To Wager with Love (Girls Who Dare Book 5)

by Emma V. Leech

  “Apparently it was a deathbed promise or some such,” Ruth said with a sigh. “Bonnie’s father was loyal to Morven and a great friend. Morven swore to find Bonnie a good husband and see her settled before the man died. Despite being a thorn in his side, Morven is fond of her. I think he admires her spirit, and in some ways he even enjoys her defiance. She showed me one of her letters once, and it was very affectionate, in an insulting, rather coarse manner of speaking,” Ruth added with a frown. “They don’t hold back, I can tell you. Actually, it was rather refreshing.”

  “I can imagine,” Matilda said with a sigh. “How freeing, to say whatever you want to a man who says exactly what he thinks.”

  “Quite,” Ruth replied, nodding.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” They turned to Minerva who had been quiet until now and was staring out at the lake, her expression troubled. “Too much honesty can be rather brutal.”

  Matilda wondered what she’d meant by that, but she didn’t know Minerva well enough to pry. She frowned, deciding she must remedy that.

  “What are you wearing to the ball, Minerva?” she asked, thinking that a safe topic to engage on with the girl.

  “I’ve no idea. I’ve not really thought about it.”

  Ruth and Matilda exchanged a glance. When they’d first met Minerva, she’d seemed a shallow creature who only cared for appearances. They’d since learned there was a great deal more to her than that. Nonetheless, she was always beautifully dressed, and obviously took great care with her appearance.

  “Well, why not come to my room later and you can help me choose? You always look so beautiful, Minerva. I should welcome your advice.”

  Minerva looked startled by the invitation, though pleased. “Really? Oh, I should enjoy that. Though I don’t have the faintest idea why you’d want my help. Everyone looks to you, Matilda, surely you know that?”

  Matilda chuckled, a little rueful. “Well, for an old spinster, I suppose I don’t present too terrible a picture,” she said with a quirk of her lips. “But nonetheless, a fresh pair of eyes is always a good thing.”

  “Well, you’d both best come and help me, then, or I’m bound to choose something diabolical. I don’t know what possessed me to buy that hat with the cherries on. It was such a pretty bonnet, too, but when I put it on yesterday, I realised how dreadful it looked on me.” Ruth gave a heavy sigh and shook her head. “I’m just not the right shape to wear such things.”

  “Nonsense,” Matilda said, her voice firm. “You need simple cuts, Ruth, and beautiful tailoring, that’s all. No frills and ruffles. What do you think, Minerva?”

  Minerva nodded, her expert eye travelling over Ruth. “Yes, you’re quite right. I say, why don’t we go through Ruth’s wardrobe too, find her something stunning?”

  “Oh,” Ruth said, looking delighted by the offer. “Oh, yes, please.”

  “That’s settled, then,” Matilda said, smiling with satisfaction until her eyes strayed to the tree line, and she realised… Bonnie and Jerome still had not appeared.

  Chapter 19

  I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for the way I have treated Jasper, for how unhappy I made him. Whenever I think of it now, my heart hurts and I want to cry. If only he’d told me, confided in me, I would have gone to the ends of the earth to help him, to keep his secret. How could he ever believe I would think less of him when I idolised him so for so very long?

  If only I had known. If only I had understood. How foolish it is to long to change the past and yet I do, but I have the future before me now, our future, and I won’t ever let him down again. I won’t ever allow anyone to make him feel inferior or anything less than the brilliant, wonderful man he is. I shall tell him every day how much I love and admire him, and it will be nothing less than the truth.

  ― Excerpt of an entry from Miss Harriet Stanhope to her diary.

  18th September 1814. Holbrooke House, Sussex.

  “Do you like it?” Jasper regarded the stunned expression on Harriet’s face with amusement.

  “Like?” Harriet breathed, staring down at the silk lined box that Jasper had just presented her with. “Oh, Jasper, how beautiful.”

  He grinned. “They’re rubies, but I looked for the pinkest stones I could find. I know pink is your favourite colour.”

  She looked up at him, her lips curving into a delighted smile. “How did you know that?”

  He shrugged. “You wear pink more often than any other colour.”

  Harriet shook her head, laughing softly. “I don’t deserve you, Jasper. After all the dreadful things I thought and said.”

  Jasper chuckled and bent down, kissing the side of her neck, pleased as he felt the shiver run over her. “I think we’re even on that score, love, but you can make it up to me if you insist.”

  “I do insist, and I’ll spend the rest of my days doing just that, I swear it,” she said.

  Her tone such that his blood ran hot in his veins and he wished there wasn’t a ball to attend, but there was, and it was in Harriet’s honour and he wanted her to enjoy it.

  “Put them on, then,” he said, impatient now.

  “I’m frightened to touch anything,” she admitted. “You do it, please.”

  Jasper set the box down. Inside was a ruby and diamond parure set that would go beautifully with the deep pink gown she was wearing. He lifted the necklace out first and she turned so he could secure it about her throat. Next, he clasped the bracelet about her slender wrist, and handed her the earrings, one at a time, watching as she looked in the mirror to affix them.

  “I’ve never worn anything so beautiful in my life,” Harriet said, sounding rather breathless as she turned this way and that before the looking glass.

  “Not as beautiful as you,” Jasper said, still seeing the doubtful look in Harriet’s eyes. “It’s true,” he insisted. “It shines from you, love, and it takes my breath away.”

  He pulled her against him, so her back was to his chest, and bent to press a kiss to her shoulder.

  “I love you, Jasper,” she said, and he looked up to see her eyes glittering with emotion. “I love you so much.”

  Jasper smiled, the truth of her words settling into his heart as he squeezed her a little tighter. “I love you too.” He marvelled at how easy it was to say that now, at how simple it was now there were no misunderstandings and hurt feelings. “Now, then,” he said, his words spoken against her skin as he kissed a path along her neck, watching the colour rise on her cheeks until it rivalled the rubies she wore. “I think we’d best greet our guests, or I will not let you leave this room at all.”

  ***

  “Thank you so much, Tilda. You and Minerva have worked wonders. I’ve had three people compliment me on my dress this evening already.”

  Matilda’s eyes scanned the ballroom, searching, and it took a moment to realise that Ruth had been talking to her. “What? Oh! Oh, I beg your pardon, Ruth, I was wool gathering, and you are most welcome.”

  Ruth frowned, concern in her dark eyes. “Is something troubling you?” she asked, putting her hand to Matilda’s arm. “You seem all on edge.”

  “No!” Matilda said, fixing a bright smile to her mouth and shaking her head, the little trill of laughter she gave sounded false and brittle however and Ruth was clearly unconvinced. “No, nothing is troubling me. I’m just so happy for Harriet and St Clair, and… and I am rather worried about Bonnie,” she added, hoping to deflect attention from herself.

  Besides, it was true enough.

  Ruth followed her gaze to where Bonnie was dancing with Harriet’s brother Henry. She was laughing, her head thrown back and every part of her bouncing with exuberance as she threw herself into the moment, as always. Henry looked amused and slightly stunned, which seemed to be the case for most of those watching too. Matilda’s gaze travelled to Jerome who was also watching Bonnie dance, laughter glittering in his blue eyes.

  “She’s enjoying herself,” Ruth said cautiously.

  “Yes,” Mati
lda replied with a sigh. “That she is.”

  “Has she still said nothing about her dare?”

  Matilda shook her head. “Not to me.”

  “Oh, well.” Ruth shrugged and gave Matilda a sympathetic smile. “We all rely on your good sense and guidance, Matilda, but you are not our mother and not responsible for our actions. We are grown women and our decisions are our own. You ought not spoil your own enjoyment with fretting for us all. Bonnie will do as she pleases, for good or for ill. You’ve warned her to have a care, now it’s for her to heed your words or ignore them.”

  “I know.” The words were quiet but heartfelt. Everyone made their own choices for their own reasons. Sometimes those choices seemed unfathomable to anyone looking on from the outside, but no one knew what went on in another’s heart and mind. “Goodness, it’s hot in here,” she said, feeling the urgent desire to change the subject.

  Matilda pressed the glass she held to her cheek, but the drink was tepid and offered no relief. Unbidden a memory stirred, of ice in a glass and the shock of cold against her skin, of a shady walkway, and a man she had no business thinking of. Stop behaving like such a ninny, she scolded herself. No wonder Ruth thought her all on edge, for she was, and had been ever since Lady St Clair had warned her that she’d invited Montagu. It was impossible not to, she’d said to Matilda, sympathy in her eyes, not when they knew he was still in the area.

  Matilda stilled, aware of the sudden ripple of interest that thrummed though the entire ballroom. Between the dancers, between the flashes of colour as they flew past her, she gazed at the entrance, and the tall, flawless figure who stood there, staring at her across the vast space. She told herself she could not see the strange, wintry silver of his eyes, not from here, not over the length of a ballroom. Now the ice she’d sought to cool her skin shivered over her, followed by heat. Such an enigma he was, so cold, and yet he made her burn with nothing more than a look.

  Matilda held his gaze for a long moment, her heart skittering in her chest like something trapped, and then she turned her back on him, and walked away.

  ***

  Jerome helped himself to another drink. Though he shouldn’t have another, he needed something to steady his nerves. He was in the very devil of a fix and he couldn’t see how to get out of it. How Bonnie had talked him into such a madcap scheme he couldn’t fathom. The trouble was, when he was with her, everything was a lark. She was funny and vivacious, and she made him laugh like no one else ever had. She was daring, too, and surprisingly clever. The truth was he’d never had so much fun in his life, but he knew things were getting out of hand. He also knew his brother had noticed, and he was edging inexorably closer to getting his head removed from his shoulders.

  He’d already received a stern warning but, if Jasper got wind of this escapade, he’d be treated to a long walk off a short pier. Yet he’d found Bonnie impossible to refuse. These were her last days, she’d told him, her last chance to live and have some fun before Morven sent her husband-to-be to fetch her and bear her off to the wilds of Scotland.

  Something uncomfortable tugged at Jerome’s conscience and he quieted it. He wasn’t the one condemning her to an unhappy marriage to a man she couldn’t stand. It wasn’t as if he’d given her the slightest reason to have hopes of him, either. He’d made it clear that they could never be more than friends, and Bonnie had laughed and told him he was an idiot. She no more expected an offer from Jerome than to sprout wings and fly. Yet he wasn’t blind to the look in her eyes, and he’d been an utter bastard to take liberties with her, knowing that she had feelings for him. Not that it had been his idea. He’d tried to act the gentleman, but Bonnie hadn’t wanted that. She knew her own mind and she wanted to fill these last days with memories that would warm her and make her smile once she was married and they had clipped her wings for good.

  Anyone successfully clipping Bonnie’s wings and subduing her restless spirit seemed unlikely at best, and Jerome could only wonder if Gordon Anderson had the slightest idea what he was doing. Taking an unwilling Bonnie to wife seemed like a recipe for disaster on an apocalyptic scale, but it was none of his affair. He was her friend, and he’d agreed to help her live as she wished until her time ran out, heaven help him. It was in his nature to help a damsel in distress, though he’d never met one with quite such odd notions of rescuing before. Jerome had not understood what he’d been agreeing to when she’d extracted that promise from him, and only now did he realise what an idiot he’d been. His promise bound him, however, so he could do nothing but his best to avoid a scandal. He groaned inwardly. Avoiding scandal was not something at which he excelled.

  “There you are, old man. Been looking everywhere for you!”

  Jerome jolted, torn from his thoughts by a hearty slap on the back. Irritated by the unfamiliar voice, he turned with a glower to face the young man who stood grinning at him.

  “Who the devil are you?” he began, before the words died in his throat as he took in the unusual pale green eyes that were only too familiar.

  “B-Bonnie?” he stammered, whilst his heart leapt to his throat.

  “You didn’t recognise me, did you?” she crowed, her face alight with triumph. “I told you I could do it.”

  Jerome swallowed and then looked her up and down. “Hell and the devil, you’ll be the death of me, Bonnie Campbell. Oh, Lord, your hair! Bonnie, what have you done to your hair?”

  She shrugged, apparently unconcerned, though there was a glint of something in those pale green depths that told him she was not quite as sanguine about it as she appeared.

  “It’s fashionable to wear it short,” she said, defiance in her tone. “And I can hardly pass as a man with long hair, can I?”

  Jerome took her by the arm and hauled her into a quiet corner. “This is madness,” he said, resisting the urge to shake her. “We’ll get caught and you’ll be ruined, and my brother will have me locked up, if you don’t get me consigned to Bedlam first.”

  Bonnie shook off his arm and glared at him. “It doesn’t matter if I’m ruined, don’t you see? It won’t change anything. I’ll still have to marry my cousin, no matter what I’ve done, so they may as well hang me for a sheep as a lamb. And don’t you try to wriggle out of it. You gave me your word.”

  Jerome cursed and rubbed a hand over his face. She was right, damn it, and he was honour bound to do as he’d promised. “Fine,” he said, angry with himself, with her, and with this whole ridiculous situation. “Fine, I’ll take you, but don’t come running to me when this goes to hell.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, and it won’t,” Bonnie said soothingly. “You didn’t recognise me, after all, and you knew what I was doing.”

  “For about five seconds,” he retorted and then let out a breath, shaking his head. “I am so going to regret this.”

  “Ah, don’t be like that,” she coaxed, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “We’ll have fun, I promise.”

  Jerome stared back at her, at her obvious excitement, at the curve of her lush lips and the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, I don’t doubt it, you little devil. I just wonder how long I’ll be paying for it afterwards, that’s all.”

  “It will be worth it,” she said, her eyes fixed on his, something in her voice that made anticipation shiver down his spine. “I promise.”

  He nodded, believing her, because he always believed her. “I know,” he said, before giving a short bark of laughter. “Well, then, if we’re going to the devil, we may as well do it in style. What am I to call you, sir?”

  Bonnie grinned at him, and in the fierce joy of that irrepressible smile all the terrible consequences fell away and there was nothing but this moment, this ridiculous adventure.

  “Bartholomew Camden. A distant cousin on your mother’s side, Jerry, old man.”

  Jerome snorted, disarmed by her enthusiasm, and a bubble of laughter rose inside of him. “Well, Coz, I’m very pleased to know you. Why don’t we leave this place and find a bit of l
ife?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Bonnie said, giving him a very tidy little bow. “Lead on, Macduff.”

  “It’s actually ‘lay on,’” Jerome began, correcting her, but Bonnie just huffed and rolled her eyes.

  “Do shut up and come along,” she scolded and dragged him out of the ballroom by his arm.

  ***

  “A love match, it appears.”

  Matilda’s heart leapt to her throat at the sound of the familiar voice so close behind her.

  She forced herself not to turn, not to react. “It is certainly that, my lord.”

  She continued to watch Jasper and Harriet dancing together, their happiness so obvious it radiated from them across the ballroom. It was not them that held her attention now, though. Matilda could feel Montagu standing at her back, feel the heat of him standing just a little too close. If she closed her eyes, she might be able to detect the scent of him, too, that intriguing combination of bergamot and clean male skin, the faint trace of leather and horses… though perhaps it would be different tonight, as he would have arrived by carriage. The urge to lean in and sniff him was so outrageous that she almost smiled.

  “How strange,” he mused. “When everyone has believed she hated him, and he thought her a prim little bookworm.”

  “Appearances can be deceptive.”

  Her tone was wry, and she wondered if he smiled or felt the slightest bit guilty for all the slander attached to her name because of him. Though she wanted to turn around and study his face, Matilda continued to watch Harriet and Jasper, trying hard to appear indifferent to his proximity.

  “So it appears, as they were caught in somewhat, er… delicate circumstances.”

  Matilda turned then, to look into the cool silver eyes that haunted so much of her time. A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth, softening the austere lines of his face not a whit. His hair shone like gilt beneath the candlelight, the harsh black and white of his formal evening attire only highlighting his extraordinary colouring.