Addie: To Wager On Her Future (Other Pens, Mansfield Park Book 5)

by Leenie Brown

  “Of course, I do,” Camden snapped.

  Addie smiled. Her aunt might be a demanding woman who did not have a great love of horses, but she was also a rather cunning one.

  “Then, we have an agreement,” Robert said. “Pythias wins, and you get to take him home assured that he is indeed a winner, while I get to keep my money and my horse.”

  “Are you planning to throw the race, Eldridge?” Camden asked.

  “I am not the sort of fellow to ever do that,” Robert replied.

  “I had thought as much,” Camden muttered with a glance at where Aunt Edith stood, conversing with her new friend about fripperies and such.

  “To prove my character,” Robert said, “I have another wager to make with you.”

  “I am listening.” Mr. Camden seemed to forget Mrs. Holdsworth and Aunt Edith in his eagerness to hear about Robert’s bet. To be truthful, Addie was also quite interested to hear it.

  “I am so confident in Pythias to win and Hugo’s ability to come close to beating him, that I will give you one hundred pounds,” he nodded to Faith who handed Mr. Camden an envelope, “and you only have to return that to me if Pythias does not win and Hugo does not place second. Should Pythias win, and Hugo comes anywhere lower than second, you keep the money. If Pythias loses and Hugo is either higher or lower than second, you still keep that hundred pounds. Both conditions must be met for you to have to give that money back to me. Do we have an agreement?”

  Camden turned the envelope over in his hand.

  “Both horses must finish the race,” Robert added.

  Oh, he was clever! No wonder he was offering a hundred pounds. He was attempting to ensure that Mr. Camden would do nothing to cause Pythias to lose. However, Mr. Camden did not look convinced that it was the best offer.

  “How much would you take for Pythias? He is a skittish horse and could be a liability if not handled properly,” Robert said. “He has to be worth at least seventy-five before he has run the race, and I would be willing to go higher at the end when he has won.”

  “What are you up to, Eldridge?” Camden asked skeptically.

  “Pythias is good. Very good,” Robert replied. “Atwood is not going to part with him if he loses because a horse with the green talent that Pythias has would be a boon to Silverthorne. However, you may not be as interested in housing and training a young stallion, so I thought I would offer to take him off your hands.”

  Camden’s lips quirked up into a calculating smile. “A thousand pounds now or twice that at the end of the race.”

  Robert watched the horses taking their last little run before forming a line to start. “That is a bit excessive.”

  “But you have it as you have already offered it in place of your horse,” Camden pressed.

  Robert drew and released a breath. “Tom, what do you think?”

  “It is a lot of money,” Tom said.

  “Not as much as two thousand,” Camden inserted.

  “Miss Atwood, you know your horses, especially those from Silverthorne’s stables,” Robert smiled down at her. “Would you say Pythias is capable of bringing my money back to me?”

  “Without a doubt.” Pythias was young and, barring any injury, had a good number of races left in him to run. Added to that were the fees which could be charged for his services in breeding.

  “And would you ride him?”

  “Possibly. Though I would rather see my brother riding him.”

  “He could when he visits,” Robert replied.

  “Oh, ho!” Camden cried. “You did use that horse – my horse – to snare yourself a filly just as I said you would.” He tapped the envelop he held against his other palm. “You’ll want to keep the lady happy. A thousand pounds is not so much to spend for that, now is it?”

  “You make a good point.” Robert winked at Addie.

  He was playing Camden right into his hands! He had been planning to accept the offer from the beginning. This must be why he and Tom had been sequestered in the study for so long yesterday. They must have been playing through the various scenarios of what might happen.

  “It is still a great deal of money.” He sighed. “However, you have a deal.” He nodded at Faith once again, who handed Mr. Camden another envelope. “That is the thousand I had prepared to give you if Pythias lost the race, so the money is yours no matter the result.”

  “And the skittish stallion is yours if he wins.”

  Robert extended his hand to Camden, who shook it and ambled away with a pocket full of money, just as the race got underway. That would hopefully be the last Addie ever saw of that man — except maybe once more when they collected both Hugo and Pythias at the end of the race, for Pythias was gaining a good lead, one which Addie knew he would not lose.

  ~*~*~

  “You had best be worth the effort,” Addie said later as she stroked Pythias’s nose while Robert used his good arm to run a brush along his side. “A groom can do that,” she suggested.

  “I know,” Robert replied, “and I promise to let a groom do the majority of it. However, I believe that an animal will care more for his rider if that rider has first cared for him.”

  “Do you hear that, Pythias? Mr. Eldridge plans on riding you.”

  “But not until my arm is healed,” Robert said from the other side of the horse.

  “You know he is nearly the best rider at Stonegate.” Addie peered around Pythias’s head and gave Robert a taunting smile.

  “You think you can outride me, do you?”

  Addie nodded. “If I am wearing breeches.”

  Robert shook his head and discarded his brush. “Would you like to bet on that, Miss Atwood?”

  Addie stuck out her hand. “The winner gets to claim a favour from the loser of the winner’s choosing whenever the winner decides to claim it.”

  Robert hesitated in taking her hand. “Can I trust your honour not to ruin my reputation?”

  Addie laughed. “Only until we are married.”

  He reached to take her hand, but she pulled it back. “Do you promise the same?”

  He shrugged. “Most likely.”

  She laughed.

  “I am marrying you whether your reputation is intact or not,” he said with a wicked grin.

  “Yes, but if you ruin my reputation, Aunt Edith will not be pleased.”

  He lunged forward and grabbing her hand, pulled her to him. “Your Aunt Edith is rarely pleased.”

  “Our aunt,” Addie corrected. “She will be yours, too.” She loved how it felt to be held by him.

  “Very well,” he kissed her nose. “Our aunt is rarely pleased.”

  “But I do not think it is wise idea to purposefully taunt her and make her disagreeable. She might decide to stay for an indefinite amount of time to make sure you are treating me well.”

  She expected him to protest some more, but he did not. Instead, he lowered his head and kissed her. Deeply. Passionately. Teasing her mouth open with his tongue and then tangling it with hers. Pulling back, he kissed her gently. Softly. Leaving her longing for more. Then he rested his head against hers.

  “Do you still want me to promise not to ruin your reputation until we are married?” His smile was very self-satisfied.

  “I think…” Goodness! He had made her sound breathy and wanton again. “I think I must insist upon it, Mr. Eldridge.”

  He kissed her lips softly once more. “That is likely wise, but is it what you want?”

  “No.” The word was out of her mouth before it had passed through her mind.

  He backed her up so that she was leaning against the door to Pythias’s stall. “I have only one arm to hold you,” he explained as he pressed himself against her.

  “Robert,” she scolded, though she really was not all that shocked or displeased by his actions. However, it was the proper thing to do.

  “Addie.” He kissed her forehead. “I cannot hold you against me and tangle my hand in your hair back here.” He slid his fingers into the bott
om portion of her coiffeur. “If I only have one arm. Therefore, I intend to use the door to assist me.”

  That seemed to make sense, she supposed, though her ability to think rationally was limited at the moment.

  “Now, about our wager. I, Robert Eldridge, agree to not ruin your reputation, Adela Atwood, by claiming an intimate favour until you are my wife.” He smiled at her. “Do we have an agreement?”

  She nodded. Words were really beyond her ability at the moment. His body leaning into hers, his hand in her hair and his lips so close to her were intoxicating.

  “Do you still wish to shake hands?” he asked near her ear before he kissed it.

  “No.” Her voice was once again breathy, and she gasped as he kissed her neck.

  “We should marry soon,” he murmured.

  She was in agreement with that. Hopefully, Aunt Edith would not protest their marrying during a mourning period. Six months would be far too long to wait. Maybe James had gotten the license he had promised to get before they had left Silverthorne. She would have to ask him.

  “And likely we should not race until we have.” He once again nibbled her neck. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “And I, you,” she replied.

  He smiled. “Who would have thought I would find such a perfect woman to love?”

  “I am not perfect.” Though she did like that he thought so.

  “Oh, but you are. You are beautiful. You are smart. You know as much about horses as I do. You love a good race, and you are not opposed to a friendly wager.” He kissed her. “That, to my way of thinking, is perfection.” He kissed her again. “I wager, Miss Atwood, that we shall have a very happy future together.”

  She would have added her voice in agreement if he had allowed it, for she could not imagine a future that would be more wonderful than one with him. However, he did not allow her to utter even one word in agreement since he had once again claimed her mouth for a passionate kiss. Instead, her contented, sigh of pleasure would have to suffice.

  Behind them, Pythias snorted and stamped. Across the aisle, Hugo answered in kind. Outside the stables, grooms went about their duties, and not one of those things intruded upon Robert and Addie’s thoughts. All these things were but a beautiful backdrop to a promising future – one, which would be filled with love and adventure, and on which, with an unusual upbringing for a daughter he loved more fiercely than she could ever love a horse, a father had wagered and won.

  Before You Go

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  Turn the page to read an excerpt of another one of Leenie’s books

  His Beautiful Bea Excerpt

  [If you enjoy books based on Mansfield Park, then you might like His Beautiful Bea, an original sweet Regency romance, written with intentional nods to Mansfield Park, and the first book in my Touches of Austen Collection. In this book, Graeme Clayton attempts to help his neighbour Beatrice Tierney capture the heart of his younger brother, but things don’t quite go according to plan.]

  Chapter 1

  Beatrice Tierney blew out a breath and settled back against a tree in Stratsbury Park’s garden, attempting to find a comfortable position in which to read. The weather was warm, but not unbearably so, and the shade cast by the sprawling canopy overhead provided a pleasant respite from the rays of the sun. A breeze occasionally fluttered the hem of her skirt and attempted to turn the pages of her book. All in all, it would be a perfect summer day, were it not for her cousins, Felicity and Grace Love. Bea’s lips twitched with displeasure as she turned her attention back to the page she had read twice already.

  She brushed away a fly that was meandering a path across the words she was attempting to decipher just as a long shadow crossed the page, causing her to look up to see its source.

  “Is it a difficult passage?” Graeme Clayton stood looking down at her. He chuckled as her lips puckered into a deeper scowl. He knew very well that Bea was not short on intelligence. She might be quiet and verging on the edge of overly reserved and gentle, but it was not due to lack of intellect. In fact, when she did open her mouth and speak on any subject, her comments were often impressively well-thought-out. He knew that she studied things ─ mulling them over and over, assessing them from every possible angle, and then, and only then, having decided she had a good grasp of her ideas, her thoughts on a matter might be shared. Equally as often as not, however, she would merely smile softly, raise a brow, and remain silent. It perplexed him how she could keep her opinions to herself so often. He had a devil of a time keeping his tongue from saying exactly what was in his head.

  Today, for the past twenty minutes, he had been observing her as she attempted to read and not watch his younger brother, Everett, and her cousin Felicity. She had sighed and shaken her head often, her lips had pursed, her brows had furrowed, and the pages of her book had not flipped in all that time. She was contemplating something, and he was rather certain he knew what it was.

  Bea had always followed his brother around with a particular look on her face that spoke of her adoration of him. It was not an obvious expression. It was a particular softness in her eyes and the tipping up ever so slightly of the corners of her mouth.

  He took a seat next to her on the ground and, giving her shoulder a nudge with his, repeated his question, earning him a very pretty scowl. However, as quickly as the scowl had formed on her lips, it melted away into the pleasant expression she wore in company when she would rather be elsewhere but did not wish to offend.

  She was about to deny there was any issue at all ─ much as she always did. Others were permitted to be displeased and out of sorts, but Bea never allowed herself to be so — at least, not in company. One had to look for more subtle clues as to how Bea was really feeling, but that was just one thing what made her uniquely his Bea.

  “No,” she began her denial, just as he had predicted in his mind that she would, “the passage is not difficult. I was just distracted by the excellence of the weather.”

  Graeme, who was not content to let the situation pass so neatly, snatched her book out of her hands. It might be entirely possible to provoke her into revealing the truth of what he suspected. “Your distraction has nothing to do with my brother?” he asked as he snapped the book closed on her marker. Ah, there was her look of panic — a slight widening of the eyes and a sharp, though quiet, inhale of breath. He had obviously hit on the very thing which she was valiantly attempting to conceal.

  Though they were only neighbours, Bea and her brother, Maxwell, had spent so many hours in company with Graeme and Everett that Graeme felt he knew the Tierney siblings almost as well as he knew his own brother. Well, “only neighbours” was perhaps not the most accurate way to describe who the Tierneys were to the Claytons.

  Captain Tierney and Sir William Clayton had been friends since childhood, and when the captain had come into some money — enough to buy a small estate for his family — he had settled on Heathcote which was not more than four miles distance from the west of Stratsbury Park. And in such a manner had begun a closer friendship between their families. They spent many a day and evening in one another’s company during that first month after the Tierneys’ arrival at Heathcote.

  And then had come the day when Captain Tierney had been required to return to his ship. He had called on his friend Sir Herbert the evening before and extracted a promise to care for Mrs. Tierney and his children if something unfortunate should befall him. As fate would have it, the unfortunate did befall the captain, and he had never return
ed from sea.

  Bea had borne the news with far more fortitude than Graeme had expected to find in one so young and female. It was then that he had taken a greater liking to her. She was not like the silly girls he had met over the years. She was unique in her quiet strength and resolve. And so very unlike himself that he found himself compelled to attempt an understanding of such a person. His reward had been a comfortable friendship that allowed him access to the Beatrice others looking on would likely not suspect existed.

  He nudged her shoulder again. “I do not believe it was the weather disturbing your reading,” he whispered. “Are you positive your distraction has nothing to do with my brother?”

  Bea shrugged.

  Seeing he was not likely to get more of a reply from Bea than that, Graeme switched tactics and pressed on. “Miss Love is very pretty. How old is she now?”

  Bea heaved a sigh. “Felicity is nineteen, just as I am, and Grace is seventeen.”

  “Are they both out?” he asked, moving her book away from the hand that attempted to reclaim it. He was not leaving this spot today without finding out if his suspicions about Bea’s feelings for his brother were correct.

  “Yes,” Bea’s lips stretched into a thin smile. “I have been regaled with the delights of the season several times since their arrival a fortnight ago.”

  Graeme shifted, placing the book on the grass next to him and stretching out his legs.

  “Will you be going to town this next season? I could make a good number of introductions for you, and even with your modest dowry, I believe, we could find you a suitable husband.”

  He had not even finished speaking before her head was shaking back and forth.

  “You will not go? I thought Max said he had put aside enough to give you a bit of a season.”

  “I do not wish to go. I have no desire to endure the crushes about which my cousins have told me. I prefer our small assemblies here.”