A Wager Worth Making (Arrangements, Book 7)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Gemma rushed into the sitting room and went to her mother’s side as she reclined on the faded brocade divan.

  “You’re engaged to Blackmoor?” her mother asked, squeezing her hand, her eyes alight.

  Gemma smiled for the first time in minutes and nodded. “Yes, Mama. Is that all right with you?”

  Her mother’s plump face broke out into a beaming smile. “Dearest girl, I could not be more delighted! But is it all right with you? You seem a bit… hesitant.”

  “Well,” Gemma said softly, “I…”

  “I cannot believe you all are considering this!” Spencer broke in with a hard laugh. “Blackmoor? He’s a murderer!”

  Gemma whirled at once. “He is not! How dare you!”

  Her handsome brother-in-law sneered viciously. “Has he told you that? Was that part of his courtship? Explaining how all of those rumors got started?”

  This was not like Spencer at all, and it puzzled her, but her rage was not going to take the time to ask about it. “If there were any truth to those rumors, don’t you think he would be barred from Society?” she retorted.

  “It’s a fair point,” her mother mused in an odd, dreamy tone, turning them both. “Lady Raeburn would never let a real murderer in her house. Her second husband was murdered.”

  Gemma sighed and put a hand to her brow. “No, Mama, that was Lady Hendershot. Lady Raeburn’s second husband choked on a bone.”

  That too-familiar glazed look overtook her mother’s features, and Gemma hid another sigh. At one time in her life, Theodora Templeton had been a sharp wit and a great beauty. Now she was a slightly addled, unwell, ridiculous woman with only scant moments of her old self shining through.

  “But I thought it was murder,” her mother said faintly. “Everyone always said so. Lady Wiltshire’s husband died in a duel, Mrs. Campbell’s husband had apoplexy…”

  “Enough about the widows of London!” Spencer snapped, again acting out of character. “We cannot have Blackmoor in the family! It is entirely unsuitable!”

  “For whom?” Gemma responded with a defiant tilt of her chin. “I like Blackmoor. I like him very much. He is a good man, a good friend, and he kisses like an angel.”

  Spencer sputtered furiously and fumbled over an appropriate response, but Gemma was not about to give him the chance to do so.

  “And furthermore,” she continued, “he wants to marry me. So you may bite your tongue, Spencer Hammond, because nobody asked you!”

  He gaped at her for a moment, then looked down at his mother-in-law in disgust. “You cannot agree to this, Theodora. I will speak to Templeton about it before he comes tonight, but you cannot want this for her.”

  Her mother shrugged, the ribbons of her lace cap bouncing. She picked up her embroidery and sighed, “Well, if the Gerrards think well of him, I am in no position to judge him. He detests Lady Greversham, which makes me think highly of him indeed.”

  Gemma rested a hand on her mother’s shoulder, relief washing over her.

  Spencer grunted in irritation. “And when your daughter is dead will you think so highly of him?”

  That drew a screech from Gemma and she marched over to shove her brother-in-law, who tumbled backwards into a chair. “You are more likely to die at his hands than I, you blundering blockhead, if you continue to spout your infernal rumors about him! Ask your brother on the subject, and see what the earl says, as they are neighbors!”

  With a disgusted huff, she stormed out of the room, more determined than ever that this marriage would occur, no matter what London, or her idiot relations, would say.

  Spencer watched Gemma march away, and tossed a grin at his mother-in-law, not quite so far gone as anybody thought. “Well, I think I have pushed her far enough.”

  Theodora chuckled and set her embroidery down. “I’d say so. Any doubts she had about the marriage are quite gone.”

  He hummed in satisfaction. “Good. Nathan says he’s a rare sort of man, and his friends consider him an ally. No matter what the world says, I think Gemma could do worse.”

  “I’d venture she could not do better,” she replied, scratching idly at her cap. “It takes a very patient sort of man to put up with her, and the viscount seems to possess an astonishing amount of patience. Why do you think Gemma’s father lets her run wild? He cannot handle her.”

  Spencer laughed and drew a knee up. “Should I warn Blackmoor, then?” he asked. “Caroline thought it might be necessary.”

  Theodora shook her head at once, eyes wide, smile bright. “Gads, no. We need the girl married! He can find out afterwards when he cannot escape.”

  Chapter Seven

  There was not much for Lucas to do in the following days, as the wedding plans were swept out of his hands, and he was grateful to give them up.

  He’d dealt with one wedding already, he really would prefer not to endure details of another.

  He shook his head as he sat back in his chair at his club. He could not compare Celia with Gemma, and he had to avoid ever doing so.

  They could not have been more different.

  This was not the same thing at all.

  He spun the glass in his hand against the table absently, lost in thought. Gemma’s family were thrilled to have her married, and seemed equally as delighted by him as the prospective bridegroom, though he failed to see how that could be possible. Her brother-in-law was a bit more wary, but pleasant enough. They’d met occasionally since the engagement, and while he could not yet consider him a friend, he rather thought that one day Spencer Hammond might be among his closest.

  He had not yet determined why it was that Gemma edged closer to him when Spencer was around, nor why she glowered at him so, but Spencer always smiled at it, which only made Gemma more irritated.

  Mrs. Hammond, her sister, was immediately friendly with him, though it seemed she had been warned by Gemma about his reserve, for she had never been overbearing in her attention to him. He could see the resemblance between the sisters easily, and he could also see why Caroline had always been the more favored of the two in looks. She was a perfect picture of an English woman, and, even after three children, hardly bore a strain or change in her appearance at all. While she could not have passed for a girl in her early Seasons, she would not have been suspected of motherhood of such a length either.

  The relationship between the sisters was strong, but he could see a certain tension in Gemma on occasion, particularly when Caroline would tease her about something or other. Her family seemed to forget her age, and it was not uncommon for them to treat her as one of the older children.

  It surprised him that she did not resist any of this, but he suspected she was being a dutiful daughter. Still, he did not like seeing her diminished in such a way, and he would have to do something about that.

  It had been an interesting experience for him to see such a family, to become part of it. He’d never known a family with such easy manners and lightness, even if Gemma suffered on occasion for it. Good manners, warmth, and gentility abounded, including the three rowdy children of the Hammonds.

  The children adored Gemma, and she them. She was playful, exuberant, and gave each child the individualized attention to make them feel important. It was her nature to be so, and she worked the same magic on him.

  He would try to return the favor to her. He might not be the sort of man she deserved to have for her husband, but he would do everything in his power to ensure that she never had reason to regret marrying him.

  Society would give her reason enough as it was.

  He’d been relieved when Gemma had informed him that she had no desire for banns to be read. She declared she had no need of anyone’s approval on the topic but her own, and she was not about to give anyone an excuse to say something. Therefore, he would have to procure a special license for them.

  He had been tempted to kiss her quite soundly for that, but as they had been before her family, he’d settled for squeezing her hand. And his heart had felt the same
pressure when she had squeezed back.

  Gemma had also insisted that they not be married with the haste tied to a special license, and he had agreed. He wanted her to have the full wedding experience she deserved, had she married any other man. Her excuse was that the stigma of a special license was generally that the persons were marrying quickly for suspicious reasons. As she was not ashamed of anything, she proclaimed, she would be married in the same amount of time as anyone else might have.

  She was determined to prove a point with her three weeks, and he adored her for it.

  Private moments had been few and far between for them since their engagement, and he was beginning to grow desperate for them. Something about his intended rejuvenated him, chased the shadows from his mind, and set him at ease. It was becoming harder and harder to return to himself after leaving her, and most certainly harder to maintain his composure when he was around her.

  She was light itself, and he’d had too much of darkness.

  But would his darkness overwhelm her? Would she grow dimmer and dimmer under his gloom until nothing of the girl she was remained?

  No. He shook his head again, more firmly. No, he would never let himself poison her in such a way. He would take himself away and suffer the rest of his life with the parting from her if he had to, but she would not suffer in such a way.

  “You look delighted by your prospects,” came a cheery voice.

  He looked up to see Kit approaching, and he pushed a nearby chair out with his feet. “I am.”

  Kit frowned and sat, folding his arms. “I was being facetious.”

  “I know.”

  His friend groaned. “Blackmoor, if you don’t want to marry her…”

  “Why would I not want to marry her?” he demanded, forgoing his usual politeness.

  Kit’s brows rose, and his mouth worked silently. “Well, I don’t…”

  “I do want to marry her,” Lucas insisted firmly. “Very much.” He ran a hand through his hair, which made Kit’s eyes widen more, as it was so out of character for him. “More than I thought I would have.”

  “So what is the problem?” Kit asked, his surprise fading into concern.

  Lucas managed a hard laugh. “The problem is that I will marry her, unfortunately. She’s quite determined about it, and I won’t try to dissuade her.”

  Now his friend frowned and leaned forward. “Why so unfortunate? Why should you dissuade her?”

  Lucas looked at him for a long moment, disparaging. “Because it’s me, Kit.”

  Understanding crossed Kit’s face and he exhaled slowly. “I see.”

  That said enough of itself. Lucas leaned his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands. “What am I doing?”

  “Taking your chance at happiness, I gather,” Kit replied calmly, “and there is no reason why you shouldn’t.”

  Lucas looked up at him in disbelief. “No reason? I can give you several.”

  Kit shook his head with determination. “No. You have suffered enough, Lucas, and I would venture to say needlessly. I am not about to argue with you about your decisions,” he said, holding out a hand to ward off Lucas’s forthcoming protests. “You did what you thought was best, and you are somehow still a gentleman despite all of that.”

  Lucas grunted a dismissal, thinking his friend too kind, but he was hardly going to argue the point now.

  “Marry Gemma,” Kit urged softly. “You deserve her.”

  Lucas chewed his lip for a moment and slowly sat back.

  “She’d have your head if she knew you were reconsidering,” Kit added in an undertone.

  Lucas nearly cast his friend a bitter smile. His statement was not only wrong, it was ignorant. Gemma would not have his head; she would be hurt. How hurt, he dared not imagine, but it would be enough to damn him to hell for eternities. She may pretend at boldness for all the rest, and she was indeed an outspoken creature, but she was also in possession of a very soft heart. She’d merely learned how to secure it to the point of near invincibility.

  “I’m not reconsidering,” he murmured. He couldn’t help but to smile as he thought of Gemma becoming his wife. “I’d be an imbecile to not have her as my wife.”

  “True.”

  “I only have reservations about the man she’s getting for a husband.”

  Kit nudged his chair with a boot. “I don’t.”

  Lucas shook his head and toasted his friend, then downed the remainder of his drink. “Will you stand up with me?” he absently inquired as he slid the glass back on the table.

  “Of course,” came the reply. “I would be honored.”

  He snorted softly and fidgeted with his cravat.

  “And if you want Gemma to enjoy being married to you,” Kit drawled easily, “you should probably start considering yourself in a different light. At least out loud.”

  He flicked his gaze to his friend and saw the warning in the smile. “She’ll see my faults soon enough.”

  “But she doesn’t need them magnified beyond their true dimension.”

  Lucas growled a little uncomfortably. “Why are you being so damned optimistic?”

  Kit chuckled and flagged a servant for a drink. “Because you’re getting married, Blackmoor, and to a person I happen to like very much. I am filled with good cheer.” He grinned and seemed to take great pleasure in his discomfort. “And it is my duty, now that I am a groomsman, to defend and support the bridegroom, even if from himself.”

  Lucas shook his head and rose, a trifle amused. “So be it. I shall find myself married in another two weeks, and I shall endeavor to enjoy every moment I can.”

  “And said with such enthusiasm.” Kit tilted his head. “You do need Gemma. She’ll brighten you up.”

  “Unless I dampen her,” Lucas muttered, scowling again. He nodded to Kit and turned to leave.

  He’d made it no more than ten feet before he was stopped by two young dandies he had never seen in the club before, and looked as though they ought to have had parental supervision in this adult place.

  They attempted to look intimidating and imposing, but only managed to look ridiculous.

  “Can I help you?” Lucas snapped, glancing between the two of them impatiently.

  “A word, Blackmoor,” the taller one said in his attempt at a gruff voice.

  He barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes. “Yes, so I assumed. Pray, get on with it, I have better things to do.”

  The smaller pup looked rather put out and thrust his chest out more. “We do not like this engagement between you and Miss Templeton.”

  He quirked a brow. “No? Pity we did not ask you then.”

  A muted chuckle from behind him colored the lad’s cheeks and he looked away.

  The first lad glowered at him, then at Blackmoor like a spoiled child. “We will not stand for it, Blackmoor. You shall not have her. You shall not take a girl from our circle.”

  Slowly he turned his direct and disgusted attention to him. “Oh, really?” he said slowly. “Well, forgive me for not giving the dirt under my boots to care, but as neither of you, nor any other man in England, has seen fit to try for her, I must resign myself to joining whatever circle you think Miss Templeton belongs in. But only long enough for you all to realize that she is far, far above it.”

  He nodded stiffly and pushed between them with ease, noticing then that the entire room had become aware of the conversation.

  “Anyone else have a problem with my engagement?” he demanded, looking about them all.

  Eyes were instantly averted, and it was not long before conversations resumed.

  Lucas met Kit’s eyes across the room, and saw his friend nodding in approval.

  Well, that was something.

  He returned his nod, and turned from the room, wishing it was not too late to call upon Gemma.

  He could have used her soothing touch.

  “I think I’ve made a mistake.”

  Lucas slowed beside Gemma as they walked the park. “Really?
”

  His tone sounded discouraged and she looked up at him in confusion. Then she realized how her statement must have sounded and she laughed. “No, no, not about that!” she protested with a smile, holding his arm a little tighter and leaning against him. “I can assure you, I am still marrying you. You’ll not lose me that easily.”

  She did not expect the rush of air that escaped him, nor the muttered, “Thank God,” but both made her smile. Silly man, did he truly think she would back out?

  He cleared his throat faintly. “Then what mistake have you made?” he asked politely, as if he’d not just displayed more emotion in that moment than he had in their entire first week of courtship.

  “Making us wait,” she moaned, rolling her eyes. “Mother is going to drive me to my wit’s end and you will have an idiot wife.”

  He made a soft noise of amusement that she had learned to love, and not charge him for. “Well, I can think of worse looking idiots I could be saddled with.”

  She elbowed him hard and again came the almost-laugh. “I am serious, Lucas!”

  His hold tightened at the sound of his name and she smiled. “All right, what has your mother done now?”

  “It’s our wedding!” Gemma cried, throwing her free hand up. “She’s fussing over everything! I’ve had so many potential wedding dresses that I am tempted to tell her that I shall be married in this muslin rather than any of her grand concoctions. But as it is your money, as she points out, why not find something extravagant? Ridiculous woman.”

  Lucas stepped away to examine her a bit boldly and she blushed at his expression. “You would make a very fine bride dressed just as you are,” he murmured. “Very fine.”

  She found herself giggling and looked away, but tugged him closer to her side. “Stop that,” she scolded, her cheeks burning.

  “You will have to get used to it, Gemma,” he told her, keeping his voice low as a couple and their daughter passed. “Compliments may be infrequent enough for you from other sources, but they will not be so from me.”

  “Then you shall have a continually blushing idiot wife,” she teased.