Amelia sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Philip never called her Emmy unless he was very worried or nervous, and she could never recall him using the pet name in front of persons other than their parents. “Perhaps you better tell me the wager…?”
“Of course. Well, you see―”
“Darlings!” her mother called out cheerily as she swept into the room in a swirl of pink silk.
Amelia spit out the large sip of water she had just taken. Droplets flew across the table and, to her horror, splattered on the duke’s face.
Without a word of acknowledgment about her social blunder, he wiped off his face and graced her with a grin. She could have gotten lost in his smile, but her mother’s perfume, mixed with the sweet stench of laudanum, reached her and reminded her what had caused her to spit out her water in the first place―shock.
When Amelia had checked on her mother before coming down to cook, her mother had refused to get out of bed and now she was completely transformed and apparently gay. “Mother, I’m so glad to so see you feeling better.”
Her mother jerked her head in Amelia’s direction. “I remembered it was Tuesday.”
Amelia frowned. That was an odd response. Perhaps it was the laudanum talking. “And Tuesdays make you feel better?” Amelia inquired, not wishing to point out the illogical statement and upset her mother.
The bright smile pasted on her mother’s face faltered for just a moment and her hand fluttered at her neck. “I would not say that. No, I would not say that at all, but Lord Huntington is calling on me to take me for a ride and to visit with his sister, and I could not cancel that.”
Amelia could swear her mother flinched when she said Lord Huntington’s name, but then that too large smile was back on her face. Something very odd was afoot. “Why not?”
“It wouldn’t be prudent, dear.”
Before Amelia could say more, someone knocked at the front door.
“That would be Lord Huntington!” Mother announced in an almost shrill tone.
Amelia started to push her chair back to join her mother in greeting the man―and perhaps to ascertain a clue as to what was going on―but her mother speared her with a stern look.
“Stay seated,” she commanded, as she used to do when Amelia was a young, wiggly child.
Amelia would have protested, but Philip discretely shook his head and rose. “Mother, I insist on saying hello to Lord Huntington.”
“If you really must,” she murmured, wringing her hands.
“I’m afraid I must,” Philip confirmed to Amelia’s relief. Philip was not near as attuned to picking up clues people were trying to hide, but hopefully he would discover something.
As they quickly departed the room, Amelia turned her gaze to the duke and was startled to find him staring at her again. She swallowed and forced herself to speak. “Since Philip is now occupied, perhaps you ought to go ahead and tell me what nonsense the two of you have concocted.”
The duke nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I wagered with your brother that I could transform you into a woman of grace by providing personal lessons and the appropriate blunt to purchase gowns and other necessities that would assist in the transformation.”
He spouted out the ridiculous wager with a straight face, as if delivering news of the weather. The heat of humiliation warmed Amelia’s cheeks. To her utter shock, His Grace reached across the table and grasped her hands. She realized as he held them tightly between his for a second, that she had been wringing them together. Once she stilled, he quickly released her, yet his hands remained flat on the table, the breadth of them displaying a hint of the strength and vitality he possessed. The crest ring gleaming on his finger was a potent reminder of the title he held, which clearly made the man think he could do or say anything.
She swallowed her mortification, determined not to show she was hurt that he thought she needed transforming. Of course he thought so. After this morning’s disaster, it was hard to think otherwise. She pushed the hurt away and tried to be logical. It was her best trait, after all, and one had to use their best qualities whenever possible. Perhaps he had an idea that would help her win Charles, and for that information, she would set her pride aside for a bit. “Do continue.”
“That’s one thing I like about you, Lady Amelia. I have known you less than two days, but I already see you are a woman of strength. Then again, most women are. It’s how they use their strength that’s so disturbing.”
“My gracious,” Amelia said, allowing a note of sarcasm to spill over. “Your compliments do so make my heart flutter. If winning my affection is part of the bet, I daresay perhaps you need lessons on flattery more than I need lessons on grace.”
“Is it flattery you want?”
His voice had pitched low, with an undercurrent of something beckoning.
She started to shake her head but caught her breath when his fingers stroked slowly down her hair.
“One look at you with your hair down made me want to lose myself in you.”
She gulped as flames licked not only her face but everywhere she most certainly should not be hot.
“Are you flattered?” he asked on a husky whisper.
She had to think about that. She was shocked. Thrilled. Perhaps flattered, but she’d never admit it. So instead, she stubbornly shook her head.
A low chuckle rumbled from him. “Excellent. I like a woman who makes me work for what I want.”
“And you want to win my love?”
“Love is not part of the bet,” he said, all traces of the rake gone and replaced with a no-nonsense tone.
“Then how am I to end up married to you?”
He leaned across the table toward her. His eyes had taken on a dull look. “You will end up married to me, Lady Amelia, because I wagered with your brother that once I transform you, and you are labeled an Incomparable by the ton, you will no longer have any interest in marrying Worthington but rather turn your attention to capturing a gentleman of greater worth and title. And once you do that, I win the bet.”
“So I’m to simply be a prize in a silly wager?” she asked, pleased with how blasé she sounded while her stomach twisted violently and her heart pounded.
He grimaced and shook his head. “Don’t think of it that way. I need a wife, but I’d prefer a marriage of convenience to a love match. Your brother needs to see you married well but does not have the means to give you the Season you require to capture the man you desire. With this wager, I will provide you the means. If you stay true to your feelings for Worthington, when I’m through transforming you, I guarantee you that he will offer for you. Once you accept, Philip wins the bet. But if you have a change of heart regarding Worthington, as I have wagered, then I win, and I get a bride who will suit my needs perfectly.”
He stopped, reached for her hand, and pulled back. “Risking that I might anger you, I’m going to be as honest as I can. You do not love me. I do not love you. We won’t bring false expectations into the marriage that will lead to betrayal or years of bitterness on either of our parts.”
A cold chill raced through Amelia. She clenched her teeth against showing any reaction. The marriage he was describing was exactly the sort she would never want. She longed to marry for love and have a life filled with great hopes and expectations. She licked her lips, trying to sort out what she had learned and what she needed to know. “What does Philip get if he wins the wager?”
He leaned back in his chair once again, his expression one of complete lack of concern. His gaze held hers while his lips showed a trace of the slightest smile. “I will pay off all your brother’s debt. Every last pence.”
“And if you win all you get is me?”
He nodded, though he evaded her gaze.
“That doesn’t seem a very good wager on your part,” she said, dryly. “True, if I change you gain a bride who has proven love does not matter to her, as you have so clearly stated you want, but you will gain nothing else. I have no dowry.�
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She leaned forward and tried to catch his gaze once again, but he avoided her. “Why not simply find a rich lady who you know does not care to marry for love. I’m sure you know dozens.”
“This way is more entertaining,” he said, meeting her gaze briefly before looking away.
She nearly snorted. What poppycock he was spouting. He was putting up a front of a cold, indifferent man, but she’d already seen a few glimpses of his kind side. He had done good deeds for two people she loved, for goodness sake.
She already knew she’d agree to this outrageous wager. Her participation would guarantee Philip’s debts were paid off, and she would do all in her power to help her brother and mother. Besides, there was no danger to her since she would not change, but the duke did not need to know it until she learned the whole truth of his motivation. “What if I refuse to participate in the bet?”
“You won’t.”
His tone was so self-assured she wanted to refuse, just to prove him wrong. “I might,” she said with force. She was rather pleased with how sincere she sounded. “I don’t think I need to transform myself to capture Lord Worthington’s attention.” She may not think she should have to, but she clearly needed to…Foolish man.
His Grace raised an eyebrow. “Be that as it may, it’s my understanding that Worthington will be leaving for London shortly to follow a certain young lady that lives here in town. It will be hard for you to capture the attention of a gentleman who is not even present.”
Blast Philip for blabbering.
She hoped her expression appeared as unconcerned as the duke’s. “There is a dance in three day’s time, and I plan to make an impression on Lord Worthington then,” she said, revealing what she had known she wanted to do but had been unsure how to do it. When the duke simply stared at her, she thrust out her jaw and added in a cool tone, “One he won’t forget.”
He shot her a twisted smile as his gaze raked over her body making her acutely aware that she had changed from a drab brown riding habit to a dull gray cotton gown that made her look like she was dressing more to become a nun and less to bedazzle a gentleman. He grinned at her. “Do you plan to make the same sort of impression you did today at the picnic?”
“Oh, do be quiet,” Amelia snapped, her temples suddenly aching. She reached up and pressed her fingertips to them while staring at the insufferable man. “I’m willing to admit my gowns and grace could use polish, and I’m not going to lie and say I have never imagined obtaining both, but I desire a man to love me for me. Every tarnished bit.” Her temples were really pounding now, and she expected the duke to laugh at her. Instead, he nodded.
“I couldn’t agree more, Lady Amelia. But I’m afraid the world does not work that way.”
Amelia sighed. She was tired of bandying words. This wager was ridiculous. It held no benefit for him. “Did you create this bet to help my brother? You must know in your heart of hearts I won’t change, and therefore know you will have aligned yourself to be able to pay off his debts without him feeling he borrowed it.”
“Clever, but not true,” he said, yet she saw him stiffen. She was right! She knew she was. Gratitude flooded her.
“You are lying. Why don’t you want people to know you have a good heart?”
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the tick of the longcase clock, until the duke, who had been frowning ferociously, grumbled, “I do not have a good heart. I’m so certain that you will change and I will end up married to you, that when your brother insisted the terms of the wager be written out to include that I will not be able to give him so much as a pence if I win, I immediately agreed. Because I realized I could get around his terms by giving the money to you. Then you, in turn, could help him. See how deceitful I am? I will do anything to get what I want, and your brother is so honorable he would never consider I’d circumvent the terms he dictated.”
She smiled smugly. “I told you, you had a good heart.”
He simply gaped at her, then slowly ran a finger back and forth across the golden stubble on his jaw, saying nothing. As the moment stretched on, Amelia’s thoughts raced. Had she gone too far? She prayed she had not. If she’d ruined her chance to help Philip and Mother, Amelia would beg the duke to reconsider. He stood, placed both palms on the table, and leaned so close that when she breathed in, all she could smell was him―a faint scent of earthy maleness mixed with the tang of fresh grass and clean air.
His gaze captured hers so she felt no more than a prisoner to his will. “You tricked me.”
She nodded.
“You knew you’d participate all along?”
“Of course,” she replied sweetly. “I’m in no danger of changing, and I will rescue my family from financial disaster.”
The duke nodded, causing a lock of his golden hair to fall over the right side of his forehead. He reached up and pushed it back off his face. Amelia sat, spellbound, watching the way his body moved with effortlessness and grace. He laid his hand open-palmed on the table. “I’ve been duped by a woman before, but I must say, this is the first time the woman had good intentions and was trying to help someone else.”
“I’m sorry I tricked you, but I had to know the whole truth.” She scrutinized him. Had he just flinched at that statement? “There isn’t anything else I should know is there?”
His gaze locked with hers, making her heart flutter oddly.
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Anything that would change the outcome of the bet?”
“No. There’s nothing you should know will change the outcome of my wager with your brother.”
His confirmation sounded true but carefully worded. Perhaps, he was simply hiding some other secrets of his past. She wasn’t going to try to force the man to tell her anything else and risk him deciding helping Philip was more trouble than it was worth. Plus, she felt sorry for him. It was sad that he was so sure a woman could be swayed from the man she loved by title and money.
Amelia rubbed her sweaty palms against her dress and stood. His Grace straightened to his full height and looked down at her. The power he exuded made her feel safe, and she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “I daresay it will take quite a bit of your blunt to set my brother’s affairs to rights.”
He offered a devilish smile. “I’m not concerned. I’d rather spend my fortune helping a man I admire than wasting it on the worthless pastimes I have been.”
A lump of gratitude lodged in her throat, but she swallowed it and spoke. “Shall we begin our lessons today? Will you stay here for a bit or shall we figure out a mutual place to meet? How will this work? Will I―”
Chuckling, he held up his palms. “I don’t know. Let me speak to your brother about the details. In the meantime, why don’t you go rest a bit?” He frowned and brushed a hand across her forehead, making her jerk back in response.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone serious. “Your face is flushed, your eyes a bit glazed, and your forehead hot. Do you feel unwell?”
She did feel tired, but who wouldn’t after the morning and early afternoon she had experienced. “I’m a bit fatigued. Perhaps I’ll go lie down. When my mother returns we will have to speak to her about the wager and get her agreement.”
“Of course,” he said, pressing a firm, warm hand to her back and waving her forward through the doorway and toward the stairs. It was strange how his touch caused her pulse to skip a beat. Charles had never put his hand on her back to lead her from a room. She was sure if he had, her heart would have raced uncontrollably.
She paused at the steps and turned to him. Her head was rather light, but after a second, it passed. “I will never forget the kindness you have shown by creating this wager to help my brother, and I vow to repay your kindness.”
“Really?” He quirked both eyebrows. “How do you plan to repay this so-called kindness?”
“It’s my secret,” Amelia said and turned away to ascend the stairs so he would not witness her sil
ly grin. If he could transform her, then she could transform him. He would make her passably pretty, and she would show him that all women were not coldhearted schemers. He would give her the chance to obtain her dreams, and she would teach him how to trust women so he could love and be loved.
Amelia headed straight to her room, her head spinning as she walked. By the time she lay down, she could hardly keep her eyes open. As she rested on the bed, her body becoming heavier, she imagined herself married to Charles and then on a whim she replaced Charles with the duke. Oddly, the thought did not totally disturb her, and the fact that it did not bothered her. She squeezed her eyes, counted to one hundred, and slowly forgot everything.
Amelia woke to absolute darkness. For a moment, confusion swarmed her. It had been early in the afternoon when she had lain down to take her nap. Good heavens! She blinked and sat up with a groan. She had slept the entire day away, and a fat lot of good it had done her. Her head ached worse than ever and―she sniffed, or rather she tried to―but her nose was so congested she could barely take in any air.
Muttering, she swung her legs over the bed and padded over to her looking glass, instantly wishing she had not bothered. Her hair was an absolute disaster. It hung wildly around her face and over her shoulders. She reached for a brush to try to set it to order, but the moment the bristles touched her skin she winced. Her head ached so badly her scalp hurt!
She set the brush down with a sigh. Their houseguest would just have to suffer her bedraggled appearance tonight. A warm sensation filled her chest at the thought of the duke and how he had orchestrated the entire wager simply to help Philip. The man had a good heart whether he believed it or not, and she was supremely glad she had thought of a way to pay back his generosity.
She glanced at the longcase clock with a frown. Six in the evening. Surely her mother was home from her carriage ride and visit to Lord Huntington’s sister by now? Though, Mother could talk for hours, once she got started.
Tugging on her gown and giving her pitiful appearance one last glance, Amelia forced herself to quit her bedchamber and head to her mother’s. After knocking on the door and getting no response as usual, Amelia cracked the door open, and peered into the empty bedchamber, glad to see her mother was not lying in bed. Excellent. Even if Amelia did not like Lord Huntington, she was glad his calling on Mother had gotten her out of bed.
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