by Jenni James
“But he cannot have won, my lady!”
Was her whole day going to be this full of incompetent people? Lacey took a deep breath to calm her irritation. “Is that because I am a lady as well?” she asked, one fine brow rising in disdain.
His hands visibly shook as he glanced around the room for help. No one came to his rescue.
“My lady, Lord Compton cannot win because you already have.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:
Lacey could not believe her ears. “I beg your pardon. Pray, can you repeat yourself?”
The man swallowed and pulled three large betting books out from under the counter. Opening one, he dragged his finger down rows of scripted words until he came to hers. “Do you see this?” He turned the book for her to see. “This is Lord Melbourne’s bet, made on your behalf.” He then pointed to scores of smaller lines and figures to the side of it. “Here is the list of those who wagered in your favor.” Then he pointed to a smaller list. “These are those who have bet against you winning. And this,” he pointed to the bottom, “is Lord Compton’s bet in your favor. He has taken all of his earnings and improperly bet against himself.”
The man scrambled and opened a pouch, pulling out a few coins and two notes. “This is essentially a gift for you, my lady. It is from Lord Compton, and is considered a favor for his conceding the wager.”
She felt as if her mind was muddled. “Lord Compton has conceded the wager? Are you certain?”
“Very much so, my lady. He was here just yesterday, or the day before, I believe. Here, I will show you.” He flipped a few pages backward and found the bet that was now crossed out with the words, “Lord Compton acknowledges Lady Lamb’s superiority, and pledges all winnings in her favor.”
“Well, what does it mean?”
“It means he has fallen in love with you, and knows it.”
Her gloved hand covered her mouth most daintily. Her breathing had become too labored to think, and her ears too muffled to hear. “Forgive me. It would seem I have no reason to be here after all.” She attempted to smile as she clutched the umbrella and turned to leave.
“Wait, my lady. You have forgotten your gift.”
“Thank you.” In a blur, she placed the money in her reticule and dazedly walked out of the club. She all but forgot to bring her umbrella up as she stepped into the London haze, but caught the first of several drops and quickly opened it again.
“Well, that was the most astounding thing I have ever experienced,” Lady Lamb said as she climbed into the seat across from Mrs. Crabtree.
“Oh, I am sorry it was so dreadful for you! I warned how it might be, but would you listen? No. You had to go in.”
Lacey closed her eyes and sighed. “My dear Mrs. Crabtree, going into White’s was not what I was referring to. However, being told I have won the bet I had hoped to abolish was completely shocking, I assure you.”
Mrs. Crabtree dropped the lacey handkerchief she had been dramatically holding over her mouth and gasped. “Won the bet? You? Does that mean Lord Compton is—?”
“Yes, apparently he has beat me to it and proclaimed to the world he is in love with me. Though how he managed to keep Lord Hamson and Lord Atten from telling me last evening, I do not know, yet I imagine it must have involved threats.”
Mrs. Crabtree’s eyes grew huge. “Threats?”
Why did she bring Mrs. Crabtree? What concoction of madness convinced her this particular woman would help lend a distinct respectability?
She tapped the top of her coach with the umbrella. “To Gunter’s, please.”
“Yes, my lady,” her coachman called down just before she felt the carriage lurch into London’s traffic and rain. She felt a momentary stab of guilt for making John work in such conditions, but she did offer him the weekend off in exchange, which he was heartily glad for.
As they approached the tea shop on Berkeley Square, she said to Mrs. Crabtree, “We are a bit early for our next appointment, and so we will grab a bite to eat until he comes. Will that appease you for the folly of taking us both out into this weather?”
Lacey could see Mrs. Crabtree perk up considerably at the thought of a lovely tea at Gunter’s. “What is England without her rain?” she asked.
“Quite right.” As Lacey stepped down from the coach and into the shop, once again she felt as though the world was completely in her favor. There was nothing she could not accomplish today if she attempted it.
After a table had been procured for them and a large pot of Gunter’s tea arrived with scones and jams and dainty sandwiches, a much more settled Mrs. Crabtree asked, “Who is the appointment with, my dear?”
“When I awoke this morning, I immediately sent out a letter to meet with a gentleman here at Gunter’s.”
“Lord Compton?”
“No, but I am hoping it will benefit Lord Compton immensely. He has told me about his interest in government, hence why I sent for Lord Stanthorpe to meet with me. The Speaker of the House has previously promised to help Lord Compton. I am merely reminding him of it.”
“Is it wise to meddle?” Mrs. Crabtree asked, taking a sip of tea.
A flash of fear came over Lacey. “Do you believe this is meddling?”
“If I were Lord Compton, I would suddenly feel very pressured indeed if the woman I loved was now forcing me into politics.”
“Oh, dear! I had not thought of that.” She glanced around the busy place. “I wonder if there is time to send a notice of regret and return home.”
“I doubt not, for that is the very man you seek right there. I recognize him from the ball he hosted.” Mrs. Crabtree pointed behind Lacey. “And I fear he is heading this way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:
“Gooday, Lady Lamb, Mrs. Crabtree.” Lord Stanthorpe nodded politely to them both. “I have ordered us all ices that will be ready shortly, and was wondering, since this rain has begun to let up, if you would like to walk with me for a moment while we eat. I find that sitting so long in my office can cause my old legs to suffer.”
“Yes, but I fear I have brought you on a fool’s errand, my lord,” Lacey said as she stood up. “I do not wish to be thought of as meddling, as it is the exact opposite I was hoping to achieve, and now I cannot see it in any other light than just that—meddling. Therefore, I beg of you to forgive me, but I do not find it a necessity to speak with you after all.”
He waved his hand and gestured for her to seat herself again, then pointed to a chair nearby. “Do you mind if I sit with you until the ices arrive?”
“By all means, please do.”
He nodded and sat down and then smiled. “I must say, meddling or not, I found your letter to be very diverting, Lady Lamb, and one I will not forget for some time.”
If mortification were an illness one could die from, Lacey might be very close to expiring in her chair. “Oh, do not mention it. I am so ashamed now. And to think I brought the Speaker of the House away from Parliament to a public establishment in the middle of the afternoon.”
“Do not be so hard on yourself. Even politicians must eat from time to time. I agreed to meet with you once the first sitting ended and before the second began. I normally would not have agreed to do so, especially at such a bustling place as Gunter’s, but seeing as the invitation was from you, I could not resist. And my wife, Lady Stanthorpe, lent her approval when I sent a messenger earlier explaining the situation.” He leaned forward. “I suppose this has something to do with young Lord Compton joining Parliament, does it not?”
Lacey gasped, and Mrs. Crabtree nearly dropped her teacup. “However did you know?” Lacey asked him.
Lord Stanthorpe chuckled. “I am so exceptionally glad I came today. This will prove to be the most magnificent thing that happens all year, I am certain of it.”
“Lord Stanthorpe, you cannot know the half of it.” Lacey’s hands shook as she drained her cup of tea. “Where are my manners? Would you like a cup?”
“Perhaps in a moment. Currently,
this meeting has been much too entertaining to think of tea.”
She had a very strong suspicion that the older man was mocking her, yet in a playful manner. “What is it that you know and I do not?”
“I confess, I am caught between revealing it all to you myself or letting Lord Compton have the honors. Either way, we have had some tremendous luck the last twenty-four hours, and it would seem an opening may become available much sooner than either of us anticipated. Though he will not be able to present until next year, he could begin shadowing and sitting in Parliament as early as a fortnight.”
Lacey stared at the lord dumbfounded, not knowing what words to utter next, so overwhelmed was she by this admission. Then slowly, one thing—nay, two things—began to be more prominent than the rest. “Alistair has previously spoken with you?”
Lord Stanthorpe smiled. “Yes.”
That must have been the news he was hesitant to share, afraid he might not actually get into government. “And the other? You mentioned something to do with luck?”
“Well, not so fortunate for the two men who passed on, one last night and then this morning, but extremely providential for the young lord and his hoping to occupy one of those seats.”
Her face fell. “That is a shame to lose two lords in one year, let alone within twenty-four hours. May I ask who they were?”
“In respect of the families, we are not making it public at this time, but it should be in all the papers by four. Rest assured, each of them had grown ill and had not attended since last year. It was, shall we say, inevitable?”
It was all too much. Lacey had experienced so many rushes of emotion in the last few hours, she felt as though she were being smothered by several blankets at once. Lord Stanthorpe, thankfully, turned his attention to Mrs. Crabtree and her adulations of their ball, allowing Lacey some time to compose herself.
Lacey looked out the window and attempted to sort her thoughts, yet her mind would not be calmed. Her most fervent desire was to see Lord Compton immediately.
“I believe you may need to go home and rest, Lady Lamb. I fear the rain may have fatigued you greater than you realize,” Mrs. Crabtree observed once they had settled into an easy silence.
Yes. Leave at once! She turned toward them both. “Perhaps. Forgive me, but I think we shall forgo the ices and take our leave.” Lacey stood up and Mrs. Crabtree was quick to follow, as was Lord Stanthorpe as well.
“Do not worry about the ices. I am certain I can find a place for such a delicious dessert.” The lord patted his middle and chuckled as the ladies bid him adieu at the door.
“I have never met a more informal man in all my life!” Mrs. Crabtree gasped, scandalized as she flipped open her umbrella and waited for the carriage. “How could he say the rain had let up? It must be twice as hard now than before we entered.”
Lacey grinned absentmindedly. Honestly, she had not considered his manners, or the rain. All she knew was that Lord Stanthorpe was remarkably at ease and would no doubt prove to be an abundant friend to them shortly. Perhaps she would not feel so ashamed about waltzing on his dance floor again.
CHAPTER THIRTY:
Later that evening, as the servants announced Lord Compton’s visit to Green Street, Lacey’s heart began to race over again. She smoothed out her blue-and-white gown and waited for him as he entered the drawing room with a beaming smile on his face.
“Did you truly go to White’s to cry off the bet this morning?” Alistair walked right up to her and bussed her on the cheek. “It is all anyone is speaking of this evening.”
“Yes, though are you not a little shocked that I did so?”
“Shocked?” He laughed and spun her around. “At something you would do? Never!” Then he slowly lowered her until his lips found hers. When he pulled back, he asked, “And you spoke with Lord Stanthorpe on my behalf at Gunter’s as well?”
She bit her lip and looked away as she attempted to hide her flushing face.
“Truly, the rumors have been so great, I could not believe they were actually plausible. I did not learn of Lord Stanthorpe until I returned home, but my servants were all lively. So I came immediately to ask it of you.”
“Yes, it is all true. Unfortunately so.”
“So the Speaker of the House came and met you at Gunter’s, and you spoke of me?”
“We spoke of how you had already met with him, and I was attempting to achieve something that had previously happened. Honestly, I am so ashamed. Can we not talk of something else?”
“Yes.” He kissed her again, and then again. “My sweet, darling, meddling Lady Lamb.”
She winced and pulled away. “Oh, do not say that I am meddling.”
Alistair chuckled and asked, “Shall we call you inquisitive, then? Is that a better word for it?”
Pushing against him, she turned and covered her face with her hands.
“Very well, you win. I shall behave. Let us talk about this bet instead.” He set his hands gently on her shoulders. “I warned Hamson and Atten not to say a word to you at Vauxhall, but I honestly believed you would have heard from someone before now.”
“Heard that you had fallen head over heels in love with me?” She turned slightly to look over her shoulder at him.
“Yes, you minx, precisely that.”
Lacey giggled and reached back, bringing him round to face her. “I do not know why you have, but I am so unbelievably happy.”
“My dear Lacey, I most likely fell in love with you the day your counter bet was placed.”
“Then? Are you sure?”
“Yes, but I had not believed myself fully tumbled until we waltzed.”
She shook her head. “What a hopeless mess this is! Certainly not your typical romance at all. Wagers and scandalous activity—”
“From the very moment we met!”
“Oh, bosh! You needed me to refuse you the dance. You deserved it, even.”
“Yes, I deserved to be given the cut direct by the most beautiful woman in the room. Oh, Lacey, I know I have said it before, but thank you for your excessive patience with me. I will continue to drive you mad and do things I ought not and no doubt blunder about with your feelings more times than not.” He held her hands. “But believe me, my dear, no man in all of England has ever felt for a lady as I do you. And it would be an incredibly adventurous journey if you would consent to marry this dastardly, intolerable scoundrel.”
“My lord, you are exceedingly dastardly, it is true, and you give the most intolerably heart-melting kisses any woman could ask for, yet it is the scoundrel in you I have fallen most in love with. Because, my dear, without him, you would have never tolerated such a scapegrace and unbearable scamp as me.” She wrapped her arms about his tall broad shoulders and grinned into his devastatingly handsome face and whispered, “Yes! I cannot imagine my world happier, or more complete, without you.”
“Then I had better ask for your hand directly, for who could deny such an imp as you anything?”
When he did nothing but stare at her, she exclaimed perplexedly, “Alistair, if that is your way of proposing, I suggest you make it up to me immediately so that I may answer you.”
Alistair bent down and claimed her mouth in the most ardent of kisses yet. So thorough was that kiss that neither of them heard the giggled whispers of the most excited butler, housekeeper, and cook who have ever lived on Green Street. For their prayers had most definitely been answered—Lady Lamb finally knew what it was like to fall in love.
Pantersby cleared his throat and held out his hand near the door of the drawing room where they had been listening. Grumbling, Cook and Chull reached into their pockets, pulled out two shillings each, and handed them over to the smug butler. “Never bet on a definite wager, dearies. Never do.”
THE END
And now for a peek at Lord Romney’s Exquisite Widow by Jenni James, coming soon from Trifecta Books.
CHAPTER ONE:
Lady Catherine Elizabeth Anne Marsham, Dowager Viscountes
s of the late Earl of Romney, turned from her rather bewildered position of staring out the second-best parlor’s full window at Moat House in Kent. She had been blindly gazing at the horridly gray torrent of England’s most dismal winter on record. There had not been even a hint of snow to recommend itself this early December day, and with the rain spitting out as it had been wont to do all fall, there looked to be no reprieve from such gloominess in the near future.
She sighed, walked over to the large dark-blue sofa, and picked up her embroidery, a picture of a happy kitten, a Christmas present for her step-grandson Joshua Marsham, the future Earl of Romney. This embroidery had no end in sight, like the continual rain before her. Truly, it felt as though she would never finish the thing.
It was no wonder Catherine was out of sorts. Tomorrow, it would be one year since her husband had passed on and her life had altered once again. She tossed the sewing upon the seat next to her and looked at her black dress. Though it was customary to begin lightening her clothing with purples and grays before now, Catherine had decided to see it through and wear black for the complete mourning period.
Lord Romney, bless his heart, had been deeply in love with his previous wife and their children long before he met Catherine in London three years prior. Indeed, as the older gentleman walked with his cane around the assembly hall with her hand in the crook of his elbow, he had only talked of the graces and marvels of his late wife. So much so that it was a complete and utter shock when he came the week next to offer for Catherine’s hand, as well as bringing a generous gift to her parents of some eight thousand pounds to put their affairs to rights. How he had known they were short on money, one could never guess. Her father had been a wise man and gracefully accepted the amount, and Catherine was sold, like cattle, in a very backwards and unlikely union of souls.
