The Marriage Wager

by Ashford, Jane

  He waved her question aside. “Going to introduce me?” he asked, implying that she had somehow slighted him once again.

  Emma gave an exasperated sigh. “Lady Mary, this is my brother Robin Bellingham. Robin, Lady Mary Dacre.”

  Lady Mary’s face fell as the pleasant fantasy she had spun about Emma’s betrayal of her husband with a shallow young lover evaporated.

  “How d’you…” Robin paused. “Dacre?” he repeated. “Dacre? The one who’s spreading insulting stories about St. Mawr? What the deuce is she doing with you?”

  “Robin,” admonished Emma. She looked around; there was no one near them just now.

  “It was certainly not my idea,” answered Lady Mary.

  Robin ignored her. “They’re saying at the clubs that she’s off her noodle. According to Freddy Blankenship—”

  “Freddy is despicable!” cried Lady Mary. “And it is excessively rude of you to talk about me as if I am not even here.”

  Robin looked her up and down as if she were a mildly interesting specimen at the zoo. “Freddy says she nearly pulled the same trick on him. Claimed he was paying her attentions when he only danced with her.”

  Lady Mary gasped. She had turned bright red. The glare she aimed at Robin was murderous. “You… you…” she sputtered.

  “Freddy says she thinks herself irresistible.”

  “You beast,” exploded Lady Mary, having found her tongue. “You are worse than Freddy. You are the rudest, most unpleasant man I have ever met.”

  “Well, at least you won’t be imagining that I mean to offer for you, then,” responded Robin callously.

  “You? If you were the last man on earth, I would not accept you.”

  “Rest assured, the question won’t come up,” said Robin.

  Lady Mary burst into tears.

  “Robin,” protested Emma.

  “As if I should ever look at anyone with a waistcoat like that,” Lady Mary blubbered.

  “What’s the matter with my waistcoat?” exclaimed Robin, looking down at this loudly colorful garment.

  “It’s hideous,” she wailed, then retreated into her handkerchief.

  “Lady Mary,” objected Emma.

  “You hellcat,” said her brother. “I’ll have you know that this pattern is all the crack. Been excessively admired by any number of people with taste.”

  “It looks like something a child would scribble if she got into a paintbox,” sniveled Lady Mary.

  Robin drew in an outraged breath. “This creature caused St. Mawr to throttle a fellow in the middle of his club dining room? It’s a rotten shame, that’s what it is. Shouldn’t be allowed.”

  “Caused what?” said Emma.

  “Disrupted the entire place. Everyone staring. Must have been devilishly embarrassing.” Robin shook his head. “I’d have throttled her instead, I can tell you that much.”

  “Robin, what are you talking about?” demanded Emma.

  “Perhaps not throttled,” Robin was continuing to himself. “Not the thing to throttle a lady. Bad form. Shaken her soundly, maybe. Yes, that’s it.”

  “What happened at Colin’s club?” repeated Emma, in a voice that could not be ignored.

  “Um? Oh, it was that thing with Steyne. Came up to St. Mawr’s table at the club. Said something or other about this whole rigmarole. I never heard what. And St. Mawr went for his throat.” Robin looked torn between admiration and disapproval. “They say two of his friends had to pull him off Steyne or he would have killed him then and there.”

  “Because of me?” wondered Lady Mary rapturously, her tears mysteriously dried.

  “Insult to Emma, I heard,” contradicted Robin. “No one would get into such a taking over you.”

  “Beast,” said Lady Mary.

  “She-devil,” replied Robin cordially.

  Emma made a sound, which caused them both to turn and look at her.

  “Say.” Robin frowned at the expression on his sister’s face. “Probably shouldn’t have mentioned the incident.” He looked guilty. “Know I shouldn’t have, in fact. Not suitable for ladies’ ears. Hope you won’t let on that I was spreading the tale.”

  “I will,” Lady Mary assured him.

  Robin ignored her.

  Colin had already been exposed to acute embarrassment in front of his town friends, Emma thought. Because of her. And he had not even told her about it.

  “You all right?” Robin asked.

  “Yes.” Emma wanted to ask him more about the incident, but not now, in this public place, with Lady Mary at her side taking it all in. She instructed the coachman to turn for home. “Come and visit me,” she told Robin as they left him.

  With a wave that committed him to nothing, Robin rode off. Emma then had the pleasure of riding through the streets in an open carriage with Lady Mary sniffing theatrically into a handkerchief beside her. “Do stop,” she urged the girl. “You will ruin all that we accomplished today.”

  “It was not like that at all,” wailed her companion from the depths of her square of linen.

  “Of course it wasn’t,” soothed Emma, not caring in the least what “it” might be, only determined to forestall more tears.

  “Freddy Blankenship was hounding me. He sent flowers. He took me riding. He always asked me to stand up with him more than once at Almack’s. When Mama told me that we might expect an offer, I took the next opportunity to inform him that I did not wish to marry him.”

  Emma made calming noises, searching the busy street for anyone who might recognize them.

  Lady Mary gulped back a new sob. “He is fat, and he thinks he knows everything,” she informed Emma.

  She shook her head, trying to look sympathetic and fervently wishing that they might reach the Morland house soon.

  “He called me a starched-up little prig who thought no one was good enough for her. But that isn’t true. I just didn’t like him.”

  “Of course,” said Emma, relieved that the crying seemed to be definitely over.

  Lady Mary sniffed. “And I think he was paying me attentions only because I am the daughter of a duke.”

  “He sounds like a dreadful person,” responded Emma.

  “Well, he is. And now he is getting his revenge on me by spreading these stories, making me ridiculous.”

  “Rather like your story about Colin,” Emma could not resist saying.

  “It isn’t,” wailed Lady Mary. She threw her wet handkerchief onto the seat of the carriage. “I am going to make Mama take me into the country.”

  Would that be best, after all? Emma wondered. She didn’t know how much more of Lady Mary she could tolerate. Certainly she wanted her kept away from Orsino. And with Colin creating scenes at his club, perhaps it was all for nothing anyway. She set her jaw. Their appearance together had helped today. Many of the people they had spoken to had begun to doubt the stories; she knew it. She had to continue, which meant that Lady Mary did as well. “That’s the same as admitting the talk is true,” she argued. “Do you want to give Freddy that satisfaction?”

  “What else am I to do?”

  “Ignore him. Drive out with me again and show everyone that you are not affected by the silly things being said.”

  Lady Mary stared at her from reddened eyes. She was not at all stupid, Emma realized. “You just want to help St. Mawr,” she said. “You don’t care anything about me.”

  “You said you wanted to help him, too,” Emma pointed out.

  “Nobody cares about me,” the younger girl wailed, groping for her sodden handkerchief once more.

  Fortunately, at this moment, they pulled up in front of the Morland town house. Emma accompanied Lady Mary inside. “Showing the ton that you are unaffected by gossip will help you as well,” she told her. “If the stories about Colin are untrue, isn’t it all the more likely that
Freddy’s malicious attack is also groundless?”

  “I hate him,” said Lady Mary passionately.

  “Of course you do.”

  “I’ll show him he cannot spread lies about me!”

  “Good,” encouraged Emma.

  “I’ll tell everyone he wears a corset. I heard it creak when he bent down to pick up my fan.”

  “I don’t—” began Emma.

  But Lady Mary had undergone a sudden change in mood. “We’ll look for him in the park, and I’ll cut him dead,” she added triumphantly.

  Emma hid a grimace.

  “How fortunate that you began this.” Lady Mary gave her a brilliant smile. She seemed to have forgotten her resentment of Emma. “I am not allowed to go out otherwise, you know, because we are in mourning.”

  “Don’t you think that you should—”

  “Freddy will be very, very sorry he so much as mentioned my name,” declared the younger girl with immense satisfaction. She turned and gave Emma her hand like a grand hostess. “Good-bye,” she said happily. Holding up the flounce on her skirt, she went tripping up the stairs.

  Emma returned to her carriage with a mixture of apprehension and relief. Events seemed to be moving rather too fast, she thought, and not at all in the direction she had planned.

  ***

  Emma looked for Colin as soon as she reached the house, but he was out. Her desire to speak to him was so strong that she could not settle to anything else. Instead, she paced the drawing room, growing more impatient and irritated by the minute. Her silent commands did not bring him home, however. She had to go up to dress for dinner without having seen him. She did hear him arrive a little later. But the maid was dressing her hair, and she knew that Reddings would be with him. She would have to contain herself until after the evening meal, she concluded in frustration.

  “How was your drive?” Colin asked Emma as they ate.

  “Unusual.”

  “From what I have observed, Lady Mary Dacre seems to be an unusual young woman.”

  “She certainly is that.” In an effort to make conversation, Emma recounted the story of her outing. Colin found the exchanges between Lady Mary and Robin Bellingham amusing. “I am developing a strong desire to meet this Freddy Blankenship,” he said.

  “I leave him to you,” responded Emma. “And I pray that our next drive will bear no resemblance to this one.”

  Colin raised his eyebrows. “Is there to be another?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “You really believe it necessary?”

  Emma looked at him. “Don’t you?” she asked pointedly.

  He did not respond to her signal. “You must do as you think best,” was his only reply.

  “You have no opinion on the matter?” wondered Emma crisply. “You don’t think the scandal is spreading?”

  “My credit is strong enough to withstand the chit’s illusions,” he answered.

  “I see.”

  Colin did not appear to hear the irony of her tone. He smiled. “One good thing has come out of this, at least. You have won over my mother.”

  “What?”

  “I encountered her in Bond Street today, and when I ventured a mild complaint about the presence of Lady Mary in my drawing room, she leapt to your defense.”

  “You’re joking?”

  “No, indeed. Your efforts to avert a scandal impressed her deeply. She scolded me for venturing to criticize such a brave and quick-witted young woman. Said I didn’t deserve you.”

  “Why would she say that, I wonder?”

  Something in her voice finally penetrated Colin’s consciousness. “Because you’ve taken her by storm,” he said. “Is anything wrong?”

  “With me? No.”

  “Has someone insulted you? Is that why you’re asking about scandal?”

  “I don’t know,” she snapped. “Have they?”

  Colin frowned at her. Before he could speak again, the footman entered with a tray, and the second course was served with due ceremony. When they had taken what they wanted and begun to eat again, John stationed himself in the corner, ready to do their bidding, and effectively limiting their conversation as well.

  They finished the meal mainly in silence, then walked together through the dining room door, which John was holding for them. “Will you sit in the library, or do you prefer the drawing room?” asked Colin.

  “The library,” replied Emma decisively. It was much more private than the upper room, and would give them a chance to talk.

  They settled on the library sofa before the fire. Colin stretched out his long legs toward the blaze. “This is pleasant,” he said. “It has been a long time since we spent an evening at home.”

  “Yes.” Emma half turned to face him. “There is something I wish to speak to you about.”

  “I sensed that,” he responded dryly.

  “Why did you not tell—” Emma’s sentence was interrupted by a knock at the door. “What?” she snapped.

  Ferik entered with a tray containing decanters and glasses. He gave them a dazzling smile as he placed it on the table before them.

  “Where is John?” said Colin.

  Ferik straightened, spreading his great hands. “Alas, he fell and hurt his knee,” he replied. “But I knew that you wanted your brandy, lord, so I brought it at once.”

  “Is John all right?” said Emma sharply, having a very good notion of how the footman came to fall.

  “Oh, yes. He must only rest a little.” Ferik gave her a conspiratorial look, and Emma glared at him.

  “Clinton will see to him,” said Colin, misinterpreting her reaction.

  “It is Mr. Clinton’s night off,” said Ferik, as if mentioning some filthy habit the butler had recently revealed. “I do not require nights off, lord.” He put his hand across his chest. “Never would I desire such a—”

  “Yes, yes,” interrupted Emma. “Thank you, Ferik. We don’t require anything else.”

  “Yes, mistress. But shall I not bring more wood for the fire? The box is nearly empty.”

  “It will last,” said Colin. He looked at Ferik, and the giant bowed low.

  “Yes, lord, thank you,” he said, and went out.

  “He has to stop this,” Colin complained when he was gone.

  “I’ll speak to him again,” answered Emma impatiently.

  “No.” He looked thoughtful. “I think we must try stronger measures. I cannot have my footmen injured.”

  “What measures?”

  Colin raised one brow. “I believe I will order Clinton a… a new coat. With, oh, silver buttons.”

  Emma had to smile. “Ferik will be livid with envy.”

  “Precisely. And he will see that Clinton continues to have my, er, favor, despite his incursions.”

  “You have a flair for intrigue, my lord.”

  “I do, don’t I?” He reached for the decanter. “Will you join me?”

  Emma shook her head, and he poured out one brandy.

  “Now then,” he added after he had taken a sip and approved the vintage. “What did you wish to talk about?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me what happened at your club?” Emma asked without preamble.

  “My club?” he echoed.

  But Emma could see from the flicker of wariness in his violet eyes that he knew exactly what she meant. “I understand you attacked a man there,” she continued impatiently. “Publicly, in the dining room. And I have heard it was because of some insult to me.”

  “Heard from whom?” replied Colin in a soft, dangerous voice.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Emma asked again.

  “There was no reason to do so.” Colin turned slightly away from her. He was not proud of his behavior during that unfortunate incident. And he was furious that Emma had been told
of it.

  “No reason? Was it not related to this stupid scandal we are trying to combat?”

  “I don’t wish to discuss it.”

  “I insist upon discussing it!” exclaimed Emma.

  “It is none of your affair,” he snapped.

  “None…” She couldn’t speak for a moment, she was so angry. Her temples were pounding with it. “I see,” she said finally through gritted teeth. “We are not, then, working together on this problem. We are not partners with a common cause who can aid each other. We are to care nothing for what the other does, and indeed not to expect that it is any of our affair!”

  “Emma!”

  “I had not realized. I had foolishly assumed that our bargain meant that we had shared interests and goals. I beg pardon for having overstepped my bounds, my lord. I shall take care not to do so again!”

  “You are making a great deal out of nothing,” Colin replied.

  “Oh? Are gentlemen constantly throttling one another at your club? I had formed quite a mistaken impression of it.”

  “You are being purposely irritating,” he accused.

  “It is no wonder then that women are not admitted,” Emma went on as if he had not spoken. “We are not particularly partial to brawling.”

  Colin took hold of her shoulders, shaking her a little, and forced her to face him. “Stop it!”

  His fingers were digging into her arms. Emma took a deep breath.

  “Who told you of this?” he demanded.

  She took another breath, trying unsuccessfully to be calm.

  “I will know,” he said.

  “What does it matter?”

  “Emma!”

  “Perhaps that is none of your affair,” she retorted. She wriggled, trying to shake off his grip.

  Colin shook her very slightly again. “If you do not tell me at once, I shall…”

  “What? Throttle me?”

  He released her as if she had burned his hands. His eyes, fixed on her face, narrowed. “Someone you met in the park, I wager,” he said. “But a mere acquaintance would not dare…” His jaw tightened. “Your brother,” he guessed. “He hasn’t the wit to keep his mouth closed.”