Wedding Wagers

by Donna Hatch

  He walked and walked, and finally remembered he’d left his horse in the care of a servant at the house where the musicale took place. After retrieving his mount, he rode through the streets until he found himself at the Daubreys’ house.

  The couple, still dressed in their evening clothes from whatever entertainment they’d attended this eve, greeted him despite the late hour.

  “Come in and tell us what has you so blue deviled this, er, morning.” The normally stoic Lord Daubrey glanced at the clock. He handed Phillip a glass of something that burned as he swallowed it.

  Phillip poured out all his troubles to the silent, sympathetic couple and then sat, exhausted, with head and hands hanging. The clocked ticked in the silent room. Lady Daubrey sniffed and dabbed at her eyes.

  Lord Daubrey spoke. “You need to apologize.”

  Phillip lifted his head. “What?”

  “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that when she’s upset with me, even if I think I’ve done nothing wrong, I apologize. Usually I discover that I have done something wrong, and then I can make amends.”

  Lady Daubrey smiled, still dabbing at her eyes. “He’s right. If I’d found out about such a wager, I would be angry and probably suspect you had some other motive for making the wager in the first place.”

  He should have listened to his first instincts, the ones that shrank at the prospect of betting on a lady.

  “Apologize to her,” Lady Daubrey said. “Then to Mr. Cavenleigh. You may discover that you have misjudged him as Miss Brown has misjudged you.”

  Phillip hung his head. They were probably right. In his shock and panic at losing Meredith, he’d probably lashed out prematurely. Unfairly.

  “As far as your family,” Lady Daubrey said. “I have an idea. Come to dinner in four days’ time, and we shall see what we can do for you.”

  By the time Phillip left his patient friends, the first rays of sun sent a silver shimmer over the horizon, silhouetting London buildings and bridges. After resting a few hours, he wrote a letter, then paid an early visit to Michael.

  In his bachelor rooms, Michael eyed him with that urbane elegance he’d perfected as a youth. He raised a brow. “Breakfast?”

  Phillip let out a weighted sigh. “Thank you.”

  Michael uttered a command to a servant and led Phillip to a small round table already set with fruit, coffee, sausages, and bread. Wearing a brocade banyan over his shirt and waistcoat, Michael took a seat and sipped his coffee, still eyeing Phillip.

  “I didn’t sabotage you,” Michael finally said.

  Phillip nodded. “I should have known better.”

  “She seemed to know about it already. Asked me to fill in details.” He paused and a brow lifted faintly, the way it did when he was about to deliver a verbal jab. “What girl wouldn’t want to marry into the family of the famous Duke of Suttenberg, wager or no?” He sent Phillip a gently amused expression.

  Phillip couldn’t make light of it. “I had hoped she might want to marry merely Phillip Partridge. Now . . .”

  “She wouldn’t be so hurt if she didn’t love you.”

  Phillip closed his eyes. Michael could be right. If she were only after an advantageous match, she would have shrugged off the wager and agreed to marry him anyway—not that he had ever suspected her of being a social climber. “I vowed I’d never hurt her, but I have.”

  “Make it right.”

  “How? She told me she never wants to see me.”

  “When a woman says that, it means, ‘try harder to win me.’”

  Phillip nodded slowly, turning over Michael’s words. “I don’t plan to give up.”

  When a servant appeared and put a place setting in front of Phillip, Michael gestured to the food. “Eat.”

  Phillip picked up his silverware. “For the record, I will muck out your stables whether or not she marries me.”

  “I have already purchased a mule to ride in Hyde Park.”

  They grinned at each other. His appetite restored, Phillip tucked into the food with a hunger that impressed even his friend. One way or another, Phillip would convince Meredith Brown that he loved her and that they belonged together. Somehow, he would prove to his relations that she deserved to be welcomed into the family.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Meredith Brown lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, more bereft than when her parents had sent her away.

  Love would never again make a fool of her. Once she returned to Grandmother’s house, she would marry the middle-aged vicar, harboring no silly ideals about love, and simply enjoy being the mistress of her own home. He was a quiet, honorable gentleman. As his wife, Meredith could more easily help parish members avoid making fools of themselves the way she had as an idealistic, naïve girl who believed the pretty words of practiced heartbreakers. Eventually, she would have children of her own to love and guide to adulthood. It would be enough.

  Although she had been wrong about Mr. Morton, and it probably would have been best if she had stayed out of their affairs. Instead, she caused them both unnecessary sorrow. She had also been wrong about Phillip Partridge. Now she knew even more about the signs of which to be aware, and she would use the additional knowledge to help others.

  If she ever overcame the heartbreak.

  She pressed hand over her chest where the broken pieces of her heart cut her and left her to bleed. The loss and pain of her prior heartbreaks had been child’s play compared to the agony knifing through her over and over. Meredith might never breathe again.

  Annabel came in and sat on the bed next to her. She put a hand on Meredith’s back in a soft gesture of love and friendship and acceptance. For several long moments, she said nothing, just offered wordless sympathy and support.

  Finally, she took a breath. “I should warn you, Mama will insist you come to the Daubreys’ dinner party tonight.”

  “I’m not interested in socializing. London has lost its appeal. In fact, I believe I shall return to Grandmother’s house as soon as arrangements can be made.”

  “I cannot imagine how you must feel.” Annabel’s lower lip puckered. “But don’t let him ruin your Season in London.”

  The door opened, and Aunt Paulette bustled in. “Meredith, you are going to the Daubreys’ party, and that is my final word on the matter. When a titled lord and lady invite you to a party, you do not refuse. Other esteemed guests will be there, including one of the most sought-after bachelors, Cole Amesbury, heir to the Earl of Tarrington.”

  Meredith remembered Lord Amesbury from Hyde Park but entertained no delusions that his rakish smile held any promise for her. Nor did she seek it. Still, she should keep her promise to Annabel and be polite for her family’s sake and for the sake of the Daubreys who were kind enough to include her again. Somehow, she’d find the fortitude to survive the evening.

  Dully, she said, “Very well, Aunt.”

  Aunt Paulette paused as if she hadn’t quite heard her correctly. “You will come, then?”

  “Yes, Aunt, if that is your wish.” Warming to the idea, she added, “I might as well enjoy my Season before I return to Grandmother’s house.” Enjoy might be impossible, but she would make a show of living instead of curling up like a shriveled leaf at autumn’s end.

  “Good girl.” Aunt Paulette patted her hand.

  After the maid styled Meredith’s hair in an unusually elaborate coiffure, per her aunt’s instructions, Meredith dressed in her best silk gown, which she had yet to wear, a creation in soft aquamarine silk with a cream and pearl netting. After adding a shawl and gloves, she squared her shoulders and vowed to conceal her torn and bleeding heart.

  Downstairs, Aunt Paulette beckoned to Meredith, her eyes alight. “Come with me, please.”

  “As you wish.” Meredith followed behind, unable to muster even the smallest curiosity.

  Aunt Paulette opened a door to a sitting room and stepped back, indicating that Meredith should precede her. Two people stood inside. Could it be . . . ?


  Dressed every bit as finely as members of the bon ton, her parents turned to her. “Oh darling,” her mother said. “You are so beautiful!”

  Her father gave her a hesitant smile. “My, you’ve grown up so much.”

  After all this time, she could hardly believe they had come to see her. She barely acknowledged the door closing behind her, leaving her alone with her parents. Her father seemed leaner, and they both had more gray hair, but little else about them had changed.

  Meredith gripped the drawstrings of her reticule. Surprise and wonder and joy mingled with trepidation and even a little resentment. “Why are you here?”

  “We wanted to see you,” her mother said. “We’ve missed you so much. We kept hoping you’d say you wanted to come home, but you didn’t seem ready.”

  “Home? You made it clear you were ashamed of me and didn’t want to see me again.”

  Her mother crossed the room to her and put a hand on Meredith’s arm. “Oh, darling, we were never ashamed of you. We sent you to live with your grandmother so you could have a change of scenery and to give gossip a chance to die down.”

  “That’s what you said, but . . .”

  “Darling, we could hardly be upset with you for trying to elope as we had.”

  Tears welled up as the belief that her parents had rejected her returned to wound her again. “But you were angry that I’d been socially ruined.”

  “Yes, angry with him and disappointed you rejected our warnings. We knew his affection was insincere and that he would not make you happy—although we did not understand the scope of his intensions until later. We never meant to make you feel as if we didn’t love you.”

  Tears ran down Meredith’s cheeks. Was it true?

  “Oh, my poor lamb. We were angrier with him for lying to you than with you for trusting him.”

  Meredith shivered in a breath. “Your letters . . . you never said this in any of them. You never said I could come home.”

  “I didn’t want to pressure you into returning too soon.”

  Meredith put a hand over her mouth as a sob burst out of her.

  “Of course we wanted you home. If we’d known . . . I’m sorry!” Her mother, her sweet mama, threw her arms around her and held her close. “We love you, dear one. Always.”

  Meredith fell against her. The long-absent touch of a mother’s embrace healed her hidden wounds.

  Papa came closer and put a hand on her back. “Your Mr. Partridge sent us a letter asking us to come. He said you needed us. I can see he was right.”

  Mr. Partridge had done that? For her?

  It didn’t matter. Her Mama and Papa were here. They loved her. Enfolded in their arms, she sobbed for all the lost time with her parents. They spent several private moments together, and Meredith reviewed in her mind letters her mother had sent, reexamining them through the lens that they had been trying to help her overcome her heartache and escape the cruelty of gossip. If only she had realized they had been waiting for her to say she was ready to come home while she waited for them to give permission for her to return. She should have known.

  A while later, Aunt Paulette knocked and entered. “Are you ready to leave? It’s time.”

  Her parents stood. “We are.” Papa sent Meredith a wry smile. “Can you believe it? I’ve been invited into the hallowed drawing room of a lord and lady.”

  The Daubreys had invited them too? Meredith smiled. “Obviously they have excellent taste.”

  Meredith splashed her face and touched up her appearance. At least her eyes were clear and bright, with no lingering puffiness from her tears.

  She, her parents, and the Staffords arrived at the Daubreys’ house on time. Warm and welcoming as usual, the lord and lady greeted them in the drawing room.

  Aunt Paulette looked around. “Are we unfashionably early? We seem to be the first to have arrived.”

  A decidedly impish expression brightened Lady Daubrey’s face. “You are exactly on time. We told each guest a different time so as to have a greater influence over who is seen speaking to whom.” She patted Aunt Paulette’s arm. “All will be revealed in good time.”

  The next guest to arrive was the jaw-droppingly handsome viscount, Cole Amesbury. Leaving Aunt, Uncle, Mama, and Papa to converse with Lord Daubrey, Lady Daubrey unabashedly led Lord Amesbury to Meredith and Annabel, drawing them slightly apart so they stood in their own circle. Lord Tarrington flirted outrageously with them both, though he didn’t seem to take himself too seriously or make the advances of a libertine.

  Next Michael Cavenleigh arrived, blinking in confusion, but he, too, was led to join the circle with Lord Tarrington, Annabel, and Meredith.

  Meredith greeted Phillip’s friend with forced courtesy. “Mr. Cavenleigh.”

  With a clear apology in his expression, he said, “I regret my thoughtless words caused you distress, Miss Brown.”

  Lord Amesbury narrowed his eyes at Mr. Cavenleigh and addressed Meredith. “Has this cur offended you, Miss Brown? Shall I call him out?”

  She couldn’t decide if he were in earnest or merely jesting. “No. Not entirely. Merely informed me of something unpleasant. But it was best I learned of it before I made a mistake.

  Quietly, Mr. Cavenleigh said, “It didn’t happen the way you think.”

  Miss Harris arrived and rushed to Meredith. “Oh, Merry, I am ever so grateful to you.”

  Meredith blinked. “But I was wrong.”

  “Well, yes, but all along I secretly feared he was only attracted to my money, and if you hadn’t exposed him, he might never have discovered his true feelings for me or poured out his heart in such an ardent manner. I no longer worry. We are more in love than ever, and I owe it all to you!” She gave Meredith a quick, tight hug.

  Meredith hugged her back. “I’m so relieved. I feared I’d made a muddle of it.”

  Other lords and ladies arrived, and Meredith smiled at the definition of a “small” dinner party. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her parents. Lady Daubrey introduced them to each new arrival with the emphasis that they were friends of hers and kin of the Staffords. Her parents mingled with the crème de la crème with all the practiced ease of members of the gentry. From across the room, Mama sent Meredith an amused smile.

  Mr. Morton arrived and instantly went to Cora, taking her hand to his lips and gazing at her as if she were Helen of Troy. Two newcomers arrived—a dark-haired gentleman who resembled Phillip Partridge and an equally dark-haired lady who carried herself like a queen. Lady Daubrey greeted them and introduced them to Meredith’s parents. With curious, friendly expressions, they spoke with one another as well as with her aunt and uncle, who seemed to know the newcomers. After a few moments, she led them to Meredith.

  Every bit as handsome up close, the gentleman with a distinctively regal air also had a distinctive blond streak in his hair exactly like Phillip’s.

  The blood rushed from Meredith’s face as quickly as air rushed from her lungs. Heaven help her, this was the famous and powerful Duke of Suttenberg, the paragon, and his intimidating mother.

  “Your Graces, I believe you know everyone in this group except one,” Lady Daubrey said. “May I present Miss Brown, daughter of the Browns and niece of the Staffords?” She swept a hand over her shoulder in the direction of her parents.

  “Miss Brown,” Lady Daubrey said, “this is the Duke of Suttenberg and his mother, the duchess.”

  The duchess, a beautiful, petite lady, cast an appraising glance over her. Her lips formed a faint smile. “Charmed.” Despite her size, an aura of power encircled the duchess.

  The duke, equal in height to Phillip, studied her with an intensity that made her knees wobble.

  Taking herself in hand, Meredith curtsied to them and somehow managed to do it without falling on her face. All those years with the best governesses money could buy, not to mention her own dear mother, must have come through for her, finally. “Your Graces.”

  As soon as they learned who she was, they wo
uld probably demand she be thrust from their lofty presence.

  Cora linked her arm through Meredith’s. “Miss Brown is one of my dearest friends, Your Grace.”

  “How do you find London?” the duchess asked Meredith.

  Meredith shored up her courage. “I enjoy it very much and hope to see more of its sights while I’m here.”

  “What is most memorable so far?” the duke asked in a friendly, yet somehow still aloof, manner.

  “Going for an unexpected swim in the Thames is one I’ll remember most clearly.”

  Annabel, Cora, Mr. Morton, and Mr. Cavenleigh, who’d been present for her little tumble off her boat, all laughed. Or choked.

  The duke and duchess looked on, mystified. Meredith gestured to Annabel, “We had a minor boating accident as we were ferrying to Vauxhall, which tipped our boat. I fell into the river.”

  “Good heavens,” the duke said.

  The duchess raised her brows. “I trust no harm befell you?”

  “I’m an excellent swimmer and managed to keep afloat until the ferryman pulled me back on board. I am sorry to say that I have yet to see Vauxhall.”

  “Perhaps I can change that for you,” the Viscount Amesbury said with a playfully rakish grin.

  “Only if you promise to leave rowing to the ferryman,” Meredith shot back.

  A prickling sensation tickled the back of her neck, and the very feel of the air changed. She turned. Phillip stood in the doorway of the drawing room. Her palms grew sweaty inside her gloves, and she desperately needed a glass of punch. How handsome he was and how dear his face had become.

  She turned away. She would not let him use her. Her heart would belong to no one ever again.

  He crossed the room with lightning speed. “Mother, Suttenberg,” he said as he greeted his family. He nodded to others and inserted himself into the circle next to Meredith. In a tone that suggested intimacy, he said, “Miss Brown.”

  Memories of his tender, skillful kiss sent heat through her cheeks. She must hold strong against him.

  “I see you have met my mother and my brother,” he said in his lovely baritone.