Lady's Wager (10 page)

“Lord Woodcliff is an excellent horseman, don’t you
agree?” Elizabeth prodded.

“He’s to be admired,”
Charlotte returned as nonchalantly as she could but she was fooling no one and
she knew it.

*****

Edward strode up the stairs into White’s, convinced he’d
find there a large company of friends and entertainment to distract him. He’d
spent the last three days in Somerset settling a portion of his stepmother’s
debts. On the way to Bath, he’d thought of almost nothing except Miss Stuart
and when he might see her next. During the journey home, with his stepmother’s insults
ringing in his ears, he’d begun to question the courtship. Miss Stuart might
have been tender with him under the influence of fine silk and candlelight, but
it didn’t mean she wouldn’t return to her previously ill-informed opinions of
him the next day. His stepmother had doted on his father until the wedding then
she’d revealed her true nature. He didn’t want the same thing to happen to him
with Miss Stuart. Even though his gut told him she’d never mistreat a person
the way his stepmother had mistreated his father, his mind demanded caution.

He’d ridden into Hyde Park determined not to rush into a relationship
and risk making the same mistake his father had made. His decision to slow the pursuit
had vanished the moment he’d caught Miss Stuart admiring him from the landau,
her dark lashes framing her eyes, as pleased to see him as he was to see her. During
the brief encounter, he’d experienced again the connection they’d developed at
Almack’s. The faint pink which had swept her high cheeks had told him her
regard for him wasn’t an act, but as genuine as his care for her. It’d overcome
all his reasons for prudence and he’d found himself once again consumed with
thoughts of her.

It was a jarring experience. He was a level-headed Viscount,
not some besotted poet to flitter from one emotion to the next like the wind on
a blustery day. If time at White’s with his friends couldn’t bring back his
usual clarity, he didn’t know what could.

The interior of the club resembled the most sumptuous of
town houses but the atmosphere was far more raucous than refined.
Well-appointed chairs, settees and tables dominated the periphery of the rooms
where men sat to delight in witty or dull conversation, a private game of
cards, the pleasure of beef and drink, or a well-deserved nap. He was just
inside the club when Henry hailed him.

“Edward, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He rose
from where he sat by the fire with a number of mutual acquaintances and
approached Edward.

“Better here than at home, rattling around an empty
house.”

“Or a full head.” Henry motioned to Edward to follow him.
“Come, there’s someone I’d like you to meet, though I doubt he’ll do much to
settle you.”

“Then I don’t wish to meet him.”

“Oh, I believe you do.”

Henry led Edward down the hall and into a small parlor.
The room was empty except for three winged back chairs facing the large, stone
fireplace. Over the top of the chair, Edward spied silver hair and the headline
of
The Gazette
. As Henry led Edward to the mysterious reader, the
gentleman lowered his paper.

“Mr. Stuart, you remember Lord Woodcliff from the soirée,”
Henry introduced.

Edward grimaced at his friend, resisting the urge to knock
the superior grin off his face. He’d come here to get away from thoughts of
Miss Stuart, not to wallow in them.

“Yes, the Viscount who doesn’t like doctors. I remember.”
Mr. Stuart rose and shook Edward’s hand.

“Your niece and I have since resolved our
misunderstanding,” Edward explained as Mr. Stuart took his seat and exchanged
his paper for the glass of claret on the table next to him.

“So my wife tells me.” He motioned to the chair across
from his. Edward sat down while Henry remained standing by the fireplace. “I’ve
heard a great deal about you since then.”

“I hope everything you’ve heard is pleasant.” Edward was
shocked by how much he wanted this man’s good opinion.

“Most of it,” Mr. Stuart assured him. “Lord Ashford tells
me you spent time on the continent?”

“Yes, I traveled extensively after Cambridge, before
Napoleon made it inhospitable.”

“My family and I were driven out of Paris by the man.”

“Then you’re permanently settled here?” Edward asked with
more than a passing interest.

“In England, yes. In London, no. We leave at the end of
the Season, unless something conspires to keep us here longer.”

Edward coughed nervously, not surprised to find the same
blunt manner in Mr. Stuart as he enjoyed in Miss Stuart.

“Something may indeed conspire. Though at the moment I
can’t say for sure. Your niece is quite an Original. I’m sorry, I meant no offense
by the remark.”

“No offense at all.” The gentleman chuckled knowingly. “I,
more than anyone, know how much of an Original Charlotte is. But she has a good
head and a generous heart.”

“I’m very familiar with her charity work.”

“She’s certainly an Original in that regard,” Henry added.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see a gentleman with whom I have some business.”

Henry left Edward alone with Mr. Stuart.

“Do you come to White’s often?” Edward asked.

Mr. Stuart shook his head. “Only when the house is too
occupied with female concerns. And you?”

“Not often as I don’t gamble, drink to excess or care for
gossip.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Too many men of property spend too
much time drinking and gambling at clubs. It doesn’t make for a pleasant home
life.”

“Indeed, it doesn’t.” Edward leaned back in his chair,
knowing Mr. Stuart was sizing him up as a
parti
for his niece.

“Occupation is good for a man. It’s why I chose to
maintain my business after I inherited. The idle life of a country gentleman
doesn’t suit me.”

“I agree, which is why, after seeing your niece’s work
with the hospital, I’ve decided to do the same for the people in my father’s
seat.”

Mr. Stuart fixed Edward with a stern look. “Are you truly
interested in charity or only pretending? My niece doesn’t take kindly to
pretenders and neither do I.”

Edward sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “Like your
niece, I have very personal reasons for wishing to establish a medical clinic.
Your niece shamed me for not doing it sooner. Like you, I need something more
substantial than perusing the baronetage to occupy my time.”

“I understand.” Mr. Stuart offered Edward a glass of
claret.

Edward relaxed as he accepted the drink, for there was an
ease of manner in Mr. Stuart he enjoyed. They conversed for the better part of
the evening, discussing the perils of sea travel, the difficulties of commerce
and Edward’s plans to tour the continent after the war. During the
conversation, Edward could think of nothing but Miss Stuart and although she
wasn’t spoken of, for him she was always present. Earlier, with the bitter experience
of his stepmother still clinging to him, he couldn’t have imagined things with
Miss Stuart, or her family progressing so well. Now, he was beginning to
believe his father would see him settled by the end of the Season and the
thought didn’t disturb him as much as it had on the trip home from Bath. He
needed to see Miss Stuart, to hear her voice and her little peals of laughter
when she was delighted. Tomorrow morning couldn’t arrive fast enough so he
could pay a call on Miss Stuart and enjoy her company again.

Edward stood in the doorway to
the Stuart’s morning room, the anticipation of seeing Miss Stuart vanishing at
the sight before him.

Lord Marston sat at the tea table with Mrs. Stuart and
Miss Stuart, holding Miss Stuart’s hand in an irritatingly intimate way. He
hadn’t realized Miss Stuart and Lord Marston were so well acquainted. She’d
never once mentioned the man at Almack’s.

“Miss Stuart, you’ve made me
the happiest man on earth,” Lord Marston proclaimed.

Humiliation slammed Edward like a blacksmith’s hammer. In
his rush to be with her, he’d forgotten most ladies entertained more than one
suitor during the Season. Apparently, she wasn’t as enamored of Edward as he’d
thought and had easily shifted her affections the moment he’d left town. It
spoke to her shallowness of character, a trait he was glad to discover before
the flirtation went too far and trapped him like his father had been trapped in
a miserable marriage.

He stepped back to leave, refusing to remain here to be
regarded as second best, but he bumped into the butler waiting to announce him.

“Lord Woodcliff, madam.”

All eyes turned to Edward. This wasn’t how he’d imagined
his morning unfolding.

Mrs. Stuart rose and approached him.

“Lord Woodcliff, it’s a pleasure. Surely you know Lord
Marston.” The white lace at the end of her grey cotton sleeves fluttered as she
waved to the gentleman.

“I do.” Edward clenched his fists at his sides, fighting
to remain civil.

Minnie scurried out from her place under the table and
jumped at Edward’s legs, eager for his attention.

“You’re very fortunate sir.” Lord Marston motioned to the
dog. “That fierce beast tried to take my leg off when I arrived. She seems to
prefer your company.”

“Lord Woodcliff is practically the only stranger Minnie
likes,” Charlotte laughed, turning her bright face to him.

Edward could only manage a terse smile in return. Her delighted
expression dimmed followed by a puzzled frown.

He turned to Lord Marston. “I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted
you. I’ll leave you to your conversation.”

“No, I’m the one who must be going. Mrs. Stuart, Miss
Stuart, thank you again for your great kindness.” Lord Marston bowed and with a
sickening amount of elation, left Edward to the women.

“Lord Woodcliff, we’re so happy to see you.” Mrs. Stuart motioned
for him to take Lord Marston’s now vacant seat.

Edward reluctantly sat down, his manners overcoming his
urge to bolt from the house. He studied Miss Stuart, attempting to gage the
situation. She didn’t seem like a giddy girl newly engaged nor was there a ring
to announce an understanding. He could ask, clarify the situation at once, but
pride wouldn’t allow him to pose the question.

She avoided his searching gaze, her attention fixed on
Minnie who sat in her lap whimpering excitedly at the small bit of food held
before her nose. Miss Stuart wore a simple white morning dress decorated with a
small pink check. A matching pink ribbon wound through her dark hair,
highlighting the delicate hue of her cheeks, the ones he longed to caress. He
kept his hands firmly in his lap, noting how her previous pleasure at his
arrival had turned to indifference.

“Would you like some tea or cake?” Mrs. Stuart offered as
the footman removed Lord Marston’s plate and replaced it with a fresh one.

“No, thank you.”

“My husband tells me you spoke at White’s,” Mrs. Stuart
offered, her voice tight as she tried to ease the tension in the room with
polite conversation.

“We did.”

“Were you there to gamble, Lord Woodcliff?” Miss Stuart
asked curtly, acknowledging him at last. “I hear little takes place at White’s
that doesn’t involve a wager.”

Her eyes flashed with mirth, challenging him to reply. Common
sense urged him to let the remark pass but his smarting pride wouldn’t allow
it.

“It’s a pity ladies don’t have such a club, for I hear it
said you enjoy a good wager.”

The sharp levity drained from her and Edward crossed his
arms in smug triumph.

Miss Stuart moved to answer but Mrs. Stuart’s high tones
cut her short. “Lord Woodcliff, my husband tells me you’re seeking a physician
for the country. Charlotte, you must be able to recommend someone.”

Miss Stuart’s eyes narrowed at Edward. “No suitable gentleman
comes to mind at the moment.”

“Tell me Miss Stuart, how well do you know Lord Marston?”
Edward demanded, his wounded ego overcoming his manners.

“His parents knew my parents. They helped me reach my aunt
and uncle after my parents died.”

For the second time this morning the blacksmith’s anvil
landed smack in the middle of his chest. He fingered the small spoon beside his
plate, noting the pain lacing her words. Whatever her connection to Lord
Marston, it was an older and deeper one than Edward had enjoyed with her. It
wasn’t shallow of her to choose Lord Marston over him, assuming she’d made a
choice. He still wasn’t sure. Whatever her situation, he wouldn’t endure this
awkward meeting a moment longer.

“I’m afraid I must be going.” He stood, determined to
leave with more dignity than he’d entered with, or exhibited during this whole
unfortunate encounter.

“So soon?” Miss Stuart asked, much to both Mrs. Stuart’s
and Edward’s surprise.

The subtle plea for him to stay nearly made him sit back
down, but he refused. They’d quarreled enough for one morning. “I can’t delay.
Good day.”

He strode from the room.

“Charlotte, go after him and apologize,” Mrs. Stuart
exclaimed while Edward accepted his hat, gloves and walking stick from the
butler.

“Let him apologize to me. He’s the one in the foul mood,”
came Miss Stuart’s answer as Edward stepped outside.

He paused on the front walk to tug on his gloves. Motion
near the house caught his attention. Miss Stuart stood at the window, her
slender fingers curled around the thick curtain, regret softening the line of
her full lips. Edward flexed his hand beneath the leather. Maybe she wasn’t as
duplicitous as his stepmother and he’d made a mistake. He could go back inside,
swallow his pride and ask outright if she was engaged to Lord Marston or if
Edward had misread the situation. It would change everything.

She flicked the curtain shut, making his decision for him.
He marched down the walk to his chaise. In their brief time together, they’d
made no promises to one another. She was free to marry whom she liked and he
wasn’t going to moon about her like some jealous or spurned suitor.

He instructed the driver to make for Henry’s house then
settled into the plush darkness of the chaise, but it offered him no comfort.
The future he’d imagined with Miss Stuart had been shredded the moment he’d
seen her so intimate with Lord Marston, assuming what he’d interrupted was
correct. There was still no proof she was engaged. Edward drummed his knee with
his fingers as the vehicle jostled its way through the busy streets. It served
him right if he’d lost her to the Baron, though they seemed an odd match. He
could hardly imagine her fiery temperament with Lord Marston’s reserve.

The chaise jostled to a stop in front of a row of
fashionable town houses in Mayfair. Edward stepped down and marched to the
door.

“Where’s Lord Ashford? I must speak to him immediately,”
Edward demanded of the butler as he swept in the house.

“He’s in the study, milord.”

Edward hurried down the hall to the study. “Henry, what do
you know about Lord Marston and Miss Stuart?”

Henry paused, mid-ladder, the small tome in his hand
hovering over an empty space along a row of books. “Don’t you know? I thought
you went to Miss Stuart’s for tea?”

“I just came from there.”

“And I can see from your expression it didn’t go well.”

Edward yanked off his gloves one finger at a time. “Lord
Marston was there, her hand in his, telling her she’d made him the happiest man
in London.”

“I should think so.” Henry dropped the book in its place
and descended the ladder. “Miss Stuart helped secure his marriage to Miss
Greenville.”

Edward stopped, mid-finger on his left glove. “Dragon
Greenville’s daughter?”

“The very young lady.”

Edward dropped into a leather chair near the window and
chucked the glove on the table beside it. “I’m a fool.”

“You thought Lord Marston and Miss Stuart had an understanding?”
Henry flipped open the globe next to the window, revealing a small decanter and
two glasses. He splashed some of the decanter’s dark liquid into a glass and
handed it to Edward. “What a strange pair. It’s almost impossible to imagine.”

“Not if you’d seen the way he was thanking her this
morning.”

“He’s an old friend of the family.”

“So I discovered.” He sipped the brandy, the burning
sensation on his tongue a welcome distraction from his shame. He’d allowed his
dealings with his stepmother, and his fear of being trapped by a woman like
her, to cloud his judgment and with a few tart words undone everything he’d
accomplished at Almack’s.

“You should pay more attention to gossip. It can be a
source of important information.”

“Apparently.” He took another drink, his eyes watering at
the strength of it. “What am I going to do?”

“Apologize and make amends.”

“How? I can hardly call again after this morning.”

“You don’t have to call.”

“Am I supposed to write? I’m no poet.” He finished his drink
with a wince. “One of my love letters would put her off me for good, if my
tongue already hasn’t.”

Henry fingered the crystal stopper of the decanter,
pondering the question. “Didn’t you tell Mrs. Stuart you intended to ride this
evening?”

“Yes, but what are the odds Miss Stuart will be in Hyde
Park tonight?”

“If her aunt thinks you’ll be there, I’d say they’re very
good.”

Edward rolled the empty glass between his hands. “What if
she won’t speak with me?”

“Then make her speak to you, and forgive you. Otherwise,
when I ask Miss Knight to marry me, you’ll be very awkward at the wedding.”

Henry’s announcement raised Edward’s mood for the first
time in what felt like hours.

“You’re really thinking of it then?”

“I am. But don’t say anything. I want it to be a
surprise.”

“You two are so obviously in
love and meant for one another, no one will be surprised.”

*****

Charlotte sat sidesaddle atop a rather lethargic gelding
wondering again how she’d allowed Aunt Mary to talk her in to such a ridiculous
position. Other young ladies trotted past her, seated confidently in the
saddle, their bodies erect in an effort to best flatter their figures.
Charlotte envied the easy way they handled their animals and how they appeared
to actually enjoy their evening ride. She was too busy trying to control the horse
beneath her to concentrate on her posture or the pleasant atmosphere of the
park.

“I assure you, miss, he’s a fine-looking animal and the
gentlest beast to be let in all of London,” John reassured her as he came up
alongside her on his own horse.

“I’m only out of practice. In a short while I’ll be quite
comfortable,” Charlotte responded with more courage than she felt. She’d never
liked riding because she’d never been good at it.

“Of course, miss.”

Despite John’s assurance of the gelding’s docile
temperament, Charlotte groaned as she attempted to direct the horse right and
it decided to go left. She tugged on the reins and the horse shook its head,
resisting her control.

“Fine, walk where you like,” Charlotte muttered, allowing
the reins to go slack in her hands. She hoped Aunt Mary was wrong about Lord
Woodcliff for she doubted she could manage an angry suitor and the gelding all
in one evening. Assuming Lord Woodcliff even appeared, or came to speak with
her.

She shifted her leg against the pommel, tired of
struggling with the horse, her aunt and most importantly Lord Woodcliff. One
day he was a pleasure to speak with— lively, entertaining and amusing. The next
he was sullen and short. She wondered if this was the measure of his personality
or if there was another, more devious reason for his moods. He’d won over
Elizabeth, Lord Ashford, Aunt Mary and even Uncle Charles who’d come home from
White’s with nothing but praise for the gentleman. Why was he so cross and
difficult with her? Was she the only person capable of seeing his true
personality?

One thing she was certain of was, even if he was charming
or surly, the sound of his voice, the pressure of his hand in hers drove her to
distraction and it unnerved her. She didn’t want to be this weak where he was
concerned, especially when she doubted if something as simple as a civilized
conversation with him was possible. This uncertainty and her weakness made her
determined to put an end to this little infatuation, one way or another.

“Good evening, Miss Stuart,” a familiar voice came from
behind her. With so many other riders prancing up and down the row, she hadn’t
noticed anyone approaching her. She gripped the reins tightly as Lord Woodcliff
brought his horse up next to hers. “May I join you?”

“You may, though I think you’ll find me a poor riding
companion.” Her horse lowered its head to enjoy a dandelion growing along the
edge of the path where the dirt met the grass. She tugged hard on the reins in
an attempt to raise the horse’s head but the animal ignored her and continued
grazing.

“He only needs a little guidance to behave.” Edward
clicked his horse into motion and Charlotte’s gelding raised its head and fell
obediently in step beside Lord Woodcliff’s mount.

Charlotte wondered which she preferred more, the large
beast standing still, or the large beast walking slowly down the road? She
noticed John falling behind to a discreet distance and her unease increased.
“John, don’t you wish to ride closer?”