The Marriage Wager (The Marraige Maker Book 2)

by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  He rolled his eyes and looked at the maid. “Molly, you mind the time.”

  Molly stiffened. “Lady Olivia always keeps her word, Lord Duncan.”

  Olivia hid a smile. Aside from her sisters, Molly was her greatest advocate, even against such close family friends as Lord Duncan. She caught sight of Mr. Powell near the bridge. “I see Mr. Powell.”

  “You’d better make sure he doesn’t see you coming,” Duncan said. “You almost made him cry last week.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Olivia said. “He is a bit high strung, but he can take a little criticism. Are you coming, Duncan?”

  He grimaced. “God, no. It’s intolerably hot today. I’m going to nap here under this old oak.”

  “Fine,” Olivia said. “You had a very long night last night.”

  “I know you’re making fun of me,” he said, “but I don’t care. Cards at my club isn’t like a night of whist with your lady friends. It’s hard work.”

  Drinking too much wine and waking up with a thudding head was too much work, you mean, she thought, but said, “Of course it is.”

  She couldn’t fault the lad. He had just finished his first year at university and celebrated his eighteenth birthday. He was certain he was now a man and had celebrated as he thought a man should.

  “Molly, you are welcome to wait here with Duncan, if you like. As long as the two of you are nearby, we are acting within the bounds of propriety.”

  Molly glanced at Duncan, but he had reached the tree. “If you’re sure, my lady,” she said.

  Duncan leaned his back against the tree and closed his eyes.

  “I am quite sure, Molly. There is no need for you to dirty your dress walking through the mud.” Olivia twitched up her skirt and stepped across the muddy ground in the direction of the riverbank where Mr. Powell stood talking with a workman. She neared them and the workman looked past Mr. Powell at her. Mr. Powell twisted and looked over his shoulder. Surprise shone on his face.

  The workman slipped away and when Olivia reached Mr. Powell, he said, “Lady Olivia, what are you doing here?”

  She nodded toward the workers. “I was curious how the bridge was coming along.” Impatience flashed in his eyes, but she ignored that and smiled. “You are doing a beautiful job.”

  “Indeed,” he said.

  “How is the mixture of the mortar?”

  “As I told you last week, there are no problems with the mortar.”

  “Forgive me, Mr. Powell, but the calculations show—”

  “I know what the calculations show,” he cut in. “They are my calculations.”

  “You cannot deny the error—”

  “Error?” he nearly shrieked. “Young woman, it is you who are in error. You know nothing about engineering.”

  “I know how to add, subtract and multiply,” she said.

  “That is well and good. But my understanding of mathematics goes far beyond grade school into the theory of equations.”

  “Mr. Powell, no one is denying your education.” Olivia reached into her reticule and withdrew a sheaf of paper. “Your education is the very reason why I know you will understand my calculations.”

  “Your calculations?” he nearly shrieked.

  A shadow fell over them and Olivia turned to see a rider stop beside them. The sun glared behind him and she was forced to lift a hand and shield her eyes as he dismounted. He stepped to the ground and she took in a comely face, jet black hair and the blue eyes that fixed on her. The only thing that marred his beautiful face was the long thin scar on his left cheek. It gave him the look of a dashing pirate.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said in a deep voice that caused her pulse to skip a beat.

  “Not at all,” Mr. Powell said. “I hope you didn’t intend to cross the river here.”

  The man shook his head. “Nae, I am staying on this side of the river. It looks as though you’re hard at work.”

  Mr. Powell nodded. “We hope to have the bridge done within two months.”

  “Not if the bridge shifts,” Olivia said. “As I said before, with more attention to the friction—”

  “I have things well in hand,” Mr. Powell interrupted.

  “Ah,” the man intoned. “That’s what you were disagreeing about. Are you one of the engineers, ma’am?”

  “Indeed, she is not,” Mr. Powell said before she could reply.

  The man looked at the bridge. “She may have a point about the friction between the stones,” he said. “Proper friction alone can keep a structure standing for centuries.”

  Mr. Powell visibly stiffened. “I have a degree in engineering from the University of Edinburgh. I can assure you, I am far better qualified to build this bridge than is Lady Olivia.”

  Heat crept up Olivia’s cheeks.

  “That doesn’t mean she’s wrong,” the man said.

  Mr. Powell’s mouth thinned. “If you will excuse me, sir, I have work to attend to.” He looked at Olivia. “Lady Olivia.” He bowed, then hurried toward the workmen.

  “I am sorry,” Olivia said. “Mr. Powell takes his work very seriously.”

  The stranger watched Mr. Powell talking with another man. “Perhaps a little too seriously, if he can’t take good advice.”

  “You think my advice is good?” she asked.

  He looked at her. “It’s basic engineering.”

  “Are you an engineer, sir?”

  He shook his head. “Nae, though I have worked a bit on ships.”

  “Oh,” she breathed. “That must have been very exciting.” Something flickered in his eyes and she realized he’d grown weary of her already. “Forgive me, I’m boring you. Most men aren’t keen on talking engineering with women.”

  “I have known more than one woman whose mind was keen enough to match any male engineer,” he said.

  Olivia stared at him. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

  His eyes twinkled. “You find it hard to believe that women can match men in intellect, or that I believe it?”

  “Oh dear,” she said. It was the latter, and she’d been caught.

  “There is a long history of women in engineering,” he said. “Even as far back as the fourth century.”

  Olivia beamed. “You must be referring to Hypatia. I am surprised you know of her. Most men—er, people—know nothing of her.”

  “How can that be? She is credited with inventing the hydrometer.”

  Olivia was half certain he was teasing her, but excitement bubbled up nonetheless. “Right again. A shame she was killed by fanatical monks.”

  “They were threatened by her intellect.”

  Now she knew he was playing with her. “You’re teasing me,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Not at all. There are too many women who have proven themselves to be our equal. Laura Bassi received her doctorate in physics from the University of Bologna, and there’s Maria Gaetana Agnesi.”

  Olivia laughed. “Of course, both women were Italian.”

  He smiled, and she liked the way the emotion reached his eyes. “Aye, the Italians are more progressive than we Scots.”

  “They are,” she said, then gasped. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to imply that you—that Scottish men—aren’t enlightened.”

  He winked and her heart fluttered. “Certainly not as enlightened as the Italians,” he said.

  She felt the same, but said, “I am sure you are enlightened.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I don’t think women should be barred from the sciences.”

  “Then you are enlightened, Mr.—”

  He flashed white teeth and her heart flipped. “Frasier Gordon, at your service, my lady.”

  A handsome man who believed women had the intellect to study science and mathematics. She didn’t know such a man existed.

  “What is your interest in the bridge?” he asked. “Are you a financial backer?”

  She laughed. “Goodness no—though I wish I were, for then I could contrib
ute.”

  He laughed and her pulse jumped.

  “Olivia,” Duncan called.

  She looked left. Duncan approached.

  When he reached them, he looked at Frasier and pointedly said, “It’s time to go.”

  “Duncan, this is Mr. Frasier. Mr. Frasier, this is my friend Lord Duncan.”

  Frasier canted his head. “My lord.”

  Duncan gave him a cursory nod and turned to Olivia. “We must leave now, Olivia. I have to return home.”

  Her heart fell, but she smiled at Mr. Gordon. “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  “The pleasure was mine, my lady.” He surprised her by grasping her hand and bringing it to his mouth. She wore no gloves, and when his warm mouth made contact with her flesh a shiver skittered up her arms.

  She glimpsed the disapproval on Duncan’s face. The lad would choose now to think like a man instead of the boy he was. Mr. Gordon released her hand. She wanted to say that she hoped to see him again, then remembered that this afternoon she was to meet the gentleman Sir Stirling had chosen for her to marry. Unexpected sadness rose. Fate had thrown her in with a man who seemed perfect just when she’d been promised to another. Might she somehow decline the other gentleman’s offer? Nae, she was being silly. Mr. Gordon didn’t know her, wasn’t interested in getting to know her better. He was simply a chance encounter.

  “Have a good day, sir.” Olivia angled her head toward him, then allowed Duncan to lead her back to the carriage where Molly waited.

  Chapter Three

  F rasier breathed deep of the afternoon air and took in the forested land that stretched out on either side of the hill as he neared the crest. He loved the countryside surrounding Inverness. He crested the rise and caught sight of a carriage that had just reached the foot of the slope, its crest, a crown atop a shield embossed with three lions.

  He urged his horse into a trot and, soon drew up alongside the vehicle. The driver’s head whipped around and his eyes widened.

  “Stirling,” Frasier called. When the driver reached into his coat pocket, Frasier said, “Whoa there, lad. Sir Stirling and I are friends.”

  The curtain twitched aside and Stirling’s face appeared in the window. He pounded on the roof of the coach and called, “Allen, stop the coach.”

  The coachman brought them to a halt.

  The door swung open and Stirling called, “Tie your horse to the rear of the carriage, Frasier, and ride the rest of the way with me.”

  He did as Stirling asked and when he pulled the door closed, the carriage jolted into motion as he dropped onto the seat.

  “I’d begun to wonder if perhaps you’d decided to visit the Colonies after all,” Stirling said.

  “There’s still time for that,” he replied. “After all, she may not like me.” He locked eyes with Stirling. “If she doesn’t, that’s the end of it.”

  “I won’t force the union if Lady Olivia is unhappy.” Stirling regarded him. “Were you able to meet her today?”

  He smiled at the memory. “Aye. She is…unusual.”

  “That she is,” Stirling agreed. “I was right, wasn’t I? Her miniature doesn’t do her justice.”

  “She is very beautiful,” Frasier agreed. “Where did she learn mathematics and engineering?”

  “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t speak of that to her father. He isn’t keen on her pursuing those interests.”

  “Then he’s a fool,” Frasier said. “She’s more learned than that engineer who’s in charge of building the new bridge.”

  “I don’t know the man.” Stirling eased aside the window curtain and Frasier caught sight of a mansion.

  Instead of the common white-stone, four-square mansion, the three-story, L-shaped home reminded him more of a country estate than the formal and lavish estates of Inverness.

  Stirling looked at him and nodded toward the mansion. “What do ye think?”

  “I like it.” There was a warmth to the place that appealed to him. “They’re not very wealthy. The five thousand pounds I won will come in handy.”

  Stirling let the curtain fall back into place. “His Grace is comfortable, but they are not amongst the wealthy of Inverness. You said money didn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t. It’s just difficult to envision a duke who isn’t wealthy.”

  “No need to worry. He can afford the thousand pounds a year he’ll settle on Lady Olivia—and he’s promised to give her the estate in Fort William.”

  Frasier lifted a brow. “You didn’t mention that during our card game. Is that another bargaining chip?”

  Stirling laughed. “I didn’t know about it, truth be told.”

  The carriage slowed and turned. Moments later, they came to a stop. Stirling opened the door and stepped to the ground. Frasier followed and they walked up the short walkway and the four steps to the door. Stirling lifted the knocker and rapped three times. The door was opened by a tall, thin man.

  “Sir Stirling,” he said. “His Grace is expecting you.” He looked at Frasier. “And you are, sir?”

  “Frasier Gordon.

  The butler bowed. “This way, please.” He led them down a long hallway, into a drawing room where a man and three women—one of whom was Lady Olivia—sat.

  Two portraits hung over the hearth. A man, sitting in a chair, Frasier knew, had to be the much younger duke. The youthful woman was captivating and exquisitely painted. These weren’t portraits painted by wandering artists, but commissioned by a master painter. An ornate sideboard graced the righthand wall. He was certain the maker was the Parisian ebeniste Martin Carlin. The duke may not be as wealthy as some noblemen, but his ancestors once commanded wealth.

  “Sir Stirling and Mr. Frasier,” the butler announced.

  Lady Olivia’s gaze met his. Her brow furrowed in confusion, but it took only an instant for understanding to dawn in her eyes. Her pretty mouth parted in surprise, then another emotion flickered in her eyes, but was gone before Frasier could gauge its meaning.

  “James.” The duke rose and crossed to them.

  “Your Grace.” Stirling accepted the hand the duke extended, then Stirling turned to Frasier. “Your Grace, this is Frasier Gordon. Frasier, may I present Duke Roxburgh.”

  To Frasier’s surprise, the duke extended a hand to him, as well. Frasier clasped his hand and was pleased with the man’s firm grip. Perhaps he would be manageable as a father-in-law. God, what kind of fool was he to be considering Stirling’s proposal? The kind that had foolishly played the wrong hand of cards.

  The duke released his hand and crossed to the women, who remained seated on the divan. “I would like to introduce my daughters.”

  Frasier followed Stirling and halted beside the duke.

  “This is my eldest daughter Chastity.” He indicated the auburn-haired woman sitting on the far right.

  She didn’t offer her hand.

  Frasier willed a laugh into submission and said in a somber tone, “My lady.” He angled his head.

  “A pleasure to meet you, sir,” she said in a smooth voice that didn’t fool him for an instant. The lady wasn’t the least bit pleased.

  He could see why Stirling was so determined to marry the future Duchess of Roxburgh. Like Olivia, she was quite beautiful. The fact she would make Stirling a duke didn’t hurt.

  “The sister sitting beside her is my daughter Jessica,” the duke said.

  This young lady didn’t offer her hand either. “Lady Jessica,” he murmured.

  “You are very tall,” she said, and this time Frasier couldn’t prevent a laugh.

  “Indeed, I am,” he replied.

  “This is Olivia.” The duke nodded toward Olivia, who sat next to Jessica.

  Olivia not only didn’t offer her hand, she clasped them on her lap in obvious defiance. “We have already met,” she said.

  There it was, that indefinable emotion he’d glimpsed in her earlier—pique. The lady was soft-spoken and level-headed, but she was still a woman, and women
didn’t like being made to look foolish.

  “How can you have met before?” Jessica demanded. “He only just arrived. Oh,” she said before anyone could reply. “He’s the gentleman you spoke of earlier today. You’re right, he is very handsome.”

  “Jessica,” Lady Chastity hissed. “Have you no sense?”

  Olivia’s cheeks pinked. So, the lady thought him handsome. He had no trouble getting women, but there were those who made sure he understood the scar on his cheek marred his looks—even if they enjoyed him in bed. Lady Olivia seemed not to have noticed. Her blush deepened and Frasier realized he had to gain control of the situation.

  “Forgive me for not telling you who I was this morning.” He flashed a sheepish smile. “I hadn’t expected to encounter you before our scheduled meeting this afternoon, and I was caught off guard.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You do not strike me as the sort of man who is easily caught off guard.”

  Damnation, the woman was too smart for his own good. “You are right, my lady. But you must admit that it’s not every day a man accidentally encounters the woman who is considering marrying him.”

  “So you took advantage of knowing who I was while I remained ignorant of your identity.”

  “Would you have acted differently?”

  “Would I have been as free in revealing my penchant for such masculine pursuits as science and engineering, you mean?”

  “Olivia, for God’s sake,” the duke interjected.

  Frasier kept his attention on her. “I meant what I said.”

  She blinked and a blush crept up her cheeks again, but determination glinted in her eyes. “Did you not learn enough to make your decision?”

  The lass had a backbone.

  “Olivia,” her father said in a warning tone

  “Nae, Papa,” Lady Chastity said, “you cannot warn Olivia to behave. Sir Stirling said we should be our true selves. Olivia is doing just that.”

  Stirling looked at Frasier. “I did say that.”

  “You always had a way with words,” Frasier said

  “Wait,” Lady Chastity said. “Do you two know one another?”

  “Frasier is a sailor,” Stirling said. “As I’m in shipping, we met years ago during a business deal.”