by Amelia Grey
The smile on her face dried up instantly when she saw him. “Mr. Brentwood,” she said, and turned to the man beside her. “Have you met Mr. Adam Beckett?”
The men greeted each other coolly. “No, I don’t believe I have.”
“Perhaps you know Mr. Beckett’s father, Viscount Rosenwall.”
Matson scoffed a bitter laugh under his breath. He should have known. The man would have a title one day. Why didn’t that surprise Matson?
“I’ve heard of him.”
Sophia smiled at Mr. Beckett before looking at Matson again and saying, “Mr. Beckett is Lord Snellingly’s cousin and my partner for the day.”
Shock registered on Matson’s face before he could stop it, so there was nothing to do but admit it. “That surprises me.”
Sophia gave him a look that seemed to say “I bet it does.”
Matson’s jaw tightened. The reason he’d traded Sophia to Lord Snellingly was because she was safe with the earl. He envisioned the man reading poetry to her while she rowed the boat. It never dawned on Matson that she might somehow be put into the hands of another man—a much younger, stronger, much more handsome, and soon-to-be-titled man.
“What happened to the earl?” Matson asked.
Sophia said, “Lord Snellingly took to his sick bed with an affliction that comes on him from time to time. It’s nothing serious, and it seems to pass in a few days.”
It was Matson’s turn to give Sophia a look that said “I bet it does.”
“It’s gout,” Mr. Beckett said.
“How fortunate it is for Miss Hart that you were able to step in and fill his shoes for today’s events,” Matson said.
“Isn’t it, though? I just arrived in London a couple of days ago to enjoy the last two weeks of the Season.” He looked down at Sophia. “I had thought about not coming. Now I’m glad I did.”
“And do you write poetry like your cousin, Mr. Beckett?” Mason asked.
Beckett wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “No.”
Matson smiled. “That’s too bad. Miss Hart loves poetry.”
“Look, Mr. Brentwood,” Sophia said, “here comes your partner for the day, Miss Craftsman. And see how lovely she is.”
Matson looked behind him and swallowed hard. Miss Craftsman was dressed as if she were going to a dinner party rather than a fair day in the park. Her dress was not only sweeping the ground with every step she took, it was ballooned with lace-trimmed flounces and ribbons streaming from her cuffs and the waistband. Her bonnet looked to be the size of a washing tub, and still she carried a parasol decked with ribbons.
The tables had turned on Matson, and he didn’t like it. He had hoped to see Sophia stranded in the middle of the lake while the earl read poetry to her, and instead, he was the one with the albatross in his boat. Damn that Snellingly. Why did the man have to get sick and turn Sophia over to Mr. Beckett?
Hadn’t it been punishment enough that he’d verbally lashed himself over and over again for the foolish move of exchanging Sophia for Miss Craftsman?
“Hmm.” Sophia said. “It looks like you didn’t have any rowing practice with Miss Craftsman.”
“No, I didn’t,” Matson mumbled tightly, but looked directly into Sophia’s eyes. “There’s only one person I want to be in a rowboat with.”
He saw her swallow hard.
“Are you a betting man, Mr. Brentwood?” Mr. Beckett asked.
“As much as any man,” he answered without taking his gaze from Sophia’s. He had a feeling she knew she was torturing him.
“What about a friendly wager between us on who wins the rowboat race on the Serpentine? I think I can beat you.”
Matson forced himself to take his eyes off Sophia. The man looked strong, capable, but Matson had done a lot of rowing when he was in Baltimore. Many times their ships wouldn’t have docking space at the harbor, so they would anchor offshore. He’d never minded rowing out to the ships. He was confident he could take this young man.
“All right,” Matson said. “If I win, I get to be Miss Hart’s partner the rest of the day, and you take mine.”
He heard Sophia’s intake of breath.
Mr. Beckett looked from Sophia to Miss Craftsman, who was walking delicately toward them, and he said, “That’s not what I had in mind. I was thinking we’d lay down a little blunt to make the race interesting.”
“I don’t care if it’s interesting, and I don’t want your money. If I win, I get Miss Hart. I’m a shipbuilder. If I lose, I’ll build and present you with a small ship.”
Beckett grunted.
“That’s my wager. Take it or leave it.”
Sophia gasped. “Matson, have you lost your mind?”
“I have no use for a ship,” Mr. Beckett said.
“Thank God,” Sophia whispered.
“But I accept your bet,” Mr. Beckett added.
“No,” Sophia whispered, and then said, “Stop this madness, both of you right now. There will be no betting on this race. How dare you suggest a wager, Mr. Beckett, and how dare you offer such a prize, Mr. Brentwood.”
Matson stared at Sophia. She was outraged, but she would get over it. He was determined to right the wrong he’d done. He wanted her back, and he’d risk everything to get her.
“It’s a deal,” Matson said, reaching out his hand to Mr. Beckett.
Mr. Beckett snorted a laugh and folded his hands across his chest. “Not so quick. How do I know that you will build me that ship when you lose?”
Matson spread his arm out toward the crowd. “Ask any of the gentlemen you see here. They know me as a man of my word.”
“Don’t be foolish, Mr. Beckett,” Sophia said. “And take my word for it that you cannot trust Mr. Brentwood’s word.” She turned to Matson. “He says no, Mr. Brentwood. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have other people to see.”
Mr. Beckett stuck out his hand and said, “I accept that you are an honorable man, and I accept your terms.”
“But you can’t,” Sophia said, looking from her partner to Matson. “This is outrageous.”
Yes, but you are worth it, and I will win you back!
Sophia stared at Matson. “What if you lose?” she continued.
“I will pay my debt.”
Her eyes softened, and she implored him, “Don’t do this, Matson.”
“I have to,” he said and turned toward Miss Craftsman.
***
It was half an hour before the rowing would begin, and Matson had left Miss Craftsman in her parents’ care so he could have a few minutes of quiet before the race started. The lady was lovely to look at, but she never stopped talking. He did his duty as her partner for the morning and walked around the fair with her, buying her sweets and flowers, winning her a lace handkerchief, and telling her more than once how lovely she looked.
He’d walked quite a distance away from the crowd and found a place where he could take his coat off and stretch his arms and shoulders. It wouldn’t do to get a cramp while he was rowing. He had the opportunity to get Sophia back, and he didn’t intend to lose. Lord Snellingly would never have agreed to such a wager.
Matson had to be at his best. He wished he could row without having Miss Craftsman in the boat with him. At least Sophia knew how to row—but would she? She was angry with him for more than one reason, but was she angry enough to help Beckett win?
“What in the bloody hell have you done?”
Matson turned at the sound of his brother’s angry voice. “Plenty, but what specifically are you talking about?” Matson said. He wasn’t sorry about what he’d done, and he wasn’t going to let his brother change that.
“Is it true that you bet a man a ship that you would win the right to spend the afternoon with Miss Hart? A ship?”
“Yes.”
Iverson shook his he
ad in disbelief. “A ship? Have you gone completely mad?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Of course you have. You just bet a ship, Matson. A ship for a partner you had and traded her away.”
“I know all the details, Iverson.”
“I—I don’t know what to say. What could possibly have possessed you to make such an outlandish wager? You don’t look that deep in your cups.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t look jug bitten either, and I know you haven’t been to a smoking house, so what in the bloody hell is wrong with you?”
“All right,” Matson said angrily. “For once I acted like you. I spoke before I thought things through. I let my temper get the best of me.”
“Then let’s go get you out of this wager before it’s too late.”
Matson’s brow wrinkled. “I’m not talking about the wager. I’m talking about trading Sophia to Lord Snellingly. The wager stands, Iverson. I made a mistake, and I’m rectifying it. That’s all there is to it.”
“No, that’s not all there is to it. Not when it concerns our business and you giving away a ship.”
“A small ship, and that’s only if I lose. I’m not going to lose, Iverson.”
“You can’t be sure of that, Matson. Things happen, and that was one big wager you made.”
“It was a big mistake.”
“But a ship!”
“You’ve said that five times or more.”
“Because I can’t believe it, and I’ll keep saying it until you come to your senses.”
“You know I’ll pay for the ship if I lose. It won’t cost you a penny.”
Iverson swore and shook his head. “Bloody hell, Brother, you know it’s not the ship or what it costs.”
“You could have fooled me with all the blustering you’re doing,” Matson said as he shrugged back into his coat.
“It’s who she is. You’re doing this for Sir Randolph’s ward.”
Matson had only one answer. “She’s worth it.”
Iverson took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Then why the hell did you trade her in the first place?”
“I was angry over a little thing and for once I was like my twin brother. As you do so often, I allowed my temper to get the best of me.”
“This was a hell of a time to start acting like me.”
“I agree, but nothing you can do or say will change my mind about this. I’m going to get her back.”
“For how long? Just for the afternoon? You’ve known almost since you met her that she will marry a title.”
Matson hated the truth of his brother’s words.
He heard a bell ring, summoning the racers to their boats.
“I’ve got to go.”
Iverson shook his head again and fell into step beside Matson. “You have surprised me, Brother.”
“I surprised myself.”
“In one way, it’s about time you got passionate enough about something or someone to get damned angry; but did it have to be over a woman you can’t have, and did you have to bet a ship?”
“You’re a bloody nuisance,” Matson said.
“Yes, I know, but you have me worried.”
“There’s no cause for it. This is my fight.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Now, go show that young blade how a man rows a boat.”
Matson left his brother’s side and headed toward the water’s edge to find Miss Craftsman. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of Sophia. She was hurrying toward him. Seeing her caused the tightness in his shoulders and jaw to loosen.
“It’s not too late for you to stop this madness,” she said, stopping in front of him.
“The only thing you need to do, Miss Hart, is your best. I know you don’t like to lose any more than I do. I’ll expect you to do all you can to see that your partner wins.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do. I expect no less of you, but I don’t intend to let you and the future viscount win.”
“How can you possibly win with Miss Craftsman? She’s dressed as if she’s going to a cotillion.”
He looked over at Miss Craftsman, who stood with her parents. “Yes, she looks very pretty today.”
Sophia jerked her hands to her waist. “Oh, you miserable beast! Do you think I care if you lose a ship? I don’t. You tossed me aside like a piece of unwanted baggage. You deserve to lose your ship.”
Matson gave her a teasing smile. “Now that is the Sophia I want to see. Did you know your freckles get bigger when you get mad?”
“What?” She touched her cheek. “They do not.”
“Well, maybe not bigger, but they do turn a lovely shade of pale copper. Do you know how very attractive that makes you and how kissable you look?”
Sophia glanced around. “You can’t talk to me that way. Look how close those people are to us. Someone might overhear you.”
He stepped closer to her. “Right now, Sophia, I don’t care. But I do see your partner is looking for you. You’d better go to him. But don’t worry, I’ll be back to claim you at the end of the race.”
Matson walked away from Sophia and headed toward the water’s edge where Miss Craftsman stood with her satin slippers. She didn’t look happy with him, and neither were her parents, but Matson didn’t give them time to say anything. As the second bell rang, he offered Miss Craftsman his arm and said they must hurry to get in place. Courtesy of Mr. Beckett, the news of their bet had spread through the park like a fire through dry brush. Almost every gentleman was making his own wager on who would win.
There were five boats between Matson’s and the boat Sophia would be in. Matson knew he couldn’t let her distract him. He had to keep his mind on winning.
Remembering that Sophia already knew how to row, he said to Miss Craftsman, “Do you know how to row?”
She laughed. “Of course not, Mr. Brentwood. Why would I need to know how to row, when I have a strong, handsome gentleman to row for me?”
“So true,” he said more under his breath than to Miss Craftsman.
Matson had picked a boat on the end of about twelve that were lined up on the shore. He didn’t want to get stuck in the middle and have to deal with someone who couldn’t row his way out of the cluster. When the whistle blew, they had to get in the boat and row down the lake to where there was a barge they had to row around. Then whoever was the first gentleman with his partner’s feet touching the ground would be declared the winner.
“Mr. Brentwood?”
“Yes, Miss Craftsman.”
“Is it true? This wager I’ve heard about a ship and Miss Hart?”
Matson felt a tinge of remorse for entangling her in his machinations. “Yes.”
Her lips formed a pout. “But I thought you traded with Lord Snellingly because you wanted to be with me today.”
“What I realized was that I did a disservice to Miss Hart when I asked Lord Snellingly to exchange with me, and it’s only right I should try to make amends. May I take your parasol and put it in the boat for you? It will make it quicker for us to get in the boat. You can open it again once we start rowing.”
Miss Craftsman smiled sweetly at him. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly do without my parasol for even a moment, Mr. Brentwood. The sun burns my skin so easily.”
Matson looked at her lovely olive skin and smiled. He could see now he wasn’t going to get any help from her. She didn’t want him to win. He just hoped she didn’t try to do anything to stop him from winning.
He looked up and down at his competitors. He guessed that by the time they made the turn, there would be about four or five of them in the running to be the first back to the shore.
Matson moved closer to Miss Craftsman. The whistle blew, and he grabbed her arm. Her parasol knocked his head, and she delibe
rately tried to delay stepping into the boat by stumbling. He tried not to look at others who had already pushed off and were rowing.
“Sit down, Miss Craftsman, or you will land in the water,” he said tightly as he started gently pushing the boat.
By the time he put his oar in the water, most of the boats had already turned and were headed toward the bridge where the barge was anchored just on the other side. He would have to stay focused and row hard and quick to catch and then pass them.
“Mr. Brentwood?”
Matson took a quick glance behind him at the same time Miss Craftsman leaned forward, and one of the tips of her parasol caught the corner of his eye. A pain shot through him, and he winced as his eyes watered.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Brentwood. I didn’t mean to hit you with my parasol.”
He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his watering eye. “Don’t worry about it, Miss Craftsman, just please stay seated, still, and quiet, or I fear you will land in the middle of the Serpentine. You can swim, can’t you?”
“No, of course not,” she said, sounding a little wary.
“Then I must ask again that you stay still and quiet until we get back to shore. If the boat tips over, your skirts would probably drag you to the bottom before I could get to you.”
“I’m not sure I like being out on the water like this. It looks dark and deep.”
“It is, Miss Craftsman,” he said, slicing the oars through the water.
Matson heard her gasp. He didn’t like using a scare tactic on a young lady, but maybe this was his chance to keep her in line. He didn’t intend to let her make him lose the race.
By the time Matson made it to the center of the lake, more than half of the boats were ahead of him. His eye continued to ache and water, but he didn’t take the time to wipe it. He hadn’t counted on Miss Craftsman’s antics of taking her time getting in the boat and getting seated, or being struck in the eye with her parasol either. It hadn’t dawned on him that Miss Craftsman might hear about his wager and try to sabotage him. But all he could do was continue to row.
As soon as he made it to the open water, he saw that at least eight boats were in front of them. He knew all he had to do was set a fast pace and keep to it. One by one he passed the boats, and by the time he rowed around the official barge, he saw only three boats were ahead of him. Sophia and Beckett were in the lead and a good three boat lengths ahead of him and the other two boats. Matson picked up his pace.
