To Wager with Love
Girls Who Dare, Book 5
By Emma V. Leech
Published by Emma V. Leech.
Copyright (c) Emma V. Leech 2019
Cover Art: Victoria Cooper
ASIN No.: B07WTMKMND
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. The ebook version and print version are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The ebook version may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is inferred.
Table of Contents
Members of the Peculiar Ladies’ Book Club
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
To Dance with a Devil
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Want more Emma?
About Me!
Other Works by Emma V. Leech
Audio Books!
The Rogue
Dying for a Duke
The Key to Erebus
The Dark Prince
Acknowledgements
Members of the Peculiar Ladies’ Book Club
Prunella Adolphus, Duchess of Bedwin – first peculiar lady and secretly Miss Terry, author of The Dark History of a Damned Duke.
Mrs Alice Hunt (née Dowding)–Not as shy as she once was. Blissfully married to Matilda’s brother, the notorious Nathanial Hunt, owner of Hunter’s, the exclusive gambling club.
Lady Aashini Cavendish (Lucia de Feria) – a beauty. A foreigner. Happily and scandalously married to Silas Anson, Viscount Cavendish.
Mrs Kitty Baxter (née Connolly) – quiet and watchful, until she isn’t. Recently eloped to marry childhood sweetheart, Mr Luke Baxter.
Harriet Stanhope – serious, studious, intelligent. Prim. Wearer of spectacles.
Bonnie Campbell – too outspoken and forever in a scrape.
Ruth Stone – heiress and daughter of a wealthy merchant.
Minerva Butler - Prue’s cousin. Not so vain or vacuous as she appears. Dreams of love.
Lady Helena Adolphus – vivacious, managing, unexpected.
Jemima Fernside – pretty and penniless.
Matilda Hunt – blonde and lovely and ruined in a scandal that was none of her making.
Prologue
Dear Jemima,
I do hope that you are well. It’s been so long since any of us heard from you. I had hoped you would attend St Clair’s ball, but Kitty tells me you won’t be there. It’s an age since we saw you last. Is everything all right? I warn you I intend to call on you the moment I’m back in town and I shall expect an excellent excuse for your lack of correspondence. If anything is troubling you, you may confide in me. You know that, don’t you? I would help if you’d let me. Please do reply, Jem, dear. We worry for you.
―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Matilda Hunt to Miss Jemima Fernside.
The morning of the 31st August 1814. Holbrooke House. Sussex.
Harriet’s eyelids fluttered as the early morning light pierced her tender brain. Good Lord, but her head was pounding. She raised a hand, pressing tentative fingers against her aching temples. She must be unwell, she decided, realising that her stomach felt uncertain too; an unpleasant acidic swirl in her guts certainly boded ill. With a soft sigh, she shielded her eyes from the sun, intent on sleeping some more. The bed was deliciously warm, and she wriggled back, luxuriating in the comfort of its embrace. It even smelled good: a touch of bay rum, soap, and something musky and… masculine.
Wait.
What?
Harriet froze as she registered a contented murmur from behind her—from extremely close behind her.
She started awake, and looked down in horror to discover she was all but naked—wearing only her shift—and that a man’s muscular bare arm encircled her waist, just below her breasts. As she stared, the arm tightened, pulling her closer and, with growing alarm, her beleaguered brain registered the heat of a broad chest pressed close against her back, not to mention… not to mention….
Harriet squealed as the hot, hard length of a very masculine member pressed firmly against her bottom. Flailing with panic, she turned in the confines of the embrace that held her captive and came face to face with a pair of startlingly beautiful aquamarine eyes.
A very familiar pair of aquamarine eyes.
Oh, good God.
Harriet gasped, too stunned to say a word as Jasper St Clair gave her a crooked grin that was famed throughout the ton for having the ability to make sensible women lose their senses, and their virtue.
“No,” she breathed, too horrified to find anything more to say for the moment, though she felt sure an avalanche of words would follow just as soon as she gathered her wits… and her undergarments, which appeared to be scattered about the summerhouse.
Good heavens! They were alone together, in the summerhouse, and from the looks of things, they’d been there all night. What had they done? What had she done? Harriet racked her aching brain, but the wretched thing refused to cooperate. All she could remember was the feel of Jasper’s arms about her, the press of his lips against hers….
Oh no.
Oh, no, no, no, no….
“Good morning,” he said, his smile fading a little in the light of her obvious dismay.
“W-What—?” she began, only for them both to jolt in alarm at the sound of the summerhouse door opening, the recognisable scrape of the ill-fitting wood grating over the flagged stone floor.
Laughter and chatter reached them, too late for them to move, for them to hide or gather their things, and suddenly they had an audience.
Jasper reacted first, snatching up his coat from the floor beside their makeshift bed, which seemed to be compiled of a nest of assorted blankets. He covered Harriet as best he could and then held her to him, meeting the astonished gazes of the assembled company, who were staring at them with looks ranging from delight and amusement to appalled fascination.
The blush that scalded Harriet’s cheeks was so fierce she thought she might spontaneously combust, which seemed a rather happier outcome than facing Lady St Clair, Matilda and Mr Burton, Jasper’s brother Jerome, and two of his cronies from his school days whose names escaped her. She did remember one of them being the biggest tattle monger she’d ever come across.
Good God. She was ruined.
“Ah,” Jasper said, his
voice a little less urbane than usual. He cleared this throat, and when he spoke again, the words were firm and very, very clear. “It seems you are the first to congratulate us. Harriet has agreed to marry me.”
Harriet’s head whipped around to stare at him again, open mouthed at the bare faced lie. Jasper just grinned at her and kissed her on the nose.
“Got you,” he whispered.
Chapter 1
Dear Papa,
I’m so excited for tonight’s ball. Everyone who is everyone will be there. Did you hear that our good friend, Kitty has married Luke Baxter—he is the heir to the Trevick earldom? The old earl died recently and now his heir is also dying and won’t last the year out. I’m afraid to say I can feel little sympathy for the man. He was not a kind or Christian soul. I’m so happy for Kitty though, and to think of her being a Countess! Such a romantic story. It makes one hope that such things are not restricted to fairy tales, and yes, Papa, before you ask, of course I shall keep my eye out for any eligible gentleman ready to sweep me off my feet.
―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Ruth Stone to her father, Mr George Stone.
The previous night. The St Clairs’ summer ball. 30th August 1814, Holbrooke House, Sussex.
Harriet watched as Jasper swept Kitty around the lavishly decorated ballroom. They made a striking pair, Jasper’s golden good looks set against Kitty’s lush, dark beauty. Harriet sighed inwardly. It must be nice to be beautiful. Not that she cared for such frivolous things. Beauty was nothing more than pretty wrapping paper: tear it off and what lay beneath was exposed for all to see. Sometimes the paper matched the loveliness of the gift within, but more often than not it was a disappointment.
Not in Kitty’s case, she had to admit. Kitty had become a dear friend to her and was just as lovely inside as out. Vivacious and good natured and full of fun she was the kind of girl who was always laughing, always looking for the best in life, and something of a handful. Harriet smiled as she saw Kitty’s husband Luke watching her dance, the soft shine of adoration in his eyes. She would lead him a merry dance that was for sure, and he’d love every moment.
Though she tried to resist the urge, Harriet looked back at Jasper and felt her heart twist in her chest. Why did he have to be so handsome? She’d told herself time and again that her stupidity was at an end and she no longer cared a damn about him, but she knew it was a lie. Unfortunately, Kitty had figured it out too, and the way she was talking to Jasper—not to mention the intent look on his face— sent an unpleasant prickling chasing up and down Harriet’s spine.
Surely Kitty would not talk about her, would not betray a confidence? Except it hadn’t been a confidence. Harriet had not admitted or denied anything. Kitty had simply guessed that Harriet’s animosity towards Jasper did not stem from mere dislike.
“I think he hurt you,” Kitty had said, and Harriet hadn’t been able to find an adequate reply.
It had been tempting to tell her, to blurt out that Jasper Cadogan had stolen her heart and then crushed it and tossed it aside. She hadn’t, of course. Harriet never shared her feelings with anyone. She never had, until the time she’d forced herself to be brave and trust in Jasper, and she never would again. If you gave people the chance, they hurt you. Far better to trust in science and reason, and things that were quantifiable, things that could be measured and weighed, their qualities dissected and discussed, spread out before you with nowhere to hide. These things were tangible and solid, proven… unlike love, which seemed to Harriet to be a mythical beast she could not bring herself to believe in. Not anymore, at any rate. Not for her.
Yet still, after all these years, her gaze was drawn back to him and a dull ache filled her chest, longing and loneliness and sorrow making her feel brittle and hollow and damned bloody angry. He’d done this to her, she reminded herself, and then she remembered what else Kitty had said.
I think he hurt you badly, but I don’t think he has the slightest idea how or what he did. You owe him an explanation, Harriet. It’s not fair to keep punishing someone for years and years without giving them a chance to redeem themselves.
It was true she’d seen the hurt and confusion in Jasper’s eyes often enough when she’d insulted or cut him, yet the wounded puppy expression was one at which he excelled. She’d seen him use it to his advantage. Just because that look made her heart soften and her insides quiver didn’t mean it was real. He could wrap women around his finger, and he did. Everyone knew his reputation, knew he’d bedded some of the most glamourous women of the ton. He certainly never missed an opportunity to mock her for being a bluestocking, making her feel every bit the awkward creature they both knew she was. So what on earth could he want with plain, bookish Harriet Stanhope?
His last paramour had been a Mrs Tate. She was here tonight and had been sending Jasper covetous looks from across the dance floor. Dressed in red satin with her gleaming mahogany locks in an effortlessly simple style that had no doubt taken hours, she was a breathtaking sight. Mrs Tate was gorgeous, sophisticated, witty, and utterly at ease with herself. She radiated the confidence of a woman who knew her own worth, knew a thing or two about the world, and knew how to make a man want her without lifting a finger. In comparison, Harriet felt like exactly what she was: a wallflower, a bespectacled bluestocking who never knew the right thing to say and would rather sit in a corner with a good book than attend a ball. Why would a man like Jasper ever want Harriet when he could have the likes of Mrs Tate? It was a simple enough equation, yet one that Harriet had forgotten to calculate for a brief moment all those years ago, too full of hope that everything she’d ever dreamt of could be hers.
What a fool she was.
Past tense, however. She’d been a fool, and she would not be again. From now on she would use her head, not her heart, to guide her… but perhaps Kitty was right. Perhaps her bitterness had become cruelty. Jasper could not help who he was any more than she could. She knew and understood that animals were born with instincts to act in a certain way. It appeared some men had evolved less than others, their physical urges too close to the surface, their wants and desires overriding morality or decency. He’d not known his actions would hurt her so deeply. He couldn’t, or his bewilderment at her treatment of him wouldn’t be so marked.
It was time to let go of the hurt and the anger. Time to forgive him and move on, for her own sake as much as his. She had a new life ahead of her, one in which Jasper would have no part. She’d not even told her brother, Henry, yet—she’d been waiting for the right time—but she would.
Soon.
***
Jasper looked down at Kitty with gratitude.
“Mrs Baxter,” he said, smiling at her. “Your husband is a very lucky man, and I am very grateful to you.”
Though she had no way of knowing if her words had given Harriet reason to reconsider, Kitty had spoken to her on his behalf, and Harry had promised to consider her words. It wasn’t much, perhaps, but it was something and Jasper would hold on to it. If Harry would only drop the wall she’d erected between them, perhaps he had a chance. A frail and slender one, but it was better than nothing.
“Perhaps you could dance with her tonight? It’s such a magical evening,” Kitty said, before adding in a theatrical whisper, “why, anything could happen!”
Jasper snorted, his hopes not daring to go to those lengths. “Yes, she might not throw her drink in my face, if I’m lucky.”
“Oh!” Kitty said, her dark eyes brimming with mischief. “I almost forgot the dare!”
“The what?” Jasper asked, intrigued.
“The dare,” Kitty repeated, squealing with excitement. The dance drew to a close, and she took Jasper’s arm, gesturing for him to lean in so she could speak privately. “It’s The Peculiar Ladies,” she said, bouncing with impatience.
Jasper returned a blank look. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. The Peculiar what now?”
“Oh, our book group. We’re The Peculiar Ladies,” Kitty said in a rush, ignoring his e
xpression of bemusement. “And we all have to take a dare from the hat. Mine was to dress your bear in evening clothes.”
“Well, that explains a lot,” Jasper said with a bark of laughter. “But I thought Harriet did that?”
“She helped me,” Kitty admitted. “In fact, she was marvellous. I couldn’t have done it without her.”
Jasper smiled, pleased at this evidence of Harriet’s sense of humour. He’d seen it often when they were children, but it seemed to have vanished ever since, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that it might be his fault.
“Anyway, Harriet took her own dare tonight.”
“Oh?” Jasper stilled, his heart thundering in his chest. Could this be it? Could this be the chance he’d been waiting for? “What is it?”
Kitty’s eyes twinkled. “To bet something she does not wish to lose.” She grasped his arm, squeezing tight. “She’ll kill me for having told you,” she said, her voice urgent. “For heaven’s sake, make the most of it. Don’t mess it up.”
He looked down at her, seeing his hopes reflected in her eyes. She wanted her friend to be as happy as she was, he could see that, and damn if he didn’t want it too. He wanted to see Harriet look at him the way Kitty looked at Luke. He longed for it.
“I won’t, you have my word,” he said, praying it was true. He smiled at her, hoping she knew how grateful he was. “I’ll give it my all or die trying.”
***
Matilda smiled as Prue waved a greeting.
“There you are!” Prue exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Yes, you owe me the next dance, Miss Hunt,” said her dashing husband, the Duke of Bedwin, smiling at Matilda. “I hope you’ve not forgotten.”
“As if I could,” Matilda said, embracing Prue before greeting Prue’s cousin, Miss Minerva Butler, and Bedwin’s sister, Lady Helena.
“It’s lovely to see you, Miss Hunt,” Miss Butler said with a warm smile.
“Yes, it’s been ages,” Lady Helena agreed. “You must come and visit us.”
To Wager with Love (Girls Who Dare Book 5) Page 1
