Lady's Wager (6 page)

The apology was so unexpected, Charlotte almost nodded for
him to take the work, but something in Lord Woodcliff’s arrogant presumption he
could have his way made her fight him.

“Then you may pay the Widows and Orphans Fund double for
it at Mrs. Greenville’s charity auction. Mr. Taylor, please have the painting
sent to my uncle’s house at once; his solicitor will arrange payment.”

“I’ll see to it immediately.” Mr. Taylor lifted the
painting off its nail and hurried away, leaving his clients to discuss their
differences in private.

Lord Woodcliff marched up to her, his sure stride as
striking as his anger. “There’s no reason for you to be stubborn about the
painting.”

“Your attitude toward me each time we’ve met is reason
enough.”

Lord Woodcliff shifted closer, his face inches from hers,
and something deep within her thrilled at the low tone of his voice. “I suppose
you think yourself blameless for it?”

“I’ve done nothing to provoke your condescension or your
ire.” She refused to give him any quarter, as there was something in this game
of wills she sensed he enjoyed playing as much as she did.

“You’ve done nothing to dispel it either.” The spice of
his cologne, made richer by the heat of his skin wound, through her senses like
fine incense.

“And what would you have me do?” she demanded in a teasing
tone far more suggestive than decency dictated.

His lips parted as though he meant to speak but he
remained silent, his blue eyes riveted to hers. She tilted her face to his,
daring and enticing him to answer. His breath brushed her cheeks like a summer
breeze and she parted her lips, wondering what his would feel like on hers. His
gaze danced down to her mouth then rose and she knew he wondered the same
thing. He shifted so close to her she could easily fall against his chest and
silence all his rebukes with something more daring than words. She should move
away, now, before she did something she might regret, but she couldn’t.
Instead, she closed her eyes, shivering with anticipation as she sensed him
drawing near.

A cough from somewhere behind him broke the spell.

Charlotte’s eyes flew open, as did his, locking on hers
for an instant before she and Lord Woodcliff jumped apart. Her face burned with
embarrassment as she turned to see Lady Redding and Aunt Mary standing in the
doorway. Judging from Aunt Mary’s wide-eyed shock and Lady Redding’s amused
smirk, Charlotte knew they’d seen and heard everything.

Lady Redding swept into the room, her hand outstretched
for Lord Woodcliff to take. “Edward, what a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” He bowed as if they were in
the middle of Cheapside and hadn’t been on the verge of creating a scandal.

Charlotte wished she’d conducted herself with as much
dignity, then she wouldn’t be in this strange situation.

“How’s your father? It’s been ages since I’ve seen him. I
hope your presence in London will entice him to Town?”

Lord Woodcliff shook his head, at ease in the older
woman’s presence, but the tightness remained along the line of his shoulders.
Charlotte was glad, for it meant he was as bothered by what’d happened as her.
“London is too crowded for his tastes. He prefers the pleasures of the
country.”

“As we all do. It’s only sport which drives us to Town.”
Lady Redding slid a sly glance at Charlotte who clutched Minnie so close the
dog whimpered, forcing Charlotte to ease her hold. “If I can’t have your
father, then I must have you at my salon so we can properly converse. I look
forward to hearing about your travels. I’ll send the invitation this
afternoon.”

“It would be my pleasure to attend.”

Charlotte fought the urge to object to Lady Redding’s
invitation. After today, she never wanted to see the man again, but it wasn’t
her decision to make. Stroking Minnie’s fur, she tried to settle herself. After
all, Lady Redding’s salon would be crowded with her usual mix of intellectuals
and interesting people and Charlotte could easily avoid Lord Woodcliff. Before
Lady Redding could say more, Charlotte stepped forward, taking her aunt by the
elbow.

“We must be going. I’m expected at the booksellers this
afternoon.”

“And Mrs. Knight is coming for tea.”

“I’m afraid we must take our leave.” Lady Redding
curtseyed to Lord Woodcliff who returned her farewell with a bow.

As he rose, he caught Charlotte’s eye, regarding her with
a look she couldn’t read but felt in her toes. It wasn’t irritation but
something more, much more.

She dipped hastily, stumbling slightly as she turned to
leave.

“Are you all right my dear?” Aunt Mary asked.

Charlotte flashed her and Lord Woodcliff a large smile. “Perfectly,
there is only a dip in the floor.”

She made for the door. Aunt Mary and Lady Redding followed
behind her, whispering between themselves.

“I feel no dip,” Aunt Mary observed.

“We’ll discuss the matter further in the carriage.”

They could discuss whatever
they liked for Charlotte was quite done with Lord Woodcliff and this whole
awkward morning.

*****

As the coachman snapped the horses into motion, Charlotte
tried unsuccessfully to avoid the questioning looks of the older ladies. She
suddenly wished for one of her aunt’s lectures, anything to break the silence
and wipe the amused grins off both Aunt Mary’s and Lady Redding’s faces.

“I didn’t realize you were on such intimate terms with
Lord Woodcliff,” Lady Redding remarked at last and Charlotte braced herself.

“I’ll be glad never to see him again.”

“I think you do wish to see him again.”

“Why would you think that?” Though she knew exactly why
and it increased the anxiety already making her pulse thump in her ears.

Aunt Mary leveled a sober look at her friend. “Emily,
you’ve gone too far. If you say more you’ll give Charlotte a fit of the
vapors.”

Both ladies dissolved into a fit of laughter.

Charlotte pressed her lips tight in disapproval, both at
the ladies’ ridiculous behavior and her own. She had no idea what’d come over
her in the gallery. One minute she’d loathed the man, the next she’d almost
kissed him. It made no sense.

She hugged Minnie to her chest, thinking the Season
couldn’t end soon enough so she could escape this ridiculous city where a lord
showed his interest by fuming and forcing her to answer back until she forgot
herself. Whatever it was about Lord Woodcliff’s eyes which had transfixed her
until she’d practically thrown herself against him, she wouldn’t allow it to
happen again. She was not interested in Lord Woodcliff no matter what Aunt Mary
or Lady Redding implied and she would make sure they knew it.

She never got the chance. The
two older ladies laughed and teased her for what seemed like an eternity before
the carriage finally arrived at the Stuarts’ front door. Eager to escape the
tight space and the chortling women, she snatched up Minnie and bounded out the
door, banging it shut behind her.

*****

Once Charlotte was gone, Mary leaned toward Lady Redding,
eager for her friend’s opinion. “Do you really think an attachment is
developing between Charlotte and Lord Woodcliff?”

“Indeed and we must do everything we can to encourage it.
I’ll speak with Lady Sefton about securing a voucher for Charlotte to
Almack’s.”

“The invitation will be easier to secure than Charlotte’s
attendance.” Mary tensed at the thought of the argument sure to follow any
suggestion of Almack’s.

“Then you must find a way to interest her. Lord Woodcliff
has come to London to find a wife so he’s sure to be there. His father told me
so when he last wrote to me.”

Mary twisted her handkerchief through her fingers.
“Charlotte and Lord Woodcliff. Lady Charlotte Woodcliff. Is it really possible?”

“Yes, but only if they’re much thrown together. They’re
both too obstinate to be left to discover one another on their own. You must
insist Charlotte accept all invitations and attend every social event this
Season.”

“That won’t be easy,” Mary clucked as she gathered up her
reticule and fan. “But I’ll do my best.”

“And I’ll work to encourage Lord Woodcliff. I know someone
who might be able to assist me.”

Mary stepped out of the carriage and bade Lady Redding
goodbye. It seemed strange to think Charlotte, who knew her mind so well,
should form an attachment without realizing it. But she also understood the
strength of Charlotte’s determination to avoid marriage. Mary clapped her hands
together in excited anticipation as she hurried into the house to find Charles
and tell him the good news. If something was blooming between Charlotte and Lord
Woodcliff, then she and Lady Redding would draw it out and she might at last
see Charlotte happily settled.

Edward eased his horse into a gentle gait as they crested
one grassy knoll in Hyde Park. A thin morning fog nestled in between the trees
and rolling lawns, muting the sounds of the few riders who’d braved the morning
chill to come here. Edward appreciated the quiet, but it did little to clear
his mind. In fact, nothing over the last week had distracted him from thoughts
of Miss Stuart or how close he’d come to wiping away her impudent smile with a
kiss. Even now he could recall the sunlight playing in the depths of her hair,
and her hazel-green eyes flashing with a confusion and disappointment to match
his own when they’d been interrupted.

It astounded him, both his reaction to her and her
response to him. He could barely tolerate her company, yet every time they met
he wanted to take her supple body in his arms and silence her retorts with his
lips. It wasn’t simply her beauty which kept drawing him back to her, or the
awareness of her lilac perfume and every swish of her skirts whenever she was
near. It was her experiences abroad and the confidence they gave her.

At some point between leaving Mr. Taylor’s last week and
mounting his horse this morning, he’d fallen for Miss Charlotte Stuart.

He jerked the reins to the left, sending the horse off the
grass and onto the deserted dirt of Rotten Row.

Miss Stuart was trouble, and he wanted a vexing woman less
than he wanted one hungry for a title. His stepmother was trouble and he should
heed the lesson of his father’s mistake and forget Miss Stuart. However, no
matter what he did, he couldn’t put her out of his mind. She intrigued him as
much as she confounded him and he hated her ability to tie him in knots. It’d
begun the first day they’d met at the Royal Academy. He’d been eager to discuss
with her the sights and pleasures of Europe but something in the way she’d
faced him square on, not tilting her face to peer coquettishly up at him like
so many other woman did, had tied his tongue like never before. His nervousness
had turned to arrogance and everything between them had deteriorated from there.
Now she regarded every one of his comments, no matter how helpful, as some
attempt to belittle her. Yet there’d been a moment in Hookham’s when the
conflict between them had dropped and they’d regarded one another without
hostility or suspicion. In it, he’d caught the faint flicker of friendship. It
was too slender an experience to hang any future on, but he still couldn’t
forget it or the hope it offered.

He jabbed his heels into the animal’s flanks and sent it
off into a run. The cold morning air burned his cheeks as he and the animal
thundered down the row.

There was no future with her. He needed to forget Miss
Stuart, to find another woman, one with fewer opinions or a softer voice in
which to express them. But the more Edward tried to forget her, the more he recalled
the curve of her bosom when it heaved with anger. He was so lost in thoughts of
her high cheeks and the round arch of her shoulders above her blue dress, he
didn’t see the other horse and rider emerge from the trees until he was practically
on top of them.

“Watch out!”

Edward yanked his horse to the right, narrowly avoiding a
collision.

“What are you doing riding neck or nothing here?” the
other rider yelled as he worked to bring his spooked mount under control.

Edward instantly recognized Henry atop the fine bit of
blood. “Good morning.”

“Not so good if I’m thrown,” he snapped.

“My apologies.” Edward came up alongside Henry, whose
horse now stood calmly in the center of the riding path. “What are you doing
out this early?”

“Looking for you. Your man said you were here. Where have
you been all week? You’ve missed every party and if it weren’t for Miss Knight,
I’d have been bored to tears.”

“I was attending to business,” Edward shrugged, unwilling
to admit his true reason for staying away but Henry eyed him knowingly.

“The business of forgetting a certain someone?”

Edward nudged his horse into a walk, imagining what he
must have heard from Miss Knight who’d heard heaven only knows what from Miss
Stuart.

“So I’m right,” Henry whistled, then laughed off Edward’s
glare. “If it’s any comfort, Miss Stuart hasn’t looked any happier than you.
She’s been at every party this week. The aunt’s doing I think.”

“Has she asked about me?” The question slipped out before
Edward could check himself.

Henry shook his head. “No, but Miss Knight says she speaks
of you. Not favorably but often enough to make one wonder. Admit it Edward,
you’ve developed an interest in Miss Stuart.”

“If I have, there’s little I can do to recommend myself to
her. We seem unable to have a civilized conversation.”

“You’re both too stubborn. Perhaps if you yield, she might
do the same.”

“I doubt it,” Edward grumbled.

“Then let’s wager on it. Come with me to Almack’s tonight,
keep your tongue in check and see if Miss Stuart doesn’t take a fancy to you.
If she does, you owe me ten pounds.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I’ll owe you ten pounds.”

“You’ll lose the wager.”

“Perhaps, but tonight we’ll find out. I’ll call for you at
eight.” Before Edward could answer, Henry took off at a gallop across the park.

Edward watched him go, annoyed. It was typical of Henry to
assume Edward would attend. He pulled his horse around and headed back toward
his house. Other riders were quickly filling the park and Edward didn’t want to
risk any awkward encounters. He knew little of Miss Stuart’s habits but, since
many young ladies and their grooms rode in the morning, it seemed possible she
might as well. As he left, he searched every face but none had her eyes or her
fine nose, much to his disappointment.

Once home, he handed his riding crop and gloves to the
butler, catching the smell of eggs and ham combined with the familiar scent of
gun oil.

“Is my father here?”

“Yes milord, he’s in the dining room.”

Edward hurried down the hall to the dining room where he
found his father enjoying a hearty breakfast. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m happy to see you too.” George waved his son into the
chair across from his. “Sit and have your breakfast. You look like you haven’t
tasted food in days.”

Edward, who hadn’t eaten well over the last week, sat down
across the small table from George as the footman procured a fresh plate of ham
and eggs from the sideboard.

Edward pushed his food around the plate with his fork as
he studied his father from the corner of his eye.

George grabbed the salt bowl and doused his plate with a
hearty pinch. “What’s on your mind boy? All your staring is ruining my
appetite.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I thought I’d surprise you.”

“I’m surprised, especially since you haven’t been to London
in almost twenty years.”

“I needed a change of scenery,” George offered between
mouthfuls of egg. “Have you courted many young ladies or is there one in
particular who’s caught your fancy?”

Edward shoved his plate aside and sat back in his chair.
For once he was thankful for his father’s blunt manner for it saved him the
trouble of drawing out his true reason for coming to Town. “No lady to speak
of.”

“Why not? You’ve been here for over six weeks. Ample time
to choose.” George rose and helped himself to another plate of food from the
sideboard.

“I’ve yet to find a woman worthy of my attention.” Edward
attempted to sound as lackadaisical as possible.

“What about this Miss Stuart?”

There went his air of not caring. “Who told you of Miss
Stuart?”

George returned to the table, his plate piled high with
ham, a mischievous smile drawing up the wrinkles framing his mouth. “I have
many London acquaintances who keep me abreast of the happenings in Town. Saves
me the trouble of making the bloody trip myself.”

“Then perhaps you should return to Grossmont Hall and wait
for their letters,” Edward snapped.

“Don’t get your dander up, my boy. If there’s an interest,
say so, if not tell me straight. No reason to hide anything from me. Have you
formed an attachment to this Miss Stuart?”

Edward paused, knowing it was futile to keep secrets from
his father who possessed a hunter’s patience. If Edward didn’t enlighten him
now, his father would eventually ferret out the truth.

“I wouldn’t call my association with Miss Stuart an attachment.”

“Then Miss Stuart has caught your attention?”

“She’s a most difficult young lady.”

“So I’ve been told. I hear you have much in common. She’s
well traveled, she likes art and she’s rich.”

Edward laughed. “I thought I was to marry for love?”

George shrugged. “If love and fortune find each other, who
am I to speak against them?”

“I fear our personalities are too strong to allow a mutual
attraction.”

George pointed his fork at Edward. “When a man wants to
fight you and you don’t want to fight, you step aside. A lady is no different.
If you don’t fight her, she won’t fight you. You can try it out tonight at
Almack’s.”

“Did Henry put you up to this? I saw him this morning and
he pressed the same point.”

George leaned back from his food, lacing his fingers over
his stomach in satisfaction. “He did mention it when he was here this morning
looking for you. That boy smells of April and May. Only a matter of time before
he springs the parson’s mousetrap.”

Edward pulled his plate to
him and began to eat. There seemed little choice but for him to go to Almack’s,
for the more he attempted to forget Miss Stuart the more she commanded his
thoughts. Perhaps all he needed to do was keep his pride in check, be polite
and she would respond. After all, he’d been quarrelsome when he should have
been pleasant and outspoken when he should have remained silent. It’d cost him
Miss Stuart’s regard and his mother’s painting. If restraint was the way to win
her heart, then he would show restraint.

*****

Charlotte sighed as she ran her gloved hands over her silk
dress, smoothing out the wrinkles of the deep red gown. Outside the carriage
window, the dark London streets seemed to mirror her mood. When Aunt Mary had
first informed her of the invitation to Almack’s, she’d announced her intention
to decline. Her announcement had been met with a fit of the vapors unlike any
Charlotte had ever endured before. Charlotte would’ve ignored her aunt’s
theatrics but Uncle Charles didn’t possess such patience and had asked
Charlotte to accept the invitation. Since he rarely asked anything of her,
she’d agreed, bringing about Aunt Mary’s miraculous recovery.

With Aunt Mary’s spirits renewed, she’d launched Charlotte
into a rigorous round of teas with Lady Redding to polish her London etiquette
and lessons with a dancing master hired at Mrs. Knight’s suggestion to shore up
her form. Then there’d been numerous fittings with the imperious French modiste
before Aunt Mary and Lady Redding had deemed her dress perfect for Almack’s.
Charlotte wasn’t as enamored with it. The bodice sat a touch lower than she was
accustomed to and with her dark locks swept back from her face and arranged
into cascading ringlets down her neck she felt very exposed. Her mother’s round
diamond broach sat like a tiara among the curls while a matching diamond
necklace provided a little cover for her chest. On her left wrist she wore a
diamond bracelet, the final piece of her mother’s set, and it sparkled against
the red silk of her glove and matching fan.

As the carriage drew closer to St. James’s Square, she
opened her fan slowly making each ivory stick click. It wasn’t just Almack’s
which set her on edge tonight, but the prospect of facing Lord Woodcliff again
after their near kiss. She hadn’t seen him since Mr. Taylor’s. He hadn’t been
at Hookham’s or at any of the suppers or card parties Aunt Mary had dragged her
to over the last week, but Lady Redding had assured her he’d be there tonight.
The anticipation reminded her too much of the morning she’d waited anxiously in
the sitting room of their Paris house for the Comte to arrive and properly
propose to her. The only person who’d come was a messenger to deliver the Comte’s
parting note. Except then she’d cared for the heartless nobleman. She didn’t
give a fig for Lord Woodcliff, or did she?

She snapped the fan closed. Of course not, he was too annoying
and condescending to claim her attention, yet she couldn’t forget the strong
arch of his nose or the sharp line of his cheeks as he’d stood over her at Mr.
Taylor’s regarding her with a look to make her toes curl.

“You have nothing to worry about, my dear?” Aunt Mary
offered. “You look so lovely, you’re sure to make an impression just as you did
the night you came out in Paris.”

Lady Redding shot Charlotte an impish grin. “It appears
she’s already made quite an impression on London society.”

“What do you mean?” Aunt Mary asked with the same touch of
worry trilling up Charlotte’s spine.

“Mary, do you remember the story I told you about the
Prince and Mr. Brummell in Bond Street and the wager?”

“Of course, but what does it have to do with Charlotte?”

Charlotte’s stomach tightened and she fussed with the
clasp on her bracelet, desperate to avoid her aunt’s questioning gaze. She
hadn’t told Aunt Mary about the incident in Bond Street for fear of sending her
into a fit of the vapors. She should have known the story would find her aunt
of its own accord.

“It seems the young girl was our own Charlotte and it
appears her encounter with Mr. Brummell, of which she failed to inform us—”

“I didn’t think it was important,” Charlotte protested
weakly.

“Oh it was, greatly so, for he heartily approves of you.
His approval allowed Lady Sefton to successfully convince the Lady Patronesses to
accept your admittance to Almack’s. It seems despite all her protests,
Charlotte does harbor some aspirations in society.”