To Challenge the Earl of Cravenswood (Wicked Wagers 3) (6 page)

“You do have a choice. You can stay out of my personal affairs.”

A shiver of unease snaked down his spine, which he straightened. He was in the right. Nothing they could do would make him accept this challenge. 

“If you had
personal affairs,
we would. But you’ve been behaving like a eunuch for far too long.”

Henry felt his face heat at Harlow’s sneer.

Marcus sat back, his elbows on his knees, his fingers touching in a tripod. “Unless you accept our challenge, I’m going to Dowager Spencer and I’ll tell her you’re desperate to marry by the end of the season. In fact, we shall offer to help her arrange a fine match.”

“Christ, you bloody...” He gripped the arms of his chair so as not to punch the smug look off Marcus’s face. 

Spears of icy fear tore at his stomach. If Lady Dowager Spencer, his great aunt and the authority within the
ton
, heard he was seriously looking for a wife, his life would be turned upside down. He wouldn’t be left alone for five minutes. She’d make it her mission to parade every available debutante in front of him. She’d descend on Cravenswood Court and not leave until he was leg-shackled. She wouldn’t care to whom. His life would be a living hell. 

“Bastards.” His so called friends didn’t even look at him with pity. They merely kept drinking with smirks on their faces.

Defeat slipped through him like a ghost. “So, let me get this right. I may choose a bride by the end of the Season, or you two reprobates, or Dowager Spencer, thrust one upon me.”

“Or you marry Amy Shipton.”

“Why are you so set on pushing me at Lady Shipton? She’s my annoying neighbour.”

Marcus’s gaze softened. “I know you both.” He slapped his chest above his heart like a warrior. “I know you’d be perfect for each other. You’re kind, generous, and honorable. That’s why I know that if you accept this challenge you’ll not renege.” He sat back and threw his arms up. “For God’s sake, why not try courting her? What have you to lose?”

The earring moved in his pocket. He did wish to marry. But marry the right woman. A woman he could come to love. A woman who had fire in her soul and hot blood in her veins. A woman like the siren in his garden. Christ he was lusting after a woman he knew nothing about. He didn’t even know what she looked like.

As much as he hated to, he’d have to tell them. He cleared his throat and tried to sound as if he’d not been cornered by a rampaging bull. “As it so happens, I may have found a lady that I’m interested in.”

“Thank Christ,” he heard Harlow mutter.

“What is her name?” Marcus asked, immediately suspicious.

“I’m not exactly sure.”

Marcus’s eyes narrowed. Henry rushed on. “She did not give me her name.”

Harlow’s grin widened. “There is a story here. I bet it involves that,” he waved a hand at Henry’s wound.

“He’s blushing,” Marcus laughed and Harlow joined in.

“When you’re done laughing at my expense, I shall tell you.” He proceeded to inform them what had occurred the previous night to much ripping and amusement. “So you see, I have no idea who she is, but she must be someone who lives in the square.”

“Then it can’t be too difficult to find her.” Harlow stated.

He shook his head. “There are five young ladies, two spinsters, and three widows in my street. Plus there was a musical soiree there last evening. My only clue is this earring,” and he pulled it out of his pocket. He thought he glimpsed something close to recognition in Marcus’s eye, but when he looked again there was only curiosity.

Harlow took the earring and examined it. “It’s a very expensive piece. She must be a lady of quality.”

Henry nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

Marcus said, “So what is the problem? Simply advertise that you’ve found an earring and she’ll likely come forward to claim it. There is no need to state where or how you came by it.”

“But the lady herself will know. What if she is married already and is too ashamed to come forward, or worse, she is an innocent and is frightened due to my atrocious behaviour last night? She probably thinks I’m a drunken pervert who attacks young ladies in the dark.”

“Henry’s right, Marcus. We have to take a subtle approach.”

Marcus shrugged his large shoulders. “Then what are you going to do?”

“I thought we could engage the services of your lovely wives. They could perhaps make discreet inquiries. When they learn the lady’s identity, I can decide if I wish to enter into a courtship with her.”

“You want to see what she looks like.” Harlow gave a low throaty chuckle and raised his hands in defence. “Not that I blame you. Making love is much more fun with the candles, or sun, blazing.”

“That’s why I think you should consider Amy. She’s beautiful. If I couldn’t have Sabine, I’d have been more than content with her as my wife.”

Henry opened his mouth to retort and found he couldn’t.  Amy was beautiful; why had he never really noticed before? 

“I’d start with the jewellers.” Harlow’s idea had merit. “Any jeweller commissioned to make this piece would know who the earring belonged to.”

Henry sat back in his chair and folded the paper and put it aside. “That’s the first sensible suggestion either one of you have given me today.”

Marcus raised his eyebrow and said, “So, it’s agreed. You are engaged by the end of the season or you marry Lady Amy Shipton.”

“I think Amy’s pointless. It would appear Henry is set on finding his mystery woman.”

“Nevertheless, Harlow, it would be wise to have a back up. Henry must agree Amy Shipton is an appropriate candidate.”

“What is it with you, Marcus? Why are you determined to push Amy on me? Is it because I pushed her on you? This is your revenge?”

Marcus frowned. “Good Lord, marrying Amy Shipton is hardly a punishment.”

Henry had to concede that point. He could do far worse. 

“We want to see you happy. We both thought you needed a bit of a push; you’ve been procrastinating too long. You’re the Earl of Cravenswood and as such you need an heir. You need to marry.”

Marcus was correct. He did have an obligation. If anything happened to him the title and estate reverted to his Uncle, and with a son like Charles, the estate would be bankrupt within a year. 

Why was he fussing? Hadn’t he risen this morning with just this plan in mind? He wanted a wife and a lover and a friend. He just didn’t appreciate his friends bullying him into it. But they were his friends, and at the heart of their challenge lay his best interests. God preserve him from reformed rakes.

“All right, I accept your challenge. One way or another I will find myself a bride by the end of the season.”

#

Marcus stood on the top step, having just left Harlow and Henry still inside the club. His grin grew as he tugged on his gloves with a satisfied smile. He couldn’t wait to get home and explain to Sabine the plan Harlow and he had hatched. Especially now he’d seen the earring and heard Henry’s wish to locate the owner.

He directed his groom to turn the phaeton around. He had to stop at the jewellers before he returned home. Marcus wasn’t about to let this be easy for Henry. In his experience, love needed to be worked at. The reward in the end was immeasurable. It would not do for Henry to learn too soon the identity of the owner of the earring.

Chapter Five

Lanneath, Berkshire, a week later

It must be here somewhere.
Her maid Lorraine had pried the information from her beau, Henry’s valet Smitters. Henry had found the earring and now carried it about with him. He was trying to identify the owner. 

She couldn’t let him find the owner—couldn’t let him find her. 

So here she was, at Lanneath, Lord Wolverstone’s country estate, for a week long house party with almost thirty others. 

When she’d called on Sabine the day after her encounter with Henry, asking questions about Henry’s heart, Sabine immediately organized a week long house party. The excuse was to escape the humidity of London for a short period.

And of course she’d invited Henry.

And Amy.

Sabine was definitely matchmaking and Amy wouldn’t discount the fact she was likely working with her husband. Traitor. Sabine understood Amy’s stance on marriage best of all. Last year, Amy had turned Marcus down because he loved Sabine. She’d explained to Sabine about her father’s behavior and his ‘other’ family. How much it hurt knowing he’d rather spend time with his illegitimate children than with her. She’d never put her children through that.

Now, no thanks to Sabine, Amy was no closer to finding her earring or who Millicent was, or what she meant to Henry. Sabine appeared to know nothing.

It was their second day at the beautiful estate and the men were out riding. Amy sank to her knees, heedless of how it would crumple her gown, and lifted the lid of Lord Cravenswood travelling trunk. It was the only place left to look. But it was empty. His belongings unpacked by Smitters.

Blast. Why was he carrying it around?
She wasn’t sorry she’d let Henry St. Giles, the man known as the saintly rake, take far too many liberties with her person in his garden, but she wasn’t about to let the episode see her father insist on a marriage. 

Ever since her mother’s death three years ago, her father couldn't wait to see Amy married off. It was of no importance who her future husband was, as long as he was titled and rich. The duke thought it would be relatively easy to see her married; after all she was his daughter, and she had a large dowry. Men were lining up to offer for her hand. 

Her father did not wish to see her married out of any fatherly concern. No, he simply wanted to be rid of her.

If she married, he’d be able to live in the country with his other family, his mistress and their children. The woman he had loved his whole married life. Amy’s half brothers and sisters—who she’d never formally met—were party to her father’s affections, while none was ever given to his legitimate progeny.

Think damn it.
The men had all gone for a ride this afternoon. She needed to find her earring before her absence was noted. She mustn’t be caught in Henry’s room. She did not need her brother, who was also here, asking awkward questions and reporting back to their father.

Like most of the nobility, her parents had not married for any reason except alliance and money. Her father had been in love with another, a woman who could never become the Duchess. So instead, he’d made a cold-blooded marriage contract, and then continued to live separate lives.

Now that her mother was dead, and her older brother married and settled in the London townhouse, her father wanted to retire to his estate and move his mistress and their children into his home. He couldn't do that with an unmarried daughter. Society may turn a blind eye to a man as powerful as her father indulging himself in his later years, but they would not condone his actions with an unmarried daughter within the same household.

Well, her father could go to Hades. There was no way Amy Shipton would be forced to marry any man. The image of Henry’s handsome face flashed before her eyes. 

The night in his garden had been magical. She would never forget the passions Henry’s touched ignited. His kisses were incredible. The ravishing hunger of his lips. Even now she remembered the hard press of his body as he gently pushed her down. The burning heat of his embrace, his devouring mouth, his clever fingers...

His tender savagery had kindled a response in her that was basic, primitive, wholly feminine, and exciting. Her body’s fierce yearning to surrender to his touch, to open and accept everything he had to give her was most unexpected. She’d never dreamed a man’s touch could be so arousing. No other man had elicited even a spark. 

If he hadn’t spoken Millicent’s name and ruined the moment, she wondered if she’d still be a virgin.

What would she have done then?

She stood up and brushed out her dress, checking the creases in the Cheval mirror. 

Her bitter family experience meant she had only one rule where marriage was concerned. She would not marry any man who was in love with someone else. It was unfair to all parties.

But recently she had written a second rule. 

Having seen Marcus and Sabine together, and having met their friends Harlow Telford, Duke of Dangerfield, and Caitlin his duchess, she, Amy Shipton, the daughter of a duke, had made a curious discovery about herself. 

Like Henry, she wanted more. She wanted a husband who would love her back. 

She wanted love full stop.

She was turning her back on everything her mother and grandmother had drilled into her since the nursery.
A lady did her duty and married for social position and wealth—nothing more.

She puzzled over why Henry insisted on hunting for the owner of the earring? Amy’s heart thrummed as she banged the lid shut with a muttered curse. What good could come of it? He probably thought his midnight rendezvous woman was eager for seductive games. He was a rake.

She stood and gazed around the masculine room. The earring hadn’t been in the pockets of any of his coats in the dressing room. Perhaps he kept it on his person.

Heat flooded her veins. How would she retrieve it then?

She’d already searched his armoire, trying not to disturb his neatly folded shirts, collars, and cravats of rich silks. 

She turned her attention to his dressing table. Perhaps his valet had emptied Henry’s pockets and put the earring with his cuff links or watches.

As she advanced toward the imposing dresser, she prayed it was there. Not that such a thing would solve her dilemma, for if it went missing, Henry would want to know where it had gone. She’d have to leave the Wolverstone estate immediately.  She bit her lip and halted mid stride. But then Henry would logically deduct she’d taken the earring, and then he’d know exactly who he’d had in his arms. Knowing Henry, he’d offer to do the honorable thing.

Blow honorable men. She tried to gather her wits. What a pickle she found herself in.