The Duke's Secret Wager: Regency Romance (London Season Matchmaker Book 4)

by Lucy Adams

  “You believe you can win the Gold Cup, then?” Lord Brighton asked, as the footman set down the tray and handed both Matthew and Lord Brighton a glass of the best French brandy that Whites had to offer. “You will finally have the fulfillment of all your dreams and intentions?” He chuckled, but Matthew did not smile.

  “I must hope so,” he chose to say, not wanting to say much more than that. “Although if I do not win this year, then I can merely try again the following year.” The way Lady Wells had spoken to him came back to his mind with force, recalling how she would only have this one opportunity with which to fulfill her own “dreams and intentions”-- as Lord Brighton had put it. He no longer had that fierce drive within him to win the Gold Cup, to be successful at Ascot and to thereafter gain the admiration of the beau monde. It felt almost a little ridiculous to have such an intention when someone such as Lady Wells was to be held back from her own desires for the rest of her days once the Gold Cup was over.

  Lord Brighton cleared his throat, the smile fading from his face and a look of concern leaching into his eyes. His attention having been caught, Matthew looked back at his friend with what he hoped was nonchalance, although his back stiffened in a most awkward fashion.

  “Something is troubling you, Blackwell,” Lord Brighton said firmly, making it plain that he would not allow Matthew to deny it. “It cannot be about the Gold cup, for you have been putting a horse and rider into the race almost every year since the 1813 Act of Enclosure was passed!”

  “That was only three years ago,” Matthew replied with a roll of his eyes. “And I have always been a little anxious when it comes to the race.”

  Lord Brighton shook his head firmly. “No, there is something more to your concern at the present,” he replied, making Matthew realize just how well his friend knew him. “What is it? I promise you it will be easier if you speak of it!” He gestured widely for Matthew to begin, sitting back in his chair and watching him intently.

  Feeling trapped, Matthew heaved a sigh and closed his eyes briefly. “It is to do with matters of the heart, Brighton, that is all.”

  Lord Brighton’s swift intake of breath was so loud that Matthew feared the rest of Whites had heard it.

  “Good gracious,” Lord Brighton breathed, his eyes widening as he stared at Matthew. “But I thought you to be a determined bachelor!”

  “I am…I mean, I was,” Matthew replied dully. “But I have discovered someone who has lit such a spark within me that I cannot deny it.”

  “That is quite wonderful!” Lord Brighton exclaimed, sounding utterly delighted. “Your mother will be quite thrilled and–”

  Matthew shook his head, stopping Lord Brighton in his declarations. “I have tentatively suggested that we become more than mere acquaintances, but the lady has rejected me,” he told his friend, seeing how Brighton’s face fell and feeling much the same about his own heart. “I did not even mean to suggest such a thing, but it came from my mouth without hesitation and I discovered that, even as I spoke, this was the very thing I desired.” Groaning, he ran one hand over his eyes, recalling how she had trembled as he had touched her hand. “How could I not have realized the depths of affection that were within my heart until that one moment, Brighton?”

  Lord Brighton, who did not look as joyous as he had some moments ago, spread his hands wide, his empty glass now sitting on the table in front of him. “I know nothing of affection nor of love,” he admitted, a trifle sadly. “You know that I have always determined to remain a single gentleman and, as such, have made every effort to do precisely that. There will come a time when I must marry, but I had always thought I would do so out of obligation and suitability rather than any sort of genuine affection.” He tilted his head, regarding Matthew carefully. “Mayhap it is that such feelings do surprise oneself when one has not expected to ever have such an emotion.”

  “That may very well be the case,” Matthew agreed, a little grimly. “But that is why it has taken me by surprise. The intensity of what I felt in that moment was…” Closing his eyes, he tried to find a word for what had occurred within him. “It was completely encapsulating. It held every part of me, rushing through me with a great force so that I could not help but be swept away by it.” Opening his eyes, he saw Lord Brighton observe him with interest, clearly caught up by what Matthew was describing. “It has not left me since that moment. In fact, I am even more convinced that I wish never to be parted from this particular lady. But it seems that I am to have no choice in the matter.”

  Lord Brighton lifted his brows, shifted in his chair, and shrugged. “I cannot tell you what to do or what you ought not to do,” he said with honesty. “I have no experience in these matters. However.” He paused, signaling for yet another glass of brandy, as though that would help him clarify his thoughts. “However,” Lord Brighton continued, as the footman hurried away. “I think that if you set your mind to something, Blackwell, then you are more than likely to achieve it.”

  “Not as regards this particular young lady,” Matthew replied heavily, his heart sinking towards the floor in anguish. “She is quite convinced that she is not the sort of young lady that I would find to be suitable as the wife of a duke.”

  Lord Brighton’s eyes flared. “And is she correct?”

  “Not in the way you might think,” Matthew said slowly, aware of what Lord Brighton would immediately go to. “She has not had her reputation ruined by anyone or anything. There has been no scandal by which her name has been blackened.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Matthew winced inwardly, trying to find the words to explain but struggling to find what he could say that would make sense to his friend. “She is…not particularly ladylike,” he stammered, stumbling over his words. “No, that is not what I mean. She is more than ladylike in her outward appearance and demeanor.” He had seen from her manners at the dinner table that she could behave with all propriety, which was what he would have expected. “But it is more that her pursuits and her hopes for what she might achieve in this life are a little unusual compared to her peers.”

  This did not seem to clarify matters for Lord Brighton, who shook his head and waited patiently for Matthew to say more, but there was nothing else that came to mind. There were, as far as he was concerned, no words to express the rush of emotion that had come over him from the moment Lady Wells had climbed into his carriage.

  She had been just the same as before in her character, in her speech, and in her demeanor, but to see her womanly form clad in a gown of emerald green that had brought a fresh brightness to her eyes, and to see her dark tresses given freedom from their usual prison had made such an affection rise up in him that for some moments, he had not been able to speak.

  It was the same as he had felt the moment he had seen her riding Beauchamp across the gardens, her hair flowing wildly behind her as she had galloped. She was the most vivacious, the most determined, the most unexpected, and the most courageous young lady he had ever met, and within him was growing a furious desire not to allow her to leave his side.

  But what could he do? He could not make her his jockey for the rest of her days, for she certainly could not hide away in those clothes for ever! And yet he wanted to give her the freedom she long desired, to fight for her to be given the same opportunities as he. However, it appeared he would not be able to do so if she would not allow him near. There had been unbridled longing in her eyes, a desperate hope that all would be as he promised, but she had not stepped forward and taken a hold of it. Mayhap he had not been bold enough, mayhap he ought to have stated clearly what it was he was offering her, even if the desire had in itself given him something of a start. Would she have responded in the way he’d hoped, if he’d told her clearly that he was willing to marry her, to give her as much of the life she longed for as he could?

  “You really do care for this young lady, do you not?”

  Tugged from his thoughts yet again, Matthew saw Lord Brighton looking at him with a small sm
ile on his face, although surprise was written in his expression.

  “I do,” he admitted, wondering whether it had been that the affection for Lady Wells had been growing slowly within him only to make itself known in that one moment, or whether he had simply fallen in love with her upon seeing her as she truly was. “I just cannot find a way to convince her that she is all I will ever need. I do not care for what my mother nor what society would think, for if I care for her and she cares for me, then surely that is all that matters?”

  Lord Brighton chuckled and reached for his newly filled glass of brandy. “I should say so,” he agreed, raising his glass. “I must hope that you will be able to achieve everything that you desire, Blackwell.”

  Matthew accepted this with a thin smile. “And do you have any suggestion as to how I might go about it?” he asked, with a wry tone touching his words. “For I can think of none.”

  “You must have determination,” Lord Brighton replied, taking a swig of his brandy. “You have long desired to win the Gold Cup and to be named Ascot’s victor. You have pursued it with everything you possess. Why not put the same force behind pursuing this young lady? Tell her that you do not accept her fears, show her that you will not care what others might say should you wed her. Prove to her that she is the object of your affections.” He shrugged. “And I am quite certain that you will, in the end, achieve your goal.”

  Matthew considered this for a moment or two, a little surprised that Lord Brighton had managed to speak so eloquently and that he had given such excellent advice when he apparently knew so little of the state that Matthew now found himself in. It was, he considered, very wise to suggest that Matthew pursue Lady Wells in the same way that he had pursued the Gold Cup. It would mean giving everything he had to prove to her that she was the only one he considered, the only one he thought of. He wanted her to know that she was, in his eyes, more important than any Gold Cup, more important than any sort of achievement he felt he could attain. He would, of course, let her ride in the race, but there was no longer that desperate need within him to have her and Beauchamp win the Gold Cup. He just wanted her to be happy, to have had the chance to fulfill a long-held hope and to realize that he cared for her, just as she was.

  “Do you know, Brighton,” he said slowly, feeling a fresh hope begin to fill his heart. “I believe you are quite right.” So saying, he took his brandy glass and raised it high. “I shall succeed.”

  “Indeed you shall,” Lord Brighton agreed, before throwing back the rest of his brandy and setting down his glass with a thump.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Are you quite prepared?”

  Matthew looked down at Lady Wells, seeing how she was biting her lip hard, her eyes looking anywhere but him. He had insisted that the jockey ride with him in the carriage as they made their way towards Ascot, stating that he was to give him some final instructions, and the staff had thought nothing of it.

  “Lady Wells,” he said gently, reaching across and touching her hand. She jerked in surprise, her lip freed from between her teeth as she stared at him, clearly surprised at his touch.

  “Lady Wells, quite frankly, you look terrified,” he said with a comforting smile. “You need not have anxiety about the race. I am certain you shall do well.”

  “But I may not win,” she told him, the reason for her anxiety becoming clear. “I shall have convinced you to give me the opportunity to ride Beauchamp, will have convinced you that I am the best suited to the position, and then, when the time comes to prove myself, may not manage to do so at all!”

  Matthew’s smile grew still further, clearly surprising Lady Wells as she looked back at him, her eyes holding confusion and a hint of fear.

  “I know we have not spoken a good deal since the evening you dined with me, Lady Wells,” he began, keeping his voice soft. “I understand that there were some difficulties there, but I will not ever say that I regret being open with you.” His hand was still holding hers, although he could practically feel the nervousness running through her. “In that moment, I believe that my heart threw itself open and revealed itself in all its entirety to me. I could not turn from it, not when I knew that there was a good deal of affection there within it. Affection for you, Lady Wells.”

  Lady Wells stared at him now, her eyes widening all the more. She made to tug her hand away, to turn away from him, but Matthew did not let his gentle grasp go loose. He needed to talk to her. He needed her to understand. He was pursuing her as best he could, determined to win her as he had once thought of winning the Gold Cup. “

  “Pray do not turn from me now, Lady Wells,” he begged, his voice dipping low. “Yet, I would not trap you here. If you do not wish me to speak any further, then you may ask it of me and I shall remain entirely silent.” He searched her face, seeing how she looked away from him still, although her hand began to relax once more in his. Her cheeks were flushed with color, and even though she wore her wig and cap, Matthew had never thought her more beautiful.

  “I have seen your determination and your strength, Lady Wells,” he told her, when moments passed without a word from her. “I have found my heart sorrowful over your struggles. I have found myself longing to be able to give you what you desire and, in some ways, this is a fulfillment of part of it, although not all.”

  “I am very grateful for your kindness, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice thready with emotion. “But you have no need to feel responsible for me.”

  A little surprised, Matthew leaned forward, trying to reassure her. “It is not out of a feeling of responsibility that I offer you more than just a temporary position as my jockey,” he told her firmly. “It is because you have captured my heart, Lady Wells.”

  Nothing was said for what felt like hours. Lady Wells finally dragged her gaze back to his, her eyes blinking rapidly against what he presumed were tears. Her lips were pressed firmly together, her hand tightening in his. His own heart was beating frantically, waiting for her to react to this revelation but still, she said nothing.

  “I-I was not particularly clear before,” he stammered, when she still said not a word. “I tried to offer you marriage without even saying the word. I was not outspoken about the affection that my heart now has for you, but that is because I did not know what to do with the feelings that swarm through me as they do now. I have considered them and allowed them free roam through my heart and all they have done is taken a hold of me further. I care for you vehemently, Lady Wells. I believe I am beginning to fall in love with you and that is the reason that I beg of you to reconsider accepting my hand.”

  Lady Wells closed her eyes tightly, her eyelashes damp as a tear slipped from each one. “But that does not change the fact that I am entirely unsuitable for a duke,” she whispered, her breath rattling out of her as she stifled sobs. “I am not at all the right sort of young lady–”

  “You are perfectly suited to me, Lady Wells,” he interrupted, reaching forward and brushing his thumb down her soft cheek. “You may consider yourself to be entirely unsuitable, but in that, you are utterly mistaken. I do not care what my mother would say nor what the beau monde would think, for you have become everything to me, my dear lady. You have captured my mind and my heart. I want to be the husband that you require, the husband who will not hold you back and will not restrain you. You and I share the very same passion, and you could be equal partner with me in that.”

  Lady Wells let out a half sob, half laugh, dabbing at her eyes. “Except at Tattersall,” she reminded him. It was where ladies were certainly not at all allowed. He could not help but chuckle at this, feeling as though he had broken through one of her barriers to their continuing relationship.

  “You might consider keeping your disguise then,” he said, making her laugh in response. “You could come along as a stable boy and enter Tattersall that way.”

  She shook her head as though she could not quite believe it. “And you would allow me to do so?”

  “I would encourage you to
do so,” he told her, with as much determination as he could muster in his voice. “I want you to have the life of freedom that you desire, in as much as you can have it. I will be there to support you in this, Lady Wells…Catherine.”

  At the sound of her name on his lips, Lady Wells ducked her head, but her smile was still evident in her face.

  “I will not push you for an answer now,” he told her, putting his free hand atop of their joined ones. “Just consider what I have said, Lady Wells. I mean every word.”

  “I know you do,” she answered softly. “I have never doubted your word, Your Grace.” Her eyes caught his for the briefest of moments before lowering again. “Nor can I pretend that I feel nothing for you also, although I have been fighting against such a thing for some time.”

  This brought such joy to Matthew’s heart that, for a moment, he could not speak. It was only when she darted another glance towards him that he recovered himself. “That is quite wonderful, Catherine,” he murmured, his heart so filled with affection that it was all he could do not to catch her up in his arms and press his mouth to hers. “It is more than I ever dreamed would be possible between two people.” Leaning forward all the more, he waited until she had lifted her eyes to his, praying that she would hold his gaze. “Do not fear about the race, my love. I do not want you to feel anxious about what position you finish in.”

  A flicker crossed her brow. “But you have longed to win the Gold Cup, have you not?” she asked, sounding a little uncertain. “That is why we have trained, is it not?”

  “But that no longer holds significance for me, not in the way it once did,” he replied fervently. “My only desire is for you, Catherine. I want you to have the chance to achieve something you have long sought after, and for that, all I wish for is your enjoyment and your happiness. Ride Beauchamp in the knowledge that I care nothing for what position you finish in. I shall be content even if you are last! It is your happiness that I want more than anything else in this world, Catherine. Believe me. The desire for the Gold Cup and for the accolades and prestige that come with it are no longer in my consideration.”