much like to be by her side, if I might.” Emily cast a glance toward the open double doors. “But the earl is on his way, even now, to take me for a drive.”

  Now that is vexing. Eli continued scrubbing down the far wall, making every surface Fortune or her foal might come in contact with as sanitary as possible to avoid the possibility of infection. He’d never lost a foal or its mother on his watch, and he intended to keep it that way.

  “I’m sure you’ll have an enjoyable time,” Eli managed to say with a neutral, if not entirely cordial, tone. “I promise to watch out for your horse. She’ll manage quite well and be fit for riding again soon enough.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Linfield. I don’t know what we’ll do without you. I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

  “That’s kind of you.” Eli didn’t delude himself that she’d meant it in any reference other than his work here. But if she had... It was all too easy to imagine a different scenario. And all the more reason it was time to move on. Even without the wager to fulfill, he would still be leaving. He’d known that for the past five years, when he’d decided to work for the Montgomerys. It had always been a temporary post. Just until Emily married and was settled.

  “No need to be late for your drive,” Eli said, noting Emily hadn’t budged at all during his musings. “Lord Rowley’s not a man who likes to be kept waiting—I hear,” he amended quickly, lest she wonder how he knew of Sherborne’s temperament.