The Wagered Bride (5 page)

"She
may not be a diamond of the first water," Shelby began to idly shuffle the
cards, "but as I said before, Elizabeth is not without her merits."

Stephen
shifted a wary gaze toward the man who seemed to be choking the life out his
dreams. Hell and thunderation! Shelby was serious about this.

"You
are demanding that I marry your daughter over a debt of cards? Seems a bit
coldhearted, don't you think? Just for a few guineas?"

Shelby's
eyes narrowed, cold and calculating. "A debt of more than a few guineas,
my lord, lest we forget. As I see it, you have no choice in the matter; that
is, unless you want me to go to the head of the family. That would be your
brother, the Duke of Elbourne, would it not?"

Stalling
for time, Stephen began to twirl the stem of his wineglass. This man had
unequivocally made his way to the top of the list of England's richest men by
the use of his brains. Not only had Shelby increased his monetary worth, he had
also gained Prinny's full attention. The cit was heard to even be on the
Regent's Christmas list. He had managed an invitation to the most noted of the
ton's
balls, soirees, and foxhunts. It was amazing Shelby was not in Brighton right
now.

His
flamboyant use of money, dropped into the right hands, had earned him
everything he wanted—everything but a title. He was accepted in Society, but
accepted was different from being born into the
ton
, or at least that
was what Shelby seemed to think. And Zeus if Stephen had not just handed him a
titled son-in-law on a silver platter.

"I
need time to collect my sum," Stephen said, stuffing his hands in his
pockets. "I can have the money for you by tomorrow." Devil take it.
He would sell everything he had to buy back Creighton Hall, too.

Shelby
took out his snuffbox and pinched a bit into his nose. "Time? You think I
have no knowledge of your past gambling ... and drinking?"

The man
glanced purposely at the empty wine bottles. "Knew you would come here
tonight. You ain't the kind of fellow who would lose his mother's childhood
home and leave it to a man like me.

"Beggin'
your pardon, but you do have a conscience, your lordship. Knew that from the
start. I ain't wanting my Elizabeth to have a man without morals, you know.
Said I knew all about your fight in the war—Wellington and all that. A good
man, you are, if you ain't drinking or gaming. Wellington would vouch for you,
I'm certain."

"I
am certain he would," Stephen said in a clipped tone.

So the
man had planned this, knowing Stephen would fold under the sins of the bottle.
Shelby had known all about Creighton Hall, too. It was amazing how sane and
sober Stephen felt at the moment.  Heaven help him, he'd like to shoot Shelby
between the eyes. He could see Creighton Hall, Lady Odette, and his life
drifting away like a ship on the distant horizon.

"You
may have my hunting lodge as collateral until I make good upon the debt,"
Stephen offered, trying to compromise with anything but marriage to the man's
ugly daughter.

"No.
Won't do. My daughter needs a husband."

"A
husband?" Stephen said, a steel edge to his voice. "I do believe that
what you really want is a lord for a son-in- law."

Shelby
flinched, and the ace of spades flew out of the deck and onto the table. "A
warning, my lord?" the man uttered, retrieving the card.

"A
threat, Shelby, or are you merely coaxing me with sweet words to wed your
beautiful daughter?"

Shelby's
face reddened. "Now see here. You have lost a considerable amount to me.
You have told me that as of this precise moment you are without funds to meet
your debt. Therefore, I believe I am being quite generous. Your notes at this
time will not do. The stakes were very clear when you entered this room. If you
go back on your word, all of London will know you for what you are. Disgrace
will follow you like the plague."

Stephen
leaned forward, his lips twisting into a cynical grin. "You had this all
planned out very well, old man. I have to hand it to you. Very well indeed. Did
you ever think that disgrace would follow you if people discovered your
wager?"

The fat
man smiled, sagged against the back of his chair, and patted his waistcoat.
"I pride myself on my accomplishments, my lord. Just as you saved
Wellington's life and kept quiet, honor will demand that you still your tongue
on tonight's game. However, I have one more stipulation."

Stephen
laughed. "Only one?"

"One
more," Shelby said seriously, his gaze suddenly turning as cold and hard
as the emerald sitting on his fleshy white finger. "You will take my
daughter as your bride, but you will never tell her of this day. She will
believe this is all of your making. Have I made myself clear?"

Stephen
stiffened. "Perfectly."

"Oh,
almost forgot. As my future son-in-law, I will pay all your debts. Clear the
papers, so to speak." The man's eyes sparkled with self-satisfaction.
"What say you to that?"

"I
have no other debts, sir, but the debt I owe you." Stephen stood, stuck
one hand in his waistcoat and bowed to the man. "Your obedient
servant," he said with a cool expression. But he would never be this man's
servant, obedient or otherwise.

With
that, Stephen strode stiffly from the room, his head spinning with reckless
thoughts of duels and endless tours of the continent and America. But he was a
gentleman and would do what needed to be done.

As he
stepped from the room, he thought he heard a muffled laugh from the man behind
him, but the sound was lost in the mingle of voices down the hall. Uttering an
oath, he hastened toward the gardens behind the mansion. His steps were hard
and purposeful as a cool breeze lifted the lock of hair at his temple, and he
tried to lose himself in the shadow of the trees.

"Pssst,
you there."

Stephen
stopped abruptly, glancing past the winding wisteria to his left. Footsteps
padded lightly on the graveled path alongside the mansion. The wind lifted and
he was slapped by the overwhelming scent of lavender.

He saw
nothing until he took another step toward the giant elm brushing against the
bricks of Harmstead Hall. To his amazement, a pair of elflike eyes stared back
at him.

Stephen
fought back a smile and raised a questioning brow. Why, it was not an elf at
all, but a tiny chit dressed in some fluffy green concoction, and from all
appearances, she seemed about ten, maybe twelve. Probably one of Lord
Harmstead's children, he thought, recalling the games of hide-and-seek he had
played as a child with his brothers when his parents had held extravagant
parties at Elbourne Hall.

His eyes
sought hers and he grimaced. The girl should not be out here alone. Although
there was a full moon, and the lamps outside the mansion illuminated the garden
quite prettily, dappled shadows concealed places for lovers and
predators—places where a little thing like this should never be.

Having a
sister himself, Stephen felt his anger rise. Anger at his stupid use of
spirits. Anger at his stupid loss. Anger that he had let Lady Odette slip
through his fingers. And anger that he had to marry some ugly chit that was
probably the spitting image of William Shelby.

"What
are you doing out here?" Stephen replied, more sharply than he had
intended, giving the girl a hard stare.

He took
a step toward her, hovering over her. "You wish a dance, sweetheart?"
he said silkily, watching her eyes go wide.

Good!
That should scare the tiny thing back to her room

The girl
flushed. "Oh, no. I am not out, you know. Papa says I cannot come out
until next year. It's a silly rule, I know, because I am almost fifteen.
However, I am not out here for worldly pleasures. I am helping my sister. Of
course, I would like to be an actress when I grow up, and this will only help
me play the part of, well, a secret agent, I believe."

Stephen
began to feel his head swim as he tried to put the girl's ramblings into some
kind of sense. "A secret agent for a secret rendezvous?"

She
nodded with a hesitant smile, then whispered, "I need a rescuer. A knight
of old."

Stephen's
lips twitched. This little imp reminded him of Emily when she was young. The
girl was up to her elfin eyes in mischief and she was not fifteen.

After
the hideous events that had occurred in the card room only minutes ago, Stephen
felt a little diversion was in order. This girl's sister was probably sent to
her room and needed a few desserts from the kitchen. Stephen knew all about
that. There were many times Stephen and his brothers had foraged the kitchen
before a big soiree at the Duke of Elbourne's home and eaten half the desserts
before they were ever laid out.

"Very
well, my lady, let me be your knight in shining armor. What is your sister
about? Stealing cakes from the kitchen?"

"We
are not stealing." The girl's chin stuck out. "We are eloping."

Now that
grabbed Stephen's attention. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch. "Ah,
eloping. And the age of your sister?"

"Nineteen."
The girl pointed to the elm that brushed up against the mansion. "And in a
minute or two she is to be coming down that tree."

Stephen
raised his head, his eyes narrowing on the flimsy branches near the mansion.
The thicker branches stuck far away from the wall.

"And
I do not like the man at all, you see—"

The
scene was becoming all too clear. "By Jove, nineteen, you say? Which
window is it?"

"The
one with the rope."

Stephen
eyes widened as he took another step beneath the tree, his head still tilted
upward. "The rope?" Something about the rope spiked his senses.
"And when is this wondrous sister of yours going to climb down that
tree?"

He heard
a slight whimper and dropped his gaze. The girl looked ready to cry. Fat tears
edged the corner of her eyes, and she gave a pitiful sniff.

"A-at
the stroke of twelve she is to meet... Mr. Fennington right here ... and then
they are off to Gretna Green. I told her that Papa would not like it, but she
would not listen to me."

Stephen
froze. "Did you say Mr. Fennington?"

When Mr.
Fennington had tried to woo Stephen's sister, Lady Emily, all four of her
brothers had trussed the man up like a pig ready for slaughter. It was
fortunate for him that their mother had come to his aid.

The girl
looked up, her gray eyes flashing, her dark hair bouncing about her face.
"Yes, the one with that odd quizzing glass. Goodness, you know him,
then?" She stepped back, wary. "Are you friend or foe?"

 "Foe.
And know him? By heaven, I almost killed the man on many occasions."

The
girl's eyes rounded with excitement—a fact that made Stephen look at her twice.
"He is a fiend, is he not? Like a villain in a Minerva plot?"

Stephen's
lips thinned as he watched the girl dance beneath the tree, fisting her hands
in the air. "Yes, a veritable fiend." And since when did they let
chits her age read the Minerva Press?

"Milli,
are you down there?" The husky feminine voice snapped Stephen's gaze back
toward the window.

"Your
sister, I presume?" he said softly.

Milli
gasped. "Yes, and she wants to many that despicable fellow." She
grasped Stephen's sleeve, jerking him back and forth like a church bell.
"You must help me. We cannot let her do this."

At that
moment, Stephen wanted to leave. He had his own problems. Stealing cakes was
one thing, stopping an elopement was quite another. But devil take it,
Fennington was involved!

This bit
of evening entertainment had only added to the tumultuous emotions flaring up
inside him. Yet honor reared its ugly head again and he knew he would stay. The
thought of his sister almost running off with the bastard made him intervene.

If he
could not save himself from a horrid marriage at least he could save one
wretched soul from a life of doom, even if she was a stupid female who had
fallen for Fennington and that idiotic quizzing glass. Obviously the girl's family
was from money because that was Fennington's only motive in marriage.

Stephen
placed his hands against the tree, the rough bark riding against his hands. At
least he knew the imp's name. "Very well, Milli. I will stop her... for
now, at least."

Milli
wrapped her arms around him and sobbed. "I knew it the minute I saw you
turning the corner. You are a most noble knight, sir. My prayers were surely
answered."

Stephen
swallowed hard at the girl's innocence. Noble? He was a cad and a drunkard.

He
lightly put his hands on her shoulders and lifted her away. "Yes. Well,
let us solve this little problem."

Milli
backed up, her mouth tilted into a full grin. "How exciting. This is like
a play at Drury Lane, is it not?"

Startled,
Stephen stared back at the girl. Drury Lane, indeed. There was no trace of
tears on her smiling cheeks. And innocent, he thought, his senses coming to
full alert. Her acting could put Drury Lane to shame! And where in the blazes
was that dashed lavender bouquet coming from? It seemed as if she had poured an
entire bottle of the scent on herself.