An Inadvisable Wager (The Curse of the Weatherby Ball Book 2)

by Eliza Lloyd

  “Other than the Weatherby Ball, no. Lady Fortenay no longer enjoys such gatherings, at least she hasn’t since I’ve been of age. But a few country dances near Dorchester. Nothing terribly fancy. I wish my brother were here. I would at least have him to bother.”

  “Finish your drink and we will make another round.” They had moved toward the corner of the large room where three alcoves had been prepared that allowed for some privacy, light curtains shielding them from prying gazes. Most men let their wives mingle at their leisure. Gabriel was feeling particularly protective of Nora even though she held her own when she wore a mask.

  “Does it seem like we’ve been married a year already?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Does it?”

  “My life moved slowly at one time. The past few days have been a whirlwind. It seems that you enjoy this life, but I’m glad it will only be three months for me.”

  “And in that year, have you found a few moments of enjoyment with me?”

  “Carlow, since the day I was taken away from Henbury in that carriage, I’ve lived my life for one thing and that is to return to Henbury. You were an obstacle. You are all that stands between me and the estate, and I only have your word that you will give it back. There is no enjoyment, only toleration.”

  “No enjoyment? You don’t enjoy wearing fine clothes, meeting the cream of society, being feted as the wife of an earl?”

  “Your vanity is speaking. There is nothing here I need.”

  “I’m not the monster you think I am,” he said.

  “Carlow, I have blinders. I don’t see you as a monster; I see you as a means to an end.”

  Gabriel wanted to prove to her that she was wrong, and he really hated that he was in the middle of the Exeter’s ball where he could prove nothing at all. He took the glass she still gripped and set it aside. He held her hand, drew her close, then leaned to kiss her, not once, but a trio of kisses, each longer than the one before. “My vanity isn’t whispering; it’s screaming. And my vanity is only going to be assuaged when you’re my wife true. So, in a proper twist of irony, you are also a means to an end for me. And I certainly don’t see you as a monster.”

  The light curtain that gave them some privacy was hauled back, startling them both.

  Miss Grace Talbot, in all her noble finery, stood there. “You beast! I have waited two years, and now this. You should be ashamed.”

  “Grace, now is not the time or place,” Gabriel said. Exeter’s ball was no place for fury, only calm reasoning. He gritted his teeth. Beside him, Nora drew away, shoulders back.

  “You’ve dishonored and embarrassed me. And my parents!” Miss Talbot said.

  “I made no promises to anyone.”

  “Except her. A woman you don’t even know!”

  “Miss Talbot, I haven’t seen you or your family in months. It is inconceivable that you are accusing me of anything. Now, if you will excuse us. I was in a private conversation with my wife.”

  He glanced at Nora, who stood proud and unsure. Oh, he did know Nora. He knew her like the back of his hand and the inside of his heart. Maybe that was why he was so sanguine about this whole lovely scandalous affair and his nearly-three-day marriage.

  * * * * *

  Lady Fortenay had taught Nora everything via the best in literature, history and philosophical thought. Yet Carlow could leave her twisting in the wind without a word to answer him. Her debates with Lord and Lady Fortenay were meant to whet the blade in a way that a ton debutante would never experience. If Nora hadn’t had that foundation, she would never have been able to challenge Carlow in any way.

  And she wasn’t sure she could have faced the humiliation of encountering a supposed amore, red-faced and angry as the girl was. Carlow was stern, though, and accepted no responsibility for imagined hopes and dreams, or his part in crushing them.

  The girl huffed, may have stamped her foot and whirled away.

  “Let’s dance, my dear,” he said. “A reel just as you asked.”

  “You aren’t going to explain?”

  “There is nothing to explain. A few meals with her family does not a betrothal make. And she has three other sisters. Why would she think I was interested in her? I haven’t even been in London over the past six months, and I’ve never written a single correspondence to her or her family. There, now I have explained.”

  “An unrequited love. You’ve probably broken her heart.”

  “Probably, but that is the very definition of unrequited. I did not return any affection.”

  “Will that be how our acquaintance ends?”

  “We are not acquainted. We are married. And it wouldn’t be my intent to break your heart under any circumstance.”

  “You misunderstand. It will be you with the broken heart because I would never allow myself to be placed in such a position. Besides, between us, it is business.”

  “Is it now? That kiss you just gave me wasn’t very businesslike. Explain that.”

  “There is nothing to explain,” Nora countered, using his exact words.

  Exasperated, Carlow rolled his eyes upward, then led her to the large group on the floor.

  They danced one reel, after which she was breathless with excitement. She wasn’t sure if it was the dance or the way Carlow looked at her each time their hands joined. Or if he was right about a silly kiss. Because it was silly. And it was just a kiss. And why would any woman who knew her worth be swayed by such a kiss?

  Afterward they strolled along Exeter’s lengthy indoor promenade, which was filled with the finest in heirloom paintings, sculptures and other objet d’art. A thought struck her, for which she felt shame—she was getting a better education out on her own without Gigi correcting her at every turn. But wasn’t that Gigi’s goal? To prepare her for such a time as this?

  “Carlow, would it not be appropriate to obtain a contract for Henbury Hall? It seems you are respected in the ton and I’m sure your word is good.”

  “But you would feel better if our agreement were in writing? Is not a vow in front of the clergy sufficient?”

  “For that part of the agreement, yes. For the part that’s most important to me, no. God and his angels weren’t present when we made the original agreement.”

  “None can say you don’t wrestle for what you want.”

  “When there is no one to do it for you, when it is your only option…”

  “What about your brother? Or Lord and Lady Fortenay? They surely have your best interest in mind and would prevent scoundrels like me from taking advantage?”

  “Henbury Hall is my grail. No one else’s.”

  “How lucky I am that I was the one to inherit, completely oblivious to the treasure that came with the hall and estates.”

  “You don’t need to spin pretty compliments. I am your wife. I will share your bed eventually. I just need assurances.”

  They stopped at the far end of the corridor, alone for the time being. “Nora, what makes you think Henbury Hall isn’t rightly mine? I inherited it from my father.”

  “Who stole it from mine.”

  “Stole? How?”

  “The property wasn’t entailed. My father was in a desperate situation. Somehow, they lied to him, pressured him unduly.”

  “But how? Title transfers require a signature and witnesses. If your father had no final will and testament, he would have had to sign a deed. Are you saying your father’s signature was forged?”

  “Perhaps. I just know. I know here,” she pressed her hands to her heart, “that he wouldn’t give away Timothy’s birthright and leave me without a dowry. Not even my mother’s jewelry. What father would do that?”

  “You’ve answered your own question. Your father was desperate.”

  “Carlow, don’t you see? If he had sold the property, there would at least be money. If he had sold the horses, the book would reflect it. If he had sold the mines, again, there would be money. But there is nothing. Nothing!”

  “Would your father have d
one something with the funds? Perhaps placed them with a bank or other institution that might one day be distributed to you or your brother?”

  “We would have been told. Lord and Lady Fortenay would have known.”

  “Why hasn’t your brother taken up this fight?”

  “He’s not of the same mold as I am. He lets life happen to him.”

  “And you don’t.”

  She sighed and looked up at him. “I can’t believe I am telling you this, of all people.”

  “You mean your husband?”

  “No, I mean one of the Wicked Three: Carlow, Andover, and Fromme and Rode.” Two couples strolled toward them. The women arm-in-arm, the men carrying drinks. “I’ve said enough, and I’ve solved nothing.”

  He took her hand to his sleeve again. “Nora, would it not be better if we stayed in London until we know more?”

  “I need my home. I need to know what happened. I’ve waited all these years.”

  “I’m humbled that you’ve trusted me enough to tell me your position, but I don’t want you to be disappointed if the truth turns out to be something simple, like he sold the property and he misused the money.”

  “Your father never said anything? He never said how or why he got the property?” she asked.

  They took a couple of steps before he replied. “My father lost some of his mental faculties toward the end of his life. This scar,” he drew a line down the side of his face, “was the beginning of the end of what I would call his normal life. He said many things. None of which I would place any stock.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn't know. Would you…would you mind if I talked with your friends? I was angry when I approached them before. They might know part of the story.”

  “Let me think about it. In the meantime, let us return to the ballroom and make some new acquaintances for you. Or we can visit Exeter’s buffet.”

  “The buffet would cause less gossip. But if you want to dance, we can find your mother and I can sit with her while you entertain the ladies on the ballroom floor. Maybe Miss Talbot would like to dance.”

  “Or we could return home and enjoy the privacy of our evening.”

  “Everyone will wonder why we are leaving early.”

  “No, they won’t,” he said, smiling with something other than humor. Nora shook her head, unwilling to accept his simple reasoning. In nearly all things, he had acted as though they really were married. It was hard to accept, not because she didn’t want to believe it, but she had deceived him, intentionally, to get what she wanted. How could he be so forgiving?

  “But we’ve decided nothing!” she said.

  “You have many things figured out, up here.” He tapped her temple. “But there are things you haven’t considered. I agreed to return Henbury Hall if you weren’t in love with me at the end of ninety days. That is the sort of thing that cannot be written into a contract. You’ve agreed to be my wife in all ways, but what if you are with child at the end of that time? You have been away from Henbury for many, many years. What if it is nothing like you remember? What if you find out your father really did just sell the estate and it truly belongs to me? Are you then going to concede that it is not yours?”

  “Don’t make things more complicated than they already are.”

  “What I have decided is to treat this marriage like any other. Well, since it is my marriage, I hope that it isn’t an average marriage. I’m even hopeful that ninety days will come and go, and we won’t even realize the time has passed.”

  “But Henbury Hall?”

  “My dear, it has been yours since the moment you said I do. What I have is yours. There is nothing that will take that away.”

  “I have spent my life wanting and waiting on vengeance. You can’t just disregard my feelings. I won’t let you dismiss them with a few honeyed words. Of all people, you have a motive to keep me from pursing the truth. And it’s not just Henbury Hall.”

  “What would it take to satisfy you? Do you need to travel to East Anglia and review the estate records?”

  “Yes! Along with the rental and estate labor books. And if there were any notices of sale and who was paying the land taxes. And when.”

  “You need me to help you do these things? Me? So far, I’ve only heard that I am the cause of your problems.”

  “I have no one else.”

  He shook his head. “One minute I am the devil, the next a saint.”

  “And every minute, I am the supplicant.”

  Chapter Five

  Gabriel married a woman abounding in questions, contradictions and temptations. Was it best to pack the carriage and wend their way to Henbury Hall? Let the truth come out in one horrible burst of emotion? Or ease her into this?

  More importantly, how did Nora come by the idea that the three families had conspired against her father? By her own account, she’d been ensconced in Dorset for the majority of her years. Carlow didn’t disbelieve Nora, but he doubted there was any sort of proof Henbury Hall was acquired illegitimately.

  Damn, Gabriel knew just enough to wonder at what had gone on.

  The truth was Gabriel had no idea why Nora thought there was something nefarious about Father’s ownership of Henbury, other than the desperate hopes of an abandoned daughter. But he did know why his father wanted and acquired the property, and so far, Nora hadn’t mentioned a thing about it.

  Blasington’s Hoard.

  Twenty-five years ago, there wasn’t a gentleman of the ton who didn’t know about the rumored treasure. Gabriel’s father had become obsessed with it. Were they friends or acquaintances? Or had he befriended George Blasington in his final years because of the rumored treasure?

  Gabriel’s father had been at the hanging.

  His father had never hinted that he had anything to do with the Earl of Wargrove’s death at the hands of the Crown, but the cloud on the horizon seemed to be growing darker. However, it was pointless to dispute that two earls could be particular acquaintances, regardless of how one of them had died.

  Would Nora feel differently about him if she knew that the treasure is what drove his father mad? Gabriel had never believed his father’s madness was anything dangerous, only inconvenient and embarrassing. That is, until he’d slashed the side of Gabriel’s face open.

  It was an obsessive insanity. Toward the end of his father’s life, as it became clear he would not find the treasure, he could neither eat nor sleep, plunging into his own chimerical world. Him and his garden trowel, shovel and sledgehammer.

  Mintz knocked on the library room doorjamb, since Gabriel usually left the doors open to hear the comings and goings of the household. “My lord, a few packages have arrived for Lady Carlow.”

  “Probably the first delivery of her new clothes. Have them taken to my room, if you would, please.”

  “Uh, my lord, she moved to the countess’s room this morning.”

  “I see. Well, take them to her room.” Carlow shook his head in wonderment, as if they weren’t going to leave for Henbury in a few days. “Do you know where Lady Carlow is? I haven’t seen her since breakfast.” They had arrived home from the Exeter Ball late. Too late to press his suit.

  “She was reading when I last saw. In the terrace garden,” Mintz said.

  “I’ll let her know she has a few boxes to open. That should get her attention.” Carlow glanced at the time. “Has she asked for tea?”

  Mintz shook his head. “No, but I’ll see to it.”

  Mother had left an hour ago for morning calls; otherwise, the house was fairly quiet. Some servants had gone to a morning service, others to spend a half-day with families they hadn’t seen during the week.

  He found Nora on the terraced garden overlooking the large park square upon which the townhouse was built. She wore a dress he hadn’t seen, something very utilitarian. A dress that had been cleaned, mended and reworn numerous times, he guessed.

  On the terrace, there were several potted lavender plants, of varying sizes and arranged in groups of
three or five. Intertwined were white baby’s breath and pale purple asters with yellow centers. When there was sun in England, it shown in this spot the best. Nora reclined on one of the wrought iron loungers on which someone, probably Mintz, had stacked with comfortable cushions. She had a small, fluffy-looking throw blanket over her legs.

  “Lady Carlow,” he said. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  She glanced up at him, closing her book. “It’s a beautiful day, if a bit chilly, but please have a seat.”

  “Mintz will be along with a tray.”

  “That is very thoughtful. And now that I think about it, I could use something to quench my thirst and warm my extremities.”

  “What are you reading? I’m glad you are making use of the family library.”

  “No. It’s one of my mother’s diaries.”

  “Oh. Something you’ve read before, I presume?”

  Nora sighed, and rubbed her hand over the leather. “Many times. She had a way with words that makes it feel like I am reading poetry. At least some of it, like when she is describing the Cliffs of Dover or the stained glass in Long Melford’s church. She noticed detail.”

  “It is a good reminder then. Many of us don’t have that sort of tangible memory, let alone one we can find repeated pleasure in.”

  “You must have found your way up for some purpose,” Nora said.

  “I have news I think you will like.” Her brows rose inquisitively. “A few boxes from the dressmaker have arrived. Some of the small fripperies, I would imagine.”

  “Maybe it’s the fichus and bandeaux,” she said.

  “Or a few bonnets, capes and stockings?

  “Because they are easier to sew?”

  “Most likely. I hope you like them.”

  “I can tell you that I will, without even looking at them.”

  From lively masked temptress to very cooperative, unassuming bookworm. Would a lifetime be enough to understand Nora Blasington?

  Mintz arrived along with one of the kitchen servants. Mintz carried the silver tray in one hand and a foldable table in the other that he popped open between them. He lowered the tray then took a second tray from the help laden with scones, biscuits, muffins, butter, honey, jam, clotted cream and other assortments. And two small bowls, one with pickles, the other with pickled eggs.