Barons Always Win Wagers (Forbidden Kisses Book 3)

by Catherine Mayfair

  ***

  The sun had long set by the time Michael finished his tale concerning Lord Whisken, and Emma could do nothing more than stare at the man. The fact that this Lord Whisken had threatened not only Michael, but Emma as well was horrible. Yet, as Michael spoke, she found she cared not for her own safety, but that of the man who had risked his very life to tell her the truth.

  “I must admit, for some days I entertained the idea of betraying you,” Michael said as he shook his head. “However, I cannot do it. Therefore, I have come to only one conclusion, and thus the favor I ask of you.”

  “What can I possibly do?” Emma asked. “I will do whatever you ask, but I’m not sure I can be of much help.”

  “You must return to your home as soon as possible. Explain to your sister and brother-in-law the danger this man can place on you and how he wishes to have you for himself. They must understand that nothing will stop him. His evil knows no bounds.” He sighed. “They will have to be with you at all times. In fact, it might be best if they sent you away. Perhaps there is a friend or family member not in the area who…”

  “No,” Emma interrupted, her heart breaking. “I do not want to do that.”

  Michael removed his hand from hers and stood. “I do not understand,” he said, his frustration for her response clear. “He will get what he wants one way or another. I know this firsthand. You must leave!”

  “And what of you?” she demanded. “What will you do? That man has threatened to take your life! If he makes good on his word, you will be dead within a week, and the chances of us ever being together will be gone.”

  “I have considered this, as well,” he said. “It is far better for me to remain here in the home of my ancestors for death to come than to see you suffer. I want nothing more than to explore the feelings I have for you, Emma, because they do exist. But alas, that cannot happen.”

  Emma stood, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “So, you refused to express your feelings because you did not want to hurt me?”

  Michael nodded. “Yes, that is exactly why. It is the same reason that, when Lord Whisken arrives, I shall fight. Fight for every wrong he has done to me and to others. To fight for the fact that he wishes to bring you harm. To fight for what he did to Caroline.”

  Emma hurried over to him and threw herself into his arms. He held her tight against him. There was comfort there in his embrace, and the fear she had been feeling evaporated as water in a desert.

  “What did he do?” Emma asked. “Did he kill her?”

  Michael shook his head. “No. What he did was far worse. I was so full of rage, I wanted retribution, for I learned that Lord Whisken was the father of the child she carried before her death.”

  Emma found herself unable to speak at first. Then she took his hand and led him to the couch. “Tell me.”

  He sat beside her and sighed. “It was a year after Caroline’s death that I planned to get my revenge.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Six Years Earlier

  Lord Michael Bracken, Baron Bracken, stood alone in the graveyard, the drizzle of rain collecting in small beads on his coat. He had only attended to the plot of land once since Caroline's passing a year earlier. Though many had offered well wishes to him and expressed sorrow for his loss, they would never know the deprivation he had experienced.

  He stared down at the headstone. “I thought we were in love and that nothing could take it away from us.” He wiped mist from his brow as he tried to find the words to convey what he was feeling. “I was wrong. In fact, though you crushed me by your betrayal, I did what no self-respecting gentleman would do. I continued to love you. I thought that if I did, maybe you would come to love me as I did you. Even with his child growing inside you…”

  He swallowed back a groan of anguish, not willing to complete that thought. Why would he wish to relive that? Pulling the flask that accompanied him more often than not these days, he took a hefty drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Yet that was not good enough,” he said with a grunt. “You returned to that man’s house, a den of corruption, of perversion, a place full of vile people. And for what? To have the promise of more jewelry? To earn his affection because mine was not good enough?”

  Returning the flask to his pocket, he removed a handkerchief and squatted to clean the dirt on the top and front of the marble stone. “I admit I am angry, Caroline,” he whispered. “At you, at Lord Whisken, at myself. Though I’m hurt and rumors have spread that it was I who murdered you, I will do nothing to stop them. Maybe those rumors are a worthy judgment of a man who once believed love existed.”

  He folded and placed the wet handkerchief on the ground. “I have learned my lesson well. You taught me that any act of love will be futile. I find solace in never loving another woman again, and for that, I thank you.”

  Rising, Michael took one last look at the headstone. “Barons always win wagers,” he said. “I told you that once, and you laughed. Tonight I will go to the very man with whom you found comfort in his bedchambers. Before the sun rises, he will be destitute. His wealth and home will be under my control. That is the vengeance I seek, not for you, nor him, but for myself.”

  He touched the markings that spelled out her name, the stone cold on his fingertips. “Goodbye, Caroline.”

  With that, he turned and walked back to his waiting carriage. The vehicle would take him to the home of Lord Whisken, a place where those of the ton who preferred less formal encounters could go without worry of anyone learning the truth, and where Michael would emerge the victor of the night.

  ***

  Michael had never felt as sick as he did at this moment as Lord Whisken pulled another pile of notes toward him. Another hand lost. Not only was Michael losing, he now swam in an ocean of debt he would never be able to pay.

  They sat at a round table that could accommodate six, though they were the only two seated, he and the man who had taken so much from him. An array of guests stood around them watching with interest and whispering amongst themselves. Michael had given up trying to listen to what they had to say long ago.

  Women drunk on wine sat in the laps or swayed in the arms of men drunk on brandy. It was clear what would occur when the party came to an end. Yet, Michael could not think of them. He had to keep his mind on the game. Parlay would see him avenged! Or so he had thought upon entering six hours earlier. Now he was not so sure.

  “It appears, Bracken, that not only are you out of funds, but you are in my debt.” Lord Whisken leaned forward, his steel gray eyes as cold as the weather. “If you had a wife, you could wager her, for I do like a woman in my bedchambers.” Then he threw his head back and laughed while those around them joined in.

  “Do not speak of Caroline…”

  Lord Whisken slammed a fist on the table. “This is my estate!” he shouted, all laughter now gone. “No one speaks to me as you do. Especially a man as indebted to me as you are.”

  Michael closed his mouth. The man was right. Michael had no business challenging a man in his own home. That did not mean Lord Whisken’s words did not anger him.

  Unfortunately, Michael not responding only added fuel to the fire, for Lord Whisken looked around the room and said, “Did you know that Bracken’s wife and I were close? Not only were we close on any particular night of my choosing, we spent many nights in one another’s arms. In fact, she carried my child before she met her untimely death.” He turned his gaze on Michael. “And you could do nothing to stop us.”

  “I’m going,” Michael said as he went to rise. This may be the man’s house, but Michael did not have to remain to be mocked by this peacock. “I’m in your debt and will see it paid back immediately.”

  “Sit down,” Lord Whisken growled.

  Michael, still in a half-standing position, lowered himself back into the chair.

  “I will erase your debt with one more hand.”

  “But I have no more money left,” Michael said.
He did not enjoy feeling a fox trapped in a bush by one of the hunting dogs, and Lord Whisken was very much like a hunting animal.

  “You have land,” Lord Whisken said offhandedly. “You have an estate and a goodly number of businesses you could wager, all worth less than what you owe me. Put up those. If you win, your debt to me will be erased. All of it.”

  Michael shook his head in shock. “You are mad,” he said. “My family’s home and my business holdings for this debt? I cannot take such a risk. It is all I have left.”

  Lord Whisken grinned as his fingers strummed the table. That was not a good sign. “Then leave like the coward you are,” he said. “A man who allows another to best him not only at a game of chance but with his wife, as well, is not worthy of my time.”

  Clenching his fist, Michael considered striking the man. Before he could move an inch, however, two quite large men stood on either side of Lord Whisken, as if they had sensed Michael’s intent.

  “That is right, Bracken,” Lord Whisken sneered. “Caroline came to me, a man she deemed worthy, of her own accord. Now,” he waved a hand at the two men and they melted back into the crowd, “how about I raise the stakes just a bit and throw my London Estate into the mix if you win, though it is worth far more than yours. Or will you retreat like the coward you are?”

  “Let us play,” Michael hissed.

  “So we all understand,” Lord Whisken said, glancing around the group of onlookers, “If I win, I get your house, lands, and the businesses of which you have a majority holding. If you win, you will receive my London Estate and all of your previous debt will be erased. Are we in agreement?”

  What choice did he have? He would never be able to pay the losses he had already incurred, and he had a good feeling about the next game. Had he not come with to take what he could from this man?

  “I agree to your terms.”

  Lord Whisken laughed, and once Michael shuffled, the cards were dealt.

  Sweat beaded on Michael’s brow as he stared at the backs of the pile of cards before him. He had to win this hand! He would!

  Each man rolled the die and flipped over the required number of cards, and Michael felt a coldness wash over him.

  Lord Whisken smiled broadly and stood. “You will have the deeds prepared and delivered within the month. You may remain at the residence, not out of kindness, but as a reminder that the man who bested you twice now owns it. Now, go. I do not allow those without funds to sit at my table.”

  With heavy legs, Michael pushed back the chair. The room spun around him as the crowd parted. He walked out of the room and into what was to become his new life. As dreadful as that was.

  ***

  Emma listened to Michael’s heartbeat as he held her. To think of what the man had gone through, the pain and humiliation he was forced to endure, broke her heart.

  “So you see, I lost one woman to him,” Michael said. “I will not lose another.”

  A plan began to form in Emma’s mind and she sat up. “The man has taken your home,” she said. “And now he is to take your life? Well, I will not allow that to happen. I will stand with you even if it means my own life.”

  Michael gave a weak chuckle. “What you offer is noble, but I cannot allow you to do that.”

  Emma raised an eyebrow. “I came here to offer you comfort, but that is not what you need. You need someone beside you, and I will be that person.”

  “I cannot ask…”

  Emma stopped his words with a kiss. “There is a way,” she whispered when she was certain he would not interrupt. “I have friends who can keep me safe, and they can help when the time comes.”

  “Friends?” Michael asked. “What kind of friends could you possibly have that can help in this matter?”

  Emma giggled. “Ones who teach a woman to ride a horse astride or to play parlay. But we shall speak of them later. Lord Whisken wants me to attend this party, correct?” When Michael nodded, she continued. “If I arrive, the land will be returned to you. Am I understanding correctly?”

  He nodded again. “Yes.”

  “Then why must I be there? What does he hope to gain?”

  “He wants your virtue,” Michael replied with a sigh. “A lady of the ton is desirable to him, it seems. He will entice you into a game of parlay, and when you are in his debt, you will have nothing left to offer but your virtue. It is a twisted game he plays and he always gets what he wants.”

  Emma gave him her best obstinate glare. “Well, he will not have it,” she said. “I want you to listen, for I have a plan that is so simple, your holdings will be returned and I will remain safe.”

  “Then tell me,” Michael said. “For I admit I’m curious.”

  So, Emma told him, and for some time they discussed her plan in detail. And as they spoke, Emma realized why she wanted to help him. It was not so Michael would have his former life restored, nor was it a way to thank him for saving her life. Rather, she realized that it was an act she was willing to do for the man she loved.

  She had gotten her answer. It was love that she felt, not gratitude.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Michael had escorted Emma back to her home that evening, and though they did not share their feelings for one another, Emma realized that they did not need to. What they planned to do spoke all that needed to be said.

  Emma had taken great care in preparing for the party. Her hair was curled and piled high upon her head, pinned up into a lovely coiffeur using every hairpin she possessed. She added a dash of perfume and wore a dress that revealed a generous amount of bosom. Constance would have been beside herself if she had been there!

  As the carriage moved along the road, carrying Emma and Michael toward the home of Lord Whisken, Emma thought of the night that lay before them. Into the late hours they had discussed the plan Emma had developed, and together they had perfected it.

  Upon arriving, Michael would see that Lord Whisken kept his part of the bargain by returning to Michael what was rightfully his. This had been a point of contention, for Emma had insisted that this step was completed before any further agreements were made.

  When Lord Whisken then asked her to play a game of parlay, Emma would agree by setting the stakes immediately. She was a skilled player, but the thought of losing to him terrified her. How could she possibly allow the man to claim what was meant only for her hero? Yet, she had no choice. It was either her virtue or Michael’s life, and she knew which was more important of the two.

  No, she could not even consider losing to this scoundrel!

  The truth was that she knew the game better than most men - had she not proven that time and again when playing against the likes of Robert the Rogue and others in the camp? They, along with Sally, had been the ones to teach her, and she had surpassed them long ago.

  “I’m having regrets for allowing you to accompany me,” Michael said suddenly. “Maybe I should alert the driver to return you to Sweetspire Estates. This is madness.” If they had not been in a carriage, he would have been pacing and chewing his nails.

  Emma could see the clear worry in his eyes. “This is madness,” she agreed, “but it’s required that we both attend. Do not worry; I will not lose.”

  He shook his head. “I have said as much before, and it cost me dearly. If it comes to it, I will exchange my land for you.”

  Her heart warmed at his words, but what he suggested defeated their purpose. If he made such a foolish attempt, she would stop him. Trying to convince him now would be futile, for he would not listen.

  “I have not had the chance to thank you.”

  “Thank me?” Emma asked. “For what?”

  “For what you are doing this evening. For last week. For whenever I have been in your company. You have taught me so much and gave me hope when my days were as dark as the night.”

  Emma took a deep breath, but when she went to speak, the carriage came to a stop.

  “We’ve arrived,” he said as he pulled the curtain aside. “Reme
mber, if anything goes wrong, you are to run to the carriage and escape. The driver will be ready and waiting.”

  “But what about you?” she demanded. This had been another point of contention.

  “Do not worry for my safety,” he said, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. “Only yours.”

  “I understand,” Emma replied. She would not start another argument with the man.

  The door opened, and soon they were standing in front of a grand house twice the size of Sweetspire Estate. Light filtered through the windows, creating yellow squares on the grass in the front garden, parts of those squares distorted by hedges that lined the front of the building.

  A well-maintained lawn flanked the wide footpath that led from the top of the drive to the dual staircase in front of the door. Tall stakes held oil lanterns to light the way for the night’s guests, and Emma walked beside Michael, her arm looped in his. She was to be his mistress, after all.

  The sounds of laughter came to her ear long before they finished the climb to the landing that led to the front door. They were not the only couple to arrive. More than a dozen carriages lined the drive, and three other couples were already waiting at the front door.

  Michael stopped at the landing and turned. “Are you sure?”

  The words were simple, but to Emma they meant much more. They spoke of what they shared for one another, and no matter what happened, she would remain by his side.

  “Yes, I am sure.”

  ***

  Emma glanced around a massive room that appeared to be a parlor despite its size. Larger than any parlor she had ever seen, it held at least fifty people. Couches and chairs had been placed in groups around the room, and red velvet drapes hung beside intimate alcoves, ready to be pulled shut when the need arose. Few used them however, and Emma had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from gaping at what was taking place right there in the open.