A Wager Worth Making (Arrangements, Book 7)

by Rebecca Connolly

  But patience would be rewarded.

  She hoped.

  She nodded with an apologetic smile. “All right.”

  He kissed her swiftly and then disembarked, helping her down. “Are you ready?” he asked, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

  She shivered and clung to his hand. “As I will ever be, I suppose.”

  He squeezed her hand and led her up the grand stairs to the entrance.

  Her first impression of the Rivertons was that they were surprisingly… normal. Elegant, refined, perfectly cultured, and she would never manage the grace Lady Riverton exuded if she worked at it every day of her life, but all of that aside, they were no different than anyone else she had ever met.

  Well, perhaps a little better.

  Lady Riverton was a beauty, even at her age, and she kissed Lucas on each cheek with a fond smile, which made Gemma positively beam. Then she took Gemma by the arm and conversed with her steadily until dinner was served, only introducing her to her new daughter-in-law, who joined them.

  She did not even meet the cousins or Lord Riverton properly until dinner.

  But no one seemed to mind. On the contrary, they were warm and easy, remarkably relaxed, and, except for Lucas, smiled a great deal.

  She kept a steady watch on her husband throughout the meal, as he conversed with his uncle and cousins, expressionless as ever, but more at ease than she had ever seen him in public. The men seemed to pay him a marked degree of attention and respect, and she wondered at that.

  Her hand was suddenly covered and she looked over at Lady Riverton, whose dark eyes shone brightly in the candlelight. “We don’t see him nearly enough,” she murmured, indicating him slightly with her head. “When we do, it is quite a treat.”

  Gemma opened her mouth to say something, but then smiled and exhaled in relief. “There are not many who feel that way,” she replied carefully.

  Lady Riverton scoffed and went back to her meal. “Yes, unfortunately. And Lucas is too proper, too polite, and too much of a gentleman to do anything about it.”

  Gemma looked over at him again, smiling with the warmth she felt inside. “Yes, I know,” she murmured.

  He eventually saw her looking and his mouth quirked as if he would smile, then he turned back to Captain Riverton by his side.

  “Well, now, that was an interesting sight,” his aunt mused slyly.

  Gemma glanced back to see the older woman smiling at her nephew. “What is that, my lady?”

  The dark eyes settled on her and the smile grew. “That is more emotion than I have seen Lucas display in years, my dear. You must be very good for him.”

  Gemma felt her cheeks heat and she looked down at her plate. “I try, my lady. It is all very new, but…” She trailed off, unsure of how exactly to finish.

  Lady Sheffield, the wife of the viscount, chuckled softly from where she sat across from her, and Gemma glanced up at the woman with a bashful smile.

  She had never been well acquainted with Sophie Bruce before her marriage to the viscount, but she had been pleasantly surprised by the woman, and if she remembered correctly, she had been quite firmly on the shelf before the viscount made his suit.

  Now that she met her, she had no idea why that should have been.

  “Personally,” Sophie said, still smiling, “I’ve never known Henry or Will to look so interested in anything. They are quite bored by Society as whole, you know. Henry always said the only girl who ever held any interest for him was Mary Hamilton, as she was then.” She glanced down at her husband slyly. “I like her immensely, but I’m very glad their tastes did not converge at that time.”

  Gemma laughed and shook her head. “Yes, can you imagine what poor Mr. Harris might have done then?”

  The ladies laughed to themselves, which made the gentlemen look over warily.

  “I never trust laughter amongst ladies,” Lord Riverton said, giving his wife a mock warning look. “It generally means they are up to mischief, and I don’t like that at all.”

  Lord Sheffield, who took after his father in the darker looks that Lucas also bore, somberly shook his head. “I would not have believed it before marrying last year, but I, too, find that is the case.” He cast a faint wink at his wife, who rolled her eyes in response.

  Gemma giggled, sitting up a little bit. “I am never up to mischief, my lords. I am always perfectly behaved, and composed at all times.”

  Lucas barked a laugh and turned it into a cough at her look, which set his cousins to laughing uproariously, while his aunt and uncle looked bewildered, but pleased.

  When he had composed himself, he fixed her with a very polite stare. “Yes, indeed, you will never find a more dignified, tranquil, docile woman than my wife. We are very boring, the pair of us.”

  Gemma nodded soberly, though the table snickered, knowing better. “We are so very tiresome, it is a wonder we manage to stay awake in each other’s company at all.”

  “I wondered about that,” Captain Riverton said from her side, glancing at Lucas with a grin. “How do you manage to bear his company, Lady Blackmoor? I rather thought a lie-down might be more beneficial to your health.”

  Gemma bit back a snort, and Lucas raised a brow at her, daring her to reply.

  She gave his cousin a doleful look. “I have worked very hard to find his charms, Captain. And if one will work at it, they will find enough to make him amusing. For a quarter hour, at least.”

  Laughter rang out and Lucas narrowed his eyes at her, but his lips twitched and she saw the pleasure in his eyes. She smiled at him and caught the flash of heat it rendered in him, and returned to her dinner with more focus.

  “Lucas, why don’t we see you more?” his aunt simpered a little, looking quite as if she yearned for it. “If we might just acknowledge the connection…”

  “No, Aunt,” Lucas said, cutting her off with astonishing coldness. He shook his head firmly. “No.”

  “But…”

  “Anna,” Lord Riverton said gently, his eyes on his nephew. “It is his decision. We will respect it.”

  Lucas barley glanced at his uncle as he nodded once. “Thank you.”

  Awkwardness settled heavily for a moment on them all.

  Gemma stared at her husband with concern, but he studiously avoided looking at anyone. There was much she wished to know, and so much that was not being said. She was all confusion, uneasiness, and astonishment that it was Lucas who did not want the connection known.

  Why would he want such a thing when they cared about him so?

  But now was not the time for that, and Gemma could not have this disquieting sense among the group. She had always been the one to put people at ease, and now she would do so again.

  She turned to Captain Riverton, who really was quite a towering man, and fair as his mother, and she smiled innocently. “Tell me, Captain…”

  “Will,” he corrected with a quick smile. “If it pleases you, my lady.”

  She nodded once. “Gemma, then.”

  He grinned broadly and tipped his head to listen more closely. “Tell you what, Gemma?”

  She waited just a moment, seizing the attention of the table, then ventured, “Is there a particular young lady that strikes your interest? I have it on good authority that there is a hefty wager on you.”

  As the poor man squawked in protest, his brother grinned evilly, and his parents and sister-in-law joined in the good-natured ribbing.

  And eventually, Lucas rejoined the conversation, his tension only slightly abating.

  Chapter Twelve

  London, with all its wonderful ugliness, wasted no time in reminding Lucas just how mutual the dislike of each other was.

  It started off well enough, a small gathering at the home of Kit and Marianne Gerrard to welcome them back to Town, and only their friends and family had been invited, so he was the most comfortable he was likely to ever be in London.

  And it did his heart good to see Gemma interact with her friends. It was in her n
ature to be friendly and warm, and as such, she had many who enjoyed her company. But true friends she had very few of, and Lily Granger and Marianne Gerrard had done her a world of good.

  He did not miss how Gemma glared at Thomas Granger, Lily’s husband, who had become more reticent and aloof than anyone had ever expected since his unfortunate financial distress and subsequent marriage. He’d always thought extremely highly of the man, though they were not friends, and he did not see why the marriage should be an unfortunate one.

  He knew better than to ask Gemma on the subject, however. The way the marriage had come about had been poorly handled where Lily was concerned, and Gemma was too loyal to hear any argument on the subject.

  He could hardly fault her for that.

  Conversation had been limited with him, but what did occur was pleasant enough. Invitations were extended for various things, and he was noncommittal with them all, as he was wont.

  The following days were filled with the flurry of activity that others usually endured during London Seasons, but he never had. Oh, he still had his usual things, and there was nothing to truly find displeasure in there. But with Gemma as his wife, he was experiencing an unusual view of the Season.

  He suspected she was being invited as a novelty, but he patiently went along with her to everything he was permitted to.

  She thrilled with the flurry of things, just as he knew she would, which is why he had insisted on coming back to London. He could have stayed at Thornacre for the rest of his life in a blissfully reclusive state, but he could not subject her to that.

  He spent his days managing his business affairs or at his club, and had occasionally fenced with his cousin Henry or young Bennett Stanford, but the mindless nature of each day gave him too much time to think. With Gemma being taken on shopping excursions with Marianne or Caroline, or being invited to tea, or whatever else she was engaged to do, the house was too quiet and it unnerved him.

  He did not used to mind it as such.

  And now, of all horrid things, he was back at the theater, having escorted his wife to a new play. Her pleasure at the outing had ebbed away his reluctance, but as he stood by the wall, watching her mingle with others during the intermission, he felt the oddest desire to escape the scene altogether.

  It could have been the number of people staring at him and then subversively looking away. It could have been the people who watched Gemma with a mixture of pity and derision. Or it could have been the people who avoided coming near them altogether and took great pains to find alternate routes.

  He was used to being ignored for the most part.

  Suddenly he was back on display.

  His cravat suddenly seemed to be strangling him and it took his considerable control not to tug at it.

  Gemma’s musical laugh wafted over the general steady din of the crowd and his stomach settled, the tension in his shoulders easing.

  “She looks well,” Kit said, coming up beside him. “Hampshire agreed with her?”

  Lucas nodded once, keeping his gaze fixed on what he could see of his wife. “With both of us.”

  “I haven’t been to Thornacre in years. Have you made any changes to it?”

  Lucas shook his head.

  Kit waited a moment, then shifted a little. “What troubles you?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

  “Why do you think something troubles me?” Lucas returned, matching his tone.

  Kit snorted softly in response.

  He supposed that had been a pointless question. He knew he’d been growing surly of late, and he couldn’t help it. The wariness he had felt since receiving the threat in Hampshire had not abated in London; on the contrary, he was feeling it in extremes, seeing threats and trouble everywhere he went.

  It made no sense, as nothing remotely resembling the missive had been seen in London, and nothing had been untoward at all.

  But he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched, and by something more than the usual awkward stares of Society.

  And then there were the rumors…

  He would not tell Kit all of that. Not here, not now, not until it became necessary. The fewer aware of it, the better.

  He shook his head. “Just waiting for the storm to commence,” he muttered. “It cannot be long.”

  “It was interesting while you were gone,” Kit told him, nodding politely at a passing acquaintance.

  Lucas glanced over at his pristine friend. “How so?”

  One shoulder lifted slightly. “Marianne has the ear of everyone, and her aunt beyond. Then there is my brother…” He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “At any rate, there was much speculation surrounding you two. I imagine there have been a shocking number of invitations?”

  “Too many,” Lucas confirmed, pretending to adjust his gloves. “It unnerves me.”

  “It probably should.” Kit cleared his throat and straightened. “I don’t know what it means, Blackmoor, but the conversation was all regarding the pair of you and your marriage. I don’t imagine you will be escaping it soon.”

  Lucas swore under his breath, tempted to drag Gemma out of this horrid theater at this moment. “What do I do?” he asked quietly.

  Kit hesitated, then exhaled. “As you have done, I imagine. Surely it will pass. The Season is full of scandals, and it is early.”

  “Patience is not a virtue I possess.”

  “I know.”

  They both watched Gemma for a moment, and caught sight of two women skirting her presence in a wide arc, painfully obvious to everyone except Gemma, who had not noticed.

  Lucas ground his teeth together so hard his jaw ached.

  “Consider it watching and waiting,” Kit muttered, his brow furrowed in irritation. “Strategy. She’ll win them all over, you will see.”

  “She can’t erase the past,” he hissed, his blasted cravat feeling tight once more.

  There was a long pause, and then Kit’s response came: “No, but she can shape the future.”

  He did not want to hear optimism at this moment. Kit, for all his wisdom and loyalty, had no idea, could not possibly imagine what it felt like to be in his position. “Leave me,” he grunted, desperate to be alone in his disgruntlement.

  He never did notice when Kit did so, his entire being focused on Gemma, watching and waiting for any sign that she experienced any upset.

  He never saw it.

  So he did as his friend had instructed. He watched, he waited, and when the intermission ended, he escorted his beaming wife back to their box.

  But not even her good humor could take away his darkness this time.

  Gemma had never been this sought after in her entire life, and it was as invigorating as it was nerve-wracking.

  She knew full well that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the man she had married. There was no possible way she had suddenly become so interesting and exciting, let alone for her popularity to have risen from her own merits. No, it was the same crush of insipidness that had made Marianne Gerrard so wildly popular after her infamous foiled elopement-abduction scandal.

  She was a novelty and nothing more.

  But she would put it to whatever good use she could.

  She smiled and laughed and behaved with the perfect amount of politeness, allowing for her usual spattering of wit and boldness, but to a more refined degree.

  After all, she was a viscountess now. She must be positively regal.

  And given the fact that her husband was one of the most reserved and aloof men to ever call himself an Englishman, she could hardly be the wildly carefree Gemma Templeton, though the temptation was strong at times.

  Particularly when dealing with the societal gargoyles who only wanted an excuse to hang her with their silken cords.

  She flatly refused to give them an inch.

  Her friends rallied around her, and she was grateful for that. Marianne understood navigating Society better than anyone she had ever met, and Lily was a calming influence. Betw
een the pair of them, and the connections of the Whitlocks, Bevertons, and their friends, things had not been nearly as bad as they could have been.

  But she could hardly miss the looks and whispers, and the people who shied away from her entirely.

  And this was what Lucas dealt with on a regular basis?

  Her heart swelled within her with such pained emotion. And yet he did not seem to care about it. He had no doubt learned to be resilient and immune to it by now, but he should not have had to.

  Why would they not see in him what she did?

  He had been so quiet of late. He accompanied her to everything suitable, but he was somehow more stoic than the man who had courted her. He still held all of the warmth in his eyes, but he looked at her so infrequently that it was difficult to see.

  He did not touch her as much, had not held her in days. But his words, when he spoke, were as lovely and warm as ever.

  But not so playful.

  Never that.

  And he would not talk about it.

  “Nobody frowns so at a card party,” Lily murmured from her side, nudging her a little.

  Gemma shook herself and forced her expression to clear.

  Marianne sat across from her, absently laying down a card, her eyes fixed on Gemma. “What is it?” she asked quietly.

  Gemma shook her head, glancing at the fourth person at their table, the elderly and delightful Lady Cartwright, whose party this was.

  She sensed their attention on her and waved her hand with a small smile. “Please, ladies, my husband used to work for the Foreign Office. And I have the ear of all Society. I know more secrets than the government. Pretend I am not here. I shall thank you to keep laying your cards, though. We’ll let Mrs. Granger appear to win this time, hmm?”

  And with that she plastered a blank look on her face and discarded, waiting for Gemma to take her turn.

  She did so, then looked at her friends. “Something is troubling Blackmoor,” she finally said on a soft sigh. “And he will not talk about it.”