The Double Wager

by Mary Balogh

  "Henry," he murmured, "did I hurt you, my love?"

  She smiled drowsily into the warmth of his shoulder. No, she answered silently, you did not hurt me at all, my love.

  "Did you know that that is what was to happen?" he asked against her ear.

  No, her mind replied as she slid happily into a deep sleep.

  Eversleigh lay staring upward at the shadows thrown on the bed's canopy by the candles that still burned. One hand absently caressed his wife's shoulder. Her failure to answer either of his questions had halted his own descent into sleep. He deliberately thought back over each moment of their lovemaking, reassessing her reactions. Had lie merely assumed that she was responding with a passion to equal his own?

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  While Henry and Eversleigh were deeply engrossed in their world of passion, a very weary set of twins were creeping through the grounds of the house toward the side entrance that they had left unlocked earlier in the evening. It was with great relief that they discovered that no one had detected the fact that the door was unlocked. Philip pushed the door open slowly, peered cautiously into the gloom to make sure that no one was close by, and beckoned Penelope inside. They tiptoed up the back staircase and stumbled thankfully into Penelope's room, closing the door behind them.

  "Whew!" said Penelope, dragging off the boy's cap that she had worn and shaking out her long hair. "I did not really think we should get back safely."

  "You did a really good job, Pen," her brother said admiringly. "It's a great pity that it's just not the thing for girls to become actresses."

  "Well, I was scared they would grab me up at any moment and turn me over to the watch," Penelope said more practically. "I wish we might have taken Brutus.".

  "How? With a black mask on? Don't be such a featherbrain, Pen," said Philip. "One look at him by either Henry or the toothpowder and the game would have been up."

  "You are sure that Henry got away safely?" Penelope asked.

  "If she did not, she does not have as much spirit as she used to have;" replied Philip. "I certainly kept old teeth off the trail for a while. Almost got m'self caught, too."

  Penelope giggled. "I should like to have seen him when he ran full tilt into the waiter bearing a tray of drinks," she said. "It must have been priceless."

  "I did not stay to watch the show," her brother said dryly. "But listen, Pen, I didn't like the way he was manhandling Henry. He was kissing her! You know that even his Grace does not kiss her out in public like that."

  "We have to do something about it," said Penelope with a sense of drama that seemed to suit the time and the occasion.

  "I don't know what," Philip replied, plucking at his lower lip while his brow furrowed in thought. "Manny keeps us busy most of the day."

  "Should we tell her?" Penelope suggested.

  Philip considered. "It might help," he admitted. "I don't think Manny will be of any real assistance-she goes off into a flap too easily. But I think she will want to help. At least she might let us keep a closer eye on Henry."

  "We'll tell her the whole story at breakfast tomorrow, then," said Penelope, and yawned so loudly that her jaws cracked.

  Chapter 10

  Henry turned over in bed. She was only half-awake, but already the events of the night before had returned to her mind. She snuggled over to the side of the bed where Marius had held her in his arms after their lovemaking, only to find that he was no longer there.

  Her eyes opened; she was instantly awake. It was light outside already, although the street sounds suggested that it was still early morning. Marius frequently rose early, she knew, to ride and refresh himself before going to the House for the morning business. She smiled smugly to herself and stretched luxuriously in the warm bed.

  So this was what it felt like to be a wife, to be loved! She relived again, moment by moment, the whole of their lovemaking. Why had she always thought of physical contact as something repulsive? Last night had been wonderful. It had not been a case of the male taking and using her and making her feel like a weak woman with no worth beyond her sexual function. He had made her feel a partner in what had happened. She knew, inexperienced as she was, that he had taken the time to give pleasure to her as well as himself. And she knew that she had given him pleasure. There was that moment when he had murmured his release against her face.

  If only he had not gone away so early… Henry would have liked to do again right then what they had done the night before. She felt a throbbing low in her womb at the very thought. Then she blushed with shame at her own desire. Maybe married people just did not do it that often!

  But she was happy! She bounced off the bed, grasped the hangings of her bed in her arms, and pirouetted several times until she became so entangled in the heavy velvet that she had to stop and carefully unwind herself, giggling self-consciously though there was no one there to watch. She rang for Betty.

  "I want the blue muslin dress today," she told her maid, and hummed tunelessly to herself as she washed, dressed, and had her hair brushed. "Is his Grace still at home?" she asked.

  "I believe so-, your Grace," Betty 'replied. "He was coming through the door as I was coming upstairs."

  "Good," said Henry, smiling into the mirror.

  She dismissed Betty before going down to the breakfast room. She had some thinking to do. Now everything was changed between her and Marius. They were in love; they were truly man and wife; they could now speak openly and freely to each other. She would go down to breakfast and he would rise from his place and hold out his arms to her. He would kiss her and laugh when she glanced uneasily at the butler, who would probably be there too. They would talk about last night and tell each other how much in love they were. And then she would tell him all about Oliver Cranshawe and her awkward debt to him. She would not mention Giles, of course. She would tell him that she had gambled unwisely at some party and that her debt had embarrassed her. But-yes-she would tell him. He would understand and forgive her in the afterhaze of last night's passion. And then she would be free of Oliver and would be ready to begin living happily ever after.

  Henry took a last peek into the mirror, adjusted a few curls around her face, and tripped lightly down the stairs to the breakfast room. Alas, it had two occupants. Mr. Ridley was sitting at the table with Marius. Henry found herself suddenly shy as both men rose from their places and Marius moved around the table to hold her chair for her. She smiled vaguely in the direction of his chin and beamed at Mr. Ridley.

  "Good morning, my love," Eversleigh said in his usual tone of bored irony. "You are remarkably early this morning."

  "I plan to go riding after breakfast, while the air is still cool," she replied.

  "Ah," was his only comment. And to Henry's chagrin, lie turned his attention to Ridley and talked about some speech that he was apparently to give within the next few days. Obviously her entrance had interrupted this business.

  "I suppose I must come and examine the morning mail," he said at last. "Is there anything important, James?"

  "Some bills and some invitations, your Grace," Ridley replied.

  "Ah, but I asked if there was anything important, James, his employer repeated, fixing him with a sleepy stare.

  "A letter from Kent and one from your Norfolk estate, your Grace." Ridley said in his long-suffering voice.

  "Then I must come," said Eversleigh with a sigh. "Will you excuse us, Henry?"

  "Of course," she replied bleakly.

  "And would you give me the pleasure of your company in the library before you ride, my love? Say in half an hour?" he asked.

  "Yes, Marius," she said, spirits soaring again. After the two men had left, she sat sipping her coffee, living again in her imagination the scene that would soon take place. Only the setting was different-it would be the library rather than the breakfast room. But all the better! The library was more private.

  Henry found herself blushing as she t
apped on the library door half an hour later and let herself inside. She closed the door and leaned against it. Her eyes shone and her lips were parted eagerly as she looked across at her husband. Disconcertingly, he was sitting formally at his desk, apparently engrossed in the papers that were spread out before him.

  "Come and sit down, Henry," he said without looking lip.

  Henry felt a twinge of unease. His voice was not the voice of last night's lover. She crossed the room' and sat uncomfortably on the edge of the chair that was across the desk from him.

  Eversleigh carefully put down the quill pen he was using, pushed together the pile of papers in front of him, and finally looked up at his wife. His eyes were hooded behind half-closed lids.

  "I owe you an apology," he said stiffly.

  Henry was too shocked to reply. But her hands were suddenly cold. She clasped them together in her lap.

  "I made you a promise on our wedding night," Eversleigh continued, "and I broke that promise quite shamefully last night. I had been worried about your safety and wished to punish you, I suppose. I regret the lapse, ma'am, and assure you that it will not happen again."

  "But Marius, I didn't… " she began.

  He held up an imperious hand to silence her. "I told you that you would be expected to perform the duties of a wife as soon as we retire to Kent for the summer," Eversleigh continued. "I find, on reflection, that it is distasteful to force my attentions on an unwilling partner. I wish you to know, Henry, that you may retain my name and my protection for as long as you wish, but you owe me nothing in return. Until you say the word, I shall not touch you again."

  "Oh," said Henry, leaping to her feet and putting her hands on her hips, "so I do not measure up to the standard set by Mrs. Broughton, do F'

  Eversleigh's body became completely motionless; his eyes became icy. "Would you care to explain that remark, Henry?" lie asked softly.

  "You thought I did not know, did you not?" she said, eyes flashing. "You thought me naive. I am not a child, Marius. I know she is your mistress and has been for a long time. I have seen you with her on several occasions. She is very feminine, with that tiny waist and large bosom."

  "Who has told you all this, Henry?" he asked, still in the maddeningly calm and soft voice. "Cranshawe?"

  "Oh, I do not need hire to point out the obvious to me," Henry said. "I know that, with my figure, I cannot compete." She held her arms out and looked down on her own slim body. "You must have found me very disappointing last night."

  "Must I, my love?" he asked, the old gleam showing in his eyes for a moment.

  "Yes. And do you know what?" she asked. rhetorically. "I am glad! You know I hate to be touched. When you kiss me, I feel like rushing to the nearest washbasin and plunging in my face. And what you did to me last night was quite repulsive. I think I should run away if I felt that I would have to be subjected to that at your pleasure. Keep your Mrs. Broughton. Perhaps she will help keep your lecherous hands off me!"

  Eversleigh put his palms on the desk and rose to his feet, keeping his eyes on her. He came around the desk. For one moment Henry thought he was coming to her and she did not know whether she would spit in his face or ignominiously grab his lapels and soak his neckcloth with her tears. But he walked across the room to pour himself a brandy. He stood silently, with his back to her, while he drank it.

  "Am I dismissed, your Grace?" she asked tauntingly.

  "No, Henry," he replied, turning to face her. His expression was impassive, almost mocking. "I wished to ask you one more question, though now is perhaps not the best time." He put his empty glass down on the table and walked over to the fireplace. He rested one elbow on the mantel and looked steadily across at her. She was still standing in front of the desk.

  "Are you in any kind of trouble, Henry?" he asked.

  "Whatever do you mean?" Henry said with an artificial little laugh.

  He pondered. "I have a feeling that there is something you will not tell me," he said carefully, "something that worries you.

  She laughed again. "What would worry me?" she asked.

  He watched her steadily. "I wish you would tell me, if I may help you," he said. "I know you feel bitter toward me this morning. You feel, and rightly so, that I have betrayed you. But believe me, Henry, when I tell you that I have the highest regard for you. And you may trust me, you know."

  Henry stared, her mind churning in confusion. Her brain was telling her that here was the perfect opportunity to unburden herself, to get herself out of a fix. Her heart was reminding her that her husband had used her the night before and found her wanting. He cared nothing that he was leaving her emotions bruised and raw this morning. She did not doubt that he would help her. But she would not be beholden to such a man. She would fight her own battles, as she always had. She lifted her chin and looked directly into his eyes.

  "What nonsense you speak, Marius!" she said. "May I leave now, please, or it will be too late to ride."

  Eversleigh's mouth relaxed into what for him passed for a smile, Henry supposed.

  "Run along, my love," he said. I have taken enough of your time for one morning, it appears."

  Henry considered slamming the door behind her when she left, but decided that doing so would be a childish gesture. She closed it quietly and stood outside the library for a few. moments, head and heart thumping. What had happened in the last few minutes had been so totally unexpected and so completely agonizing that she did not know quite how to cope at present.

  The butler approached her before she moved away. He held a letter on a salver. "This was delivered a few minutes ago, your Grace," he said deferentially. "I was to deliver it into your hands."

  "Thank you," she replied absently, taking the letter and climbing the stairs wearily to her room. She sat down in front of the mirror and stared disconsolately at her own image. Strange! She looked the same as she had when she went down to breakfast-how long ago? Was it only little more than an hour ago that she had left this room so full of hope and happiness? She had not dreamed that her newfound love would be so effectively shattered in such a short time. How she hated him! He had spoken to her once about his "animal instincts." And that was all they were. He must have been delighted the night before when she had started to cry and been so vulnerable. He had certainly been very quick to take advantage of the situation. And while she had held him and opened to him and called his name, because he was Marius and the man she loved, he had merely been using her as almost any man would use a woman who was so obviously available But he certainly did not consider her worth a repeat performance. Henry ground her teeth in mortification. Would she never learn not to trust any man-at least not with her emotions?

  She crushed into a wad the letter that she still held in her hand, then realized what she was doing. She smoothed it out again on top of the dressing table and broke the seal. The letter was from Oliver, she saw when she glanced down to the signature. She read:

  My dear Henry,

  I cannot tell you how deeply I regret my behavior of last evening. I can only plead the effects of overindulgence in wine. You must know that I hold you in deep regard. Surely I have proven my devotion to you. But I do not intend to remind you of any obligation.

  Please meet me in the park this morning. I shall ride there until noon. I must speak with you. I should regret having to call at the house, as I know you would be distressed should Marius find me there.

  I shall be awaiting the pleasure of your company.

  Your obedient servant,

  Oliver Cranshawe

  Henry crumpled the paper again and threw it to the floor. The rat! Could he seriously believe that she would ever trust him again? After what he had said and done the night before? Was ever a girl so unlucky as to encounter two such unprincipled men on the same night? But she would have to go, Henry realized. The threat in the letter had not been so subtle. She knew that Oliver would come to the house if she refused to -meet him elsewhere. She crossed reluctantly to a closet
and pulled- out her chocolate-brown riding habit and the matching hat with the gold and bronze plumes. At least she would look her best. She was not going to let Oliver Cranshawe know that he had her worried.

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  Fifteen minutes later, Philip opened the door to Henry's room without knocking.

  "She probably left it in here somewhere," he said over his shoulder.

  "Unless she took it with her," Penelope added from directly behind him.

  "Oh, dear, this does not feel right," Miss Manford wailed from the rear. "Whatever would we say if your sister unexpectedly returned or if his Grace appeared?"

  "You know from what we told you this morning, Manny, that Henry needs help," Philip explained patiently, "and that letter this morning looked suspicious. It did not come by the regular mail."

  "It's a good thing we were passing through the hall when it arrived," Penelope added.

  "It is probably just an invitation or a notice from a dressmaker," said Miss Manford.

  Brutus, meanwhile, galloped past the arguing trio and began to play with a ball of paper that was lying on the floor.

  "Brutus, get away from there. That might be it," yelled Penelope, grabbing his hindquarters and hauling him backward, in vain.

  "Woof!" replied the dog, enjoying the game and returning to the paper again.

  "Good dog! Give!" Philip ordered, but when Brutus showed no sign of obeying, he grabbed the dog's muzzle and tried to force his jaws apart.

  "Oh, bless my soul!" wailed Miss Manford. "We shall all be discovered."

  Brutus solved the problem by spotting a slipper across the room. He abandoned the paper for more attractive prey.

  Penelope pounced on the letter, which was damp but intact, and smoothed it out on the floor.

  Philip knelt beside her to read it. "He's sorry for last night!" he cried indignantly. "After mauling Henry around as if she were a chambermaid."

  "Oh, dear," said Miss Manford, "I don't believe you should speak like that, dear boy."