The St Nicholas' Day Wager (5 page)

Nick speared his hair with his fingers. He really had to tell the truth.

“Her brother is an ass and so am I. Thornwich and I were in White’s and we were discussing the season and my penchant for a certain lady who is now a duchess. He was goading me and I was foxed. I told him I could marry by Christmas if I chose and he said it sounded like a wager. He wagered me that I could not get Gabriella to marry me by Christmas.” Throughout his speech, his father’s brows had furrowed deeper and deeper. “So I accepted the bet.”

“Devil take it, Nick. What the hell were you thinking? What if she finds out?”

“She already knows.”

His father jerked his head up, his eyes wide. Then he fumbled with his quizzing glass and looked at Nick through it as if Nick was some kind of plant specimen that should be examined.

“You told her?” Nick nodded. “And she accepted?”

“Obviously. I felt like a cad but I could not pull out of the wager. You know what the
ton
is like. Had I refused the wager, they would have found Gabriella wanting. They would have claimed that I could not stomach the idea of marrying her. I had to go through with it for her reputation. And because of the circumstances, I thought she deserved the truth.”

“And yet I do not see her hand mark on you face, for you certainly deserve a slap from her.”

“Her brother is almost penniless. When I told her, I had just given the thatcher money to pay for mending the roofs of a number of the tenant’s cottages. It seems that Gabriella is doing the work of a man of business for her brother.”

“I see. I knew that Thornwich has massive gambling debts but I suppose I had never thought much on the impact it would have on Gabriella. It seems our whole family has done that girl a disservice. But no matter. Your mother is in the process of convincing her to come to London with us tomorrow. You may as well come too and you can visit the Archbishop of Canterbury for your special licence. Perhaps there will be a show on at Drury Lane and we can all go. You can stay in your bachelor apartment and Lady Gabriella can stay with your mama and me in the townhouse—for the sake of propriety.”

“Do you think mama can convince her?”

“Ha! Your mama can convince anyone of anything. Look at me. Thirty-two years I have been doing that woman’s bidding and there is no sign of me stopping anytime soon.”

Nick chuckled. His mother certainly was a force to be reckoned with.

“Perhaps we should rejoin the ladies,” Nick suggested. He could not believe that after just an hour with his father he desperately wanted to see Gabriella again.

“Yes, but Nick, I promise you, if you hurt that young lady ever again, I will switch your arse again—this time until the skin comes off.”

Nick looked at the desk where his father had switched his backside the day he had called Lady Gabriella ugly. He winced at the mere thought.

“I promise, my lord, I would cut out my own heart before I would knowingly hurt her.”

“Good to hear, son. Now stop chastising yourself and let us go and see our lovely ladies.”

Chapter Seven

“Have you seen this play performed before, my lady?” Nick asked as he ushered her to their seat in the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.

“No, we studied it at finishing school, but I have never seen a performance of it.”

“I always think it much better to see a play performed at the theatre than to study it from a book, would you not agree?”

“Of course, my lord.”

Nick sat down beside her and awaited his parents’ arrival. He glanced around the boxes opposite and saw rather a large number of ladies talking behind their fans. It was December—who needed a fan in December except to hide what was being said? But then the announcement of his and Gabriella’s engagement had been in this morning’s paper.

“I see we are the topic of most conversations tonight. We seem to have usurped poor Mr Shakespeare.”

“No doubt they are all expecting a happy event for us in seven or eight months,” Gabriella mused.

“Do you think?” Nick asked, astounded and amused by both her forthrightness and her lack of faith in their fellow humans.

“Well they do not think you are marrying me for my beauty. Thougha man may be captivated by my breasts for an evening or two. You certainly look at them often enough.”

“Gabby!”

She grinned at him.

“Do not look so scandalised, my lord. No one can hear. Your parents shall not get away from the Duke of Eckminster for quite some time. We may never see them again, for that matter.”

Nick laughed. “You are incorrigible my lady. If these people knew you as I know you, they would know I was marrying you for your mind and your personality as much as for your beauty and your breasts.”

“Nick!” The countess’s voice behind him made him wince. Devil take it! Why was it that Gabriella could talk about her breasts and not be caught but the moment he said it, his mother overheard. “Really, what an inappropriate subject. Anyone could have overheard you. Lady Gabriella, I do apologise for my son.”

He turned to find his bride-to-be with her own fan in front of her face, her skin beetroot-coloured and her eyes glinting in merriment as she suppressed her laughter. As the curtain rose, Gabriella seemed to calm down. She leaned close to him, her fan raised and whispered, “I believe we are now even for you calling me ugly. Next we must deal with the strawberry jam remark.”

“Touché,” he muttered as he turned his attention to the stage—anything to stop his gaze drifting back to her décolletage. She definitely had a very generous set of breasts which was one of her attributes that seemed to be keeping him awake at nights. He settled back in his seat. He really could not wait until Christmas. Then he could keep her awake at night…all night.

****

“Would you like a drink?” Nick asked Gabriella as the curtain lowered at the end of Act One.

“I would, thank you.” Nick hurried away after offering a drink to both his parents. She was about to turn to speak to Lady Chetfern when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Gabriella!” She turned to look into the cold gaze of her brother.

“Joseph! How, umm, lovely to see you. How is Lady Thornwich?”

“At home in Thornwich, resting. She is rather overset that your wedding cannot wait until after the baby has been born.”

“The baby is not due until April.”

“Yes, but she is aware that people can tell she is increasing.”

“Of course they can. It is a perfectly natural state, you know.”

“Gabriella, if you cannot say anything kind about my wife, I should prefer you say nothing at all.”

Whenever Gabriella said anything to upset Joseph, he chastised her as though she was a naughty schoolgirl. She gritted her teeth and smiled pleasantly at her brother.

“Did you want to speak to me about anything in particular?”

“Yes, come for a short walk with me.”

She looked around but Nick had not arrived back yet and Lady Chetfern was involved in a conversation with a lady whom Gabriella was unable to place. She nodded and followed her brother out of the box.

“I feel it is my duty to let you know about a wager between your betrothed and myself,” the Earl of Thornwich began. Gabriella tried not to roll her eyes.

“Oh you do?”

“Yes, you see, I was rather stupid, Gabs, and I was utterly foxed. And Eastden and I wagered he could not get you to marry him before Christmas. I know it was awful of me but I saw no harm in it. I thought it was a jest and now I see the announcement in the paper. I feel it is my duty to…”

“Unhand me, woman!” Nick’s voice came from behind the door of a box they were passing. She would recognise his deep sound anywhere. “Mmmmm, let me gmmmmm!”

Joseph pulled open the door to reveal Nick and a woman struggling with each other, her lips plastered over his and her hand on his breeches, over his male parts. Joseph looked over his shoulder at Gabriella then shut the door quickly. Angry, hissed words were all Gabriella could hear from behind the door. She could feel the heat of a blush creeping up her cheeks but she swallowed hard and determined not to show any signs of emotion.

“Oh dear. Well it does seem as if Lord Eastden is pre-empting your vows with Miss Wainwright,” Joseph drawled. “Look, Gabs, tell me you want out of this engagement and I will go in there and tell him you want nothing more to do with him. I shall take you home to the townhouse and tomorrow you’ll be back at Thornwich sorting out my ledgers. The scandal will die down by…oh around 1850, I should think.”

“Thank you, Joseph,” said Gabriella, turning towards the door of the box as it opened. Clearly the box had been empty and Miss Wainwright and Nick had been hiding behind the heavy curtain which excluded the draughts.

Nick tugged on his waistcoat and smiled slightly at Gabriella.

“Would you like me to accompany you back to my parents, Lady Gabriella?” His cheeks were scarlet but his eyes were dark with pent-up anger.

“Yes, thank you,” she said. “Goodbye, Joseph.”

Gabriella turned and accepted Nick’s outstretched arm, placing her fingers delicately on his sleeve before walking away. Her blood was boiling, but not with anger at Nick. With that scheming idiot of a brother. Sadly Nick was going to have to be collateral damage at least for the next few hours. She forced her face to look impassive and hated the tension she could feel along her betrothed’s arm. Her heart went out to him but she could apologise later.

****

Devil take it! What on earth had he been thinking? He should have known Miss Abigail Wainwright would be up to no good. She had accosted him as he had hurried to get lemonade for Gabriella, telling him that Lord Thornwich needed to speak to him urgently. He had followed her into the box and she had pounced. He had tried to disentangle himself gently at first but that had been his second mistake. Being a gentleman with the likes of Miss Wainwright was a fool’s errand, for she was no lady.

Just as he had decided he needed to be a little rougher to extricate himself from her grasp, the door had opened and Thornwich had been grinning at him. Joseph had then checked that his sister had seen the full horror of the encounter and closed the door.

He had been set up.

“Gabriella,” he started but she raised her free hand in a gesture that suggested she did not want to hear excuses. “Please, Gabriella.” With her head held high, she made the same gesture again. Perhaps it was best to let her be for now.

They resumed their seats just as the performance was starting again.

At the end of Act Two, Nick was in a terrible state. He had gone over and over the wording of every apology he could think of, every excuse he could make for his downright stupidity and every promise he could make to Gabriella to assure him of his desire to be a faithful husband.

When the curtain lowered this time, Nick’s father offered to get the ladies drinks and Lady Chetfern excused herself.

“Gabriella,” he said quietly, “that looked very bad but I assure you I was tricked into joining Miss Wainwright in that box. She grabbed me and I tried to be a gentleman and ease myself away from her gently but then you came in and…”

“Nick, please, I beg of you. Speak of it no more for now. Come back to your parents’ townhouse after the performance and we will discuss it then.”

“No one else is in the box and I need you to understand what was going on.”

“Oh Nick, I know very well what was going on. Now here is your father. Keep the hangdog expression. It is working well.”

Nick frowned at his betrothed. Keep the hangdog expression? It is working well? What in blazes did she mean?

This was going to be a terminable few hours.

****

Nick followed his betrothed into the blue drawing room of his parents’ townhouse, a knot of dread in his stomach. Surely she would at least hear him out and allow him to share his side of the story.

Gabriella turned and gave his mother a reassuring smile. He glanced round to see his mother nod and indicate the doors. Of course they would leave the doors open. Moments later he heard the door to his mother’s morning room open. He waited. Gabriella took a seat on a chaise near the fire and indicated he should take the seat opposite her.

“Before we start, I owe you an apology,” Gabriella said quietly. Nick was sure his eyebrows had just met his hairline he was so astonished. Why would she think she owed him an apology? “I felt it important you look as uncomfortable and worried about my reaction to the…predicament in which we found you…as possible.”

“Gabriella, I assure you…” But she held her hand up to halt his words again. Frustration was beginning to get the better of him. He huffed out a breath, further annoyed by the fact he suspected he had not made a sound like that since before going to Eton.

“My brother seems to think I am an imbecile. I don’t know if he believes this mark on my cheek is a sign that my brain does not work properly, but he has always treated me like a halfwit. I know that you were set up. But I did not want him to know his ploy had not worked out.”

“You knew?” A mixture of relief and irritation washed over him. He’d been at that theatre for four hours contemplating his fate, wishing he too could have died at the hands of Brutus, only for her to tell him that she knew he had been set up.

“Of course I knew. No one organises a secret tryst at the theatre. It’s far too open and public. And even if you were having an affair, you are far too much of a gentleman to be caught in a compromising situation with your mistress. You would have a house for her and you would bed her there and you would make sure you did your best to keep it a secret from me.”

He sighed. “I would not have a mistress. Gabby, I want our marriage to work. I have no interest in the Miss Wainwrights of this world. She offers every man her favours and though few resist her, she is not respected by them.”

“Perhaps Joseph would have got away with it if he had not used his own mistress in his plan. That was rather stupid of him,” she mused almost to herself.

“You knew she was his mistress.”

Gabriella rolled her eyes. “The whole of the
ton
know Miss Wainwright is his mistress. Even Edna knows.” He nodded. “Has she ever been your mistress?”

Her question seemed to hit him in the chest. Like a cricket ball coming in from a fielder that one had not anticipated.

“Not as such.”

“Not as such?”

“We did…” he made a rolling motion with his hand. “About three years ago. One night. I…well I was a little foxed and well…men have needs.”

She nodded. “I should not have asked. It is bad manners. It just slipped out.”

Her comment made him feel no better. He should have lied. But then, what if Miss Wainwright decided to tell Gabriella of their night together just to spite him? Oh he knew Miss Wainwright was free with her body in the hope of snaring a husband—some man who would be so besotted with her that he would offer her marriage despite her dreadful reputation.

“Gabriella, I have no real excuses. I wanted a woman that night and she made herself available to me. But I promise I will be faithful to our marriage vows. I have no idea how well we shall suit when the time comes but we are both sensible people. I believe we can rub along fine together. I am attracted to you and the kiss we shared outside your bedchamber suggests you are attracted to me. I can’t rewrite the past or change the mistakes I have made. Hell, Miss Wainwright is far from the worst mistake I have made.” Gabriella’s eyebrow rose at his bad language and he felt the blush creep up his cheeks. “My apologies.”

“No, please. Nicholas, listen to me. I care not about Miss Wainwright. Perhaps there may always be a sliver of jealousy that I hold for any woman who was in your bed before I was, but I suspect that is normal. I just believe you could do better than me. But the announcement has been made and it seems you are stuck with me.”

“I cannot think of anyone I would prefer to be stuck with.” He dropped to his knees and moved over the rug towards her. He raised a hand and cupped her cheek and she leaned into his touch. His hand was on her birthmark, and for the first time she did not seem embarrassed by it. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.

She opened slightly for him and he moved his lips, coaxing her to follow his lead. She did. One of her gloved hands slid onto his shoulder then around his neck and curled into his hair. He moved his hand around to guide her head, heedless to the sound of one of her hairpins dropping to the floor. She opened her mouth and just as he moved his tongue to plunge it into her mouth, a delicate cough from the door of the drawing room brought him to his senses. Thank heavens he was only partially aroused.