Wedding Wagers

by Donna Hatch

  “I must admit to severe disappointment, Miss Montgomery.” Lord Rowley frowned at her, causing a stir of unease in her middle, not dissimilar to that she’d felt moments ago.

  “I believed we had an agreement, and as such, you would not dare to even consider compromising your reputation like this.”

  Emily opened her mouth to refute his horrible insinuations, but before she could speak, Eli stepped in front of her and hit the earl square in the mouth.

  Sophia screamed and jumped back as the earl staggered, then fell at her feet.

  Fortune whinnied and nipped at Eli’s leg.

  “I warned you to never again speak ill of Miss Montgomery.” Eli shook out his hand as if it hurt.

  The earl has spoken ill of me before? They have spoken of me?

  “Look at what you’ve done! Oh, my poor Sherborne.” Sophia dropped to his side.

  “Your poor Sherborne?” Emily’s voice shook. Gingerly she made her way around the edge of the stall to stand beside Eli. “What do you mean by this, sister?”

  Instead of answering, Sophia reached for the earl, her fingers just brushing his arm as he struggled to his feet. Head forward, as a bull ready to charge, he came at Eli, who swung the gate the opposite direction, directly into the earl’s lowered head.

  It struck with a clang. The earl cursed savagely. Emily gasped at such language from him, while Sophia rushed to his side, seemingly only more encouraged to tend him.

  Let her have him. Tears smarted in Emily’s eyes, and she wasn’t certain why. She hadn’t loved the earl and had only agreed to his offer to please her father, so why should she care if Sophia had stolen him? Why should I care that he played me false scarcely a day into our betrothal? No doubt he would do the same once they were married and living in London and he discovered that she did not care for the parties and goings on he had described.

  “I will not marry you,” Emily said, finding her voice. She stepped past Eli, out of the stall to face Sherborne. “Whatever it is you think I’ve been doing is nothing compared to what you and Sophia were doing.” Emily cast a pained glance at Sophia before returning her attention to the earl. “At the least, it is obvious that you and I do not suit, so I believe it best that the arrangement we came to earlier this evening is now broken.”

  “You’ve the gall to accuse me?” Sherborne grabbed her arm when she made to leave. “I suppose you’ll marry him, then.” Sherborne glared past her at Eli.

  “I shall not marry anyone,” Emily said. Had their situations been different she felt she might have enjoyed being courted by the kind and gentle Eli, but of course that was not possible. “If you would please remove your hand from my arm, I would like to return to bed.”

  “You shall not return anywhere until we—”

  “Why have I been summoned from my bed at this hour?” The barn door crashed open, and her father’s girth filled the empty space. He paused, taking in all of them. “What is the meaning of all this?” His deep voice boomed through the stable, eliciting a rather menacing sound from Fortune.

  Emily glanced at her horse and saw Eli exiting the stall, carefully closing the gate behind him.

  She faced forward again. Sherborne’s hand dropped from her arm as her father strode toward them. He seemed to have eyes only for her, and they narrowed as he approached, his gaze traveling from the top of her tousled head down the length of her dressing gown to her feet peeking out below.

  Accusation in his eyes, his head swung sharply toward Sherborne, standing sandwiched between Emily and Sophia.

  Emily wasted no time in launching into her explanation. “I couldn’t sleep for worrying about Fortune and her baby, so I came to the stable to check on her. I arrived just in time to watch the birth.”

  “Which explains the straw in your hair and your mussed clothes,” Sherborne muttered.

  “And how do you explain your presence here—with my sister?” Emily’s voice rose shrilly.

  “Is this true?” Father’s gaze, growing more severe by the minute, settled on Sophia.

  “We were going to go for a ride, is all,” she said.

  “And a moonlit swim,” Eli added.

  Sherborne swung toward him, fist raised. “How dare—”

  Eli caught his arm, as if he’d been expecting the move. Looking beyond Sherborne, he said, “I am only repeating what I heard said by you and Lady Grayson.”

  “Go to the house, Sophia. We will discuss this later. And don’t you dare wake your mother. This would gravely upset her.” Father raised his face to the ceiling as if in supplication for guidance, or perhaps patience. “Just when we’d believed we finally had your sister’s future settled.”

  “It is still settled.” Sherborne, having jerked his arm from Eli’s grasp, turned and straightened himself before her father, smoothing the front of his coat, as if that somehow corrected all that had gone wrong here. “In spite of the implications against her, I will still marry your daughter—the younger one, that is.” His words, while not as slurred as before, were not crisp, and he moved as if half-sprung.

  Sophia turned down her lips, and her eyes filled with tears. “You played me false, Sherborne.”

  “To the house,” Father roared, then took Sophia by the arm, pulling her forward and propelling her toward the stable doors.

  “You might want to reconsider my sister,” Emily said. “Because I will not marry you.” It was a rare occasion that she stood up to anyone, but the misgivings she’d felt about the earl before had multiplied exponentially in the last quarter of an hour. To her father, she spoke again. “The earl does not care for me, as evidenced by his dalliance with Sophia the very night of our betrothal.”

  “She approached me,” Sherborne cried. “If your daughters were not such light skirts—”

  “How dare you!” Father thrust a chubby finger into the earl’s chest.

  “I most certainly dare,” Lord Rowley said, turning upon Emily quite suddenly. “Your daughter, my betrothed, is the one who has made a cake of herself—and me as well—standing before us, clad in her nightclothes, the irrefutable evidence of a midnight tryst in her hair.” He snatched a piece of hay from Emily’s head and held it up victoriously.

  “The one you were betrothed to,” Emily said. Then to her father, “I’ll not marry him.”

  “Miss Montgomery fainted,” Mr. Linfield said, his calm tone still in place. “As most well-bred young ladies would likely do, were they to witness a birth.”

  “When she arrived, why did you not send her back to her room at once?” Father demanded.

  “Because he was trying to help Fortune,” Emily said, not about to let Mr. Linfield be blamed for any of this. “He had his arm up inside of her and—”

  “Pray do not speak of such things,” Sophia cried. Her progress toward the house had stopped short of the stable doors and seemed inclined to stay there, unless further force from their father was applied.

  “Which brings us back to Em—Miss Montgomery,” Sherborne said. His tone was somehow authoritative now, as if he had assessed the situation and taken charge. “Whether or not her intentions were pure, she has placed herself in a compromising situation this night. No doubt the servant who alerted you is already spreading the tale far and wide. By this time tomorrow half of Shrewsbury—not to mention all the guests still in residence from the ball—will know your daughter is ruined.” He paused, as if to allow the horror of such a statement to sink in. “However, I am still willing to marry her in spite of that. The sooner the better, given the circumstances.”

  Tears in her eyes, Emily folded her arms across her middle and turned away, noting Sophia in much the same position. Emily could not fault Sophia entirely. She was lonely, and it did seem—on the occasions he had visited—that she and the earl had quickly been at ease with one another.

  “Emily?” Her father’s hand on her shoulder was gentle.

  “Yes, Father.”

  “You have heard Lord Rowley’s proposal. What say you to a sp
ecial license and marrying quickly? It is quite possibly the only way to avoid scandal—or most of it, anyway.”

  The tears that had been hovering spilled over. “I cannot marry him. Not now. Please don’t force me to it.”

  “Given the circumstances, I’ve little choice.” Father came around to stand before her. “He is correct that your reputation is ruined. Only a quick marriage can possibly salvage it now. If not... think of what the gossip will do to your mother.”

  Emily squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she might wake in her own bed, and this entire night—from when Lord Grayson first offered for her until now—might be only a nightmare. “What of Sophia? What about her reputation?”

  “I will deal with Sophia later.” Father’s gentle voice tensed once more. “Her situation is somewhat less—delicate—than yours, as she was married previously.”

  So unfair. Sophia had done something wrong—or intended to, at least. Whereas I merely wished to ascertain my horse’s well being.

  “Emily?” Father asked once more, sounding less patient than a moment ago.

  Only marriage can salvage it... Only marriage...

  Lord Rowley stared, awaiting her response while Mr. Linfield watched him, as if wary the earl would lash out again. It was odd how they had gone at one another so quickly. Lord Rowley’s earlier words rang through her mind.

  I suppose you’ll marry him then... A terrible, brilliant idea struck.

  “I will marry him.” She grasped Eli’s arm and looked up hopefully. “I will marry Mr. Linfield. Lord Rowley can have Sophia.”

  Chapter Seven

  For several, long seconds no one spoke. Eli supposed the Baron and Sherborne were too stunned by Emily’s refusal and alternate suggestion to muster words. He felt overcome as well—with disbelief and a tentative, cautious joy at such an unexpected suggestion. He dare not let that show. Keep your wits about you, his mother would have said.

  Play your cards carefully, his father would have agreed.

  Eli intended to, now that Fortune had literally thrust his fondest desire within his grasp. He glanced over the stall at the horse and her colt. The colt was nursing, but Fortune seemed agitated and pinned Eli with a look that spoke of betrayal.

  Right. You’ve just given birth. Some privacy is in order.

  “May I suggest we move our discussion outside, or nearer the doors at least. We are disturbing Fortune and her colt, who have both had a very long night.”

  “Not as long as I’ve had.” Sherborne held a hand to his forehead.

  “There is nothing to discuss,” the baron said. With a swish of his dressing gown he shifted his girth and strode toward the stable doors.

  “But there is, Papa,” Sophia exclaimed, stepping in front of him before he could exit. “Emily’s idea is splendid. The earl and I can marry, and the Montgomery connection will be in place once more, just as you wanted.”

  “And you would have your sister wed a groomsman?” The baron’s tone indicated something deeper than anger.

  Regret, perhaps? Eli did not believe it was resignation—not yet. He brought up the rear of the party, following Sherborne and Emily, whose hand had slid from his arm. They clustered around the baron, awaiting his next move.

  It was to Emily that he spoke at last. “You like horses so much, you would marry a man who takes care of them all day, someone far beneath your touch?”

  “It isn’t about horses, or titles, or anything else,” Emily said. “It is about marrying someone who will be kind to me.”

  “I’m kind,” Sherborne exclaimed, the truthfulness of his statement brought into immediate question by the loud belch that followed. Hand to his mouth, he turned away.

  Kind of foxed, you mean. Eli kept the thought to himself.

  “It’s more than that,” Emily continued, neither protesting nor agreeing with Sherborne. “We have little in common. You planned to return to London once we were wed, to continue a life filled with parties and social engagements.” She paused, turning her attention from Sherborne back to the baron. “You know as well as anyone, Father, how ill-suited I am for such a lifestyle.”

  “I never said you had to go,” Sherborne said. “You can live at my estate here.”

  “While you gad about London, enjoying free rein with mistresses?” Eli could keep his peace no longer. “Miss Montgomery deserves better than that.”

  “Exactly,” Sherborne spat. “She deserves a fine house to live in and someone who can pass a title down to her son.”

  “If she marries me, she will have more than a title to pass down.” Eli addressed his words to the baron now. “I have a family home near Aylesbury. It is modest, but it is comfortable. In addition, I have a yearly income as well as a savings of the entirety of the wages I have earned over the past decade. Our children will be able to attend Eton, if they wish.”

  “Your boys, you mean,” Sophia said with a pout.

  “It will take more than the income of a groomsman to pay for that,” Sherborne scoffed.

  “It is not my income that would pay for their education, but the same trust, provided by my father, that paid for mine.” Eli kept his eyes on the baron’s, watching for the slightest change in his granite composure. “I would no longer work as a groomsman if Emily and I marry, but concentrate on maintaining the property left to me. With a little care, I am confident it may shortly produce a profit each year.”

  “If you’re a landowner and you’ve an education, why have you been working here?” Sophia asked.

  Eli chose his next words carefully. “I returned to the area out of loyalty to the late earl. It was he who first employed me and provided many opportunities. By working here, I was able to help during the present earl’s frequent and extended absences.”

  “Come now, that isn’t the only reason you’ve worked here.” Sherborne’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Tell them how you set your cap for Miss—”

  “Loyalty to the earl is not the only reason,” Eli said, knowing he must speak before Sherborne. “There are friendships here that I value greatly, including yours, Baron Montgomery, along with your family’s. I came with the hope of enjoying those a while longer. Never once, however, did I believe I would have the opportunity to marry Miss Montgomery. But now that it has been presented, I would be most honored and pleased to marry her—to marry you,” he amended, turning to face Emily, who had not spoken to him once since her suggestion.

  “Of course you’d be pleased,” Sherborne said. “Her dowry would be a fortune to someone like you.”

  “There will be no dowry if you marry Mr. Linfield,” the baron said to Emily. Then to Sherborne, “And don’t think you’ll be getting one with Sophia either. She’s had hers already.” He leveled a heavy gaze on Sherborne, then Eli, then back again. “Neither of you are getting one cent. What you can have is a taste of what I’ve dealt with all these years, in a household of females.”

  “That does not change my position on the matter,” Eli said. What did he want with money when he might have Emily?

  The baron sighed, almost as if he had expected such an answer. “As much as I like you, Mr. Linfield, I cannot condone your lower social standing. As the daughter of a baron, Emily has certain expectations regarding marriage.”

  “I expected to be happy about it,” Emily said. “To feel as if the one I was marrying was my friend.”

  Sherborne stepped forward. “I’m your—”

  “A friend does not do what you were about tonight.” Emily fixed Sherborne with a look Eli had never seen from her before. Though her voice remained calm, it was apparent she felt anything but.

  “If Miss Montgomery and I marry, it would not be for hope of any dowry,” Eli reiterated. “I have no expectation of financial support of any kind. I would ask only that you attend our wedding. Beyond that, your correspondence with her will be entirely at your—and her—disposal. You would always be welcome to visit at our home, and I would hope that your daughter would always be welcome in yours. It would be und
erstandable if I am not, but I would certainly never prohibit her from visiting.”

  “Well said, Mr. Linfield.” Sophia clapped her hands. “It’s a perfectly marvelous solution, Papa. Both of your daughters will be wed and past your concern within a fortnight.”

  “That would require a special license,” Sherborne reminded her. “Those are expensive.”

  The baron shook his head. “And the alternative—posting banns, announcing that our daughter is to marry a groomsman—would kill your mother. She’d never be able to go out again.”

  Her choice, Eli thought with little sympathy. But he would do anything he could to make this happen. It was an opportunity he’d never thought to have, and he wasn’t about to let Emily slip through his fingers.

  “I will pay for the license. I’ll go the day after tomorrow, after I’m assured Fortune and her colt are both well. It would not be a very fitting wedding gift to my wife to allow her horse to fall ill.” He looked down at Emily, still pale, her eyes wide and stricken by the night’s events.

  “You cannot obtain a special license,” Sherborne said. “Even had you the £5. Only a member of the peerage is able to meet with the Archbishop.”

  “Let me worry about that,” Eli said. Then ignoring the others, he took Emily’s hand and led her a short distance away.

  “Is this truly what you want?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered, not meeting his gaze. “I wanted to remain at home, unwed, but if I now must marry...” Her voice trailed off just as her tears began to fall. “I’m so sorry.” She looked up at him. “It was selfish of me to drag you into this. You don’t have to do this. I’m—”

  “Don’t be sorry.” Eli brought her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss over the finger that would soon wear his ring. “Don’t be sorry,” he whispered again. “I’m not.”