Wagering for Miss Blake

by Callie Hutton

  “There is one thing that frightens me.” Suzanna twisted the handkerchief in her hands.

  “What is that?”

  “We, um.” She cleared her throat. “We, um… Oh dear, how can I say this.” She looked to the ceiling as she felt the heat rise to her face. “I knew I shouldn’t have, but we did, and now I wonder if he didn’t think poorly of me.”

  “Oh, Suzanna, I doubt very much if he thinks poorly of you. I am sure there is a perfectly logical explanation for his trip to the country. Why don’t you wash your face, and we’ll return to the ballroom? Perhaps Alex knows more than he thinks he does. Men oftentimes ignore signs that we see as important. Come.”

  They returned to the ballroom to join Alex and Lord Campbell. That was the first time she’d seen him in a while, also. If Lord Hawkins and Giles appeared, then everything would return to normal, and her world would once again be in balance.

  “Good evening, Miss Blake. How pleasant to see you.”

  Suzanna gave Lord Campbell a slight dip. “Good evening, my lord.”

  “Bedford tells me you were inquiring after Templeton. I also received a missive from him. He said he had tired of the Season and was planning on spending the next few months at his estate.” He looked at her with sympathy. “I am sorry, he said nothing else.”

  Well, that was that, then. Giles had managed to send notes to both Bedford and Campbell, but nothing to her. He was obviously more than happy to leave her with the broken promises he’d made. So much for his insistence that he would never give up on their love.

  She raised her chin and regarded Lord Campbell. “Thank you for that information, my lord. I believe Mr. Fitzwilliam has requested this next dance. If you will excuse me.” She turned and headed toward Cousin Eunice, where Mr. Fitzwilliam had just arrived.

  She would forget Giles. He obviously had no regard for her, and all his nonsense about loving her and never letting her go had been just that.

  Nonsense.

  …

  “Has the bloody newspaper arrived yet?” Giles shouted from the library as he poured his third brandy for the day. He’d spent the three weeks he’d been at his estate in Bedfordshire drinking brandy, scouring the newspaper delivered each day for news of Suzanna’s betrothal, and for the most part, terrorizing his staff.

  To say he’d been in a bad mood since his arrival was a huge understatement. The only person willing to approach him had been Macon, who viewed him with disdain every time he’d been in his presence.

  “Here it is, sir. Would you like me to open it directly to the Society page?”

  Giles snapped it from his hand. “No need. And instead of standing there smirking, I’m sure there are some cravats that need pressing and some boots that need shining.”

  “And why would I need to do that, sir? You have not left the house since our arrival three weeks ago.”

  Giles growled something in the man’s direction and tucked the newspaper under his arm. He picked up his glass of brandy and settled in the chair in front of the fireplace. He flipped through the newspaper until he reached the Society pages. His stomach muscles always tightened as he began to read, and then slowly relaxed as no word of a betrothal between Miss Suzanna Blake and Lord Pemberton was announced.

  What the devil was going on?

  He crumbled the newspaper and tossed it aside. From what he’d seen in the garden at the Montfords’s townhouse, there should have been an announcement by now. Mrs. Blake had been very anxious to have Suzanna snag a titled gentleman. He doubted if she would have allowed too much time to pass before she’d have Mr. Blake bring the man up to scratch.

  He ran his hand down his face, trying to come to terms with what he’d seen, and his abrupt departure from London. Had he been rash? Should he have confronted the couple and demanded to know what was what? But it had been so obvious. Suzanna had gotten herself betrothed without upsetting her mother.

  Glancing at the half-full glass of brandy, he pushed it aside. What he needed was some fresh air to clear his head. “Macon!”

  “Yes, sir.” Giles jumped when Macon spoke from behind his chair.

  “Blast it, man, stop sneaking up on me.”

  “As you say.” The unflappable valet walked around the chair, his demeanor nothing but decorum. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Why are you hovering about? Where are the footmen?”

  “The last I saw them, sir, they were huddled in the kitchen afraid to wander past you, lest they be sacked.”

  Why was it the man could say something innocuous and still sound as though he were making fun of him? He should probably turn him out with no references, but the thought of life without his valet’s peculiar sense of humor was not appealing. Especially since Macon had been with him almost since he left off short pants.

  “Never mind. I wish to go for a ride.”

  “Excellent idea, sir. Shall I brush off your unused riding clothes, or do you prefer to remain in the striking, rather odorous outfit you’ve worn for three days now?”

  “I will change my clothes.”

  “Excellent.”

  “And have a bath.”

  “Excellent.”

  “But first I would like food.”

  “Excellent.”

  When Macon continued to stand and stare at him, Giles said, “Now.”

  “Excellent.” He bowed and left the room, and for some inexplicable reason, Giles felt his spirits lift. Yes, he would eat some decent food for a change, which would make Cook happy, then he would take a bath and dress in fresh clothes, which would make his valet happy, and then ride Gallant, which would make his groom happy.

  He lived to make his servants happy.

  After a meal of ham, eggs, herring, warm rolls, fruit, and plenty of coffee, he soaked for a while in a hot bath, then dressed for the ride.

  He’d forgotten how much he loved riding the grounds of his estate. The wind blowing through his hair, putting a flush on his cheeks, was just what he needed. He’d spent many a summer here as a lad, with his grandparents. They’d always told him it would be his when he reached his majority.

  He loved Tanglewood, as his estate was known. He planned to one day bring a bride here and start a family. Those plans had seemed far into the future, until he’d met Suzanna.

  And then lost her.

  With a kick of his heels to Gallant’s sides, he sped across the ground and returned to the house. “Macon!” His shout reverberated throughout the bottom floor.

  Once again, the man popped up alongside him. “Sir?”

  “Stop doing that!”

  Macon bowed. “How may I be of service, sir?

  “Join me in the library.” Giles strode down the corridor and marched across the library floor, bypassing the brandy. With no Cam, Hawk, or Bedford to help him sort this all out, his dedicated valet was the best choice.

  Macon followed behind and stopped about five feet away.

  “I think I may have made a terrible mistake.”

  “You, sir? Surely you jest.”

  Giles clasped his hands behind his back and paced. “I have been searching the newspaper daily for a betrothal announcement for Miss Blake.”

  “Ah, that explains your recent obsession over the daily news.”

  He stopped and stared at the valet. “I am not sure what I saw is what I saw.”

  Macon blinked a few times. “Very plain, sir. I’m sure given an hour or two I will sort it all out.”

  Giles resumed pacing. “I wagered Miss Blake that she would marry me. She refused. Not the wager. The marriage. I thought I had won her over, but her parents refused. Then I saw her hug Lord Pemberton in the garden.” He turned to Macon. “Do you understand now?”

  “It is as clear as my aged Aunt Florence’s vision.”

  “Don’t you see? Maybe there was another reason she hugged him.”

  “Sir, may I interest you in a nice cup of tea, or perhaps a bit of brandy?” Macon shook his head. “No. No brandy, you are mud
dled enough.”

  “I gave up.”

  “Ah now, sir, that is clear. You never give up, so something is dreadfully wrong here.”

  Giles dropped into the chair behind his desk. “I am not used to losing.”

  Macon sat in the chair across from the desk. “You are not used to earning, either.”

  “What?”

  “Although you suppose this is the first time I am aware of your problem, it is not. A valet knows a lot more than his master thinks.”

  Giles huffed. “I know that.”

  “Well, sir. You have pursued this young lady, and she has not fallen at your feet. That is a most unusual circumstance for you, if I may say so.”

  Straightening in his seat, Giles said, “What the devil are you talking about, man?”

  “I have watched you since you were a lad. Most things, if not all, come quite easily to you. One would say you are fortuitous. It can be quite difficult when someone of your talent is presented with a situation that requires more effort.”

  Giles frowned. “Are you insinuating I am lazy?”

  “Not at all. What I’m saying is, instead of ‘winning’ the young lady’s hand, perhaps you should be concentrating on ‘earning’ her hand. If what you say is true, and no betrothal has been announced, you have a great opportunity to prove you are not merely a spoiled, golden child.”

  Giles stared at him for a full minute. “When did you get so smart?”

  “I have always been.” The valet dipped his head and studied Giles. “Earn it, lad.”

  Giles jumped up, his chair spinning backward at the movement. “Pack my trunks.”

  Macon attempted to hide a smile. “Are we taking a trip, sir?”

  “Yes. I will leave within the hour on Gallant. You will travel with my luggage in the carriage.”

  “Very good, sir. In which direction are we headed this time?”

  “Back to London.” He dashed from the room and called over his shoulder, “I have unfinished business.”

  …

  Suzanna waited in her bedchamber for the summons that Lord Mallory had arrived to take her on a ride through Hyde Park. Her fingers worried the braiding on the front of her gown until she had to order herself to stop, lest she shred her clothing.

  At Mother’s insistence, Suzanna had begun to return to the social whirl of the Season. After her conversation with Bedford, she’d refused all invitations for more than a week. At first, she’d gotten away with a megrim, but eventually, when Mother saw no evidence of Giles reappearing, she started on her campaign once again to secure a title.

  Suzanna didn’t care any longer. If Mother wanted her to marry a title, then that was what she would do. Her one foray into true love had ended as badly as a ship cast upon a promontory. Now she would be sensible and do as other members of the ton. Marry for connections, wealth, and title. Perhaps Mother had been right all along.

  “Miss Blake, Lord Mallory has arrived. He awaits you in the drawing room.” Bessie offered her a sympathetic expression.

  Suzanna forced a smile to her face. “Thank you very much. I shall be down momentarily.”

  She gathered her gloves, bonnet, and shawl, and with one final glance in the mirror, left her room. Lord Mallory was a pleasant man, and in need of a wife. He was nearing his fortieth year, and even though that was not a great age, he had no immediate heirs and was concerned about his title.

  Again, worry about a title. She sighed. Did the entire world revolve around titles?

  “Good afternoon, Miss Blake. Thank you again for accompanying me on a ride.”

  “It is my pleasure, Lord Mallory.” She pulled on her gloves and groaned inwardly as Mother beamed from behind his lordship.

  At least Giles’s mysterious disappearance had made one person happy. After Lord Pemberton had withdrawn his attentions, Mother had retired to her room for days. Once she discovered that Giles had not sought out Father again, like a general regrouping, she’d rallied herself and jumped right back into her quest for a man with a title.

  Suzanna and Mallory made their way down the stairs to the lovely phaeton waiting at the curb, the horses held by a groom. Mallory helped her into the vehicle, and once he was settled alongside her, they left, heading to the famous park where those of importance rode each day to see and be seen.

  “Will you be attending the Strickland rout this evening, Miss Blake?”

  “Oh, is that this evening?” Since she’d lost interest in all things ton, she depended upon Cousin Eunice to remind her each day where they were headed that evening. “Yes, I assume we are. It is so difficult to keep one’s schedule during the Season, is it not?”

  Goodness, she hoped she didn’t sound like a ninnyhammer. It was difficult to hold a conversation when one’s entire being was still focused on one man.

  …

  Despite his desire to charge right over to Lord Montford’s townhouse upon his arrival in London yesterday, Giles took note of himself, and decided food, a bath, clean clothes, and a good night’s sleep would do him better.

  So here he was, on the doorstep, ready to face whatever was on the other side. But one thing was certain. He would not leave until he knew for certain if Suzanna and Lord Pemberton were, or were not, headed toward matrimony. And even if they were, he would not leave until he had his say.

  The door opened, and the butler greeted him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Templeton.”

  “Good afternoon. May I ask if Miss Blake is receiving callers?”

  “Miss Blake is out for the afternoon. You may leave your card, and I will present it to her upon her arrival.”

  Just as he was reaching into his pocket, a woman’s voice floated to them. “Is that Mr. Templeton, Jamie?”

  The man turned and regarded Lady Montford. “Yes, my lady. He is requesting a visit with Miss Blake.”

  Lady Montford stepped to the door. “Mr. Templeton, how very nice to see you. I would enjoy your company for a while. I have no callers today and was about to have tea.”

  Not sure exactly what Lady Montford had in mind—he certainly didn’t believe she needed company to drink a cup of tea, he gratefully accepted her offer and followed her to the drawing room upstairs.

  Once tea had been delivered, and the footman had closed the door, she glanced at him as she poured tea for the two of them. Handing him a cup, she said, “What brings you here, Mr. Templeton? I know you said you wished to see Miss Blake but, since you have been missing for a few weeks now, I can’t help but wonder what it is that instigated this visit.”

  Wishing he had a brandy in his hand instead of tea, he decided a frontal attack was best. “Before I answer that, may I ask you to indulge me, and tell me if Miss Blake is betrothed to Lord Pemberton.”

  “She is not.”

  “Are they still courting?”

  She took a sip of tea and regarded him over the rim of her cup and shook her head slightly. “No.”

  Finally able to take a deep breath, he continued. “I am in love with Miss Blake.”

  Lady Montford offered him one of her mesmerizing smiles as she held out a plate of apple tarts. “Tell me something I do not know, Mr. Templeton. For instance, why have you been absent from London, and now appear at my doorstep?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Muted conversation from the drawing room greeted Suzanna as she joined the guests for the dinner party Lady Montford had arranged. It had been a last-minute decision to hold the dinner, and ’twas odd that she had planned it on an evening when her parents were attending the theater.

  She accepted a small glass of sherry from one of the footmen and joined Lady Montford who was conversing with Lord and Lady Skeffington.

  “Ah, Suzanna, don’t you look charming tonight. The blue in that gown brings out the lovely shade of your eyes.” Lord Skeffington smiled and bowed to her as she approached them.

  “Yes, you do look wonderful tonight, dear.” Cousin Eunice absolutely glowed with happiness. She was always a rather optimistic sort, b
ut tonight she looked exceptionally sanguine.

  “Thank you, my lord, cousin.” Suzanna turned to Lady Skeffington. “Good evening, my lady.”

  They chatted for a while, and Cousin Eunice seemed to pay a great deal of attention to the door. She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when a footman announced that dinner was served. They all assembled into an informal line and proceeded to the dining room.

  While the footmen poured wine, Suzanna chatted with her dinner partner to her left. Mr. Baxter was an elderly gentleman, well versed in various subjects, which always placed him at the top of most hostesses’ lists. She appreciated how he treated her like she had a brain in her head, not as if she were a young lady who could converse about only ribbons, slippers, and balls.

  As she raised her glass to take a sip of wine, her attention was gained by a man entering the room. She glanced in the direction of the latecomer. Her heart thudded, and her jaw dropped in a most unladylike manner. All the blood drained from her head, leaving her lightheaded, with dots dancing in her eyes, as Giles bent to Lady Montford. “I am sorry to be late, my lady. Please excuse me.”

  “Thank you for coming, Mr. Templeton.”

  Suzanna continued to gape as a footman led Giles to a chair only three seats down from her, next to Lady Florentina, who was to the left of Mr. Baxter. Whatever was he doing here? She’d heard nothing from him for weeks, and suddenly he turns up at a dinner, at her house. Suzanna glared at Lady Montford, who regarded her with wide, innocent eyes.

  She quelled the urge to dump her glass of wine over the blackguard’s head. Well, she certainly was not going to pay him any mind. He had deserted her without a word, and now he’d reappeared, smiling like some addlepated fool. She huffed to herself. No, no, no. Not at all.

  Casting a brilliant smile at Mr. Baxter, she said, “Tell me more about the book you are reading, Mr. Baxter.”

  He’d already waxed on about the book, but she would do anything to keep the sound of Giles’s voice from her ears.

  She leaned back as a footman placed a bowl of clear broth in front of her. Just as she picked up her spoon, Giles leaned forward and said, “Good evening, Miss Blake.”