Read The Double Wager Online

Authors: Mary Balogh

The Double Wager (7 page)

Oliver Cranshawe, soliciting the hand of Suzanne Broughton for the next dance, smiled with dazzling charm. “I do believe the danger has been averted for this occasion,” he said. “That little fright he just danced with seems to have driven him completely from the field.”

Suzanne's smile was somewhat forced. Eversleigh had not deigned even to acknowledge her presence; he had not claimed the promised dance.

Henry's popularity was definitely on the upward swing. She was besieged with prospective partners for the rest of the evening, and was led in to supper by no less a personage than Viscount Marley, a widower, who was known to be on the lookout for a new wife and who did not need to hold out for an heiress.

 

CHAPTER 4

 

B
y four o’clock the following afternoon, Henry’s head felt rather as if it were spinning on her shoulders. The lateness of the night before and the eventfulness of this day had been an exhausting combination.

When she was finally in bed the night before, she had not slept immediately. She had gone over and over in her mind the meeting with the Duke of Eversleigh. She had very obviously ruined any slim chance she might have had of bringing him to the point. And she had recognized as soon as she met him that the chance was indeed slim. Henry was a girl of some intelligence. She recognized a superior intellect and a more powerful will when she met them. It was just that she had never met either until she had deliberately run against the hard wall of Eversleigh’s body the night before. Even so, she berated herself, she might have charmed him had she sighed and fluttered her eyelashes as she had seen other girls doing, or impressed him with witty but ladylike conversation.

But what had she done? She had prattled in most unladylike fashion, mentioning bosoms and admitting to considering balls a ridiculous pastime. And she had tripped all over him—twice! She remembered that gleam she had noticed in his eyes. It was surely disgust that he had been feeling. After he had returned her to Marian, he had not only refrained from asking her to dance with him again, he had left altogether. He had been about to escape when she first ran into him, she was sure. His meeting with her had not served to change his mind.

Henry admitted to herself that her chances of winning the wager were very remote indeed. From all she had heard, it seemed that Eversleigh did not frequent the social events of the
ton
. It seemed unlikely that she would even see him again in the coming weeks. And even if she did, it was unlikely that he would notice her. And she could not again use the device of “accidentally” colliding with him. The situation seemed hopeless.

But then, Henry admitted, perhaps this was a wager she would not mind losing. She had to confess that she had felt out of her depth with the duke. His reactions were not as open and predictable as were those of other people she knew. She had found it impossible to guess what he was thinking. And those heavy eyelids had hidden any clue that his eyes might have shown. Three times he had forced her to act according to his will: getting permission before she waltzed, curtsying to Sally Jersey, returning to Marian's side after the dance; and all three times he had accomplished his will without any hint of coercion. There had been none of the blustering of Papa or the posturing of Peter. Henry had the uncomfortable feeling that, if this man ever did offer for her, she would be drawn against her will into accepting. She had the niggling suspicion—and it kept her awake for longer than she found comfortable—that she was just a teeny bit afraid of the Duke of Eversleigh.

Henry was normally an early riser. But on the morning after the ball she slept until midmorning. Even then she might not have woken if she had not become gradually aware of a commotion in the house. Doors were being opened and closed along the corridor outside her room. She could hear the voices of her sister-in-law, the housekeeper, and a maid, and—finally—of Peter. Henry hauled herself out of bed and dressed as quickly as she could, not stopping to call a maid. She dragged a brush through her tousled curls and left the room.

The center of the commotion was by this time a downstairs salon. When Henry reached the doorway, she discovered that Peter and Marian were inside, together with Miss Manford, Philip, Penelope, Brutus, the butler, the housekeeper, and a filthy, ragged little urchin, who stood in bewildered isolation in the middle of it all.

“You had no business bringing him into the house at all,” Peter was scolding, “and certainly not through the front door. Do you children think we are a charitable institution?”

“But, Peter,” Philip begged, “he was being beaten for stealing a roll of bread. And he only stole it because he was hungry. He has no father and his mother drinks gin all the time. We had to bring him with us.”

“Poor little Tommy!” Penelope added. “We thought you might keep him here, Peter. He could help in the kitchen or stables, or you might train him to be your tiger.”

“Silence, children!” their brother ordered. “Take the little beggar to the kitchen, Mrs. Lane, and give him a meal. And then drive him away, if you please. Do you understand, child? If you come back here, I shall have you taken up for loitering and thrown into jail.”

Tommy appeared not to have understood a word that had been said to him. He balanced on one leg and tried to wrap the other leg around it, though his purpose in doing so was not at all clear.

“But, Peter—” Philip began.

“You two children may go to your rooms and remain there for the rest of the day,” their brother interrupted. “And you can be very thankful that I do not thrash the pair of you.”

“Mrs. Lane, the child!” Marian reminded the housekeeper, who did not appear to know how she was to remove the boy without contaminating herself by touching him.

Henry solved her problem. “Here, allow me!” she said indignantly, and stalked into the room, head high, eyes flashing. She. stooped down, took Tommy’s grubby paw, and led him from the room. “Let us see what we can find for you to eat belowstairs,” she said kindly. “And we shall see if cook can spare a cloth or basket for you to take some food home with you. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

Mrs. Lane and the butler trailed out after her, and the twins ascended disconsolately to their rooms.

“Miss Manford,” Sir Peter said, turning his attention to that hapless lady, “I am greatly displeased with the morning’s events. Why, pray, did you take the twins walking in a part of London that is quite beneath their station?”

“They have a great curiosity, Sir Peter,” she stammered. “They wished to visit a street market. But, indeed, I am very sorry ...”

“And it is quite beyond my comprehension why you would allow them to associate with such a ragamuffin as that child, and to bring him here!”

“I . . . Indeed, Sir Peter, I did suggest to them that you might not like it,” Miss Manford explained helplessly, “but you know, sir, your dear father was always willing to aid the creatures and persons they brought home with them. He thought it good for them to become aware—”

“Miss Manford,” he interrupted ruthlessly, “I am not my father, and this is not Roedean. I recognize, ma’am, that you have been of inestimable help to my brothers and sisters in the past. For this reason I shall not dismiss you out of hand. I shall give you two months in which to find yourself a new situation. I shall ask you to remain away from the children for today. Good day, ma’am.”

Poor Miss Manford was rendered almost speechless. She stammered her way from the room, hands fluttering ineptly in the air.

By the time Henry came back upstairs from the kitchen, having seen Tommy well fed with cold meat and bread and sent on his way with a well-stocked bundle, the butler was busy carrying some half-dozen bouquets of flowers into the drawing room. They were all for her from admirers of the night before. Henry chuckled with amazement. What an amusing game this was proving to be. The largest bouquet, one of deep-red roses, was from Viscount Marley, she noted. She pulled a face. The man was at least fifty and running to fat, but Marian had been all agog, seeming to feel that Henry would be a fool not to encourage his suit. Strangely enough, Marian had not taken Eversleigh seriously as a possible suitor; she was far too realistic for that. But she had been ecstatic over the favorable attention he had focused on her sister-in-law.

It seemed to Henry that she had hardly had time for breakfast and a secret visit to her brother and sister and their governess before Marian was directing her to return to her room to get properly groomed and dressed for afternoon visitors. There were certain to be some after the ball of the night before, she added.

Henry considered the whole business a frightful bore, though in the event she was amused to find that several of her partners of the previous evening were among the visitors. Viscount Marley was one of them. He even contrived to sit with Henry a little apart from the rest of the company. He entertained her with descriptions of his two young daughters, who missed their mama a great deal and were longing for the day when someone would be found to replace her. Henry succeeded somehow in keeping a polite smile on her face. The viscount had just requested the pleasure of Henry's company on a drive through the park when the visiting hour should be over, when a merciful interruption saved Henry from the embarrassment of either accepting or thinking up some lame excuse.

The butler entered the room and bowed to Marian. “Sir Peter Tallant wishes to see Miss Tallant in the library immediately, ma'am,” he announced.

Marian glanced across at Henry in surprise. “You had better not keep him waiting, Henrietta,'' she said. “But do hurry back to our guests as soon as you are able.”

Henry curtsied and made her way down to the library, which was Peter's domain. What had she done wrong now? Was he about to banish her and the twins to Roedean after their behavior of the morning? She could hardly think of a punishment she would enjoy more. She grimly approached the closed door and opened it.

The man who stood with his back to the room, staring out the window, was not Peter. A hasty glance around assured Henry that, in fact, her brother was not in the room at all. Then the man turned and she gaped. She found herself staring into the sleepy eyes of the Duke of Eversleigh!

“Ah, Miss Tallant,” he said, hand straying to the handle of his quizzing glass, “good day to you. Pray come inside and close the door.”

“Oh, your Grace, it's you,” she said foolishly. “Pardon me, my brother is looking for me.”

“How provoking of him,” Eversleigh replied, “when he just a moment ago granted me permission to speak to you.” He walked unhurriedly across the room. Henry stood paralyzed, her hand still on the knob of the open door.

“Please allow me to close the door,” he said from beside her. “You seem incapable of doing so yourself.”

“Oh, yes, your Grace,” Henry said, skipping hastily across to the other side of the room.

“I assure you, ma’am,” he said, shutting the door and surveying her through his quizzing glass, “I have not been eating garlic.”

Henry giggled nervously. “Would you not like to come to the drawing room, your Grace?” she asked brightly. “There are other visitors there.”

“How revolting!” he said, lowering the glass. “Are you so anxious to return to them, Miss Tallant?”

“Oh, no!” she confided. “Actually, I was very thankful to be called away. Lord Marley was pressing me to drive out with him, and I had really rather not. But Marian would have put me on bread and water for a week, had I refused. He is rich, you know, and has a title.”

“Marley!” Eversleigh shuddered theatrically. “I suppose he is out shopping, for a new mama for his two brats?”

“Well, he did talk about them,” she admitted.

“Quite so. Come and sit down over here, Miss Tallant, and stop cowering at the other end of the room. Indeed, if I wished to give chase, ma’am, I should catch you in a moment.”

Henry bristled immediately. “I never cower!” she said. “And if you did chase me and catch me, you might be sorry.”

The eyebrows rose above the blue eyes.

“I should kick and punch,” she declared proudly. “I once gave Giles a black eye.”

“Giles has my sympathies,” he commented dryly. “Stand over there and
cower
, if you must, Miss Tallant. I am going to sit down.”

Having made her point, Henry crossed the room and seated herself in the chair he had originally indicated.

“Miss Tallant, I perceive that it is useless to try to make polite small talk with you. I shall get immediately to the point. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” 

Henry’s jaw dropped.

“Miss Tallant?”

“Your wife?” she asked faintly.

“Yes, my wife. I have taken you by surprise, I see. I mistakenly thought you had more fortitude, ma’am. Should I have paved the way more carefully by falling on my knees in front of you and declaring undying love and devotion? I can still do so, if you wish.”

“Pray do not,” she said anxiously. “You would look mighty ridiculous and I should be hard put to it not to laugh.”

“Then shall we sit here in silence while you consider what I have said?” he suggested with unaccustomed gentleness.

“Are you serious, your Grace?” she asked dubiously.

“About sitting in silence? Oh, yes, I very often contemplate the state of my own soul, ma’am.”

“No, silly. I meant about marrying me.”

“Oh, certainly. It can be dangerous to propose to a lady in fun, you know. She might just accept. Then the joke would be on me. But I would not be amused.”

“But why?” Henry asked.

“Why would I not be amused, ma’am? Why, because—”

“No, stupid. Oh, pardon me, your Grace,” Henry said, slapping a hand over her mouth. She noticed with dismay that last night’s gleam was back in the duke’s eyes.

“You meant, why do I wish to marry you?” he prompted. “I have the notion that it might be amusing, Henry. And it is a long time since I have been amused.”

“But you do not know me,” she protested. “I am dreadfully stubborn and outspoken, you know. And I hate to have to behave like a lady. And I will not let any man tell me what to do.”

Other books

Dragon in Exile - eARC by Sharon Lee, Steve Miller
Midnight Solitaire by Greg F. Gifune
Monster by C.J. Skuse
At Face Value by Franklin, Emily
Firewing by Kenneth Oppel
Road Fever by Tim Cahill


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024