The Dowager's Wager

by Nikki Poppen

  Faint strains of the orchestra tuning up downstairs, reminding her of her promise to meet Avery. She gathered her skirts and pinched her cheeks, trying to hide her bleeding heart with a smile.

  She saw Alain on the steps as she descended. He waved up at her and came to her side immediately, kissing her cheek. “Are you well, Bella? I am glad to see you out at last,” he said quietly.

  “I am fine, Alain. And you?”

  “Tristan made all the arrangements to exonerate me and keep it hushed up. There’s nothing to fear.” He reassured her with a pat on the hand. “He’s here tonight, you know. He said he called at the house to see you when he returned to Town but you refused to see him.” The expression on his face suggested he hoped for further clarification or confession from his sister regarding her situation with Tristan. He was to be dissatisfied.

  “I saw Caroline Danvers earlier,” Isabella said, redirecting the conversation.

  “Then you’ve heard the news?”

  Isabella nodded, a weary look on her face mingled with the hurt she was clearly trying to hide.

  “I am sorry.” Alain’s own expression mirrored his sister’s hurt. “I don’t pretend to understand all there was between you and Tristan. But I feel something akin to what you’re feeling. Tristan is a changed man. He has been a true friend in every way possible regarding the clearance of my name. Yet, I know that our friendship is altered and there is dissonance between us, over you”

  “I never wanted to come between you and Tristan. I know how much his friendship means to you, has always meant to you,” Isabella whispered in consolation.

  Alain began to speak but at that moment Avery spotted her on the stairs and came up to join them, cutting off any further conversation. “Wickham! So glad you could come” He greeted Alain effusively. By the look of happiness on his face, Isabella knew he obviously took her brother’s presence as a sign of her acceptance. The orchestra started and he turned to Isabella. “Shall we?”

  She was happy to accept in order to steer Avery away from Alain. She had not discussed her situation with Alain and did not want him taken by surprise or caught off guard by Avery’s assumptions. The opening dance was a country reel and Isabella threw herself into the steps in the hopes of distracting her thoughts from Tristan. Afterwards, Avery suggested a stroll on the verandah. Once they were alone, he turned towards her, ready to broach the issue that had been at the forefront of his mind.

  “I have meant to give you time to consider my proposal. If your answer is favorable, I’d like to have our engagement announced tonight. It would thrill my aunt to no end,” Avery began. “However, I do not want you to feel pushed. I am sure the ordeal at Gresham’s haunts you still.”

  Tristan was beyond her reach now, but some modicum of happiness was still within her reach, Isabella thought as she stared at Avery. Still, she had to tell him what he was up against. “Avery, it is only fair that you know .. “

  “No, Isabella, you don’t need to say anything. I know there were rumors about something between you and Gresham at the house party.” When she made to interrupt, Avery held up a stalling hand. “I must confess that those rumors are what prompted me to press you for an answer tonight. I want to announce our betrothal as a means of silencing any remnants of that gossip, for I believe that is all it is-malicious gossip from people who don’t appreciate the long-standing friendship Gresham has had with your family. However, I will not condone Gresham’s actions and I feel compelled to say that no gentleman would ever place a lady in such questionable circumstances. His actions were unconscionable and he should have known better.”

  Isabella averted her glance and looked out over the dark gardens. Avery had been doing well with his pretty speech about covering her in his honor until he’d chosen to castigate Tristan. “It’s hardly fair to upbraid him when he’s not here to defend himself,” she found herself saying to her surprise. She’d thought she was done with standing up for Tristan.

  Avery looked chastised. “My apologies. He is a particular friend of your brother’s. You are absolutely correct. I should address my remarks directly to him.”

  Isabella smiled weakly in acceptance of his apology. She drew a deep breath and in her next response, set her life on a new course. “You have been kindness itself to me and have always treated me with the utmost respect. I accept your proposal.”

  Stunned, Avery could say nothing for a few joyous moments. Isabella watched rapture play across his features. Fleetingly, she let herself be caught up in his happiness. If he only knew what he was getting, she thought, coming back to earth. He might not be so jubilant. But she promised herself she’d do her best.

  “I think I am the happiest man alive at this moment,” Avery said at last. “I’ll have our good news announced before the supper waltz.”

  Now that the deed was done, Isabella wanted the supper waltz to hurry as if making the announcement public would offer no opportunity to back out of it. She and Avery quietly spoke with Alain, sharing the news with him in a private room. Alain was pleasant but obviously surprised by the decision. He smiled and did his duty, saying only, “if you’re sure this is what you want, Bella.”

  She nearly avoided having to see Tristan, but a sharp turn at the end of the ballroom during the supper waltz brought she and Avery up on the heels of Tristan and Caroline. For an instant her eyes locked with Tristan’s questing gaze. She tore her gaze away. She would have no more of his treachery. How conceited he was to think he could turn his soulful gaze on her and she’d run to his arms.

  She steeled herself. She would have to get used to such encounters. No doubt she and Avery would encounter Tristan and Caroline out in society and possibly even in the country on occasion with Caroline’s family living so close to Avery’s new horse farm. “I should warn Caroline,” Isabella murmured more to herself than Avery, who looked at her quizzically and cocked his head as if he’d missed something in the conversation. When he inquired, Isabella only shook her head. Then the music was over and his Aunt Elizabeth was calling for attention. Isabella’s hand tightened on Avery’s arm. These next few minutes would seal her future.

  Avery squeezed her hand and then left her to mount the orchestra dais and stand with his aunt. Isabella would join them after the pronouncement. It was simply done in Avery’s honest, straightforward manner and soon he was gesturing for her to come up and join him as applause broke out in the ballroom. Avery was well liked by his peers and there was genuine pleasure for him as Isabella stepped onto the dais and looked out over the assembly. Many had known of his open affection for her and were pleased that his pursuit had ended successfully after his long campaign.

  Of their own accord, Isabella’s eyes scanned the crowd for Tristan, finding him with Caroline’s family. He was all polite smiles as he bent to catch Caroline’s words but he did raise his gaze to the platform once to meet her stare. Then he gave a slight conceding nod and turned his attention back to the conversation.

  After supper, the evening became a blur of kisses and congratulations as well-wishers converged on them. The most horrific point of the evening occurred when Caroline pressed forward to meet them, gushing her joy. “Lady Westbrooke, you are full of surprises! I can’t believe you didn’t say anything to me earlier tonight.” Caroline teased as she kissed Isabella’s cheek. I hadn’t quite made up my mind when I saw you, Isabella thought to herself as her ears caught the sounds of familiar low tones conversing with Avery. Her fiance was saying, “As an old friend of the family, I hope you’ll be at the wedding.”

  With a conspiratorial look in her direction, Tristan smiled and said, “I will be on my honeymoon in June. I am planning on taking my bride to my hunting lodge in Scotland. She’s never been that far north and I want her to see the highland heather in the summer when it’s at its loveliest.” Avery nodded his understanding with manly consent but Isabella studied Tristan carefully. Whoever thought Tristan was doing well, didn’t know him at all. How could Alain, his best friend, ha
ve thought he was fine?

  He lacked his usual vitality, his voice was less animated, his bearing less alert, if that was the right word for the magnetic power that rolled off of him. When he looked at her, she knew with a certainty that she was right. His dark eyes were flat, lifeless orbs and dark circles were smudged beneath them like careless soot. Of course, the Season could take its toll with late nights and he’d put in his share of them. But to Isabella, his hurt was obvious, if only because the facade etched on his face so closely mirrored the one she crafted for herself this evening. If anyone looked beneath the layers of cosmetics she’d used tonight to hide her own pain, they’d see much the same. Her heart lurched in a moment of weakness, forgetting that not only had she forbidden herself to feel for him, but that she was eternally furious with him for his fickle betrayal. Her mind’s warning was too late. Instinctively, Isabella reached out a hand and said softly, “Tristan, are you well?”

  Her tone surprised all three of them and she drew her hand back quickly once she realized what she had done, but Tristan captured it, taking her gloved hand and kissing it. Silently she acknowledged to herself why she had refused to see him. She couldn’t quite bring herself to hate him and how badly she wanted to hate him!

  “I am as well as can be expected, Lady Westbrooke,” Tristan replied, relinquishing her hand and turning back to Avery. “Might I steal your betrothed fora dance?”

  Avery graciously inclined his head while Isabella fumed. What gall these two men had to decide whom she would dance with. How neatly Tristan had maneuvered the request! Avery could not refuse and she could not contradict Avery’s wishes in such a public forum. Her eyes narrowed at Tristan, the dislike for him that she failed to convincingly conjure a few moments ago, now blazed through her. With a vicious snap, she flipped open the fan that dangled from her wrist. “That was an exceedingly low move, Gresham,” she said coldly as he moved them through the throng to the dance floor.

  Tristan only nodded, his hand pressing on her back as he guided her on to the floor. “We aren’t really going to dance, at least not past those doors on the left.” There was a commanding element in his voice and his grip tightened as he swung her into the pattern. “Then we are going to find a nice quiet room where we can be alone. There are things I must say and you must hear.”

  “You are an arrogant man to think you can order me about like this.”

  “You left me no choice by refusing to see me in the privacy of your own home,” Tristan retorted hotly.

  The doors loomed and Tristan skillfully whirled them through the dark portals into a dimly lit hallway lined with doors. At the end of the hall he found a door ajar and the room empty. He shut the door behind them with an ominous thud that Isabella was certain the entire household heard. Her protest was cut off by a swift gesture from Tristan. “No, none of your wit will save you now, Isabella.” He strode forward purposefully and grasped her by the shoulders. “I will have the truth from you, this night. You have barred me from your home, but I do not think you’ve so easily barred me from your heart. What game do you play with this betrothal to Driscoll?”

  Isabella was outraged. “What game do I play? You are the one who used me in a misguided attempt to have my brother arrested for treason!”

  “It wasn’t like that. You would know the whole of it if you’d received me.”

  “Why should I receive you and give you another chance to worm your way back into my good graces? You’ve proven to be all your reputation suggested and more, a first rate blackguard.” Isabella all but spat the words at him.

  Tristan shook his head. “You are hurting.”

  “I am hating,” Isabella said vehemently.

  Her words struck true. Tristan released her as if scorched. He had brought her here to have a chance to explain it all to her, how the simple mission became complicated by its accidental entanglement in other innocent affairs, but her angry words fired his blood. More now than proving his blamelessness, he wanted to prove his worthiness to her, wanted her to admit that she felt nothing for Avery Driscoll. Thinking only with his ire at full throttle and not his logic, Tristan went to her again and, taking her by complete surprise, swept her into his embrace, capturing her lips in a forceful kiss that was at once both impassioned and angry in its intensity.

  Isabella thought to resist. She moved her hands to his shoulders, thinking to shove him away but her traitorous body chose another course. And why not? This would be the last time those lips would seek out hers. Matrimony would keep her safe from his advances. Poppycock! Hadn’t she learned that a man like Tristan stopped at nothing? No, she needed to refine that thought. There were no other men like Tristan. Tristan stopped at nothing to attain his goals. A slim band of gold would be an inconsequential obstacle to him.

  All this crashed through her mind in a kaleidoscope of confusion as Tristan’s lips sought hers, his tongue possessing her mouth with nimble, tantalizing movements that drove all coherent thought from her mind until she was numb with the wanting of him one last time. Isabella stumbled and lost her balance as Tristan released her. She had not expected to be released. Indeed, she’d fully expected Tristan to find some conceivable way to consummate this explosive interlude. She caught herself on the arm of the sofa and looked up at Tristan for an explanation.

  His handsome face was a mottled collection of emotions from the passion that kindled his dark eyes to angry ardor that colored his firm jaw. “How can you deny this, Isabella?” he said, referring to the kiss that had passed between them. “How can you contemplate marriage to Driscoll when you know I burn for you?”

  “Then, that is your misfortune,” Isabella uttered the difficult words as she steeled her will to resist his next onslaught, tamping down the part of her that wished he would not take no for an answer and press her again for capitulation.

  “Will you not give me a chance?” Tristan asked in a quiet, stern voice.

  Isabella gave a slight negation of her head, picked up the folds of her skirt and with her head held high, walked passed him towards the door. Tristan’s voice sounded behind her in a mocking tone she would not understand fully until the morning. “Then I guess there is nothing else to say but congratulations.”

  Betty shook Isabella awake the next morning with a jumbled message. A horse had been delivered to her stable in town and was nearly kicking out the walls of his stall. Isabella looked at her maid dazedly until Betty fumbled in her apron pocket and produced a short, curt note.

  You have won him.

  -Tristan.

  The import of Hellion in her town stables washed over her in a wave of desolation. The ghosts of the past were no nearer to resting than they were when Tristan had first returned. Perhaps they’d never be retired. Better to live with ghosts of the past than to live with the real fear daily of being betrayed, Isabella reasoned in an attempt to quell the hurt rising in her heart. She knew how combustible the reality was of loving Tristan, how consuming it would be to live with him every day and how devastating the perfidy of his affections. Far better to live with the lesson learned instead of repeating it over and over for the duration of her life even if it meant denying the heady passion that roared between them. If not for the passion, all that lay between she and Tristan was a history of double crosses and broken hearts. They were both better off without each other. She had scorned him last night for his own good as well as her own.

  Not entirely convinced of her logic, Isabella threw off the covers and rang for Betty to return to the chamber. Avery’s Aunt Elizabeth was calling that afternoon to discuss wedding plans for her favorite nephew and Isabella had errands to run at the shops this morning. If she hurried she would have time to stop by the stables and check on Hellion.

  Alain caught up to her at the stables, where she alone was having success in soothing Hellion in his new home. Alain grimaced upon seeing the horse. He waved to Isabella, gesturing for her to join him in the tack room.

  “Alain, what are you doing here?” Isabella
said, wiping her hands on a towel and retrieving her shawl from where she’d tossed it over a saddle.

  “I have news you need to hear. Let’s go somewhere private,” Alain said somberly as he motioned towards the tack room.

  “Well, what is it? Nothing bad I hope?” Isabella asked once they were alone.

  “I think it depends on how one might see the situation,” Alain prevaricated. “I just came from White’s where I met Tristan for an eleven o’clock breakfast. He informed me that Caroline wants you to stand up with her at the wedding since I am standing up with him.

  “Say something, Bella,” Alain coaxed.

  “Caroline mentioned the news to me last night, in confidence of course. I was not at leisure to share the news. I hope the Danvers know what they’re doing by giving their daughter to him,” she said at last.

  Alain gave a snort. “They’re in alt. Caroline has snared a significant title and fortune with nothing to recommend her to such a peer but her good looks, pleasant demeanor and social connections through you,” he paused, his gaze suddenly interested in something beyond her left shoulder. “I hope you understand I am not picking sides in this whole travesty, but if his best friend doesn’t stand up with him at his wedding who will? And of course I can hardly refuse when I have it on good authority that Caroline will ask you to be her matron of honor.”

  His last words shocked her and Isabella had to put out a hand to steady herself. It would be the final test of her resolve to put Tristan out of her life to stand mere feet away from Tristan on his wedding day. The convoluted workings of her numb brain wondered if Tristan hadn’t put Caroline up to it out of some need to punish her for rejecting him. What could she say to refuse Caroline? Nothing that wouldn’t raise speculation. She had to accept.

  Along with being Avery Driscoll’s June bride, Isabella found herself a bridesmaid to Caroline Danvers. The ensuing two weeks were tortuous beyond anything Torquemada could have devised. Caroline consulted her endlessly on the details of her rushed wedding to Tristan. The young bride developed an annoying habit of inserting into conversation regularly how romantic it was that Tristan wanted to whisk her off to Scotland to see the heather at its finest and to have her to himself. Additionally, each day presented its own special form of agony as Isabella’s nerves stayed on edge with the worry that she might encounter Tristan. Only once did the worry manifest itself.