Once Upon a Wager

by Julie LeMense

  “Miss Layton’s beauty, of course, has generated a tremendous amount of interest,” he admitted. “There are an appalling number of floral tributes at Marchmain House.”

  “You must help us vet every suitor. She has a very generous annuity from her mother’s side of the family, and that always attracts the wrong sort. I think a trip to the opera next week would be appropriate. I’d also like to plan an outing with several young people, perhaps at Hampstead Heath. I feel certain that Lady Hertford will invite Annabelle to her annual Summer Ball. It is always a fantastic crush. And then, of course, I will help plan her come-out party at Marchmain House. In the meantime, the two of you must spend some time reacquainting yourselves. It will do no good if people sense there is tension between you.”

  He would be almost constantly in Annabelle’s company, which meant that the next few weeks would be excruciating. They’d have to find a way to get along, but what would happen if he couldn’t keep her at arm’s length? He could still feel the press of her hands against his chest, where they had laid heavy and close to his heart.

  • • •

  “I thought I’d find you here, Dorset,” Marworth drawled later that same afternoon, as he dropped himself into a chair beside Alec in the dining room at White’s. He motioned to one of the house stewards, clad soberly in a gray morning suit. “I’ll have whatever my good friend here is having, and you may charge my meal to his account.” He returned his attention to Alec. “It’s no more than you deserve. You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

  “I don’t have the slightest idea what you are talking about, as is so often the case between us. What have I done now?”

  “The Carstairs family is helping to launch the divine Miss Layton this Season. Yet you’ve given me every impression that you wanted nothing to do with her.”

  “The Countess of Marchmain reminded me that I have a responsibility to see Gareth’s sister well settled,” he said. “But she is a distraction I don’t need.”

  “I can hardly think of a more pleasant distraction. She’s stunning.”

  Alec eyed Benjamin warily. “Granted, but that doesn’t change the history between us.”

  “The vast majority of that history was positive. You were great friends once. In fact, as you grew older, you visited Astley Castle to see Annabelle, rather than Gareth.”

  Alec shifted under the weight of that uncomfortable observation. “That was before I moved to London to study with my father. And well before she insulted my honor.”

  “Ah, yes, your honor.” Benjamin flicked an imaginary fluff of dust from his immaculate blue jacket. “You’ve been pouting over that slight ever since you returned from Nuneaton last month.”

  “I have not been pouting!” Where had Marworth gotten that idea?

  “Have you asked yourself why she felt that you could no longer be trusted?”

  Alec shook his head. “I can only assume that she holds me responsible for the accident that day. After all, the failure of my carriage directly contributed to Gareth’s death, not to mention her own injuries.” He could never forget that.

  “I’ve never understood how all of that came to pass. Surely the grooms at Arbury Hall cleaned and checked your carriage before you set out for the castle that evening? After all, you’d just journeyed in from London.”

  “I’m certain they did, but it’s an unassailable truth that I did not do so.” He would always bear the ultimate responsibility. “The broken wheel had a linchpin that failed. They were still trying to find its pieces among the wreckage when I departed for the city.”

  “Do you still employ the same manager?” Benjamin asked, drumming his fingers on the table top, as if absorbed in the thought of something.

  “He’s been with our family for more than a generation, as was his father before him.”

  “You should ask if those pieces were ever found.”

  “I will do that, but it won’t change Miss Layton’s opinion of me. Do you know she tried to push me down today?”

  “Really? Beauty and high spirits are such a seductive combination. What happened?”

  As the waiter returned with their lunch—beefsteaks, boiled fowl with oysters, and apple tarts—Alec admitted to himself that he was not proud of the way that he’d acted this morning. Upon reflection, it was easy to see that he’d insulted Annabelle. He’d jumped to conclusions, and that was not fair. There was so little trust between them.

  “I said several ill-advised things, and may have insinuated that she was not all that she should be.”

  Benjamin paused between bites of beefsteak, his fork suspended midway between his plate and his mouth. “That is so unlike you, I’m nearly speechless.”

  “I know. And it’s no excuse that she goaded me with all sorts of insinuations. Annabelle has always had a rare ability to manipulate me.”

  “How will you make it through the Season if you cannot ease your estrangement?”

  “I’ve just realized that apologies might be required.”

  “Without a doubt. I’ve never known you to be so ungentlemanly.”

  Alec stared down at his fast-cooling luncheon. “Something about Annabelle Layton makes me behave irrationally.”

  “I wonder what that could be,” Benjamin said, before returning to his lunch with a great show of enthusiasm.

  Chapter 10

  As she waited for Alec to arrive the following morning, Annabelle glanced at one of the large gold-leaf mirrors that hung on either side of Aunt Sophia’s hallway, each of them centered above a matching set of Louis XIV credenzas. She looked well enough, if a trifle unsettled. After all, she had no idea what he was about.

  Alec had sent a note yesterday evening, requesting her company this morning on a ride in Hyde Park. Indeed, he was due at any moment, though it was barely past the breakfast hour. The park would be empty, save for ostlers exercising their horses, which meant that this was hardly a social call. She’d dressed with care in a cream-colored riding habit with black braided cording, gold buttons, and cuffs embroidered à la militaire. With matching half boots and a small tasseled riding hat, she was the picture of stylish propriety; but she almost wished that she’d worn something outrageous, cut low across the chest, and in a color that couldn’t be missed. After all, he had already made all sorts of assumptions about her. She didn’t wish to disappoint.

  At nine o’clock precisely, a quick rap sounded at the door, and Canby opened it to welcome Alec, who looked every inch a peer of the realm. He was dressed in a flawless brown buckskin coat and matching vest over a white linen shirt, with riding breeches and glossy black Hessians. His eyes flared briefly when he saw her, taking in her attire with a swift glance before he came forward and offered his bow.

  That glance surprised her. It made no sense coming from Alec. Other men looked at her that way, but he did not desire her. He didn’t even like her.

  “Miss Layton, thank you for agreeing to ride with me this morning. Will your aunt be joining us?”

  “I’m afraid not, my lord. She appreciated the invitation, but not the hour.” According to Aunt Sophia, the only reason to be up this early was so that you could slip from a lover’s bed without the risk of detection. But she could hardly repeat that.

  “I see. Let’s be off then.” He indicated that she should precede him through the open doorway, and a moment later, they were standing in the bright morning sunshine. Thompson was waiting with a sweet-tempered mare that she’d ridden on several occasions, but her breath caught when she saw the glorious black stallion Alec brought with him.

  “What a handsome animal. Wherever did you find him?”

  “He’s the grandson of my father’s favorite horse, Lucifer. Perhaps you remember him from Arbury Hall?”

  “How could I forget? I was desperate to ride him when I was a child.”

  “You barely reached his flanks at the time,” he said, seemingly amused by the memory. “We’d have needed a set of stairs to get you into the saddle.”

&n
bsp; “He was the biggest horse I’d ever seen.”

  Alec reached up and affectionately stroked the stallion’s mane. “Mars here may not have his size, but he has his heart.”

  “Mars? After the god of war?”

  “He was born when I was away on the Peninsula. Father trained him personally, and planned him as a gift upon my return.”

  “He must have been very proud of your decision to fight.” The earl hadn’t been given to displays of generosity or affection.

  “On the contrary. He said it was one of the worst decisions I ever made.” As Annabelle tried to hide her surprise, he walked over to inspect her mount, his face unreadable. “A sidesaddle, Miss Layton? At long last? That is decidedly proper of you.”

  “It’s far more uncomfortable than riding astride, I can tell you that,” she said. “But I’ve been warned not to wear breeches in London, so the sidesaddle it must be.”

  Had his mouth quirked in a smile? She’d swear that it had, but he was already leaning down, joining his hands to offer a foothold. Bracing one arm on his broad shoulders, she placed her right foot into his upturned palms as he boosted her gently into the saddle. She wasn’t heavy but she was tall, and his strength seemed effortless. It was most annoying, not to mention distracting.

  A heartbeat later, Alec swung up on Mars, and they set out for the park. “Miss Layton, your ensemble is far more beautiful than breeches would be,” he said. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s in the new military style.”

  “Yes,” she replied, surprised by his unexpected compliment. “I thought it an appropriate choice, since we invariably fight in each other’s company.”

  “I hope to change that this morning,” he said. “After all, we can hardly spend the entire Season at odds with one another.”

  “Is that what this is about, then? Are we to chat happily about horses and fashions, and admire the weather, and forget all that happened between us?” She didn’t like the bitter tone in her voice. She sounded childish.

  “We can’t change the past,” he said, his voice sober and serious. “No matter how we might wish it.”

  It was a quote, almost verbatim, from their conversation at The Bull’s End inn. “How clever you are, Lord Dorset, speaking my own words back to me. I can hardly contradict them that way.”

  Alec chose not to respond, and they rode on in silence. Why had he deliberately disappointed his father, when he’d spent his childhood craving the earl’s approval? But it wasn’t a question she could ask. There was no longer any closeness between them. The silence stretched on, until Alec pulled Mars in front of her horse, effectively halting their progress. “Miss Layton, I didn’t ask you to ride with me today to gloss over our differences. Although you are predisposed not to trust me, please believe me in that.”

  While she watched him suspiciously, he continued. “I merely wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday.” The shock of that nearly knocked her off her saddle. “It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions.”

  “I take it that you’re referring to lures and my willingness to cast them?”

  He flushed at that, and Annabelle found his reaction oddly—endearing. Until she remembered she no longer liked him.

  “I wish I could have saved you from that experience in Bath. Such men should be beaten to within an inch of their lives.”

  “I appreciate the thought,” she said. “But you may rest assured Aunt Sophia and I made him regret his behavior.”

  “Let me guess.” He tilted his head to one side, his eyes contemplative. “You had a pistol hidden in your reticule.”

  “No,” she said with a hesitant smile. “But silver-tipped parasols have their uses.”

  “I’m very glad to hear it.” And then he paused, growing serious again. “Please know I didn’t mean to offend you yesterday, or infer that you are lacking in some way.”

  “I’ve not been in the company of many people these past several years, and I will make missteps,” she said, her smile fading. “But I’d never intentionally embarrass you or your mother. I wish you would believe that.”

  “I do. You were certainly a hoyden as a child. In fact, it was one of the things I liked best about you. But you’ve grown up, and thrived in difficult circumstances. And while I may like to pretend otherwise, you don’t need lessons on behavior from me.”

  She regarded him suspiciously. “You are overdoing your compliments.”

  “No, I’m being honest. I thought quite a bit about this yesterday. I have been trying, I think, to make you into something you are not.”

  “Why would you wish to do that?”

  He looked into her eyes. “Because it’s far easier to be angry with you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He continued to watch her. “In the absence of that emotion, we will be forced to find out what feelings remain between us.” Then he pulled away suddenly, urging Mars forward. “We seem to have Rotten Row to ourselves,” he called over his shoulder. “Shall we let the horses run?”

  In an instant, they were both galloping down the path. Alec opened an immediate and sizable lead, and she had no hopes of catching his horse on this troublesome saddle. But it was better that way. She needed a moment to think, because if she didn’t have anger to color her feelings, she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about Alec Carstairs.

  • • •

  After slowing their horses, they rode for an hour or more, and Alec was happy to see some of the distance between them fade. For the most part, they discussed any topic that Annabelle suggested. She’d always been inquisitive, and her curiosity hadn’t dimmed during the many years she had stayed close by Astley Castle, injured and alone.

  It was a remarkable trait, he thought, watching her eyes follow a flock of geese that had settled on the Serpentine Lake at the center of the park, their wings stirring ripples in its shallow waters. In spite of the challenges she had faced, the losses she’d suffered, Annabelle was remarkably resilient. He could not help but admire that.

  There were many things he admired about her.

  Like the way her lips, lush and pink, opened on a quick intake of breath when something angered her. The way her eyes softened and her head tilted to the side when she saw something that surprised her, as if an angled view offered an especially interesting perspective on it. The way she’d looked at him when he’d said he was sorry, as if he had finally become the man she’d thought he could be.

  Sirens calling to lost sailors from their rocks were less dangerous.

  Annabelle sparked thoughts that were disloyal to Jane Fitzsimmons, and if he’d any sense, he’d put as much distance between them as he could. But when she smiled up at him, it was difficult to turn away, and even more difficult to remember why he should. By the time they returned to Marchmain House just before noon, he had offered to escort her to the British Museum the following day. He’d even promised to teach her the waltz.

  So much for keeping his distance.

  • • •

  “One must always appreciate the Greeks’ sense of proportion,” Aunt Sophia said, sighing as she studied a large statue of Apollo in the British Museum’s collection. Whether she was admiring the sculpture’s classical allusions or its rendering of the nude male form, Annabelle couldn’t say. She was too busy trying to ignore the god’s more manly attributes.

  She heard Alec cough discreetly behind her, and turned toward him with such obvious relief that she was certain his lips twitched with amusement. “Would you like me to show you some of the other sculptures in the collection? The Townley Marbles are quite famous.”

  “Yes. I’d enjoy that very much,” she said, trying to will away her embarrassment. She’d had a sudden and distracting vision of Alec’s body, slick with lake water.

  As Aunt Sophia gave them a distracted nod of approval, he took her gently by the elbow, his hand warm and steady as he led her toward a grouping of smaller statues that lined the walls of the oversized chamber. “Perhaps The Cannibal will be more t
o your liking,” Alec said, pointing to the sculpture of a boy biting into a disembodied human leg. At least the boy had his nether regions discreetly covered by a cloth. “Roman, possibly from the first century B.C.,” he announced, reading the small sign mounted beside the piece.

  “If one wants to eat a leg,” she said, “one should remove the sandal from its foot first.”

  “I don’t think the sculpture depicts a cannibal at all. I think the leg belongs to the boy’s opponent in a game of astragali, and the rest of his body did not survive the journey here from antiquity. Do you see those small, elongated pieces that are chiseled beside him?”

  She looked more closely. “They appear to be bones of some sort.”

  “They’re knucklebones from a cloven-hoofed animal, like a sheep or a goat. In ancient Rome, children played with them. They’d assign number values to the different sides of each bone and roll them like dice.”

  “The prize being a pound of flesh? I think I’d have preferred a quiet game of cards,” she said.

  “I think our young friend here simply did not like being bested. I’m well acquainted with the type.”

  “You are referring to that incident when we played ducks and drakes all of those summers ago. It’s most ungentlemanly to mention it.”

  “That rock took quite a skip off of the lake, didn’t it?” he said with a grin. “One might almost say it defied the laws of physics.”

  “I never meant to hurt you, Alec.”

  “There I was, with an enormous lump on my brow, and Gareth was doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down his face.”

  Annabelle wanted to smile as she remembered it, but suddenly she couldn’t, because Gareth was as cold and still now as that marble boy. And even though she suspected Alec would understand what she was feeling, her truce with him was too new and untried. She cleared her throat, and moved toward the other sculptures in the gallery. “So who was this Mr. Townley?”

  “He was a famous antiquarian who fell in love with Greco-Roman relics while on the first of his Grand Tours,” Alec replied, falling in step beside her. “He bought so much statuary, he had to build a mansion on Park Street to house it all. When he died there in 1805, the trustees of this museum bought his collection for 20,000 pounds.”