The Wagered Bride (4 page)

Stephen's
eyes flashed, giving away his secret. Not many men could read him like Roderick
could, but it had taken the duke years of practice to do it so well, a
lifetime, in fact.

Roderick
shot from his seat, cursing a blue streak, tearing apart Stephen's character as
if he were shredding a paper doll.

As the
yelling began to subside, Roderick paced behind his desk. "Confound it! I
mentioned Creighton Hall in jest."

He
paused, his gaze drilling into Stephen like a fiery cannon ball shot at close
range. "You have been quite the idiot upon several occasions, little
brother, but hell and thunderation, Mother's childhood home? How could
you?"

Stephen
glared at his brother. "Forgive me for taking up your time," he said
sharply as he rose.

He
turned to leave when the door opened, and Jane entered, looking like an angel
with her fair hair and baby blue eyes.

"Good
day to you, Duchess," he said, his lips curving upward for he was not able
to frown at the loveliness before him.

A warm
smile broke out on Jane's face as she ran to Stephen, throwing her arms about
him. "You heartbreaker! How long have you been here? How long can you
stay?" The scent of rosewater lingered about the beauty.

"Roderick,
you should have told me your brother was here."

Roderick
fisted his hands at his sides, glaring at Stephen. "He won't be staying,
sweetheart. He has a prior engagement."

She
turned back to Stephen. "Is that true?"

Trying
to avoid a confrontation, Stephen took Jane's hands in his and stepped back,
smiling. "But how wonderful you look. You must have taken Paris by
storm."

Jane's
blue eyes danced. "You are ever the flatterer, Stephen. Now, please, say
you are staying."

Stephen
saw the curl of his brother's lip and released Jane's hands. "Forgive me,
Duchess. But I have already made plans. I will be taking my leave within the
hour."

Jane
frowned. "But you will visit us in Town? Soon?"

"Of
course. Must greet Mother before I depart, so if you will excuse me." He
brought her hands to his lips, kissed them, bowed, and started for the door.

"Stephen,"
the duke ground out.

Stephen
glanced up. He had asked Roderick for a favor, but by heaven, he would not beg.
"What is it, your mighty dukeness?"

As the
youngest of the four brothers, Stephen seemed to annoy Roderick the most,
especially with his dry humor.

Roderick
regarded his wife. "We have unfinished business, sweetheart. If you would
please close the door on your way out."

Blue
eyes snapped. "Are you dismissing me, Your Grace?"

Roderick
raised his right brow at his wife's defiance, a gesture Stephen was all too
familiar with. He had always wondered how the new duchess would take Roderick's
overbearing, self-righteous attitude after she had lived with him for a while.

Stephen
turned around, taking Jane's hand back in his, using his utmost charm.
"You'd best leave, Duchess. It seems Roderick has a few choice words he
would like to say to me."

Jane's
bosom swelled as she glared at her husband. "Well, I believe I heard a few
of those words, and I am ashamed of you."

Roderick's
eyes rounded. "This is between Stephen and me. It is not for a lady's
ears."

"How
dare you speak to me as if I were a ... a peabrain."

"I
am your husband, a fact perchance you have forgotten."

"And
I thought I was your wife, a fact you seemed to have forgotten entirely."

"Not
entirely," he drawled, his gaze moving lazily over her person, "but
as my wife you will do as I say."

"Whatever
gave you that silly notion?" Jane uttered.

Stephen
thought the entire scenario hilarious until Jane took a menacing step toward
Roderick, blocking Stephen from the duke's glare. Stephen frowned. Shame heated
his blood as he realized that he had sunk very low indeed if he needed to have
a lady defend his honor, and his brother's wife at that.

"Jane,"
Stephen said hoarsely, "please leave, dearest. I know you mean well, but
this is truly between Roderick and me.

The lady
gave Stephen a tremulous smile. "If you wish. But please promise me you
will not be a stranger. You must stay with us in London when you come to Town.
Those apartments you have are not quite the thing. The food is no good at
all."

Stephen
kissed her hand. "Your servant, madam."

Roderick
let out a low growl as soon as his wife departed. "How dare you use Jane
for your own interests."

Stephen's
jaw hardened as he turned toward his brother.  "I would never use a woman
to defend me, and you know it."

Roderick's
eyes challenged him. "Do I?"

"There
is nothing more to be said. Good day, Your Grace."

"I
will never give you another guinea to be thrown away on gaming. Do you
understand me? Your gambling and drinking have gone far enough. You are a
disgrace to the Elbourne name."

A muscle
ticked in Stephen's jaw. "Devil take it, if you were not my brother, I
would call you out."

"Do
not let that stop you. But pray, have you considered Lady Odette's reaction to
your loss of Creighton Hall? If you think she will marry you now, you are very
much mistaken. That prime piece of land backs up to her father's. To whom did
you lose it? Tell me, so I may buy it back. Mother need never know."

Stephen's
expression grew dark as the memory of the card game drummed in his brain.
"I am only telling you because I know you will find out by other means.
Shelby holds the papers."

Roderick
let out a low whistle. "William Shelby? That rich cit who made his money
in spices?"

Stephen
grimaced. "The very one, but if you dare take one step in that direction,
I will tell Jane of your dalliance with that opera singer. Arabella, was it
not?"

"That...
that was years ago," the duke stammered.

"But
you know women. I mean what I say. Stay out of this."

With
Roderick sputtering about the injustice of younger siblings, Stephen glanced
over his shoulder for the last word. "And forget I ever asked you for a
thing. Because if you think I will ever come begging for a loan again, I will
die first."

Slamming
the library door, Stephen strode down the hall. He would gain back Creighton
Hall if it killed him. He would never hurt his mother. And then there was Lady
Odette 

"Stephen."

He spun
on his heels. "Mother?"

The lady
stood before him dressed in a gown of blue sapphire, her arms holding her
fluffy white feline Egypt against her shoulder. "Were you going to leave
without saying hello?"

Stephen
came forward and kissed his mother's cheek. "I confess it was not well
done of me, was it? Where is Bringston?"

Stephen's
mother had recently married Lord Bringston, a man who had loved the duchess
from afar for years. Though Stephen's father, the duke, had been dead for
almost four years, Stephen could still recall the pain his mother had endured
at the notion of the duke loving another in the course of their marriage.

His
father's death had plagued Stephen every day the past four years. Stephen had
argued with the duke minutes before the man had taken that fatal fall from his
horse. The quarrel had dwelled on the manner in which the duke had treated his
wife.

Stephen
had asked the duke why he had even married his mother. The man's anger had
escalated to monumental proportions as he told his youngest son that his heart
had always belonged to another, and Stephen had no right to interfere in his
life or his mother's. In that moment, Stephen vowed to marry for love.

His
mother let out a sigh of delight at the mention of her new husband. "Alas,
my love is visiting his estates the next few weeks and I decided to help Jane
acclimate to Elbourne Hall. However, duty will soon return me to Town to be
with Emily."

Emily
was Stephen's younger sister, and in a month or so she would be having his
mother's first grandchild. Emily had finally married Lord Stonebridge, a suitor
once rejected by the duke.

His
mother's smile soon turned to a frown as she shifted her cat in her arms.
"You know, Egypt is getting ever so heavy lately. Don't know what's come
over her."

Stephen
gave the mewing feline a knowing look but prevented himself from saying
anything more. Letting out the secret that the cat was going to have kittens in
the near future would put the house in an uproar—something Jane did not need at
the moment.

"I
wanted to tell you," his mother went on, "I will be visiting
Creighton Hall when my dear husband returns." Her eyes softened with
emotion. "I intend to show him the tree I played on when I was small. The
swing is still there, is it not?"

Stephen
pulled at his cravat. "Creighton Hall?"

"Rope
must be frayed to pieces by now," his mother sighed.

"Indeed,"
he muttered. "Frayed to everlasting hell."

"What
was that?"

"It
will be swinging like a bell, Mother. I will spend my last farthing on that
swing. See if I don't."

She
kissed his cheek. "Don't go to too much trouble now."

"It's
no trouble, Mother." The light in his mother's eyes sank his spirits to a
new low. "No trouble at all."

Chapter Three

W
hile most of the guests were settling
into their chambers at Harmstead Hall, Elizabeth was on a mission to acquire a
rope long enough to lower her trunk from her chamber window to the ground
below.

It was
early afternoon and a crisp cool wind blew across the courtyard as she hurried
to the stables. She lifted her face to the cloudless blue sky and hoped the
weather would stay fair, for tonight she would elope.

A
niggling doubt pinched her heart at the thought of hurting her father and
making a bigger mistake than he would with her life, but she had to do this.
She would not marry some lord who only wanted her for her money. She would not.

"My
lord, someone will see us."

Elizabeth
stopped outside the stable, recognizing the sensual female voice immediately.
Lady Odette—of all people!

Smells
of horses and hay filled Elizabeth's nostrils as she peeked through the crack beneath
the hinge in the stable door. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of a tall
gentleman with his arms wrapped tightly around Lady Odette's curvaceous figure.

"One
little kiss, Dettie," he pleaded with a hint of amusement lacing his
voice.

Dettie?
The odd silkiness of the man's tone sent Elizabeth's face flaming with embarrassment.
Yet she stood frozen, watching as the man leaned toward Odette and pressed his
lips to hers.

Odette
giggled, pushing the hair from the man's face where dark coffee-colored locks
curled boyishly at the nape of his neck. "Stephen, you odious man."

The
man's hearty laugh echoed in Elizabeth's ear and shot straight to her stomach.
Even from this view, she could see that he was extremely handsome.

And for
some insane reason, whether it was the musical sound of his voice or the sudden
stab of jealousy in her own heart, Elizabeth fervently wished that the man
would know Lady Odette for what she was before it was too late.

She
hadn't seen Odette since leaving the seminary two years ago and hoped never to
see the loathsome creature again. But Stephen looked as besotted as a little
boy receiving his first pony.

Elizabeth
couldn't take her eyes off him. Long muscular legs filled a pair of buckskin
breeches as he stood back and studied Odette in amused silence. He crossed his
arms over his wide chest, pulling his deep brown jacket tight against his
shoulders. But it was when he grinned, baring a set of beautiful white teeth,
that Elizabeth's heart stopped.

This was
no mere boy. This male specimen was a man of power and determination.

Putting
a hand to her mouth, Elizabeth stumbled back not wanting to see this supreme
male make such a fool of himself. Odette could lure a man into a lion's den if
she wanted to.

Elizabeth
knew she should leave, but this would be her only chance to snatch the rope the
groom had told her would be hanging beyond the door.

She
hurried around the back of the stables, her mind trying to block out the
mumbled conversation inside.

When the
voices finally ceased and she heard footsteps heading away from the stables,
thinking all was clear, she peeked in the back door and made her way inside,
stepping tightly about the hay. Still hovering in the shadows, she eyed the
rope hanging in the shaft of the sun's rays directly beyond the door—exactly
where the groom had said it would be. Her heart lifted. Then, without warning,
a strong arm grabbed her and whirled her around, hauling her up against a hard
chest.

 "Back
so soon?"

Shocked,
Elizabeth found herself speechless as she was pulled further into the shadows.
It was Odette's suitor! Her heart hammered wildly as she fought to maintain a
calmness she didn't feel. Did he know about her elopement?

"Nothing
to say, little one? Coming back for another kiss?"

Before
she knew it, warm lips pressed against hers. She pushed her hands frantically
against the muscled chest that held her. The scent of bayberry assaulted her
nose, making her all too aware of the man holding her.
Little one?
Was
he making fun of her height and girth? She may take an extra roll at breakfast,
but this man had no right to speak to her that way.

"Unhand
me, sir!"

With a
jerk, he drew her into the dappled sunlight and immediately dropped his hands.
"I thought you were ... never mind."

The
truth of the situation finally hit her like a fireball to her face. He thought
her Odette!

"I
beg your pardon, Miss—"

Elizabeth's
lips thinned as dark brown eyes laughed back at her. Why, the man was not sorry
in the least. He was enjoying her humiliation! The cad!

Ignoring
him, she skirted his tall frame and grabbed the rope that hung on the wall.

"Do
you need help carrying that?" the voice said dryly. "Ah, you are
going to string me up for a little kiss, then?"

Elizabeth
spun around, her eyes flashing. Something in the carefree way this man stood
there sent her hackles rising. He was a peer of the realm—the enemy—one of many
her father would love her to marry.

"That
was a kiss?" she said, lifting her chin. "I've enjoyed a lick from a
horse better than that kiss."

A horse
neighed in one of the nearby stalls. The man's eyes suddenly darkened to a
foreboding black. Elizabeth felt as if she had waved a red flag in front of a
bull. She managed a feeble smile, backing up toward the open door.

"You
have, have you?" He took a step toward her, his powerful form sending a
distinct warning to her brain.

She
pressed the rope to her gown and backed up slowly. "Yes, well... if you
had not—"

Before
she could finish, she tripped over her feet and went sprawling to the ground
with a thud.

The man
stood over her, his eyes alight with laughter. "Best take care where you
walk with a rope, little one. Never know where it might lead you."

Little
one!
 Elizabeth
pulled the rope back to her side and glared up at him in stony silence.

"Ah,
the silent treatment, eh? I have a sister and know all about that. Won't work
on me, I assure you."

In one
swift move, his hand whipped out and he gently pulled her to a standing
position. She came within an inch of him and her heart stumbled. She could only
attribute her sudden reaction to the bayberry soap he had used this morning.
Yet perhaps it was the independent streak in this man that captivated her. It
was unquestionably something.

Holding
her breath, she stepped away. He let her.

"Thank
you," she said, finding her tongue growing thick.

He bowed
over her hand and kissed it. "Your obedient servant, madam." With one
last look of amusement, he strode from the stables, leaving her with the rope
lying at her feet.

"Help
me pull my trunk beneath the window, Milli."

Elizabeth
finished tying the rope around her jam-packed trunk and heaved it toward Milli.
They were in Lord Harmstead's guest bedchamber, readying for Elizabeth's escape
with the romantic Mr. Fennington.

But to
Elizabeth's displeasure, instead of her thoughts dwelling on her intended as
they rightly should, they veered toward a tall gentleman with buckskin breeches
and dark, laughing eyes.

"I
think this is a big mistake, Lizzie," Milli grunted, helping her sister
move the trunk. "Papa is not going to be happy. Besides, I don't think Mr.
Fennington is planning to take all this to Gretna Green. It might slow him
down."

 "Don't
worry about Mr. Fennington. Your job is to stand below the window at midnight.
No one will suspect you. I will come down the tree after my trunk. Understand?
You are only there to coordinate."

Milli
grunted again. "I know you are supposed to have the headache, but can you
not come down the stairs like me?"

"No,
I cannot. I will be stopped for sure. I am supposed to be ill and will not
attend the ball. You are not out, and therefore, not expected to be at the
ball. But if you are walking about for some fresh air, who is to stop
you?"

After
they had pushed the trunk to its desired destination, Milli sat on the ornate
luggage, breathing hard and shaking her head. "I don't like it. I don't
like Fennington being such a coward that he cannot face Papa. He's acting like
one of those dastardly villains in the play I just read."

"He
is not a coward. Now, are you with me or not?"

"Okay,
okay. I'm with you."

Elizabeth
heaved a relieved sigh and sank onto the trunk beside Milli. "Let's go
over the plan one more time."

Stephen
felt a cool numbness taking over his brain. Whether it was from the wine or the
cards, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

He
looked around the salon and realized that he and Shelby were the only two men
still in the room. The rest of the gentlemen had left to attend to their
required dances or other less costly adventures. Another salon in Harmstead
Hall hosted lower stake games of faro and whist. But in this room, high stakes
had been the order of the night, and those without the ready did not apply
their skills.

Beyond
the oak doors, the sound of violins lifted in the air like a melodic summer
breeze, like the setting of a beautiful dream. But it was no dream at all. It
was one devil of a nightmare—one that Stephen had stepped into with his eyes
wide open.

And
meeting an old friend of his father's earlier today had not helped his
disposition. The elderly gentleman had been abroad for years, seeing to his
plantation in the Caribbean, and though it was a bit late, he had expressed his
sympathy concerning the duke's untimely death to Stephen personally.

Pushing
back the unbidden memory, Stephen peered at the bottles of wine beside him and
felt his head buzz. Across from him, Shelby leaned back on his chair, puffing
on a cigar.

"Have
you the blunt or not, my lord?" the man asked, his gray eyes narrowing.

"I
can have it for you tomorrow, Shelby. Won't be a problem." Now he had only
to contact Brule and tell him he wanted out of that little business deal.

Stephen
would have enough money to pay off his debt, but he would not have Creighton
Hall back. He would have to buy it back at a later date. His mind raced. But
then again, if he waited a bit on the business venture, he could have more
money than the Duke of Elbourne. Blast it to hell, he was in a fix!

"...
Cash on the barrel, my lord. Those were the rules. As I said, my offer of
marriage is the best you will get tonight."

Marriage?
The man had used the word a few times in the last minute, but Stephen hadn't been
registering much of what Shelby was saying. All he knew was that he did not
have the funds at hand to pay the man. But the way Shelby was uttering the word
daughter finally pierced through the numbness of Stephen's brain.

"You
want me to what?" Stephen choked out.

Shelby
rested his cigar on a silver tray beside him and heaved a perceptive sigh.
"You heard me correctly. If you have no funds to pay your debt, then this
is my final offer.

"You
may marry my Elizabeth," the man went on as if he were entering into a
business venture with a sheik, "and I will clear you of your debts. Of
course, I will give you Creighton Hall back as a wedding present"—Shelby's
lips parted with a grin—"or an engagement present, perhaps?"

Stephen
stared back, dumbfounded, as an uneven row of yellow teeth reflected back at
him. "You're mad."

"Now,
your lordship, I know what I'm about. I ain't mad at all. But I believe a
special license may be the way of it. It isn't something I take lightly now.
Elizabeth is a special girl, my eldest, and not without her merits. Schooled
down in Bath with the best of the
ton
. Knows a few languages. Can
watercolor decent enough. Plays the pianoforte with the fingers of an angel and
has a heart of gold. Not many girls like her in all of England."

Stephen
could bet a hundred pounds on that fact. By heaven, the chit was probably
twenty stone and looked exactly like her father. Yet Stephen's honor was at
stake here.

"Be
doing you a favor, my lord. Why, think of it this way—you won't have to be part
of the marriage mart anymore, eh? Stuffy mamas and all that."

Stephen's
lips tightened. And he would no longer have Odette. For now it seemed there was
no recourse but to agree to the man's insane demand. Shelby might be shrewd but
he was not a cheat. The game had been played fair enough.

Stephen
dropped a hardened gaze to the empty bottles of wine at the edge of the table
and his stomach twisted with guilt. What had he become since his father died? A
drunk? A wastrel? A man who thought he could have anything he wanted, including
a beautiful woman, and now he had come to this? Would his marriage be like his
parents'? No respect, no love? No life at all?