The Marriage Wager

by Candace Camp

  Constance was immensely grateful. As she was sure Calandra had intended, no other prying person could quiz her about the scene that had just transpired as long as Calandra and Francesca rode on either side of her. And at this moment, Constance did not think she could talk to anyone, even Francesca.

  Earlier she had been floating in a dreamy state of love, muzzily refusing to think about reality. But the scene with Muriel had awakened her with a vengeance. Constance could not believe how foolish she had been. She had known that the amount of time she and Dominic had spent together would just skirt the edge of scandal. But she had not stopped to think it through clearly. She had not thought about how much her ragged looks would intensify everyone’s suspicions. And she had assumed that their friends would smooth over any intimations of scandal; it had never occurred to her that someone like Muriel would do her very best to make the situation look the worst it possibly could.

  Constance knew that she should have been more careful, though she was not sure exactly what she could have done. But she should at least have been better prepared to deal with Muriel Rutherford’s attack. Because she had not, Dominic had moved in swiftly to save her reputation. And that was what made her feel the worst.

  The embarrassment of everyone’s stares and whispers would have been bad enough, but the social humiliation was nothing compared to the guilt she felt over Dominic’s announcement of their engagement. She did not fool herself into thinking that he had said what he did because he actually wanted to marry her. No, he had simply acted as any gentleman should. Seeing that Muriel would make certain that Constance’s reputation was shattered, he had said the only thing that could save it—that they were engaged.

  Having said so, he could not back out of it now. A gentleman could not honorably break off an engagement, especially in a case such as this, where the jilted bride’s honor was under such a shadow. He was committed to it now and would have to marry her.

  Constance glanced over at Dominic, riding a few feet on the other side of his sister. His face was grim, his jaw set. It was clear that he was furious. Looking at him, Constance felt perilously close to tears. Less than an hour ago he had gazed at her with desire—even, she had thought, with love. Now, she was certain, his only feeling toward her was anger.

  An even worse thought came to her: what if Dominic assumed that she had maneuvered him into such a situation, hoping for exactly the result that had come about? She had heard rumors about women who had done exactly that, placing themselves in a compromising position with a man so that he would be forced to marry them. She did not think she could bear it if Dominic held such a low opinion of her.

  When they reached the house, the grooms hurried out to take their horses. Dominic came to Constance’s side to help her down. When he set her down on the ground, she looked up into his face anxiously, but she could read nothing there.

  “I am sorry. I must take my leave,” he told her quietly. “I have certain business that I must attend to.”

  Unease rippled through her. She feared that this “business” must be something to do with his declaration that they were engaged.

  “Dominic, no…” she said in a low voice, charged with emotion, and reached out toward him.

  “Francesca will stay with you,” he said, glancing over at his sister, who had come up beside them.

  “Of course,” Francesca promised.

  “Good.” He took Constance’s hand, bowing over it. “We will talk later.”

  Then he was gone, striding away toward the house.

  Constance looked after him in consternation, then turned toward Francesca in agitation. “I did not mean this! I did not wish for anything like this to happen! Oh, this is such a terrible mess. What are we to do?”

  Francesca calmly linked her arm through Constance’s and smiled, saying quietly, “Why, nothing, my dear. Just keep your back straight, and your face pleasant and composed. You must not let anyone guess that Dominic said anything less than the truth.”

  Constance wanted to protest, but she knew that the other woman was right. They could not stand about discussing the matter in public. She had to put a good face on it until she and Francesca could get away from everyone else.

  So she smiled back and went with Francesca. As they walked toward the house, the other riders turned toward them. Some offered her their best wishes on her engagement. A few tried to ask questions. But Francesca neatly evaded any prolonged conversation, laughingly telling them that she must get her future sister-in-law out of her wet clothes before she caught cold. And Calandra, she noticed gratefully, took the Norton sisters, who were obviously abrim with excitement and curiosity, off with her, chattering away about the storm, her own tiredness after such an adventure and anything else that came into her head.

  Francesca whisked Constance into the house and up the stairs. Constance was glad to see no sign of Muriel anywhere. They went into Constance’s bedchamber, closing the door behind them. Francesca released Constance finally, going over to the bellpull and tugging.

  “Francesca, please believe me,” Constance told her earnestly. “I never imagined that such a thing would happen.”

  “Indeed,” Francesca replied. “Who could have imagined that Muriel would behave so foolishly? I am sure that her mother will ring a peal over her head for letting her spite lead her to damage her own cause so severely. It is no more than she deserves, certainly, but I cannot help but feel a little sorry for her. Lady Rutherford is a demon when her ire is raised.” She paused, then added consideringly, “Of course, Lady Rutherford frightens me even when she isn’t angry.”

  “But it isn’t right! It isn’t fair that Dominic should have to pretend that we are engaged. It is not his fault. We talked at the promontory, and we let the time get away from us. We did not notice that the storm had built up. Then when we were caught in the rain, we took shelter in that cottage. Nothing happened.” At such a bald-faced lie, Constance could not meet Francesca’s gaze. She turned away, saying, “Dominic in no way wronged me. He should not have to marry me. Please, you must believe me, I had no intention of forcing Dominic to marry me.”

  “I am quite aware of that fact,” Francesca replied calmly. “Do you think I do not know by now what sort of person you are?”

  A maid entered at that moment in answer to Francesca’s summons, and Francesca sent her to draw a hot bath for Constance and bring her a pot of tea.

  When the maid had bobbed a curtsy and left, Francesca turned back to Constance. “Now, I think we had better get you out of those clothes.”

  Constance nodded, her fingers going to the buttons of her bodice. “Perhaps I should have something brought up to my room instead of going down to supper.”

  “Oh, no,” Francesca replied decisively. “That is precisely what you must not do. I know it is difficult to face everyone, but it is important that you make it clear that you have nothing to feel ashamed of. That you did nothing wrong. You have to give Dominic and Calandra and me a chance to show that we do not care what the gossips may say.”

  Constance knew that Francesca was right. If a duke’s sister and an earl’s daughter supported her, showing that they did not believe the gossip, then it would do much to quell the rumors that were no doubt flying around right now. But she hated the thought of having to smile and chat with everyone and pretend that nothing was wrong.

  “I know. It is just…It is so unfair! The wind blew my hat from my head, and my hair went every which way. It was so wet, and then I could not put it back up right. I know I looked a mess. But it was not Dominic’s fault,” Constance insisted.

  “It is an unfortunate circumstance that your absence was so long and so public. Even more unfortunate that your cousin dropped out of the party, and Calandra and the others had to stay with her,” Francesca commented. “And it is even more unfortunate that Muriel is such a spiteful fool that she would do everything she could to hurt you, even at the risk of losing precisely what she wants.”

  “Why would she
do such a thing?” Constance exclaimed.

  “I am sure she would not have if she had realized what Dominic would do. However, she misjudged my brother, because she does not know him at all. She assumes that everyone else in the world has the same lack of honor and scruples that she does. I think that Muriel must have thought that if she branded you a loose woman, Dominic would distance himself from you. She did not understand, of course, that he would not let your reputation suffer, that he would, of course, act in an honorable manner.”

  Francesca helped Constance out of her riding jacket as she spoke, then began to work at the buttons of her skirt.

  “Muriel is desperate, of course. That may have clouded her thinking. No doubt she sees my brother as her last hope of marriage. Her family’s fortune ensured that she would have ample suitors, but her cold, unforgiving temperament has frightened them all off. And, of course, the number of available men whom she would accept was rather low to begin with, as she refused to look as low as a baron for a mate. Muriel sees little point in marriage unless one improves one’s standing.”

  Constance shook her head. “Dominic must not marry that woman,” she said fervently.

  She slipped her skirt down and let it fall to the floor, then sat to remove her boots. Francesca went to the dresser and took out Constance’s dressing gown, coming back to hold it up as Constance finished skinning off the rest of her clothes and slid her arms into the robe.

  Constance felt warm for the first time since she had dressed in the cottage, and she hugged the dressing gown to her gratefully. She turned to Francesca.

  “But Dominic must not marry me, either,” Constance told Francesca earnestly. “You know that better than I. He told me about the encumbrances on the estate. I know that he must marry to help his family. He cannot marry someone who has not even a decent dowry, let alone a fortune. I cannot let him make such a mistake.”

  Francesca looked at her for a long moment. “Dear girl, you must let Dominic decide for himself what he will do. Quite frankly, you have no other choice. No one can make Dominic do what he does not want to, I am certain of that. He has always been his own man.”

  Still, Constance could not help but fret. She could not allow Dominic to ruin his life out of a sense of obligation to her.

  After Francesca left, as Constance lay soaking in the soothing warmth of the tub and later, as Maisie helped her dress and do her hair, she continued to worry over her problem.

  She could not bear to have Dominic forced into marrying her. What made it all worse, of course, was the fact that she wanted to marry him. She had realized today how very much in love she was with him. It was for that reason that she had made love with him in the cottage. When she allowed herself to think of being his wife, her heart thrilled inside her.

  But, of course, she could not give in to that longing. She could not sacrifice Dominic’s future for her own happiness. He was a man of duty, and if he married her, he would be ignoring that duty. More than that, she was certain that he did not want to marry her; he had announced that they were engaged only to protect her honor. He did not love her. Even when they had been making love, he had not told her that he loved her. He had wanted her; she was quite certain of that. But he did not love her as she loved him.

  It would have been a different matter if he had asked her to marry him because he could not bear to live without her. If he had ignored his duty to his family because he could not face the unhappiness of never having the woman he loved, then Constance knew that she would have tossed all caution to the winds. She would not have cared if she had to live the rest of her life in poverty, as long as she was with Dominic.

  But he did not love her. He had not asked her to marry him. And she did not want him without love any more than she wished him to be forced into marriage.

  Something must be done, she knew, and she was the only person who could do it. She glanced at the clock on her dresser. There was still time before supper. She must do what she could to right this wrong.

  Taking a deep breath, she strode purposefully out of her room.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CONSTANCE MADE HER WAY down the corridor to her aunt and uncle’s room. She knocked softly at their door and entered at her aunt’s response.

  Her uncle was sitting in a chair, waiting for his wife, who was fussing over her hair and jewels in front of the vanity mirror. Both of them turned to look at Constance in some surprise.

  “Well, come in, girl,” her uncle said jovially. “You need not look at us like that. We are not angry with you. You took something of a risk, I must say, but it has turned out well.”

  “I have come to ask you to let me return home,” Constance told him.

  “What?” Her uncle stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “Whatever are you talking about, you silly girl?” Aunt Blanche added. “Why would you want to return home? Oh, there may be a little whiff of scandal, but Lord Leighton has done the proper thing, and it will all pass in no time. Unless, of course, you draw attention to it by running away like a scared rabbit.”

  “I know that Lord Leighton said that we were engaged,” Constance went on. “But it isn’t true.”

  “Mayhap it was not when he said it, but it is now,” Uncle Roger retorted smugly. “He came to me tonight as soon as he got in and asked for your hand, just as he should. Of course I gave him my approval. I would never have thought you were such a sly minx, Constance.” He smiled at her as though they shared a secret. “But you have done very well for yourself.”

  “I did not do anything sly!” Constance protested. “Do you think I arranged it so that Dominic would have to marry me?”

  She might have known, she thought, that even if Francesca knew her to be the sort of person who would not do such a thing, her own family would not.

  “If not, you were very lucky indeed,” Aunt Blanche put in.

  “I cannot marry him,” Constance shot back. “Dominic does not wish to marry me. He said that only because Muriel Rutherford was doing her best to create a scandal.”

  “Stupid girl,” her aunt commented, giving a shrug. “Ah, well, her loss is our gain. Just think…we will have a countess in the family!”

  She beamed, looking positively starry-eyed. “One cannot help but wonder at such a man, of course—why, he paid not the least attention to Margaret and Georgiana, and they are, of course, of a far more eligible age. But still…Margaret is quite hopeful of that charming Mr. Carruthers. His attentions have been most marked the last few days. And once the girls are related to an earl, the possibilities will be endless. You will be able to introduce them to the very cream of society when you are Lady Leighton.”

  “I shan’t be introducing them to anyone,” Constance told her sharply, “as I will not be Lady Leighton.”

  Her aunt stared at Constance, her eyes bulging. “What? What are you talking about? Have you run mad?”

  “I am not mad. I am instead, I am beginning to think, the only one here who is quite reasonable. Dominic does not wish to marry me, and I will not make him.”

  “Make him?” Sir Roger trumpeted. “What are you talking about? He has already offered for you.”

  “Only because he felt he had to,” Constance retorted. “Can you not see the difference? He feels constrained to marry me.”

  “Of course he does. Quite right, too. A gentleman cannot play fast and loose with a young lady’s affections,” her uncle declared.

  Constance sighed. It was clear that her aunt and uncle would never understand her objections to the nature of the proposal. They were far too intent on seeing the advantages of a marriage to Viscount Leighton. She could not look to them for help. She must turn to Dominic. He had to be made to see reason.

  “I apologize for bothering you,” she said, turning away and starting toward the door. “Pray excuse me.”

  Her uncle mumbled some reply, but her aunt called out sharply, “Constance!”

  She turned back. “Yes?”

  “Just remembe
r this, my girl,” Aunt Blanche said sternly. “If you should turn down his offer, your name will be ruined. You will never get another offer. You will not, in fact, even be received.”

  Constance just nodded and continued out the door. She went down the stairs. It was almost time for supper, but perhaps she could manage to catch Dominic alone for a few minutes.

  When she entered the anteroom where everyone routinely gathered before dinner, she was aware of a pause in the conversation as everyone’s eyes flickered over to her. Dominic started toward her, and immediately the others began to talk again, though Constance was certain that all the guests were still watching her and Dominic, whatever they were talking about.

  Dominic gave her an elegant bow; he was, she was certain, emphasizing his regard for her. “Constance, it is good to see that you are looking well. I hope you feel well, also.”

  “Yes, I am quite all right.” She smiled tightly at him. With everyone eyeing them from all over the room, she did not feel comfortable talking to him, at least about anything but the merest polite nothings. “And you? I hope you did not catch a chill.”

  He shook his head. “No. Not at all.” He extended his arm to her. “Come say good evening to Francesca and my parents.”

  His parents were perhaps the last people she wanted to see—well, other than Muriel or Lady Rutherford—but she knew that this meeting was probably the most important one for tamping down gossip. Presumably his parents would be polite to her, not wanting a scandal, but she could not help but be afraid that they would cut her, shaming her in front of everyone. They could not be happy, she was certain, to have learned that their son was engaged to a near-penniless woman instead of the heiress whom they had chosen for him.

  Fortunately, however, they greeted her politely, if with a degree of coolness that convinced Constance that they had as little liking for the match as she had supposed they would. Neither of them, she noticed, offered her any felicitations on the match. Francesca, at least, greeted her with her usual warmth and proceeded to keep the conversational ball rolling with little enough help from anyone else. Neither Lord nor Lady Selbrooke seemed inclined to talk, and though Constance would have liked to help Francesca, she was too aware of the fact that everyone in the room was watching her.