The Earl's Wager (5 page)

She didn’t like the fluttery feeling he evoked in her, and she didn’t require any kind of lessons—dinner-party etiquette, eating, appropriate conversation, or otherwise. What she required was an old, near-dead husband.

Instead of fighting the tutoring lessons with Grandleigh, maybe she could get him on her side. It was apparent he didn’t want to give her lessons any more than she wanted them. So if he would agree that Sir Richard was a possible match for her, then together, they could convince Oliver that they suited as well.

…

Will needed to remove himself from the dining room, not arrange for dessert. He needed to get his bearings. His
project
was more troublesome than he could have imagined, and rather than lose his temper in front of her, he needed a private moment to gather his thoughts. He could use counsel from his sister on how to handle this situation. How was he supposed to delicately explain that her dress was too tight? He said it didn’t fit properly—wasn’t that enough? Apparently not, because she kept on and on about it, goading him and poking at his practical sensibilities.

In fact, why had he let her bother him so much? Maybe because it took every ounce of energy he had not to look at her breasts? He was supposed to be tutoring her on proper dinner conversation, but how could he do that when he couldn’t look at her without thinking about what it would be like to—stop. He must stop this madness.

He turned on his heel and marched back to the dining room.

“Back so soon?” she inquired while spinning her spoon in her hand. “I wasn’t sure if I should keep eating while you were gone.”

He pulled out his chair, sat down, and placed his napkin back on his lap. “Of course you can continue eating.”

“Oh, good.” She took a bite of her biscuit. “Did you arrange for dessert?”

Confound it. He’d forgotten that was the excuse he’d used to leave the dining room. “Ah no, actually I didn’t. I had second thoughts that you’ve had enough for today. Let’s keep our lessons short. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

She chewed and looked at him with wide eyes. She bit down on her biscuit again, and he watched with longing as a tiny crumb fell from her mouth to the crevasse between her breasts. He refused to look down but instead kept his eyes riveted to hers.

“We were discussing my dress before you abruptly departed from the room.”

“Ah, yes, your dress.” He looked down at his soup to gain time in gathering the right words. “You must be at the height of fashion if you’re to procure a good match.” He looked up, certain to hold her gaze. “I’ve arranged for a modiste who will fit our tight—our very tight—time schedule.”

Blast. He hadn’t meant to say
tight
, but the word had slipped out anyway.

Nodding, she peered at him beneath a guileless, hooded gaze. “Whatever you think is best, my lord.”

“Thank you, Miss Duvall. I think we both agree that if we work together we’ll find a perfectly suitable match for you. I did for Arabella. I’ll do the same for you.”

“So far we haven’t agreed on Sir Richard Hamilton. In fact, you didn’t even want to discuss him yesterday.”

“That’s because he’s too old for you. I guarantee Oliver will say the same. He will not give his approval,” he replied smoothly.

“If you agree with me, he might listen,” she said with a wicked smile. In fact, he decided that smile of hers could probably cause a few peers to stop and take notice of her. However, once they discovered her American heritage, that is where the interest would end.

They had a lot of work to do to prepare for the party. “But I don’t agree with you.”

“You don’t want this tutoring arrangement any more than I do. The sooner I find a husband, the better, correct?”

“While I can appreciate your logic…I want to understand why you could be interested in marrying someone like him.”

“By someone like him, you mean someone who’s older?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“He’s a good rider, he enjoys the country—at least, as near as I can tell because we met when I was riding. He has a nearby estate, so I’ll remain close to Arabella and Oliver. What more could I need?”

“But what of children?”

“We discussed children before, my lord. While you require them because of your title, I do not.” She brought a spoonful of soup to her mouth, and Will refused to look at her, or more specifically, at her mouth.

They both ate their soup in silence for a time while Will contemplated the other reasons to marry besides children. Granted, it was the primary reason he’d marry one day, but if you didn’t desire children, what then? Was there another reason to marry? He’d never contemplated the idea of marriage without children. Of course some couples remained childless if they were unable to conceive, but it was a strange thought indeed. Certainly there was friendship and companionship at the very least, and what of the marriage bed? “All right, but what of the other aspects of marriage?”

“Such as?”

Despite himself, he was curious how she might respond. “Companionship.”

“Is there some reason to believe Sir Richard wouldn’t be a companion to me?”

“No, but I meant more than companionship, I meant that a husband is responsible for making sure you’re safe, gives you a comfortable house to reside in, clothes for you to wear, that kind of thing. But furthermore, he should be a partner to you, a helpmate, someone who shares your same interests and goals.”

She blinked several times, quirked a brow, and asked, “If you know so much about what a husband should be, why aren’t you one yourself?”

He should’ve felt offended, but he was the one who’d broached the topic. How did she manage to answer a question with a question and remain so coolheaded about it? “I’ve no need to marry right now.”

“Well, I’m certainly impressed with all the things you think a husband ought to be. But I have to ask how you think Sir Richard is lacking in any of those areas. He has a home, he has means, and I’m sure he’ll keep me clothed and fed, if that’s what you mean.” She licked her spoon then twirled it. He had the urge to rip the spoon from her hand, but he tamped down on his ire. He must keep his emotions in check—this was nothing more than a basic conversation about husbands and wives. There was no reason to let her get under his skin.

“Sir Richard is most definitely lacking.” The gentleman in question most certainly wouldn’t know how to please her in bed. Will scowled at the sudden thought. Blood rushed to certain areas of his anatomy, followed by his pulse pounding at his temple. “Miss Duvall, I don’t wish to argue with you, but the fact is, I arranged the match between Oliver and Arabella and look how happy they are.”

“Yes, that’s true, but that’s because you know your sister. You knew exactly what she required in a husband, and you don’t know one thing about me—not one thing.”

“I know plenty of things about you. I know you dressed as a man and pretended to be a jockey. I know you care a great deal for horses. I know you’re an excellent rider, otherwise you would have been killed or at least trampled upon.” Will coiled his fingers around the arms of his chair with an iron grip before pushing it back a second time and stood.

“That still doesn’t mean—”

“I know you’re purposely eating your food inappropriately just to vex me,” he said softly, while his blood boiled like a pot of stew soon to bubble over. “I also know that dress shows entirely too much—too much…” He waved a hand in between them. “Too much of your skin.”

Miss Duvall pushed back her chair and stood as well. She squinted her beautiful blue eyes at him but said nothing.

“I know Sir Richard is not capable of pleasing you as a husband ought to.”

“You have no way of knowing that.”

“I know, because I’m a man.” They stared at each other with the table between them acting as a giant chasm separating not only their differences of opinion but just how different they were in every way.

“I think I know a little bit more about what will please me than you do.” She scowled at him with her plump bottom lip sticking out. “And just because you’re a man means nothing.”

“I do know what’s best for you. I knew what was best for Arabella, and I know—”

“Stop right there,” she interrupted and rounded the corner of the table. She approached him as though she might very well reach her hands around his neck to strangle him. He knew he’d pushed too far, but the woman needed to be put in her place; she needed to understand that she didn’t want an old man as a husband.

Her hands fisted at her sides before she crossed her arms just below her breasts, effectively forcing her cleavage upward to become even more visible. Damn the woman.

“Let me make myself very clear, Lord Grandleigh.” She uncrossed her arms and pointed her index finger at her heart. “I will make up my mind about whom I marry. Me, and no one else. Let’s be very clear on this point, shall we?”

“Very well,” he bit off. The thud of blood pulsing at his temple struck harder.

“I’ve agreed to this tutoring charade for one reason and one reason only: so Harland can keep his employment here. I will humor Oliver.” She tossed her chin up and recrossed her arms. “I’ll bloody well humor you with your lessons, but I will decide who I’m to marry.”

“There’s no need for blasphemous curse words, Miss Duvall,” he ground out. She was full of more spit and fire than any woman he’d had the chance to encounter. “I think I’m very clear that you will decide whom you’re to marry—you and no one else.” He held up his hands. “I heard you.”

“Good. I’m glad that you did.”

“Are all American woman this belligerent or just you?”

“My lord, I find your question insulting.”

“No insult intended, but I apologize just the same. My manners aren’t always up to standard. This concludes our lesson for today, Miss Duvall. I think we’ve covered quite enough material.”

“I think so as well, Lord Grandleigh.”

Chapter Five

The next morning, Eloise helped Georgia with a simple traveling dress, although she had no interest in going to London to get fancy clothes. Somehow, she had to convince Oliver that Sir Richard would be perfectly happy to marry her.

As soon as she spotted Lord Grandleigh’s carriage, she bounded down the stairs hoping to speak with Oliver, otherwise she’d be going to London whether she liked it or not. She didn’t have much time.

Around the corner, her slippers sliding on the floor, she nearly ran smack dab into her tutor, who had unfortunately already entered the foyer.
Damn.

“Good morning, my lord,” she said. That fluttery feeling came over her again, and she was determined to crush whatever it was. She didn’t have time for feeling light-headed; she had a great deal to accomplish.

“Good morning to you, Miss Duvall. Are you ready for our journey to London?” He stood so confident and stiff, she wondered if he ever relaxed. Did he take off his boots and sit by the hearth with his feet up? Or did he always stay ramrod straight?

“Not quite yet. I need to have some words with my cousin first.” She brushed past him to the drawing room, where Eloise had said he was working this morning.

“We do have an appointment and mustn’t be late.” Grandleigh followed close behind her.

“Don’t worry,” she said, but she imagined he did worry about things like being on time to an appointment. However, it didn’t matter, because if she had her way they wouldn’t be going anywhere together.

Georgia entered the drawing room, where Oliver was hunched over his desk with papers in hand, a grim line running across his brow. She’d interrupted his work. Not the best way to start. “Good morning, Oliver.”

He set down the papers and stood. “Good morning to you. Ah, and I see Grandleigh is here, as well. I understand you’ll be traveling to London this morning?”

“Yes…about that.” Georgia clutched her hands together. “There really is no need.”

Grandleigh cleared his throat, as though he was about to make some grand announcement, then said, “You are very much in need of some quality dresses. The party at Lady Laurel’s is a grand affair, even for a country location. The modiste I’ve arranged for you is able to make a dress for you in two days’ time. However, we do have much work to do between now and when the party begins.”

Georgia swung around to stare at him. “If you’ll allow me to speak with
my cousin
, I would like him to know that none of this is necessary.”

“By all means, go ahead.” Grandleigh opened his hand as though inviting her to a waltz.

She supposed it was a waltz of types, dancing between these two men, but she’d been in tighter situations than this before. Hadn’t she proven what she could accomplish when she set her mind to something as she rode Perseus in that race?

“Oliver”—she strode to the edge of his mahogany desk—“I don’t believe there’s any need for me to go to London or be tutored by Grandleigh. I already have someone in mind to marry.”

“You do?” Oliver’s shrewd gaze gave her the once-over, as though he knew she was up to something. Granted, she’d only lived with them for six months, but it was enough for him to be suspicious of her. “Well, go ahead. I’m anxious to hear about this gentleman.”

Georgia took a seat in a pinstriped wingback chair opposite the desk and gathered her nerve.

“So am I.” Grandleigh took a nearby seat, crossed his legs, and placed his hands on the top of his knee.

Georgia glowered at him, wanting to kick him off his perch. He was proving to be more of a nuisance than she’d anticipated, and with him here to interject at any time, there was no point in doing anything other than getting right to the point.

“I was out riding a fortnight ago, and I came across Sir Richard Hamilton. We spoke briefly. He seems a kind man, and in fact, he’s a widower. I could marry him.”

Oliver leaned forward, propped his elbows on the desk, and ran his hands through his hair, then said, “Good God, Georgia. The man is twice your age, if not more. I would have expected you to say his son, James, perhaps, but not Sir Richard.”

“James has been spending his time at their London estate, I believe,” Grandleigh interrupted. “But yes, I thought the same when she told me her scheme.”

“She told you about this?” Oliver inquired, locking his fingers together and gently placing his fists on the desk.

“Yes, just yesterday.” Grandleigh repositioned his hands on his knee.

“You don’t need to speak as though I’m not in the room.” Georgia placed her hands on the edge of Oliver’s desk. “I’m right here.” Then she leaned back—she must tread carefully if she was going to convince Oliver. “As I was saying, Sir Richard was riding, and so was I. We spoke of horses, and he seems to have a great interest in them. And his estate is within two miles. I’d be near Autumn Ridge, so I’d be able to be involved in racing as much as I currently am. He seems the perfect match for me.”

“Georgia,” Oliver said with a fatherly, entirely too formal tone. “If you were to mention an interest in his son, James, I might consider it, but his father, Sir Richard Hamilton? No. I couldn’t possibly agree to that. You’d likely not have children, and you’d likely be a widow in no time at all. I’ve heard he’s not well.”

Then the rumor was indeed true. Sir Richard was ill, and this fit perfectly into her plans.

“That’s exactly what I told her,” Grandleigh interjected once again. “I told her you’d say that.”

She couldn’t tamp down her indignation a second longer. She swiveled around to face Grandleigh. “This is none of your concern. It’s between my cousin and myself—my family. Not yours.”

He arched an exasperated eyebrow. “I beg to differ, because this is my family, too. You are speaking to my brother-in-law, after all, but go ahead, I’ll not intervene again.” Blowing out an aggravated breath, he shook his head in dismissal. “You are correct. This is between Marsdale and you.”

Damn his expressive eyebrows for distracting her at the most inopportune moments. If she could strangle him, she certainly would. “Oliver, as you are my only family, I want to be close to you and Arabella, and I want to be involved in racing. And a nearby estate would be perfect for me.”

“I couldn’t agree more. So let’s consider Sir Richard’s son, James, as a possible match for you.”

“That isn’t who I am interested in.” She lifted her chin. “No.”

“But you haven’t even met him.” Oliver straightened some of the papers on his desk, then peered up at her. “You want to marry Sir Richard because you believe he might die soon, don’t you?”

“That’s preposterous.” She gazed up, not wanting to maintain eye contact. “I wouldn’t want my husband to die.”

Oliver raised a brow. “Wouldn’t you?”

“By God, I’d never thought of that,” Grandleigh said in exasperation.

Georgia gripped the layers of her skirts and scowled at him, otherwise she might very well attack the man. “You said you’d not intervene, and there you just did.”

“I didn’t intervene,” Grandleigh said, looking suitably unabashed. “I merely expressed my outrage, or surprise, as it were.”

“I will not give my permission for you to marry Sir Richard,” Oliver said, barely repressed impatience etched across his features. “Even if he were here on bended knee right this very minute.” He stood and tucked his chair back in place behind the desk. “I want more for you, Georgia. Don’t you see that?”

“I see that you aren’t listening to me at all. I’m a stranger in a strange land, and this part of England is all that’s familiar to me. I want to live nearby. Otherwise, send me back to Virginia. That’s where I’d rather be anyway.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s where I belong.”

“You belong here. Your father wanted you to marry an English peer and live in the place of your mother’s birth. He was absolutely convinced of this, and I agree. I’m the only family you have left, and no one can look after you or care for you as much as we will until you’re married and have a husband to see to your needs.”

The brash honesty cut her deeply. She knew she was alone in this world. She didn’t need to be reminded of it. “I’m abiding by my father’s dying wish, I am, but I’m not going to live just anywhere in England. I want to be within a day’s ride of you and Arabella. Preferably much closer. And the Hamiltons border your estate.”

Oliver looked aptly melancholy. “All right then, we’ll arrange for you to meet James Hamilton. That’s the best I can offer you.”

“I don’t care about James Hamilton. I’ve never met him, but I’ve met his father, and he seems—”

“You are only interested in his father because he’s reported to be in ill health. I’ve seen through your scheme, Georgie.” Oliver’s face reddened. “I will not marry you off to an old man just so you can be a widow within however many years. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I won’t be alone.” She wanted to stomp her feet—nothing about this was going well. “I’ll have you and Arabella and your child. I’ll have my family nearby, I’ll have horses to ride, and I’ll have the racing stables.”

“You exasperate me, Georgia. Truly, you do.” He stared down at the flowered carpet, his mind seemingly elsewhere. “I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now. That’s why I’ve asked for Will’s help. I should be introducing you to eligible men, but the truth is, the doctor was here yesterday, and Arabella must be on bed rest for the last month of her pregnancy. I have to stay here and attend to her.”

Georgia ran to Oliver’s side. Powerless to help, she wouldn’t have spoken to him about this marriage business if she’d known. “Of course you do. I didn’t know there was a problem. I must see her right away.”

“No, not now. She’s sleeping.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’ll be fine, but I’ve entrusted you into Will’s care. He’s arranged for you to see a dressmaker in London. Why not honor his efforts and set out for this appointment he’s made?”

Grandleigh approached them with fear in his eyes. “Are you certain she’s going to be all right?”

“Yes.” Oliver sounded tired. “She’s been doing too much. The doctor said she must rest is all.”

Georgia had a planned agenda, she knew what she wanted, but now wasn’t the time to burden her cousin. He clearly had enough on his mind worrying about his wife. From the looks of things, she was stuck with the Earl of Grandleigh. For now.
Splendid.
“All right, we’ll go to London today and purchase some new dresses.”

“Yes.” Grandleigh cleared his throat and rubbed a hand across his chin. “My carriage is ready whenever you are. Is your maid prepared to depart as well?”

“Yes. Eloise is ready.” She glanced around the room and knew she had to drop the issue of Sir Richard, but she wasn’t done with this, only done for now. “As am I.”

…

The carriage ride was quiet. Too quiet. The three of them sat together in the close quarters, but Georgia felt completely alone.

Grandleigh stared out the window, the tightening around his eyes noticeable. Clearly, he was troubled or perhaps only contemplative, she wasn’t sure. It’s not as if she’d known him long enough to discern his thoughts by a mere facial expression.

He had a small cut along the edge of his jaw, a barely noticeable scab, but she wanted to ask him what had happened. Perhaps he was unwilling to move his taut jaw to allow his valet better access to his neck. Even when she willed herself not to be, she was interested. Most likely he was concerned about his sister, as she was.

“You’ve a small cut on your face.” Finally, she gave in to her curiosity. “What happened?”

He moved his hand from his lap to his jaw. “A shaving mishap.”

“Does your valet shave you, or do you do it yourself?”

“I do it myself. Although most gentlemen use a valet, I didn’t have one for several years, so I grew accustomed to taking care of my personal needs. I was simply unaware Crixton sharpened my razors earlier this morning.”

“Why didn’t you have a valet for several years?” She heard herself ask the question without remembering that she wasn’t supposed to be interested in the Earl of Grandleigh.

Hesitation besmirched his countenance. “When my father was alive, he accumulated a large amount of debt. After his death, I had tough choices to make in order for Black Pine Hall to become solvent again. One of those choices was eliminating some of the staff positions. This included my valet, unfortunately, but it had to be done. I was sorry to see him leave, but I made sure he had good recommendations and received a comparable position elsewhere.”

“I see.” As far as Georgia knew, it was customary for all gentlemen to have a valet. How else were men of the peerage supposed to look so dapper? It must have been a difficult decision for Lord Grandleigh to go without one. But really, why did it matter? Nothing about him was supposed to matter to her.

Georgia glanced at his hands. He wasn’t wearing gloves, and she became curious again. Wasn’t he supposed to be wearing gloves? Were gloves something else he did without because of the debt his father incurred? “But you have a valet now so your financial troubles must be over, then?”

“When Marsdale married my sister he settled many of my family’s outstanding debts. He did this without my knowledge. I didn’t ask him to do it. I only wanted to make a good match for my sister, but he had other ideas.”

“Sounds like Oliver.” She clasped her gloved hands in her lap, wishing she could toss her gloves aside and not wear them like Grandleigh had done. She’d gotten somewhat used to wearing them—her father never forced them on her, but as convention would have it, she felt compelled to wear them in England. “He can be rather intrusive in one’s life.”

“Yes, he can. He means well. But yes, he’s meddlesome for certain.”