Wedding Wagers

by Donna Hatch

  He returned her smile, and soon they rode side by side. “Ditching the party?”

  She cast him a sideways glance, and he knew his heart shouldn’t quicken, but it did. “I’m not used to conversing with this many people for so long. I can’t believe how exhausting it can be.”

  He smirked. “Socializing is harder than it looks.”

  She turned her head fully to meet his gaze. With the setting sun splashing its warm colors about, her hair took on the appearance of spun gold, and he could very well imagine her as an artist’s model for a storybook painting. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers through the tendrils of her hair to see if her hair felt as soft as it looked.

  Instead, he had to settle for riding next to her and keeping his hands to himself. It was better that way; he was nearly an engaged man. “I’ve been wanting to speak with you since I arrived.”

  Her lips parted in surprise. “Have you?”

  He didn’t miss the teasing gleam in her eyes, and he grasped the reins of her horse and drew the bay right next to his so that her skirts brushed against his legs. “Has your brother been behaving himself?”

  The amusement faded, and she looked at where his hands held the reins of her horse. “Define behaving.”

  Chapter Ten

  This man had no business knowing Juliet’s personal issues with her brother, yet, if there was anyone who would understand, it was Lord Locken. He had been the one to deliver John on that fateful night three weeks ago. Lord Locken was also the man who’d pulled off this house party. The more Juliet thought about the guest servants, the food, the gazebo renovation, and the new clothing that John sported, the more she knew her brother had made a deal with the devil. Either him or Lord Locken.

  And now, she was mere inches away from him, albeit they were riding two bays, but the presence of only the horses, and no other people, made this encounter feel secluded.

  “Lady Juliet, surely you must know I am deeply interested in your welfare,” Lord Locken said in a low voice, one that filtered through her hesitation. He released the reins of her horse, and the two bays continued side by side along the lane.

  “I think you have made that clear.” She gave him a half smile. “My brother is behaving himself as far as no gambling. He drinks more than I’d like, and I’ve heard more than one argument at the door with a creditor. Mostly, he’s been moping, although he took great interest in ordering new clothing. I’m not quite sure how he managed to pay for it all.”

  Lord Locken didn’t respond, but Juliet knew he must have financed the new clothing for her brother. His brown eyes met hers with a steady gaze, and she wanted to lean closer, to be nearer to him.

  Instead, she ignored how the setting sun splashed bronze throughout his dark hair and made his olive skin look golden. “How shall I ever thank you for your kindness to my family?”

  “You could lose our wager,” Lord Locken said, “and let me keep my horses.”

  She laughed, and he grinned back. “Are we still doing the wager?” she asked. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “We most definitely are.”

  “There are some fine gentlemen on the north lawn,” she said.

  “Any of them catch your particular attention?” His amusement had fled, and now his gaze was intent on hers as they continued riding their horses at an ambling pace. Was that a mark of a man she could trust? Unlike her brother, who looked everywhere but her, Lord Locken almost challenged her to break her gaze first.

  You are the one who’s captured my attention, she almost said.

  But there could never be anything between them. First of all, her brother was on the cusp of ruin, and even with her dowry, her family’s reputation would be an embarrassment. She’d never meet Lord Locken’s father’s standards.

  Besides, Lord Locken had made it clear he was going to propose to Lady Diana Allen. Juliet had no issues with the woman; Diana was a beautiful woman who would no doubt make the perfect duchess. If only Juliet could imagine the two of them together without getting an achy knot in her stomach. Soon, the house party would be over, and everyone would return to their lives. And hopefully by then, Juliet would have a proposal and could start her own future.

  “You’re doing a lot of thinking,” Lord Locken said. “Perhaps there are too many choices in men here?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said.

  “I can assure you,” he drawled, “I am never silly.” The amusement had returned.

  That didn’t make her feel more at ease, though. “Yes, there are very real possibilities for a husband at this house party. Although, I think I have a problem discerning flattery from sincerity.”

  One of his dark brows arched. “How so?”

  “Well . . .” She smoothed back the hair from her forehead as the wind picked up. “It seems that compliments come quite naturally to gentlemen of the ton, so how am I to know that a compliment paid to me is not simply a compliment paid to all women?”

  “Ah, I see.” Lord Locken continued riding for a few more moments. “You are correct in understanding that most men of the ton will be generous in their compliments to other women of the ton. It is the way of polite society.”

  “To be insincere?”

  “To be polite.”

  “Can that really be a reliable indicator of whether one should accept a marriage proposal?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” Lord Locken said. “There are plenty of other factors, such as temperaments, compatibility of families, common interests, and perhaps even romance.”

  Juliet raised her brows. “Do you have all of that with Lady Diana?”

  Lord Locken shot a gaze in her direction. “Most.”

  “Which parts are missing?”

  He maneuvered his bay so they were close enough again for him to grasp her reins. Which he did. And he again stopped both of their horses. “You ask a lot of questions,” he said as he scanned her face.

  “Only around you, apparently.”

  A lock of his hair had fallen across his forehead, and like that night he’d slept in the library, she gave into her impulse and reached over to smooth it back. Before she could pull her hand away, he grasped her wrist. And because she wore short gloves, his fingers wrapped around her bare skin.

  Juliet had gone too far. She’d allowed her impulses to take over her common sense, and now . . .

  “I can assure you, Lady Juliet,” he said, still holding her wrist, “that I don’t mind your questions.”

  Lord Locken’s hold was loose enough that she knew she could disengage, but she didn’t want to. His hand was warm and strong, and the feel of his skin against her wrist sent daggers of heat along her arm.

  “Well, then,” she said in a quiet voice, “are you going to answer them?”

  He turned her wrist over so that her palm was up. Then he leaned over it and pressed a kiss on the inside of her wrist.

  Juliet couldn’t breathe for a moment, and she was positive her heart had skipped a beat, or two.

  Lord Locken lifted his head and met her gaze. In the depths of his eyes, she could see it . . . the same things she felt, the same draw, the same intensity of feelings. Would he tell her he’d changed his mind about Lady Diana and that his father’s opinions held no consequence?

  No, she thought. He would not. So when he rubbed his thumb lightly over the place on her wrist where he’d kissed, she knew this gesture was his only allowance. Whatever might have been, whatever could have been, was already over.

  “Lady Juliet, you can be secure in knowing that any compliments given to you by any of the gentlemen at this house party are indeed sincere.” He released her wrist. “Laurence Talbot mentioned how he was impressed with both your intellect and beauty.”

  Juliet drew her hand away and wished she didn’t feel so empty, so bereft. The news Lord Locken had delivered should make her heart soar. Mr. Talbot was a fine man, and he was nice-looking as well. He still had his youth, all his teeth, a full head of hair, wonderful manners, and h
e didn’t smell bad. Juliet didn’t know whether to laugh at her inane judgments or cry because the man who made her heart flutter and her dreams sweet had made his intentions clear—for another woman.

  “Mr. Talbot is a kind gentleman,” she said, lifting her gaze.

  Lord Locken simply stared at her, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

  “Are you well acquainted with him?” she asked.

  He blinked. “With whom?”

  “Mr. Talbot.”

  “Ah, yes.” Lord Locken urged his horse forward, and Juliet’s moved in accord. “We are distant cousins, on the same side as Lady Diana.” They reached a stream, and he let his horse drink, and Juliet’s followed suit.

  “If you marry Mr. Talbot,” he said after a moment, “you and I will likely cross paths in the future. Perhaps at one of our weddings. You might even be cursed with the opportunity to meet my father, should he live that long.”

  His tone was flat, and she should probably let the subject drop, but she didn’t. “Is your father very ill?”

  Lord Locken’s jaw flexed. “It depends on how you define ill. If you define it based on temper and general drunkenness, then he’s been ill as long as I can remember. If you define it based on how close a man is to his deathbed, the physician has given him less than a year. Says he will not make it through another wet winter.”

  Despite the bitter words about his father, Juliet knew Lord Locken was hurt—she could hear it in his tone of voice. “I’m sorry for his pain and your pain.”

  Lord Locken reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded letter. “Before you feel sorry for my father’s slow progress toward death, maybe you should read his latest letter to his only child.”

  Juliet stared at the letter in his hands. He wanted her to read his personal correspondence? She took the letter and turned it over. Lord Locken’s name was scrawled on the front in a spidery handwriting. She felt his gaze upon her as she unfolded the letter. It was a single page, but there were plenty of words in the same spidery writing, filling almost all the space.

  She read slowly, digesting each word of the letter. Halfway through, she wished she’d never laid eyes on the thing. The words were cutting, harsh, and insulting. The Duke of Wycliff clearly held the threat of disinheritance over his son’s head. But that wasn’t the most disturbing thing about the letter. The duke wrote how he wished he’d never had a son and how he should have disposed of him when he was an infant instead of pretending he cared enough to get Lord Locken educated and set up to enjoy a future he didn’t deserve. The worst of it was when the duke called his son a murderer.

  The words were sickening, and why Lord Locken kept this vile thing on his person was beyond Juliet’s comprehension. She blinked back the burning in her eyes, refolded the letter, then said, “I think you should burn this.”

  His laugh was dry. “It’s a good reminder, eh? Keeps me focused on what I must do.”

  “Marry Lady Diana by the end of the year?”

  “You read the edict yourself.” His gaze connected with hers, and in his eyes was a fire she hadn’t seen before. “My cousin will become the next Duke of Wycliff if I don’t comply. It’s been drawn up in the will already, so whether my father is alive or dead, the edict still stands.”

  How could Juliet argue that? Lord Locken was well and truly stuck.

  “I have not shared this letter with anyone, nor will I,” he said. “And Lady Diana cannot know the contents. She thinks I’m proposing because I want to marry her.”

  Juliet stared at him. “And you do not.”

  “I’ve thought it a duty, one that I could endure, like so many other things associated with my father’s dukedom,” he said. “It was a bearable fate I had reconciled myself to. Three weeks ago, all of that changed.”

  Juliet couldn’t look away from the intensity in his gaze. She wanted to urge her horse back from the stream and ride away from Lord Locken so she wouldn’t have to hear his next words. On the other hand, she had to hear them no matter how much pain resulted.

  “What happened three weeks ago?” she whispered.

  “I met you.”

  Juliet swallowed and looked away. She didn’t know how to respond to him. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do. His father’s edict was clear, and Lord Locken had an entire legacy to uphold.

  His horse moved back from the stream, bringing him next to her again.

  When his fingers touched her chin and lifted it to meet his gaze, she finally looked at him. The regret in his brown eyes mirrored the regret in her heart. Her heart thumped at his nearness, and her pulse raced to think of what possibilities might have been between them if not for the circumstances.

  “Juliet,” he said. “Forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said.

  And when he leaned toward her, his gaze on her mouth, she knew she couldn’t allow this one, final thing to happen between them. A kiss from him would never be forgotten, and she didn’t want to put him into any jeopardy with Lady Diana. Juliet drew away from his touch, and he dropped his hand.

  “You’ll be a wonderful duke, and a great father and husband,” she said in a shaky voice. “I wish you all the best in your life, Lord Locken.”

  He nodded but said nothing, only continued to gaze at her in a way that made her regret putting him off.

  “And I hope you will burn that letter from your father,” she continued. “Nothing he says about you is true, and you don’t deserve to ever read such vile words again.”

  He nodded again, saying nothing.

  “Please, Victor,” she said, placing a hand on top of his.

  He looked startled that she’d used his first name, although he’d taken liberty using hers only moments earlier. He looked down at her hand atop of his.

  “Burn the letter,” she urged. “Forget your father’s words. Marry Lady Diana. Begin anew and make your own life with her.” Then she released him and took up the reins. She turned the horse toward home and started riding, cantering at first, then breaking into a gallop. She felt Lord Locken’s gaze on her, and she hoped that he would get rid of that horrible letter.

  As for her heart, she would be strong. For him. He would see her enjoy the house party. He would have the satisfaction that she could have a happy future, and she hoped that would give him the confidence to have the same.

  Chapter Eleven

  The days passed with unending glimpses of Lady Juliet mingling with the guests, speaking with the gentlemen, laughing with the ladies. And Victor was forced to watch it all. Why he’d decided to come in the first place was beyond him. Oh. Yes. It was to restore her brother’s reputation, because then her own reputation would rise in the process. And he’d invited Lady Diana so that he would not be tempted to throw away his own future over a woman he barely knew.

  But his heart had other ideas. With every day that the house party progressed, Victor was having a harder time imagining leaving Lady Juliet behind to her brother’s care, even if it was temporary.

  Southill had confided in Victor a couple of nights ago about how dire his finances truly were. They’d stayed up half the night going over ledgers and debtors’ bills. The only solution that Victor could come up with was for Southill to sell some holdings and property. Southill had argued that his sister’s dowry would go a long way to resolving the debts, but Victor had stuck to his recommendation of selling the property. He’d left Southill in the library, stewing over his choices.

  Victor had little faith in the man, which made it all the more imperative that Lady Juliet marry and leave her brother to his wallowing habits. Unfortunately, whoever married Lady Juliet would also take on Southill as a brother-in-law, but that couldn’t be helped.

  “You look as if you’ve the weight of the entire kingdom on your shoulders,” Hudson said, joining Victor by the hearth while the gentlemen and ladies had their tête-à-têtes throughout the drawing room. Dinner had been eaten, cigars smoked, port drunk, and the men had rejoin
ed the women.

  “I’ve had a peek into Southill’s finances,” Victor said.

  Hudson scoffed. “Say no more. Do you need a strong drink?”

  “Probably,” Victor said. “But getting inebriated won’t help anything.”

  Hudson chuckled. “You’re a good man, Victor.”

  Victor nodded. “She told me that too.” His gaze landed on Lady Juliet, who was currently in a game of whist with Lady Diana, Lady Penelope, and Mr. Talbot. The latter couldn’t take his eyes from Lady Juliet, not that Victor could blame the man. Victor had the same problem. Her pale blue gown brought out the deep blue in her eyes and made her hair a brilliant gold in the candlelight.

  Hudson followed Victor’s gaze, then cleared his throat. “Uh, look, I know you are doing the honorable thing by bringing us all here to meet Lady Juliet. But, in truth, every man in this room can plainly see how you look at her.”

  Victor’s eyes snapped to Hudson’s. “What do you mean?”

  Hudson lifted his hands. “Don’t get upset. You are enamored of our hostess, and none of us blames you. She is lovely and charming and would make any man a fine wife.”

  “Right.” Victor placed a hand on Hudson’s shoulder. “And that’s why you, my friend, are going to propose to her.”

  “Our friendship runs deep,” Hudson said, “but not that deep. I’ll not marry the woman my best friend is in love with.”

  Victor felt as if he’d been shoved in the chest. “I’m not in love with Lady Juliet.”

  Hudson didn’t even blink.

  “I’m proposing to Lady Diana tomorrow afternoon,” Victor continued. “I’ve explained to you, more than once, that my only concern with Lady Juliet is that she leaves Southill Estate. And she needs a husband to do that.”

  “I understand completely,” Hudson said. “But I can’t be that husband to her—not when you—”

  Victor held up his hand. “We’re finished with this conversation.”

  Hudson clenched his jaw, then nodded and stepped away.