The Earl's Winning Wager

by Jen Geigle Johnson

  “He told you. Creeves.” She laughed, but it did not light her face. “He’s Lord Creevy. He tells people to call him Creeves.”

  “And he made you uncomfortable?”

  She looked away. “I was moving as quickly as I could toward a locale with more people.” She stood closer, and her trembling was strong enough he felt it through his jacket. “I assumed him to be harmless, but once we were well away from others, I began to wonder.”

  “I’m happy to be of service.” He turned them back toward the Steine, where others were still out, even at this growing-later hour. They walked for a moment in silence. “How is it you are out without your mother or…who usually chaperones you? Your aunt?”

  “My aunt. And she was too tired to be bothered. As soon as we had read together and she began to nod off, I slipped out.”

  “I think it best if I deliver you back to your place of residence. Where are you staying while here in Brighton?”

  “Aunt’s apartment. It’s just right there, along the Steine.”

  “Excellent.” He led her in that direction. “Surely you know the care you must take.”

  She lowered her lashes. “I do, certainly. But once a lady has had two Seasons, she starts to wonder if there might be other ways to get married.”

  “You cannot be serious.” He picked up his pace.

  Then her voice bubbled up beside him in a humorless laugh, and she stopped walking. “You are the youngest old, stodgy man I’ve ever seen. Of course I’m not serious. Darling, what woman wants to trap a man into marriage?”

  A bit relieved, he allowed himself a smile. “I would hope not you. But there are some who most definitely wish for such a thing. Surely you know the sort.”

  “And some men who would try to behave abhorrently and then avoid marriage.”

  “Creeves coming to mind?”

  “Yes.”

  “I guess we both have reason to be embarrassed of our sex.”

  “Certainly.” They arrived in front of her apartments. “I wonder if we might join efforts somewhat during my stay here in Brighton?”

  She sidled closer. “You know I welcome any joining that brings me closer to you.” Her expression did not hide her interest. It was the boldest declaration he’d heard from her yet.

  “What I have in mind does not involve anything romantic between us.”

  The light in her eyes faded, but she sighed and said, “Understood.”

  “I will step in when needed, now and again, if you find yourself in the clutches of Creeves or the like. You can help me keep an eye on the Standish sisters—perhaps fill me in on who of the men we see is a man to avoid.”

  She eyed him, and he wondered if he’d offended her, if she would turn him down flat. But then she smiled so sweetly, relief flowed through him. “I would love the assistance. This is my last effort,my last Season before I go home to our country estate. I have these months in Brighton, and then the wares of London, and then I’m finished.”

  Morley had his own opinion about whether she should give up. She was a beautiful woman and seemed a decent enough sort. She had a dowry, a good name. She was titled. He wondered what the resistance to her was. Had she turned down offers? Or did no one offer? But he refused to abate his curiosity with even one question. He had enough in the Standish sisters to keep him well occupied on the subject of marriage.

  “Will you be joining the group at South Downs Thursday?”

  Her eyebrows lifted, but she said, “Yes. I didn’t know you would be there.”

  “Miss Standish expressed an interest.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You know you could do so much more with your name and your reputation. You are the most desired Lord this season.”

  The assessment, spoken in such a financially calculating manner, caught him by surprise. “I’m not sure whether to thank you or cringe.”

  “Oh, come now. Let’s not pretend the thoughts don’t cross everyone’s minds.”

  “Thoughts?”

  “Certainly. Marriage suitability. We all go through the numbers. Do they meet baseline expectations? And after that, do we wish to look at them fairly regularly? And if the answer to both of those questions is yes, some are satisfied.”

  “And others?”

  “And others are looking for love.” Her eyes met his, and the desperate sort of hope that filled them made him sad in a way.

  “What if I am looking for love?”

  “Have you found it? Or are you so dutiful, so engaged in the task at hand, you’ve fooled yourself?”

  “You forget yourself.” He had no desire to abase or wither the tender leaves that had begun to unfurl in his relationship by expressing such things in conversation to another.

  She dipped her head, not at all repentant. “My apologies.” With a deep curtsy, she said, “I’ll see you at the cliffs, then.”

  At the last sight of her, skirts swishing as she entered her apartments, a small feather of discontent rose inside. Would he regret his newly formed alliance with a woman he trusted only enough to greet in public?

  “I see what you are up to here, Morley.” Lord Smallwood’s voice crawled over him.

  Irritation rose inside. “You don’t see anything you know a lick about.” He turned.

  The man stood at his height, eye level, and closer than he expected. “Miss Standish might be interested to learn of your duplicitous rendezvous. Though, from what anyone can tell, you’ve declared no intentions there, have made no overtures, and Miss Standish’s interests might lie elsewhere.”

  Morley stood taller. “That is a misguided understanding.”

  “Is it?” Smallwood’s eyes flitted to an upper window in the apartments. The curtain closed with a swish, and a shadow moved away.

  “Yes, Smallwood,” Morley said. “What exactly are your intentions toward Miss Standish?”

  “Will you be acting as her guardian? Drawing up the paperwork and such?”

  “If she wishes. I or the Duke of Granbury.”

  Smallwood’s eyebrows rose. “Is he still involved?”

  “Yes.” Morley couldn’t bring himself to mention the offer of a dowry for each of the sisters. Perhaps that wasn’t fair to Miss Standish, but if things progressed as he hoped they would, he would not have to worry about her future. As long as she would have him.

  They stood for a moment more, sizing each other up. And then Smallwood laughed and clapped Morley on the shoulder. “Come, man. We are friends. Let’s have a drink. The others are in the Fox and Stone.”

  Morley turned to walk at his side. “How long are you in Brighton?”

  “As long as it takes, man. As long as it takes.”

  Morley gritted his teeth but said no more. If Morley had anything to do with it, Smallwood would have to turn his attentions elsewhere or be here for a long time indeed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  June had turned down the use of a carriage on their way to the cliffs. Amelia and Gerald would join them in the ducal carriage, walking less, for the sake of Amelia’s health. She argued she could manage, but Gerald was adamant. Bless the man. He’d been through so much already in his young life.

  But June longed for the brisk sea air and for the vigorous walk. The castle sat inland only a short distance from the cliffs. It stood tall enough she would often watch the sea from any of its south-facing windows, but they had yet to walk to the cliffs. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her body.

  “Shall we gather shells for my artwork?” Grace pulled a small bag closer to her side.

  “Not on the cliffs, dear.” June wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders.

  “Will we not be anywhere near the water?”

  “Not unless we walk along the cliffs until we reach a path that leads that direction.” Charity joined at her other side. “Which I could be talked into. I long for exercise. All these days caught up inside are enough to drive a person crazy.”

  “How is your book?” June had heard nothing about Char
ity’s stories lately, but they had normally been the topic of every dinner conversation.

  Charity’s frown surprised her.

  “What’s the matter? Are you still writing?”

  “I am.” She kicked at the ground in front of them, and June could no longer wonder how Charity went through so many pairs of boots—or slippers, for that matter. “I am to the place where my heroine must fall in love.”

  “Ooh.” Kate held her hands to her face. “Who will she fall in love with? Francis? I do love Francis.”

  “No, he’s too stuffy.”

  “Thomas, then.”

  “Too reckless.”

  “Charles?”

  “Too kind.”

  “Too kind? How can a man be too kind?”

  “If he’s so kind people steal from him—if he cannot have a backbone to defend himself or his family.”

  “There aren’t any men left in your story.”

  Charity threw her hands up in the air. “No one is good enough for Cici.”

  “But can’t you write them to be good enough?” June had never seen her sister so distraught about her writing.

  Charity pressed her lips together and then shook her head. “No one would believe it. The man who is deserving of our Cici could never exist. He is as fantastical as the Frankenstein creature.”

  Lucy called from behind. She walked on Kate’s arm. “But must she marry someone perfect? No one wants a perfectly boring perfect man.”

  “And good thing, too, because they don’t exist.”

  “Surely there’s one.” Charity’s eyes turned dreamy, and June would never have believed such a romantic, whimsical expression possible on her sister’s face.

  “So there’s your challenge, Charity. You must write one.” June smiled, hoping to ease whatever burdens caused the melancholy on her face.

  Grace’s voice, quiet at her side, was almost lost to the wind. “Do you think the perfect man exists?”

  June thought about her question, and Lord Morley’s face came to mind. “I think there can be a man who is just right for us. But overall perfection? None of us is perfect.”

  “But don’t you think a man will seem perfect when you meet him, if he’s the one for you? You can’t go picking apart everything about a man upon first meeting and expect to fall in love.” Kate’s expression said she’d given this some thought, and it was a legitimate question.

  “I do think a person’s faults will become more apparent with time and your immediate attraction to a man can make many a fault seem invisible.” June wondered what faults she wasn’t seeing in Morley.

  “But you didn’t like Morley for a long time. I’m not sure you do even now.” Grace frowned. “And he’s the perfect man.”

  When Charity snorted, Grace stomped her foot. “No, I really think he is. He’s kind and fun and good and is helping us, and he hasn’t kicked us out of his estate.”

  “So that’s the measure of a perfect man—one who doesn’t kick orphaned women out of their estates.” Charity walked faster. “I have yet to see perfection in a man. I have not met one I would deem worthy of any of my dear sisters.”

  “Someday, Charity. Someday you will fall in love, and you will change your mind,” Kate called up to her as her steps became faster.

  Then she stopped and turned so suddenly they all had to watch their feet so as not to trip over her. “I should like there to be. I should like to fall helplessly and hopelessly in love, but until I meet a man who is”—she waved her hands around—“who is worthy of such affection, I cannot do it.” Then she turned back to the sea.

  June considered her sister and once again wondered if Charity’s eccentricity would allow her to ever marry. She hoped so, for she could not rest in happiness until each of her sisters was well cared for and happily situated.

  At last they made their way across a deep green to the cliffs. The wind picked up. And as they neared an edge, June’s heart tightened. “Oh, sisters. It is so high. Please don’t go near the edge.”

  “Are you afraid of heights, sister?” Charity turned to her with mouth open.

  “I don’t know. I must be. Please, don’t go too close to the edge.”

  “We shall stay far enough away there will be no chance of us falling.” Lucy nodded and then glared at Charity, who eventually nodded.

  “Right,” Charity said.

  They walked, June trying not to notice they were up so high.

  “Look!” The ducal carriage arrived on the road behind them. Grace pointed and began running toward it, then stopped and waved.

  June’s eyes trained on the door to the carriage. A footman held it open. June knew the first boot to step out the door. Lord Morley’s tall form made her smile, and she had to still her feet from fidgeting in place.

  “You are excited to see him.” Charity stood beside her. “Is he your perfect man, then?”

  “Perfect? The man who won our estate by playing cards?” She smiled, enjoying Charity’s answering twinkle in her eyes. “Yes, he just might be.” She lifted her arm and waved.

  His answering wave was immediate, and it sent her heart into a new round of fluttering. “Oh, oh.” She clutched Charity’s arm.

  Then the duke exited and reached back for his wife. The footman came around with some packages, and each of the sisters tried to see what they brought.

  “Is that…” June squinted her eyes and then had to give up.

  A carriage pulled up behind the duke’s, and several others were arriving. She trained her eyes down the long dirt road. Many more were coming. This would be quite an event.

  The door to the second carriage opened. When June saw Lady Annabelle step out, her heart clenched a little, but she kept smiling, because Lord Morley had moved in her direction with his hand raised.

  But then he turned. Lady Annabelle waved to him. He waited for her, and she clung to his arm in what seemed to be an overly possessive manner. And for the first time in June’s life, she wished another human harm. Not true harm, but perhaps a little bout of the cold? A soft turn of her ankle? Anything to send her back on her way in her carriage and off of Lord Morley’s arm.

  She gasped at her own emotion. Was this what happened to a woman in love?

  Love? No, she was hardly in love. But she did fancy Lord Morley more than any man she’d met. Her feet stumbled in the rocks. And worse, Lord Smallwood’s form hurried in Lady Annabelle’s direction from further down the road.

  Charity’s strength might be holding June up against the wind outside and the upheaval in her heart. “What will we do now?”

  “I don’t know. Mother never told me anything to do in these kinds of situations.”

  “And the venerable, ever-present-in-our-conversation Miss Trundle, the governess—she never said anything either?”

  “Not at all. Though I don’t think she viewed herself as a relationship expert. She was much more concerned with deportment and the manner in which I held my head and my hands”—she leaned closer to Charity—“which seems like completely useless information when put up against my current dilemma.”

  Both men came closer at around the same time, and she braced herself for another afternoon monopolized by Lord Smallwood, while she watched Lady Annabelle enjoy Lord Morley’s attention. But then, as if by some miracle when they were about to reach her, Lady Annabelle released Lord Morley’s arm and wrapped herself around Lord Smallwood as though she might never let go.

  “Please, Lord Smallwood, keep me safe. These cliffs make me quiver all over. I shall depend upon you.”

  His gaze flitted to June’s, but only for a moment. As a gentleman, he could respond only one way to such a request.

  “Certainly.” He placed a hand over hers.

  Lord Morley arrived at her side in that moment. The air filled with his familiar smell of spice and earth and something else. Perhaps he was using a new soap. She drank it in like she did his smile.

  “I’m happy to see you.” Her cheeks hurt as though she’d ne
ver smiled so large. And perhaps she hadn’t. She’d certainly felt few moments of such happiness, and this was all because Lord Morley now stood at her side, when moments before she had thought her day lost to him.

  “And I am most glad to see you. And you, Charity, Lucy, Kate—you are looking well. Grace.” He dipped a large bow to them all.

  Lady Annabelle had already led Lord Smallwood out of earshot. And suddenly, instead of the woman she hoped to disappear forever from her presence, Lady Annabelle had become the beloved heroine of her happiness.

  The duke and duchess approached with servants and the packages.

  “What have you brought?”

  “Those, my dear Miss Grace, are kites.”

  “Kites?” June had never maneuvered a kite before. “What a splendid idea.”

  “When we heard of the plan to come out here with the constant wind blowing, Gerald and I knew today was the day.”

  “Do you carry kites with you in hopes one day you’ll fly one?”

  “I made some purchases in town.” Lord Morley’s smile warmed June to her toes.

  “Is it very difficult?”

  “I shall help.”

  Others came and gathered around. June smiled at all, even though she’d been introduced to almost none of them. A great happiness continued to grow. Would she at last feel a part of her neighbors? Feel like she belonged?

  Lord Morley took the kites from the servants, and she watched while his strong, capable hands attached a string to a large and pointed kite. “And this, my ladies—this is going to soar above us and see sights we never will.”

  “How poetic.” June stood closer. “Will it really fly?”

  “Oh, yes. It will go so high we can hardly see it if we let it.”

  June could hardly believe such a thing possible. But he held the collection of string wrapped around a handle to her. “And you shall be first.”

  “What! Do you think I shall be able to manage it?”

  “Certainly.” He stepped closer so only she could hear. “The wind does all the work, and I’ll help.”

  “Let’s do this then, shall we?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Can we clear a space?”

  The group which had gathered around backed away, and Lord Morley stepped toward the road with the kite in hand. The string unwrapped from her hands and followed him. Then, once he was a certain distance away, he called, “I’m going to let go. You back up a bit when I do.”