The St Nicholas' Day Wager (3 page)

What was he doing and why was he walking out of doors in the middle of the night on a freezing December night?

She pulled her blanket around her shoulders. Could she really marry this man? And would he really try to seduce her? Excitement and fear wended their way through her and she shivered despite the heavy woollen blanket.

Nicholas was now out of sight but she contemplated life with him. She had heard he was a rake and a libertine. But he was still popular among the mamas of the
ton
, because he was heir to a very wealthy earldom and because it seemed he did not debauch innocents or cause scandals. And did Gabriella want Nick to seduce her? It was a question she had yet to consider. After all, he intended to marry her so she would not be ruined if he succeeded.

For the first time Gabriella wondered how much of his reputation Viscount Eastden deserved. Was he just a man with healthy male appetites or was he mad, bad and dangerous to know, in the same way Lord Byron was? Gabriella chuckled to herself. Nick was definitely not as scandalous as the poet. Of that she was sure.

She did not see that she had much choice. If she did not marry him, then her family was financially ruined, even with his ten thousand pound wager. And she would still be unmarried, ugly and poor.

Her brother was never going to change. He had always been rather feckless and while he was not evil, their father had never really been firm with him. Their mother had doted on him and then both their parents had died when Gabriella was just fourteen and Joseph sixteen. Just a boy really. Their drunkard of an uncle had done the absolute minimum necessary as their guardian until Joseph came of age. And just two years ago Joseph had married Edna.

It seemed that Edna had taken a dislike to Gabriella from the start and Gabriella knew not why. Was it the easy camaraderie she had with the servants, most of whom she’d known from childhood, or was it something else? Did Edna think Joseph had spent too much money on Gabriella’s fruitless seasons in London trying in vain to find a suitor?

Returning her mind to the question at hand, she thought about reasons not to marry Lord Eastden. Truth be told, she could think of few. There was hardly a queue of suitors outside her door. Marrying Lord Eastden may be her only escape from a life of doing her brother’s bidding. Perhaps it was time for Lady Gabriella Seymour to look after Lady Gabriella Seymour and damn the consequences.

Chapter Four

“Did you have a nice walk last night?” Lady Gabriella said as she spread jam over her toast the next morning. Only Nick and Gabriella had so far come down to breakfast. It seemed the earl and countess still preferred London hours, even while in the country.

“Last night?”

“Yes, I saw you walking across the east lawn, sometime around two o’clock.”

He raised an eyebrow and lifted his coffee. Had she been spying on him? Oh he liked the idea of that immensely.

“Pray tell how you were aware of my movements at such an ungodly hour?”

“My bedchamber overlooks the east lawn and I was watching out of the window. I could not sleep. You scared off a fox.”

“Yes, I saw the fox,” he mused, storing away the snippet of information about where her bedchamber was in relation to the rest of the sprawling manor. “Why could you not sleep? Was it because of my proposition?”

She lifted her gaze to his. Intense brown eyes surveyed him, her blonde brows furrowed and her luscious lips pursed.

“We shall marry on Christmas Eve. I assume you will arrange a special licence from the Bishop?” she enquired after a moment or two.

“Um, yes, yes of course.” He could not quite believe his ears. She was saying yes with nary a question. His chest was bursting with pride and hope. He actually felt—happy. “I will take good care of you, Gabby. I promise.”

“Good.” She nodded. “And it’s Gabriella to you.” With that she stood and swept out of the room.

****

Gabriella patted the nose of Snowy, her white mare. The horse nickered and munched on a piece of carrot that Gabriella had acquired from the kitchen. Snowy was Gabriella’s only companion other than Mrs McAllister, and the horse understood her moods and temperament as much as any human being could.

“I know, my beauty. You want to gallop too but it is too icy to take such a risk. But we shall trot into the village to see the vicar and the ladies of the Christmas fete organising committee. No doubt the children shall pet you and feed you grass and thoroughly spoil you. So don’t feel too bad.”

The horse snorted as Gabriella patted her neck.

“Is this a private trip into the village or can anyone join?”

Gabriella started but recovered almost instantly, turning around to meet the dark gaze of Lord Eastden.

“My lord, you startled me,” she chastised, her gaze resting on his muscled thighs beneath the form-fitting pantaloons. She still could not quite believe she had agreed to wed such a fine specimen of manhood. Of course, it was still a bit of a shock she had agreed to marry the boy who had called her ugly. Did he still think her birthmark ugly? Could he now just ignore it?

His greatcoat was open and she envied him the warm woollen garment. Why did women’s clothes have to be pretty rather than practical? She was already cold despite her long woollen pelisse and fur-lined bonnet.

“I apologise, but may I join you? I believe it would be worthwhile for us to spend time together and get to know one another.”

“I shall be busy in the village. There is the church nativity scene to attend to, the vicar to meet to discuss the Christmas services and the village festivities to arrange. I am afraid you shall find it dreadfully tedious.”

He smiled and chuckled.

“I have business with the vicar myself. I believe he will have an extra service to perform on the morning of Christmas Eve.” Her brown eyes widened and her colour rose. He studied her for a moment. “Are you having second thoughts, Gabriella? Your answer seems to have been rather hasty and much though I want you to marry me, I want you to be happy about it.”

She sighed and turned around to face him properly.

“My lord…”

“Nick.”

“Nick, then. I am marrying you because I want to get away from my brother and my sister-in-law and no longer be a burden to them. I am also marrying you because you asked and no one else is likely to come begging for my hand. It is a young lady’s sole purpose in life to marry well and produce heirs for her husband. You shall be an earl one day. That is much more than I could have ever hoped for. I have no doubt that this will be a typical arranged
ton
marriage. We shall see each other two or three times a year once you have an heir and a spare and you shall keep lovers and mistresses. Everyone will look on in pity, thinking that I am none the wiser even though I shall know every woman whose bed you warm. And I shall be fine because that is what is expected of ladies. But let us not lie to ourselves and pretend this is a love match.”

Her little speech seemed to rock him back on his heels. She watched his Adam’s apple move up and down his throat as he swallowed, a frown marring those perfect features. He whacked his riding crop against his booted foot. Then he removed his hat and speared his fingers through his dark curls, consternation plain on his features.

“Do you not feel anything for me? Not even…I don’t know…attraction?”

Attraction? Of course she felt attracted to him. He was like a Greek god.

“You are very handsome,” she conceded. “Everyone will know that you only married me because of a bet. After all, no one wanted me before the wager, did they?” The groom appeared at that moment. “Jones, can you help me onto Snowy?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“No! Allow me.”

In three long strides, her betrothed was at her side, his hands on her waist, ready to lift her onto the horse. But before he did, he leaned his head close, his lips near her ear.

“There will be no other lovers or mistresses, my darling. We shall live together, both in town and in the country, and you shall be head over ears in love with me by the time you say, ‘I do.’”

****

Nick unceremoniously dumped two wooden wise men on the floor of the sanctuary of Thornwich Parish Church as Gabriella hurried through the door of the church.

“Oh Nick, you got the whole nativity set out of the cupboard. Oh you are a dear.” Her cheeks were pink from the cold and she plucked off her gloves as she rushed down the aisle. His heart leapt at the sight of her. “The vicar’s wife wanted to talk about the Christmas Eve service. I couldn’t get away.” She untied her bonnet and left it and her gloves on a pew before removing her warm pelisse and approaching the altar.

“I only have a couple of pieces left to retrieve,” Nick said, indicating the wooden statuettes.

“Thank you…” she began but he waved away her words and headed back into the dark and dusty cupboard inside the vestry to collect the last parts of the nativity. The dust was making him sneeze, his buff pantaloons were filthy and had a hand mark on his thigh, and he was absolutely positive there were still cobwebs clinging to his hair.

But he was pleased he had accompanied her. She would have struggled to pull the heavy figurines out of the cupboard to be cleaned and set out for next week’s service. Besides, it would have taken her a lot longer.

Only the crib and the baby Jesus to go. When he picked up the crib, he realised it was broken. The lengthwise piece of wood that ensured the wooden saviour would not fall out had been snapped, more than likely by accident. There were all manner of things in the cupboard and Nick did not imagine that anyone had damaged the crib on purpose.

But feeling that it would be somewhat irreverent for him to drop the baby Jesus out of the crib while moving it, he lifted the wooden infant from its crib and cradled it, much as he had cradled his cousin’s children. This baby was much quieter and did not squirm about ferociously as the twins had. Though to be fair, it was quite a bit smaller than his baby second cousins had been.

He picked up the crib in his spare hand and marched back into the main part of the church to find Gabriella sitting between Mary and Joseph, dusting off the virgin. Gabriella looked up, smiling. Again his heart flipped. Damn her, he really was falling for the chit.

“I’m afraid the crib seems to have met with some sort of accident sometime during the year.” He held up the damaged item but Gabriella seemed to be uninterested. Her gaze was transfixed on the baby Jesus he was cradling gently. “Don’t worry, there is only minor damage and the baby Jesus seems to be fine,” he said, smiling and trying in vain to understand the strange look that seemed to have come over the face of his companion.

She seemed wistful. How odd. He looked down at his wooden bundle and scowled. Did she just really like Christmas and go all sentimental at any baby Jesus or was it just the woman thing of squealing and cooing over babies, even the pretend ones? He shook his head. Ladies really were a mystery.

“If I can get some wood, nails and a hammer I can fix it easily enough,” he offered.

“What? Oh pardon. Yes. Well you could try the vicarage. The vicar will be out on his rounds but I am sure Mrs Roberts will be able to find the vicar’s tools. He’s quite handy and fixes a lot of things around the parish.”

He placed the crib on the floor and handed the baby Jesus to Gabriella. She cradled it the way he had, wiping her cleaning cloth over its head as if soothing the wooden child. He wanted to snort.

“A vicar who knows how to mend things, eh? Whatever next.”

“I know,” she said grinning. “Almost as unlikely as a viscount who knows how to wield a hammer and nails.”

He grinned back, executed a slight bow and caught her gaze. “Touché, my love.”

She blushed. He grinned even wider.

He hurried out the church in search of tools. Yes, this had been an excellent idea for an outing. Gabriella was more relaxed and was genuinely happy. He could sense it. And he knew she had appreciated his help. He had also enjoyed the sight of her riding her horse. She was a capable horsewoman, graceful in the saddle and fully in control of her mount at all times. He never failed to be amazed how women could ride so well on those ridiculous side saddles.

The day had confirmed to him that asking Gabriella to marry him was a good idea. They would deal well together. She was biddable but had a fire that would keep him on his toes. She was not meek and mild. That would never do. She may be willing to sail the seven seas with him but every so often she would still force him to play house, just as it had been in the old days. He suppressed a chuckle at the thought.

Chapter Five

“Good grief, Gabs, have you nothing better to wear to dinner when we have a guest?” moaned Edna, her lip curling into a sneer. Gabriella cursed the heat rising in her cheeks as she looked up defiantly into Edna’s glinting black eyes.

“No, I do not. My brother has stopped my pin money because he cannot afford it.” But of course, Edna already knew. In fact, Gabriella knew that Edna had been the one to suggest it to Joseph. Her brother had made an unconvincing protest about it being a tad unfair but alas, her brother was a weak man and a woman like Edna had him wrapped around her little finger.

A footstep in the doorway to the drawing room made her flush deeper. Had Lord Eastden heard that? She hoped not. Though if he had, at least he would understand why her only silk dress had been mended so many times and looked so drab and unfashionable. But she did not want him thinking that she spoke ill of her brother even when all she uttered was the truth.

Joseph came in a second or two after Lord Eastden. His gaze quickly assessed her attire and he frowned, curling his lip.

How dare he? It was his fault she had no decent gowns.

She stood up, prepared to offer their guest a drink before dinner but Edna spoke to Lord Eastden before she had the chance.

“My lord, I must introduce you to my young cousin, Lady Arabella Foxdean when next we are in company together. I believe you would be enchanted by her and, much though I hate to sound like an interfering female relative, I do believe you would make a good match. She is the daughter of a duke, you know.”

Lord Eastden nodded solemnly as if giving the idea due consideration. “I would imagine your cousin is as delightful as you are, Lady Thornwich, and in other circumstances I would be delighted to pay court to Lady Arabella but alas, my heart has been captured by another.”

“My dear Lord Eastden,” Edna trilled, her lips turning up in what Gabriella assumed passed for a smile from her sister by marriage. Not that she usually saw Edna smile. “It is time to forget Lady Angela, for she is now the Duchess of Hawkhill. I never took you for being the type of gentleman to remain broken-hearted for long.”

Lord Eastden seemed to suck a breath in through his teeth before turning a dazzling smile, which did not quite reach his eyes, on her sister-in-law.

“
My dear
Lady Thornwich, while I am sure the society gossip column in your chosen scandal sheet was correct that early in the spring I did pay court to the current Duchess of Hawkhill, I assure you that I am neither heartbroken nor hankering after that particular lady.” With that he turned to Gabriella and took her hand in his.

Neither of them wore gloves and the warmth of his fingers wrapping lightly around hers sent a bolt of awareness through her body. His gaze met hers and now the smile did meet his eyes. “Gabriella, my love, I appreciate that our courtship has been short, to say the least, but it is my opinion that we shall be well-suited and that love can grow between us. I have always had a deep affection for you since our childhood and believe we will rub along well together. Thus I would be delighted if you would consent to be my wife. Gabby, will you marry me?”

Gabriella could not quite believe her ears. He was staring at her intently as Edna coughed and spluttered her upset at the turn of events. That in itself was almost worth getting married for. Lord Eastden squeezed her fingers lightly and his intent gaze became a look of pleading as the moments ticked by. Gabriella realised she’d just been standing, dumbfounded. A quick glance at Edna, who seemed to be recovering, told Gabriella that Edna thought she was about to refuse.

She could not make him look a fool and if she tarried any longer, that was exactly how he would look. She would appear to be about to refuse his suit.

“Yes, my lord, I would be honoured to marry you. I accept your proposal.” She looked into the brown depths of his eyes. He grinned and dropped one of her hands to ferret in his pocket, producing a small box. He opened it. Lying on a little cushion was a ring—a beautiful ring with a gold band, one large diamond in the centre and surrounded by small rubies.

“I apologise that it is not new. It was my grandmother’s and she gave it to me, telling me to give it to my wife when I eventually settled down. She died during my first term at Eton.”

“I remember,” Gabriella said softly. She did remember the old dowager countess with her ugly wig, ear horn and toothless grin. She had never complained about children and always had a little bowl of sweets which she handed out at regular intervals to the children. Gabriella had loved going to the Chetfern estate as a child and now she looked down at the late Countess of Chetfern’s ring and sadness washed over her.

She extended her hand and Lord Eastden slipped it onto her ring finger. It fitted perfectly and Gabriella moved her hand to inspect it and delighted in the way it sparkled off the candlelight.

“Thank you, my lord,” Gabriella managed as Lord Eastden lowered his face and pressed his lips softly and chastely to hers before drawing away.

“Time you started calling me Nick again, I think,” he whispered just before he straightened.

At that moment the gong sounded for dinner and Gabriella accepted Nick’s proffered arm, wrapping her fingers around his coat sleeve. Her legs felt like jelly and her head was swirling. Was she really going to marry Lord Eastden, heir to the Earldom of Chetfern?

Edna certainly looked none too happy about the turn of events and her brother was scowling furiously. It seemed he had just lost his wager.

****

“Gabriella!” Nick’s voice rang out through the large hallway as Gabriella began to ascend the stairs having bid everyone goodnight. She wasn’t particularly tired but she could read for a few hours rather than suffering the company of her brother and his wife. She felt a little bad leaving Nick to fend for himself but he could do as she had done if he had a mind to.

She turned and watched him bound up the stairs two at a time until he reached her. His dark blue coat, light blue satin waistcoat and satin knee breeches made her bite her lip. He had good taste in clothes and a fashionable hairstyle, and his personality had definitely improved from the twelve-year-old boy who had called her ugly.

“How can I help you, Nick?”

“You could let me walk you to your room.” Her eyes widened in horror and he chuckled. “Only to the door of your bedchamber. I shall not be claiming my conjugal rights tonight.” His gaze flicked down to her breasts and he licked his lips before lifting it back to hers. Heat burned in her cheeks and warmth spread through her to her most intimate place. Was she wanton? She wanted him to kiss her, to touch her, to want her. Having explored her own body a little in the dark nights under her bed sheets, she had some idea of where she wanted him to touch her. She licked her own lips. “I would like to claim a kiss, however.”

“What if someone sees?” she hissed.

“Then we shall be forced to marry. I do not see why that would be a problem since you have agreed to marry me already.”

He offered her his arm and she took it, smiling shyly as her guided her up the rest of the wide sweeping staircase.

“The ring is beautiful,” Gabriella started, feeling the need to fill the long silence as they walked.

“I am glad you like it. I know it is all rather rushed but I meant what I said. I think we shall suit rather nicely.”

“I hope I can be a good wife to you and I promise I will not make a fuss about not attending balls and parties. I can understand why no man would want me on his arm. I am very good at blending into the background, despite this.” She lifted her hand to her cheek and the ugly strawberry birthmark which marred her appearance so.

Nick turned and stared at her. They had begun to walk along the hallway that led to where her suite of rooms was situated.

“Devil take it, Gabby, where in God’s name did you get the notion that I would be embarrassed to have you on my arm? I don’t give a fig about…about…about a god-damned birthmark. I have a mole behind my left knee. It’s about the size of a gold sovereign. I hope you shall think none the less of me for that.”

His dark eyes blazed as his arms thrashed about during his little speech. She blinked rapidly, not understanding his ire. Tears welled in her eyes and she bit her lip. How many times as a child had she tried to wash the darkened skin away? She leaned against the wall to place distance between them.

“But you think I’m ugly and I understand…I do…” she started.

“I do
not
think you are ugly. Whatever gave you such a ridiculous idea?”

“You did. You said I was ugly.”

“When? When did I say you were ugly?”

“The summer after your first year at Eton. You came here and I would not allow you to play with the puppy the stable master had given me. You were too rough and he was just a baby and besides, you had not written to me like you had promised and I was hurt. You said I was ugly and would end up an old spinster. You said no one would want to marry a girl who looked like she had strawberry jam all over her face.” Gabriella blinked back the tears. She would not cry in front of him. Let him try to wriggle out of his cruel words.

Nick’s mouth dropped open and he stared at her, understanding dawning as the memories came to the fore. “Oh my God. So I did. I remember now.”

“I think our parents quarrelled over it because neither you nor your family ever came back to Thornwich and we never visited Chetfern estate again.”

“They did.” His voice was quiet—his tone sombre. “I remember now my father using his switch on my derriere and telling me to learn to respect ladies. He gave me an almighty lecture about how appearances were immaterial and my ugly taunts were a bigger disgrace to my family than any birthmark could ever be.”

“But your father was wrong, Nick. Appearances do matter. I’m not such a bad sort. I’m relatively easy to get along with, intelligent enough to hold a conversation without having to only discuss hair ribbons and bonnets and yet no one has ever asked me to waltz apart from the gentleman who was picked out for me by the patronesses of Almack’s during my come out season. Not one gentleman, Nick. So you see, appearances do matter and so do birthmarks.”

“I will not make excuses for my behaviour that day, Gabriella, except to say that I did not mean the hurtful things I said. I was a stupid, thoughtless, callow youth. I was annoyed at you for not allowing me to play with the puppy and I struck out. I was cruel and picked on something which was an easy target. What I said was mean and absolutely not true. Gabby, you are beautiful and clever and strong and…”

His gaze raked over her face as his tongue darted out to lick his lower lip. He took a step forward, effectively pinning her against the wall.

“Nick,” she breathed, her hands coming up instinctively to rest on the shoulders of his woollen coat.

“Gabby,” he all but growled as he placed his lips over hers. They were softer that she had ever imagined a man’s lips would be and he coaxed her to follow his lead, massaging his lips against hers, relaxed but enticing.

She copied him, enjoying the rising excitement in her belly. He pushed his fingers into her coiffure as he splayed his other hand across the small of her back and the curve of her bottom. It was almost scandalous. But when he moved even closer she could not find the will to ask him to stop. She wanted to know more of him and at that moment he pressed his tongue into her mouth.

She made a little whimpering sound at the back of her throat as she surrendered completely to him, spearing her own fingers through his dark curls and rising on her tiptoes to press nearer to him. She began to need him in the same way she needed the air in her lungs.

As he swept his tongue around her mouth again, a rumble came from his throat—a rumble that seemed to call to her, calling out to the world that she was his.

His kiss was deeper now, more urgent, and she matched his movements as she ran her free hand over the silk of his waistcoat. He seemed to be very muscular under all those layers of cloth. When her hand slipped onto his stomach he pulled away, catching her hand and pressing her palm against his lips.

Gabriella scowled. Why had he been allowed to have his hand entirely over her bottom but she could not touch him? She had wanted to feel his thighs and his bottom.

“Don’t frown so, Gabby.”

“I did something wrong?” she enquired.

“No, far from it, but here is not the place for explorations of that nature.”

“But you had your hand on my…” She could not say the word. Her cheeks burned and she now just wanted to escape from his penetrating gaze.

“I did and I apologise. I was carried away by the moment and by the taste of your sweet lips on mine.” She gave him a sceptical look. Was this the kind of thing men said to entice women to their beds? He chuckled. “All right. I am no Lord Byron,” he admitted.

“Considering the gossip even I have heard from London, that is no bad thing, Lord Eastden. Though I cannot for the life of me understand exactly what it is he is said to have done to his wife.”

“Well my darling Gabriella, I shall not be enlightening you any time soon. Perhaps when you are a married lady I can give you a general explanation of what he has done to scandalise society so. I have brought enough scandal on you by wagering that I could marry you by Christmas.”