The Wagered Bride (The Clearbrooks)

by McCarthy, Teresa

  Elizabeth was about to step inside and put a stop to the game when she thought better of it. She rested her forehead against the wall outside the salon.

  How could her father treat Stephen so, knowing his weakness at cards? And how could she humiliate Stephen by breaking into the game? She realized with a start that he needed her. Needed her to take care of him, save him from himself.

  She picked her head up and straightened. She could do it for the man she loved. She could.

  Stephen stared at his cards, knowing that unless Shelby produced a miracle, the man was going to lose.

  "Vingt-et-un, Shelby. Knave and an ace."

  Shelby's face turned crimson. "But how?"

  Stephen did not rejoice in seeing the man sweat. But it was something that had to be done.

  The older man flipped out his hand. "You surprised me, my lord. You find me a bit indisposed." He threw out his purse. "I can pay the remainder of my reckoning tomorrow."

  Stephen leaned back in his chair. "Sorry, old boy. But the rules of the game, you know. I will have to call you on it."

  Shelby swallowed. "A note perhaps. Tomorrow, the bank—"

  Stephen leaned forward, a gleam of determination in his gaze. "No tomorrow, sir. You owe me the sum. Now."

  Shelby's Adam's apple gave a pronounced bob. "I find myself at a loss."

  Stephen finally poured himself a glass of port and sipped, peering over the rim of the glass. "Of course, there is something else that may be used instead of your purse. I could call the matter even if you wish."

  Shelby knitted his bushy white brows in confusion. "Exactly what are you saying, my lord?"

  Stephen shot the man a cool deliberate smile. "Do you not remember, one daughter for one debt?"

  Shelby rose unsteadily from his chair. "I fail to see how that applies here."

  Silence thickened the air between them.

  Stephen's chair scraped back as he stood. "You may have her back."

  "I beg your pardon?" the older man asked, his face beet red.

  "Elizabeth. Your eldest. You may have her back. I don't want her. We are even now."

  Shelby looked shocked. "This is maddening! I won't do it!"

  "Oh, won't you?" Stephen said, throwing the man's purse back at him. "But it is done. I believe I will still keep Creighton Hall, though. However, fair is fair, my good man. In fact, I believe I have been more than fair in handling your debts."

  "I won't have it. You hear me. She will be the laughingstock of all London."

  Stephen's lips thinned as he took his seat. "Then you should have thought of that when you made the deal with me, sir. You have made Elizabeth a pawn and now you have been checked."

  "Checkmated, my lord," Shelby said between gritted teeth. "You have me cornered. Always knew you were a smart one."

  "We are even, then. You owe me nothing and I owe you nothing."

  "And I owe neither of you." The voice was a bare whisper beyond the door, but when Stephen heard it, it was like a blast of cold air to his soul. She took a step inside.

  "Elizabeth," Stephen said, shocked.

  "I am not a pawn," she said calmly. "I am a person."

  Stephen rose slowly, his face white. "I—"

  "No. No more. I don't know how I ever thought I loved you. And, Papa, I am ashamed. I am ashamed of both of you." Blue eyes peered at Stephen with such disgust he felt ill.

  "You don't understand," he said, starting toward her.

  She put up her hand. "I understand everything now. I am a female with no rights except the ones you two deem necessary to bestow upon me. I cannot stand the sight of either of you. I am leaving now and don't you dare follow me."

  A sob broke out and she turned from the room, her head held high, her chin wobbling, her footsteps echoing the hall in patchy thwacks of pain until they could no longer be heard at all. Stephen's lungs ached from holding his breath.

  Shelby threw his hands to his face. "Goodness knows I tried. Tried to give her everything. And somehow I failed."

  "We were both wrong," Stephen replied, as he stalked across the floor and threw open the door. Instantly he felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach, worse than he had felt when his father died, worse than he had felt at Waterloo. She was gone.

  Elizabeth ran down the hall and staggered into the first room she came to around the corner. Hot tears pooled in her eyes. She hurried to the window seat, hiding behind the curtains, pressing a hand to her mouth.

  How could they play her like a fool? How could Stephen throw her back to her father as if she were a piece of property?

  She had been ready to confront the two most important men in her life and forgive them, but they had betrayed her again.

  Footsteps stopped near the door and she stilled. Her heart pounded as if the hounds of hell were after her.

  "Elizabeth?"

  She held her breath.

  "Lose something, little brother?"

  Elizabeth's stomach knotted as Clayton's voice sounded only a few feet from her hiding place.

  "No, I did not lose something," Stephen snapped. "I am merely looking for my fiancée."

  "Ah, a lover's rendezvous?"

  "I don't have time to entertain your sick mind. If you see Elizabeth, tell her I am looking for her. Can you do that?"

  "I believe I can follow those instructions."

  "I won't even ask why you are lying prone on that sofa."

  "Three words, Stephen. Miss Briana Garland."

  "The one with the mother that looks like a penguin?"

  "The very one. Now, if you would be so kind as to shut that door, I can return back to the book I was reading."

  With a groan, Stephen shut the door and Elizabeth crumpled to her knees, too ashamed to face anyone.

  The next moment Clayton was at her side. "Are you ill?"

  "No."

  He helped her to the sofa and locked the door.

  Walking back, he stood over her and frowned. "Then it is my duty to my brother to tell you that he is looking for you."

  Her response was a strangled laugh. "Well done of you, my lord."

  He cleared his throat. "Being a gentleman I won't ask why you are weeping. But if you have any need of my services ..."

  She looked up. "Could you obtain a carriage for me?"

  His dark brows rose about an inch. "Zeus, Miss Shelby, Stephen would have my head."

  A lonely tear dropped to the carpet. "I understand."

  Clayton winced. "Oh, very well. The carriage will be waiting around back. But I must know where you are going."

  "My Aunt Polly's. That is where I have been residing since I left here."

  Though Elizabeth liked Clayton, she certainly was not going to divulge her plans to him, either. He was a Clearbrook after all. Moreover, he wanted to help her, but she knew that as soon as she left, he would tell his brother of her departure.

  "Ah, a lovers' spat?" he said dryly.

  "Your brother and I are not lovers," she blurted out and immediately realized her faux pas.

  He gave a little chuckle. "Hmmm. My brother must be losing his touch with the women, then."

  "I truly do not wish to discuss your brother. I would merely like accommodations for travel back to my aunt's home. If you would be so kind as to help me, I would forever be in your debt."

  "Oh, not that, my dear. If you are in my debt, Stephen would call for pistols at dawn. But I will help you. And being the gentleman I am, I will accompany you to your destination."

  She narrowed her eyes. "You think I have cause to lie to you?"

  The older brother smiled, the rakish expression reminding her too much of Stephen.

  "Oh, no, my dear Miss Shelby. But Stephen would never forgive me for letting you travel without an escort."

  She gave him a wary look. "Very well."

  He walked back toward the door, glancing over his shoulder. "Do not open this door for anyone. I will return with your wrap in five minutes. And if perchance a certain Miss Briana
Garland or a dowager penguin breaks down this mighty oak barrier to see me, tell them I have died and gone to gaming hell." His eyes twinkled. "Understand?

  Elizabeth smiled faintly as he closed the door. He thought he was helping her. But a wrap would do nothing to stop the icy grief seeping into every pore of her soul.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What do you mean she took the carriage?"

  Stephen stared in disbelief as Clayton sat in the library, his shoes on the desk, sipping his wine as if nothing were amiss.

  "I took her home," his brother said calmly. "And you will be pleased to know I did mention you were looking for her."

  With one quick move, Stephen swiped his brother's feet off the desk. "You are more stupid than I remembered."

  Clayton lowered his gaze to the spot of red wine sprinkled upon his shirt. "No, I believe you are the stupid one here. You threw her back to her father like some cursed toy."

  "It wasn't like that at all. Blast it! I love her!"

  "Fine way of showing it, little brother."

  Stephen's hands fisted at his side. "I only meant to give her back to her father so I could marry her free and clear."

  "You should have told her."

  "Hell and thunderation, you stupid idiot! I wanted to, but it seems you went about hiding her from me."

  "I have had about enough of you."

  "And I have had about enough of you. Reading Byron while escaping Miss Garland. Or is it her mother that terrifies you? Never knew I had a coward for a brother."

  Clayton's eyes shot daggers. "If you weren't so mad over your dealings with Miss Shelby, I would box your ears. I won't try to talk to you in this state, but I daresay your fiancée has had enough of you as well. Sleep it off, and tomorrow morning, fetch her back."

  Clayton had barely a second before he was spun around and thrown to the floor with Stephen's fists pummeling his face.

  Fifteen minutes later, the duke found Stephen slouched against an overturned chair, breathing hard. Across the room, Clayton held his handkerchief to his bleeding nose.

  "Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on here?"

  Stephen glared at the duke.

  "We were fighting over who is the biggest idiot," Stephen said sarcastically, "and as you can see, Clayton won."

  Aunt Polly sat primly on her sofa, sipping her tea and eyeing Stephen over the rim of the cup as she contemplated answering his question. "She is gone."

  Exasperated, Stephen tried to control his anger. "Well, I know that, but where has she gone to?"

  "That is not for your ears, my lord."

  Stephen gripped the side of the chair, his knuckles turning white. "Madam, I am fully aware of Elizabeth's feelings toward me, but yesterday was not what it seemed."

  Polly set her cup down and let her gaze linger over him as if he were last night's supper, spoiling in the pantry. "You and William have bounced my girl's heart around as if it were nothing at all. I fail to see what good it will do for her to meet with you again. She wants her privacy and I will give it to her."

  "Enough of this piddling talk!" William Shelby strode into the room, his cravat askew, his jacket rumpled.

  Clenching his jaw, Stephen regarded the man. It looked as if Shelby had not slept a wink either. The notion was little consolation compared to the loss of Elizabeth.

  A flash of pained recognition glittered in Shelby's eye as he acknowledged Stephen before he shifted his gaze back to the lady. "Now, madam, you will tell me where my daughter is. This is not the time to trifle with me."

  Polly Crimmons laughed. "La, William. Surely you cannot think me such a fool. Your daughter has no wish to let anyone know where she is. But since you are her father, I can assure you she is quite fine. Not that you have anything to do with that, you half-witted idiot. She needs time to heal from what you two have done to her."

  Red-faced, the older man pulled at his cravat. "Listen here, Polly, you will tell me her direction."

  "I will, will I?” the lady said haughtily. "How dare you tell me what I should do when it was you who shoved that poor girl off on this roguish gamester."

  Stephen swallowed a curse. "If you would do me the honor of giving me your niece's direction, I would be forever in your debt."

  "An interesting prospect but why should I divulge such confidential information to you, my lord?"

  Stephen's brows snapped. "Why? Is this the Spanish Inquisition? Because I love her, that's why!"

  "I believe you do," Polly said. "But I gave Elizabeth my word that I would not disclose her destination. She needs time to think, time you two have obviously not given her."

  "Now see here," William blurted out, "This ain't seemly."

  Stephen's piercing gaze settled on the lady. "Are you going to tell me where she has gone or must I follow her trail myself?"

  "I fear my lips are sealed, my lord."

  Stephen gave her a stiff bow and retreated from the room.

  William followed in his shadow. "By Jove, you do love her. Been thinking about last night. You deliberately gave her back to me, did you not my lord? An interesting maneuver."

  Stephen grabbed his hat from the hall table. "Yes, well. Napoleon had interesting maneuvers and look where that led him."

  William looked penitent but Stephen's blood was pounding so hard he thought he might plant Shelby a facer right there.

  Shelby colored. "Yes, I know you would like to box my ears. And rightly so." Tears glittered in the man's eyes. "But you find her. She needs you. I only did what I thought best. I chose you because I thought you would make her the best of husbands, not some wastrel wanting to spend my money."

  With a sniff, Shelby pulled out a starched white handkerchief and started down the hall.

  Stephen felt a twinge of pity for the man, but before he could think of something to say, he was distracted.

  “Psssst."

  Raising his gaze, Stephen found Milli hanging over the banister with Cleopatra and Pharaoh tucked inside the folds of her gown. "Come down from there, you imp. You might fall."

  Milli's eyes flashed as she pulled away from the banister and started down the stairs. "You cannot tell me what to do."

  "May I remind you, you called me, not the other way around."

  Instantly, she threw a hand to her head and sighed. "La, I fear all is lost in love if one does not follow one's heart"

  Stephen rolled his eyes. "What is it Milli?"

  "I know where she is."

  "Elizabeth?"

  "She will not like it if I tell."

  "I love her, Milli. I will make her happy if it takes me a hundred years. You have my solemn word."

  Tears pooled in Milli's eyes. "If you take her, I will have no one. Papa is always leaving and I don't like it at that stupid Seminary for Females. And governesses are horrid creatures."

  "You will have someone, Milli. You will have a brother-in-law. And I would never take your sister from you."

  Her delicate lips folded together as she absorbed his words. "May I come live with you and Lizzie then?"

  "Your father will have to approve. But you must tell me where your sister is. You must trust me."

  The girl walked down the last of the steps. "Elizabeth is staying at my aunt's cottage in the country. I have the direction since I told Lizzie I wanted to write to her, but all the time I knew you would want it." Her eyes sparkled with a devilish gleam as she handed him a paper with the information.

  "You little minx."

  "I am that, am I not?" she answered wickedly. "Here, take Pharaoh. Tell Elizabeth he has not been eating or sleeping."

  Stephen frowned, examining the black-and-white ball of fur in his hands. "Is that true? He looks healthy enough."

  "'Course it's not true. But if your kisses do not work, you will need another plan. You cannot be that stupid."

  Stephen laughed, tucking the kitten gently into his coat. "I hope I do not have to resort to plan B, but just in case, I'll be fully armed."


  And armed he would be. One special license, one kitten, and a few passionate kisses of undying love should do it. But he would rather face Napoleon than face Elizabeth's rejection.

  "Oh, and my lord." The girl threw a hand to her heart. "Best tell her you would die for her." She sighed dramatically. "Tell her your heart aches for her. Tell her you would cross the ocean for her. Tell her no woman could ever take her place."

  Though he was eager to find Elizabeth, Stephen could barely hold back his laughter. "Milli, I am not an actor."

  "Well, if you do not want her running off with someone like Fennington, you had best do something spectacular."

  A muscle twitched in his jaw at the sound of Fennington's name. And what the blazes did that girl have in her hand? Hell's bells! It was Fennington's quizzing glass!

  "A knight on a white horse might do it," she said, the quizzing glass swinging at her hip. "All girls dream of such things."

  Stephen had no idea what she was blabbering about. "Go bother Marcus with that thing. Vexes him to no end, you know."

  Her gray eyes sparkled with delight. "No, I didn't know. Thank you for the information, white knight."

  Scowling, Stephen turned on his heels. White knight, indeed.

  Elizabeth threw on her cloak and strolled down the stone walkway leading from the cottage. A biting wind touched her cheeks, sending the red tulips at the edge of the fence dancing against each other, reminding her all too well she was no longer in London.

  "Looks like rain, Miss Shelby," the housekeeper called as she bent to pull a weed from the flower garden. "Would you care for a ride to the village? Mr. Baskers can have the hack ready in a few minutes."

  Elizabeth smiled at the plump, older lady. Poor Mrs. Baskers had been keeping a keen eye on Elizabeth ever since she had showed up at the door. Aunt Polly's doing, no doubt.

  "I do not believe a little rain will hurt me, Mrs. Baskers. And I do need the exercise."

  The plump housekeeper frowned. "Mayhap you should take Mr. Baskers along with you, my dear? A young thing like you should always take an escort into town."

  Elizabeth laughed. The town included a quaint little inn, a church, a few shops, and a blacksmith. "I won't be but a few hours. I am in need of some writing materials. A good walk will help me gather my thoughts."