Wager for a Wife

by Karen Tuft

  The timing was rather coincidental, but Louisa suspected it had more to do with her coming of age or the previous viscount’s death than the earl’s attention to her. It also seemed rather self-important of Lord Kerridge to think Lord Farleigh’s proposal had been made to cause him particular injury, Louisa thought, feeling bruised by his callous assumption.

  “Well,” Lord Kerridge said, his countenance shifting from burning rage to a distant, icy hauteur. “He is a fortunate man, I must say. He has obtained one of the fairest and highest-ranking ladies of the ton with little effort on his part.”

  “Thank you for the compliment,” Louisa said softly.

  “Not to mention the most wealthy,” he added.

  Louisa dropped her gaze to her lap. His remark was ungentlemanly and wholly unexpected.

  He rose to his feet once more, this time in a manner meant to indicate the conversation was at an end, so she rose as well. “I believe there is nothing more to say, then, other than to wish you well,” he said, albeit his tone suggested just the opposite. He bowed formally. “I bid you adieu and will think fondly on what might have been. Good afternoon, Lady Louisa.”

  Louisa remained in the drawing room until she was sure he was no longer in the house. The whole of the day had left Louisa exhausted and numb—a blessing of sorts, she supposed, as it would give her the appearance of composure when she eventually left to go to her bedroom. How abruptly her life had changed. This morning she had been anticipating dining this evening with her betrothed and his family. Now she would be staying home, contemplating marriage to a total stranger—her new betrothed. How was one to react in such a situation?

  But it was more than that, for during the past few hours, Louisa had also come to understand that one man had proposed to her because of her suitable social rank, while the other was only interested in the resources a connection to her would provide his estate.

  Neither had wanted Louisa for herself.

  She rose from the chair and walked to her bedroom with what she hoped was a serene expression on her face, where she collapsed on her bed, unable to hold back the hot flood of tears any longer.

  Chapter 4

  The following morning, William had met briefly with Heslop and then had made his way to Doctors’ Commons in pursuit of a special license, which was now tucked safely in his breast pocket. The vowel had been in existence for thirty-odd years, but now that it had been brought to light and acknowledged and the special license obtained, William was anxious. He would rest more easily after the marriage had been performed and duly written into the parish register, he thought as he scraped soap and stubble from his chin for the second time today, paying special attention to an unruly spot under his jaw, careful not to nick himself.

  He had washed and shaved this morning, but an invitation to dine at Ashworth House this evening had arrived during his absence from home, and as he intended to look his best when he presented himself at Ashworth House again, he was repeating the process.

  This was one of the few times in his life he wished he had a valet. He hadn’t bothered with one in university and hadn’t seen the need since, which was probably just as well, considering just how empty the family coffers he’d inherited were. He’d done well enough over the years to make himself presentable, occasionally relying on the help of a maid or laundress wherever he’d been staying at any given time.

  He attempted a slightly more elegant knot than usual in his neckcloth without success, then tossed it aside and tried again with a fresh one. He must do his best to look the impeccable gentleman when he arrived to dine with Lady Louisa and her parents. He wouldn’t be surprised if her brothers would be there as well, scrutinizing him closely.

  William didn’t usually concern himself with others’ perceptions of him, but tonight was crucial. Family honor aside, if William presented himself in any way that implied their daughter and sister was headed toward disaster by marrying him, the brothers would not hesitate to intervene, he was sure.

  He located his stickpin and carefully inserted it into the folds of his neckcloth, praying it would keep the knot he’d achieved in some semblance of order throughout the evening, and evaluated his appearance in the mirror.

  He’d managed well enough, he supposed.

  He hoped he’d managed well enough.

  He sighed. If he were to be honest with himself, he would admit that, first and foremost, what he wanted was to improve Lady Louisa’s opinion of him.

  Heslop’s words ran incessantly through his mind: “The legal aspects of the wager are thin and would not be enforceable if challenged. You must win the lady over just to be sure.”

  William had his work cut out, especially since she had declared her hatred for him.

  * * *

  Louisa sat, her back ramrod straight, on the edge of the settee in the drawing room while she and her parents and her brothers awaited the arrival of Lord Farleigh to join them for dinner. They had all dressed much finer than they normally would when dining en famille. The addition of Lord Farleigh called for more formality.

  Alex and Anthony had been apprised of the abrupt change in her betrothal. The discussion had included a great deal of disbelief and resistance on their part, including a few unseemly remarks Papa had put a stop to before they’d gotten out of hand. However, Louisa knew her brothers well enough to know they were not about to ignore the topic as they dined with Lord Farleigh this evening, regardless of Mama’s added appeal to them for discretion. Her brothers were not the type to mince words.

  Louisa was not looking forward to any of this, and long before she felt ready, Gibbs announced the arrival of their guest.

  “Farleigh, I presume,” Alex said, crossing the room to shake the viscount’s hand. “I had a casual acquaintance with the previous Lord Farleigh. I believe I won several hundred quid off him once.”

  “You likely did,” Lord Farleigh answered smoothly but not before Louisa’s father shot Alex a quelling look. “My father rarely turned away from an opportunity to wager.”

  “Welcome, Lord Farleigh,” Louisa’s mother said, rising from her chair and offering her hand to him. “We are pleased you are joining us.”

  Louisa assumed her mother was only pleased that he was joining them for dinner—and not that he was going to be joining the family. And she might not have even meant the word pleased at all.

  “Thank you, my lady,” he replied with a bow.

  “Wait a moment; I remember you,” Anthony said, coming forward. “Will Barlow, from Eton. You’re Farleigh now, eh? Alex, you remember Barlow. He was house captain when I was a first-year boy. Gave me a rather hard time too, every once in a while.”

  “Only when you deserved it,” Lord Farleigh said. “Which wasn’t frequent, by my recollection.”

  “Why, so it is,” Alex said, recognition dawning on his face. “It’s been years. Care for a drink, Farleigh?”

  “No, but thank you for the offer.”

  Alex poured one for himself and downed it in one swallow, earning a reproving look—this time from Mama.

  How they had managed to tell her brothers about the betrothal to Lord Farleigh without mentioning his name, Louisa didn’t know. At least now he didn’t seem a total stranger to her brothers.

  “Condolences on the loss of your father,” Anthony said. He had always been the more solicitous of Louisa’s two brothers. Perhaps it was a trait he’d developed as spare to the heir.

  “Thank you, Lord Anthony. These have been difficult times,” Lord Farleigh said.

  Alex snorted.

  Lord Farleigh ignored him. He turned instead to Louisa and bowed over the hand she extended to him. “Lady Louisa, you are a vision of loveliness.”

  At some point during the introductions, she had risen to her feet, although she couldn’t remember doing so, anxious as she’d been about how her brothers would behave.

  “Much better than the other night when she had looked a portent of foul weather,” Alex murmured.

 
Louisa watched Lord Farleigh’s eyebrows come together in confusion, and Anthony and Alex shared a look that said they thought they’d been fairly prophetic in their comments about her dress.

  “One would think we’d reared our sons to have no decorum at all, Ashworth,” Mama said in a tone intended to be taken seriously.

  “Thank you for the compliment, Lord Farleigh,” Louisa added quickly, shooting a warning glance at Alex, unsure exactly how to move the conversation along to a topic that her brothers wouldn’t take down an undesirable path.

  Gibbs entered the room—none too soon, in Louisa’s estimation. “Dinner is served,” he announced.

  Louisa let out a breath. Perhaps chewing food would keep her brothers’ mouths too busy to speak. One could always hope.

  Lord Farleigh offered her his arm. “May I have the honor?”

  She laid her hand on his arm as lightly as she could, and they proceeded to the dining room. Her father took his normal place at the head of the table, but because they were eating informally, Louisa’s mother sat to his right, with Alex next to her. Lord Farleigh sat to her father’s left, and Louisa was next, with Anthony seated on her other side. At least if Alex offered veiled insults to their guest, she could kick him under the table.

  “Ah, Eton,” Alex said as he draped his lap with his napkin while the soup was being served. “Jolly times they were, eh, Farleigh?”

  “Yes,” Lord Farleigh answered in a noncommittal tone.

  “Hmm.” Alex drummed his fingers on the table, which earned another look of consternation from Mama. “I’m trying to recollect who your mates were at the time. I must confess I avoided the older boys as much as possible—it was safer for my physical well-being that way.”

  “I’m sure your mother and sister don’t wish to hear about the antics young men get into while at school, Halford,” Papa said.

  “I doubt anything I say will be a surprise to either of them, but I take your point, Father.”

  As Louisa had observed or been included in plenty of boyhood antics during her lifetime, she had to agree with Alex on this one, but she said nothing and concentrated on her soup.

  “Alex and I went to Cambridge when our Eton years concluded, but I don’t recall seeing you there,” Anthony said, changing the subject. “Excellent soup, by the way, Mama.”

  Anthony, Louisa’s more subtle brother, was fishing for information from Lord Farleigh about how he’d spent the past few years, without coming right out and asking. Louisa hoped Lord Farleigh would take the bait. She wanted to learn as much as she could about him before she was married to him. It would be dreadful to learn he was of low character after they were married, when it was too late to do anything about it.

  “Thank you, Anthony,” Mama said. “I shall pass that along to Cook.”

  “I was at Oxford,” Lord Farleigh said. “The soup is indeed excellent, Lady Ashworth.”

  Mama smiled politely.

  “I’m an Oxford man, myself,” Papa said. “Couldn’t convince my sons to follow suit, however.”

  “Too close to home, Father,” Alex said with a wink. “A young man needs to learn, ah . . . independence . . . in a way that is best accomplished by distance from his parents.”

  “Agreed,” Anthony said with a smile before taking a spoonful of soup.

  Lord Farleigh said nothing.

  Throughout the remainder of supper, Louisa was more silent than was her usual tendency. She was too busy observing her parents observing Lord Farleigh, and she was too busy observing Lord Farleigh as well. Louisa’s brothers continued to attempt to engage the viscount in conversation about their years at Eton and mutual friends and acquaintances from that time. Her parents allowed them to take the lead, only offering the occasional comment during the ebb and flow of conversation.

  Lord Farleigh was similar to her brothers in many ways, Louisa noted. He was congenial enough and was intelligent and well-spoken, albeit his responses were brief and seemed intended to give the least amount of information possible. Was he simply a quiet man, or did he have something to hide?

  As the dessert dishes were cleared away, Lord Farleigh set his napkin down. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Ashworth, Lady Ashworth. Would you mind if I invited Lady Louisa for a walk in your gardens? Lady Louisa, would you care for a stroll?”

  Since they were dining informally, Louisa had fully expected she and Mama would retire to the sitting room, allowing her father and brothers the freedom to enjoy a glass of port and interrogate Lord Farleigh to their hearts’ content, as they would no longer be in mixed company. She looked at him in surprise, unsure quite how to respond.

  “I suppose we did monopolize the conversation at supper, did we not, Alex?” Anthony said before she could articulate a reply. “But, Farleigh, you must be warned. On most occasions, Louisa is more verbal than we two brothers combined. Once our baby sister begins talking, there are few ways to get her to stop.”

  “Should that happen, you might be inclined to change your mind about the wager,” Alex added. “She’s been uncommonly quiet so far this evening. She might explode.”

  “Alexander, really,” Louisa’s mother said.

  “Halford,” Lord Ashworth warned.

  “If he’s going to be family, he deserves to know,” Alex said, then took a sip from his goblet.

  “I won’t be changing my mind,” Lord Farleigh said.

  Louisa stood abruptly and tossed her napkin on the table. “A stroll would be just the thing,” she said. “Thank you, Lord Farleigh. Please excuse us, Mama, Papa.”

  She left the room with her head high, ignoring her brothers and not caring if Lord Farleigh—or anyone else, for that matter—followed her. And she intended to give Alex and Anthony plenty of words later. She was supposed to marry this stranger, and they were making jokes at her expense.

  She made her way to the drawing room, with its french doors that led directly to the terrace and the formal garden below. Lord Farleigh caught up with her by the time she reached the doors. “Allow me,” he said and opened them for her.

  Once outside, she walked along the terrace, stopping near the end and setting her hands on the balustrade. The moon was half hidden by the clouds and cast the garden in partial shadow. Lord Farleigh had followed her and now stood at her side.

  She waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. He stood there quietly, as he always seemed to do. It was impossible to ignore him, however, though she tried for several frustrating minutes.

  Finally, infuriated, she turned to face him. “Are you happy, Lord Farleigh?” she asked him.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “It should be obvious what I mean,” she said. “Are you happy—are you experiencing that joyful state of being in which one is full of contentment and blissful satisfaction? Happy.”

  The moon bathed his features in milky-white light. He looked serious—definitely not happy, which was fine with her, for she most certainly was not.

  “I am happy to be here on the terrace with you, Lady Louisa.”

  “That is no answer,” she replied. “Or, more to the point, I don’t believe you. You don’t smile. You give the briefest of replies to every question or statement put to you.” She took a step closer to him and looked him straight in the eyes. “I will come to your assistance, by describing my own state of being. I am not happy. Since you showed up unannounced on our doorstep, I have done nothing but reflect upon the horrible truth that I have been summarily passed from one man to another during the course of a single day, the sacrificial lamb for someone else’s misdeeds, because of honor.

  “Where was honor when my grandfather made a wager that impacted someone else’s life in such a way? My life.” She blinked back hot tears she had thought she’d entirely shed already. “What of me? What of my hopes and dreams? What of love?” She turned away from him when her foolish tears began to fall in earnest. She brushed at them furiously with her hand.

  Her infernal brothers were right th
ough; now that she’d begun speaking, it seemed she couldn’t stop. “I always aspired to a marriage of love, like that of my parents. Children need to be born into a loving family, with a mother and father who love each other and cherish them and don’t send them off with the nurse or the governess—or off to school, poor dears, simply because they are an inconvenience. Children!” She gasped, throwing her hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear heavens, does that mean you expect that I . . . that we . . . ?”

  It was his turn to look her directly in the eyes, wet and puffy though they assuredly were. “I had hoped to have a marriage in fact, my lady, and not one in name only, yes,” he said evenly.

  Well! He’d spoken one of his rare complete sentences—one that had succeeded in leaving her speechless for once, and, naturally, it would be on that subject. Men undoubtedly held strong opinions when it came to that. And yet his words and the intensity of his gaze had also left her feeling breathless and tingly, even though it was at odds with her general mood at present. She sniffed.

  He retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “My intention has always been to be faithful to my wife,” he said.

  “How comforting,” she said, adding a touch of sarcasm to her words.

  “I’d say so, yes,” he replied, leaning his hip against the balustrade. At least he was being polite enough not to stare at her while she dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. Blowing one’s nose was such an indelicate, embarrassing thing to do. “Many gentlemen aren’t, you know. Faithful, that is.”

  “My father is not like ‘many gentlemen,’ then. He would never do that to my mother. He adores her, and she adores him.”

  “If that is true, you are exceedingly fortunate,” he said.