Wedding Wagers

by Donna Hatch

  Juliet had no reply. A gambler and a rake had no business occupying her thoughts, and their conversations from the night before flooded into her mind, making her feel ill with embarrassment.

  “Because of this man,” John continued, “I’ve lost our carriage, and . . . I almost lost you.”

  Juliet snapped her gaze to look at her brother. “What are you talking about?”

  His blue eyes widened as if he regretted what he’d confessed, and this alone made Juliet’s stomach feel as if she’d swallowed a handful of pebbles.

  “Let me explain,” Lord Locken said in that deep, smooth voice of his.

  A voice she’d once found comforting and trustworthy. But now . . .

  “You need to leave, now,” John said. “My personal affairs are no concern of yours.”

  Lord Locken didn’t move. “Oh, I think they most definitely concern me, especially when you wagered a carriage in a game that you lost to me, and it turns out the carriage in question was confiscated by creditors.”

  “How dare you—” John rushed forward.

  Juliet didn’t know what made her do it, because even with Lord Locken’s injury, she had no doubt he could defend himself quite well against her brother, but she stepped in front of Lord Locken.

  “Don’t you touch him,” she told her brother in a voice much stronger then she felt inside. Before her brother could recover his astonishment, she turned to Lord Locken. “I will see to your horses while you break your fast. Thank you for helping my brother, and I’m sorry that he is so ill-tempered. But he is right. It would be better if you left as soon as you are able.”

  “Ill-tempered?” her brother complained. “Who do you think punched me in the face?”

  Juliet looked from her brother to Lord Locken. “Is that true?”

  “Your brother needed to be taught a lesson,” Lord Locken said simply. “After losing his phantom carriage, he tried to gamble away your hand and your dowry, which is illegal. Even though I didn’t know you, I was sure that any sister of Southill’s didn’t want her future decided in a card game.”

  Shock jolted through Juliet, and she couldn’t even look at her brother. The room had gone dead silent, and that was all the confirmation she needed. She stepped past Lord Locken and left the stench-filled room and returned to her bedchamber. With a numbness, she dressed in her riding habit, then pulled her hair into a severe bun at the nape of her neck.

  She would let the men work out their differences, and although Lord Locken seemed to have about one hundred more times honor than her own brother, he was no innocent. He’d been gambling in the first place and had likely seen her brother as easy prey. Juliet was the first one to admit that her brother didn’t have a head for games of strategy.

  By the time she left her bedchamber, she couldn’t hear any conversations coming from the direction of John’s room. She walked down the stairs, keeping her chin lifted should she encounter Lord Locken. She didn’t know where he’d gone either. Instead of stopping in the kitchen, she left the house and walked to the stables, where she found Lord Locken’s bays still in residence. So he hadn’t left yet.

  She did as she said she would, and she fed and watered the two bays, then brushed down their coats even though it appeared that Lord Locken had done a thorough job the night before. It was then she let the first tears fall. She’d finish her task, then take one of the nags out for a long ride. Because at this moment, the last thing she wanted to do was face her brother and the fact that he’d fallen so low as to wager her future.

  Chapter Seven

  Victor found her in the stables. He leaned against the doorframe and watched her brush down the bays. “You’ve been taking care of me ever since I arrived,” he said at last. “First bringing me my cane, feeding me, then covering me with a blanket, and now you’re playing groomsman.”

  Lady Juliet spun around. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her dark blue eyes filled with fire.

  Victor straightened from his position, unsure what to expect.

  “I am finished with you and your like,” she said. “Our wager is finished, and your horses are safe.” She brushed a trembling hand over a strand of hair that had come loose from her rather severe coiffure. “My brother has not only disgraced himself, but he has now brought me in the middle of it all. And you, sir, are not what you seem. You let my brother wager more than he had, and then you got into a fight with him.”

  “I am sorry for allowing him to enter our game of cards in the first place,” Victor said. “But I’ll never be sorry for teaching him that he cannot wager a woman’s fate.”

  Lady Juliet’s fiery gaze seemed to dim, and she looked down and smoothed the waist of her riding skirt. An outfit that she looked very fine in. Whether dressed for bed or dressed for riding, she was a fair woman to gaze upon.

  He had no doubt that a house party at Southill Estate would earn her several proposals. Men would be falling at her feet, despite her brother’s reputation.

  When she looked up, she said, “I’ve decided to write to my aunt and ask her to take me in.”

  Victor didn’t protest, because what this woman did was truly none of his business. Yet he found he cared what happened to her. “Where does your aunt live?”

  “About an hour south from here.” Her gaze moved away again, and she looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but here in the stable with him.

  He couldn’t fully blame her. “Perhaps you should think more upon it before you act in any haste.”

  She blinked, and he could see she was close to tears. He cursed himself, and even though he could argue a hundred different ways that the tears were caused by her negligent brother, Victor was to blame as well.

  “I am tired.” She wasn’t referring to last night’s shortened rest; she was tired of fighting to stay afloat in a sinking estate.

  He took a step forward. “Keep our wager, then,” he said quietly. When she didn’t respond, he added, “Think about it. I spoke with your brother about restoring his reputation by hosting a house party that will bring the elite to this village. You’ll have the gentlemen falling at your feet, and within weeks, you’ll be engaged.”

  She exhaled and wiped at a tear that had fallen upon her cheek.

  Victor forced his hands to stay at his side. “You can be married by Christmastide and out from under your brother’s thumb. His poor decisions will no longer affect you.”

  Her gaze met his, and the blue of her eyes was like the deepest part of the ocean. “That is one option.”

  His lips curved. “A better option than hiding yourself away at your aunt’s home.”

  Lady Juliet’s eyes flashed again. “I’m not hiding out, I—”

  Victor placed a hand on her arm. “I know.” She was trembling, and it made him even more disappointed in her brother. Victor knew how it felt to be helpless about one’s own fate and be at the mercy of another’s decisions. He should have probably left then, bade her farewell and good luck. Instead he brushed his thumb over the moisture along her cheek.

  He heard her breath hitch, mimicking the hitch in his chest. “Don’t make a rash decision is all I’m suggesting. Take your time. Consider where you want to be a year from now.”

  She nodded, her eyes luminous as she gazed up at him.

  His heart was pounding, and he needed to drop his hand and step back. “Write to me of your decision,” he managed to say. Then he did as his good sense commanded and stepped away. “And thank you for preparing my horses.”

  She said nothing as he led the two bays out of the stables and harnessed them to his curricle. Even though his back was turned toward her, he sensed her watching his every movement.

  Once the curricle was ready to go, he climbed in and turned toward the stables. Lady Juliet was nowhere in sight. Had it been his imagination that she’d been watching him? He steered the horses along the drive that led past the Southill manor. Just before he turned away from the house, the front door opened and Southill came out, half dressed.
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  “Hold up, Roland,” he called out.

  Victor pulled back on the reins. “Whoa!”

  Southill strode to Victor and placed his hands on the edge of the curricle. “I’m going to take you up on your offer,” he said in a conciliatory tone, although his eyes were filled with contempt. “You must pay for everything, though.”

  “I said I would,” Victor replied. “My terms are that no one will know of the financial arrangement. Not your sister, not your buffoon friends, no one.”

  “I give you my word.” Southill stretched out his hand, and the two men shook on their agreement. “I’ll see you in three weeks, then.”

  Victor nodded. “See you then.” He slapped the reins, and the horses moved forward, pulling him away from Southill Estate—a place that had been full of surprises. He was tempted to wipe the earl’s touch from his hand, but instead, Victor focused straight ahead, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

  If it weren’t for Lady Juliet Baldwin, he’d have turned around the moment he’d dumped Southill on his doorstep last night. Victor would have washed his hands of the despicable man for good. Yet, now, he felt as if he’d just made a bargain with the devil himself.

  He wondered how Lady Juliet would react when her brother told her the news that the house party was indeed happening. Would she already be too far into her plans to move in with her aunt? Victor found that he hoped she would be present at the house party. Forget the wager, he just wanted to see her enjoying herself without the cloud of her brother’s actions hanging over her.

  Three weeks. It seemed an eternity from now.

  By the time he reached London, he was in sore need of a bath and a shave. He pulled up to his London townhome, and Thomas came out immediately to take the curricle around to the stables. Lud, it was nice to have a groomsman again.

  And his butler was at the door to greet him and take his coat.

  “We’re glad to see you safely returned,” Fletcher said without inquiring further.

  News traveled quickly among household help and servants, so he had no doubt that Fletcher knew he’d carted Southill home.

  “I must say that it’s good to be home,” he told Fletcher. He considered London his home while his father still lived at their Locken Estate. “Can you tell Leeson that I’d like a bath? Oh, and send something up to eat. I’m in a bit of a rush.” He was starving, but he couldn’t waste any time. He had to get to White’s and make light of the situation surrounding Southill. He also had to plant in the minds of the men that Southill’s sister was a diamond of the first water.

  Then, in two days’ time, he’d mention his invitation to an exclusive house party at the Southill Estate. Others would beg him for a reference, and the invitations would then start arriving.

  Chapter Eight

  Juliet stood at her bedchamber window, watching the line of carriages approaching Southill Estate. In a few minutes, members of the ton would set foot inside her home, the men and women in their finery and sophistication. They’d be here for two weeks of food, games, hunting, and dancing.

  Lord Locken had done it. He’d somehow reconciled with her brother and convinced him to hold a house party. She didn’t know how John would afford all of this but could only hope that his new connections would prove fruitful in the long run.

  As for herself, she couldn’t forget her wager with Lord Locken. He’d mentioned nothing of it in his single letter to her. Yes, he had written her a letter, and if society knew about it, it would be considered scandalous since they weren’t related. But when her brother had told her of the house party, she’d done as Lord Locken had suggested. She’d spent time going over her options and what she wanted for her future.

  Juliet came to the realization that she wanted to fall in love, wanted to marry, wanted a home of her own, wanted children. So . . . she wrote a short note to Lord Locken.

  His reply came only a few days later.

  Below, the first carriage, laden with two trunks, stopped in front of the manor, and two women alighted amid a flurry of activity as the hired help that Lord Locken had sent bustled about the women. John welcomed them, fawning over each lady in turn, bowing to kiss their hands, then leading them into the house.

  They’d planned for Juliet to enter the drawing room when everyone had arrived. She suspected her brother was scouring for a wife—one with a large dowry—and that might have been why he agreed to Lord Locken’s plan.

  Now Juliet reached into her bodice and removed the three-times folded letter from Lord Locken. She opened the creased page again, although she had his words memorized.

  Dear Lady Juliet,

  I received your message with gratitude. I applaud your decision, and I don’t believe you will regret it. I look forward to our reunion.

  Yours,

  —V R

  His dark, slanted handwriting complemented his decisive nature. Juliet’s gaze dwelt on his signature, Yours, V R. His given name was Victor Roland, and ever since she’d received the letter, she’d struggled to think of him as anything other than Victor. Something she’d have to put out of her mind so she wouldn’t make the error of calling him by his Christian name.

  The second carriage came to a stop, and the groomsmen strode over to attend to the next group of guests. The carriage door opened, and out stepped the man who had made all of this happen. Even though Juliet could only see the top of his dark head, she knew instantly it was Lord Locken. He still used his cane. He’d dressed in a light gray jacket with darker breeches, and he wore a vest of a pale yellow. If anything, he was more handsome than Juliet remembered. How that was possible, she didn’t know. Perhaps the three weeks had dulled her memory. Moments later, another man climbed out of the carriage. This man was older but looked every bit the refined gentleman.

  And then Lord Locken looked up, right at her window, as if he knew she stood there. Her heart nearly stopped. It was impossible to think that he could see her from the driveway. She didn’t move, thinking if he did see her, maybe he’d think she resembled a bureau situated near the window.

  But a smile played on his lips before he turned to the gentleman who’d traveled with him. They issued directions to the groomsmen, although it looked as if they’d traveled much lighter than the women of the previous carriage.

  John stepped forward to greet both men, shaking their hands. Even from her position, Juliet noticed the rigidness of her brother’s shoulders and stiffness of his posture. Whatever repairs had been made between her brother and Lord Locken, in truth they were both very stubborn men.

  Juliet refolded the letter and slipped it into its place on the inside of her bodice. She didn’t want to risk the letter being found by the lady’s maid Lord Locken had sent to their household. Juliet didn’t want to burn it either.

  Another carriage rumbled to a stop, and Juliet continued to watch the arriving guests long after Lord Locken had walked with a group of men toward the stables, certainly to check out the horses Lord Stratford had lent them for the occasion. Yes, Lord Stratford was to be a guest at all the activities, and he had yet to renew his sentiments, a fact for which Juliet was deeply grateful, or else she might have to turn him out on his ear.

  Marrying the man wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she had let Lord Locken’s words go to her head. What if one of these younger men fell in love with her, and she him? What if . . . her happy ending was about to begin?

  Juliet turned away from the window and surveyed her appearance in the mirror. They hadn’t funds for new dresses, but she’d had some of her mother’s things made over. Today, she wore a pale peach dress befitting the season, and its remade bodice was lower cut than she usually wore, but it followed the height of fashion. Although she was unused to seeing herself presented in such a way, she must act as if she were comfortable in such an outfit when she was surrounded by the others.

  By the time the fifth carriage had arrived, Juliet left her bedchamber to join everyone downstairs. The drawing room contained several lad
ies and a few gentlemen. John was in the front hall, and as soon as he saw her, his smile bloomed as he strode to greet her. “Dear sister, I’d like you to meet my friends from London.”

  Her brother’s wide smile was only a show, this Juliet knew. She returned an equally delighted smile, then turned toward the guests to be introduced to each one.

  Lord Locken wasn’t among them, and although she didn’t know any of the men, their attention was a heady feeling.

  “I’d like you to meet Mr. Laurence Talbot,” her brother said.

  Mr. Talbot’s dark green eyes seemed friendly, and his smile quick. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

  “He owns a whole fleet of ships,” her brother continued, clapping the man on the back.

  Mr. Talbot chuckled. “Perhaps not a whole fleet, but I own my fair share.”

  “Oh, do you sail on them?” Juliet couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to marry a man who was a seaman. Would he take her along on adventures?

  “Not much anymore,” Mr. Talbot said. “You see, my mother has been ailing since my father’s death.”

  “I am sorry.” Juliet appraised the man, who obviously cared for his mother. He might not be as handsome as Lord Locken—but who was? A man’s dedication to his aging parent was a characteristic to hold in high esteem. “Where is your favorite place to travel?”

  “Before you regale her with too many tales,” her brother cut in, “I must introduce her to the others.”

  Mr. Talbot bowed and moved off.

  Another gentleman quickly replaced Mr. Talbot, then another, and another, until Juliet’s head spun with all the introductions. The women were friendly as well, and Juliet hoped she’d fool them all by acting as if a houseful of guests was a regular occurrence.

  “I’ve heard much about you, Lady Juliet,” another man was speaking to her, and she tried to focus.

  Her brother introduced him as Lord Owen Brooks. His pale blond hair was tied in an orange ribbon, matching his rather flamboyant jacket. His smile was welcoming as he gazed at her, and she decided she liked him, although he seemed to be young—perhaps only a few years older than herself.