The Wicked Wager (2 page)

The ton was aflutter when they discovered
the news of Miss Emma Grey snaring the most eligible bachelor of the season.

The society papers were full of the
romantic match, and even the most conservative of the lot approved. Miss Grey
was, after all, the daughter of a respectable man next in line for a dukedom.

Emma’s father, Lord Grey, was the first
cousin of the Duke of Arden and next in line to inherit.
The duke had no other male heirs and was of considerable age;
hence, the title was sure to pass on to Lord Grey.

All that Lord Grey had to do was wait and
pray for his dear cousin to depart for heaven and sooner done the better.

Lady Grey was delighted to be sure. Emma
was nineteen, having missed the first two seasons of coming out.
The first season Emma’s grandfather had died, and the
next year was followed by the death of her grandmother. Her darling daughter,
in the year of her debut, had snatched the young, handsome, and superbly
wealthy Richard Hamilton from under the very nose of Miss Clearwater. Nothing
could have made her happier.

Meanwhile, Emma had spent the entire season
wondering if she were a homely sort. She refused to believe the compliments of
her loved ones. She had despaired of finding a man, since most men under the
age of fifty, married or otherwise, barely looked her in the eye and departed
as soon as common courtesy allowed.

She was soon to learn the reason when Lord
Hamilton hesitatingly requested her to speak to her brothers and beg them to
spare his life.

Understandably furious, Emma had taken her
three brothers to task. The five feet four inches tall girl faced her six foot
muscled brothers and gave them a tongue lashing they never forgot.

In spite of the terror their sister had
induced in them, they refused to allow the earl to court her initially.

Lord Hamilton proved his love and devotion
for Emma in the only way a man can prove his worth. Nights out in pubs with
contests as to who could drink more ale followed for the next few weeks. After
that had been archery competitions and horse racing.

Lord Hamilton proved his might and
successfully and cleverly won over the three surly brothers.

A month later, looking pale and worn out,
he had finally presented his proposal to Emma’s father and had been accepted.

You would think the trials for the lovers
were now over. The brothers were agreeable, the parents pleased, and the ton
approving.

Yet the biggest hurdle was still to be
faced. The Duke of Arden heard of the engagement, and thus began the most
difficult battle
the two had ever faced.

“Richard, we have a problem.”

“What is it?” the earl asked absently.

They were taking a carriage ride around town,
and having his betrothed so close to him was creating havoc in his mind. He
wanted to grab and kiss her. The occasional brush of her skirt and her being
completely unaware of his state was frustrating, to say the least.

The last thing he wanted was to have an
extended engagement. He was the kind of man, who once made up his mind, stuck
to his resolution and tried to finish off the task as speedily as possible.

The fact that his fiancée was so very
desirable had him wishing that they didn’t have to wait a full two months
before the wedding occurred.

His protests had been shot down, not only
by his future mother-in-law but also by his future bride. Neither of them could
fathom how a wedding could be organised in anything less than three months. Two
months was all the compromise they were willing to offer.

He clenched his hands and forced himself to
think of his mother. That always worked in dampening his desires.

“Do you know my uncle, the Duke of Arden?”

“I don’t know him. He retired to the
country before I graced society, and prior to that, I was at Oxford.”

“Well, yes, but you know of him?” Emma said
impatiently.

“Who does not?” he replied grumpily.

“His daughter, Catherine and I spent all
our summers together. We are very close, and the duke is exceedingly fond of
me, and he … he heard of the engagement.”

The earl heard the slight tremor in her
voice. He turned to look at her and noticed for the first time that something
was troubling her.

He would have noticed earlier, but his mind
had been preoccupied with trying to keep his hands off her. He wanted to be
respectable and start his marriage on the right footing.

His
Cherie Amie
had been politely
told to retire and compensated well for her expertise. He now wanted to be a perfect
gentleman, honourable to his vows and faithful to his wife.

He could not afford to ruin his new found
resolutions by tumbling in the hay with his fiancé.

“Is the duke against the marriage?” he
asked, feeling slightly ill.

“No, no … it’s not that. His grace is
pleased, or rather delighted that I am engaged. He is absolutely wonderful, and
he has even invited us to have our wedding in a church near his home. You would
admire him greatly. He has been so generous to our family. My father often
seeks his advice on important matters. No man can hide his worth from him. Why,
he just needs to meet a man once to know all his secrets. I sometimes feel he
can read minds …”

“You are babbling, my dear. Now out with
it.”

She took a deep breath and let the words out
in a rush.

“He wants us to wait a year.”

“No!” he exploded.

This would not do, not do at all. He would
never be able to stay celibate for an entire year. He was a hot blooded man.

This duke fellow had no right to dictate to
him how and when his wedding occurred. He would not allow it. Two months had
seemed like an eternity, and the thought of delaying the wedding for a year had
him breaking out in a cold sweat.

“I knew you would react like that. For one
moment stop thinking about the marriage bed and hear me out,” snapped Emma.

The earl turned to stare at his fiancé. He
should be used to her shocking ways by now, but he was not. She had, after all,
made three dames swoon in the last ball. Truly it was his place to scandalise
the ton.

But now that they were getting married he
had tamed his behaviour somewhat. However, his future bride was another matter.
He would have to take her in hand, starting now.

“Why do you think I was thinking of the
marriage bed? Are you?” he asked silkily.

She blushed.

That calmed the earl down. At least she had
a modicum of maidenly modesty intact.

“No … that is what my mother told me. She
told me to be careful around you because men, she said, were essentially
animals with only one thing on their mind.”

The earl scowled, regardless of the fact
that her mother had told her exactly what he had been
struggling with a few moments ago.

“I am a man, not an animal. I can control
myself,” he bit out.

“So, then you will have no trouble waiting
a year,” said Emma slyly.

He smiled in appreciation of her tactic.
But he was far cleverer than she gave him credit for, and he was not willing to
wait any longer.

“I will not wait longer than two months. I
may be a man, but I am not a eunuch.” He grinned. If she could not curb her
wild tongue, then nor would he.

Emma was stunned into silence. She had
hoped to rile him up and have him defend his position as a gentleman. She had
not expected him to admit he wanted her too much to wait.

She felt curiously thrilled at the thought.
She too looked forward to her wedding night, irrespective of the horror stories
she had heard from her married friends about the male dingdongs.

His kisses had told her enough to know that
the result would not be entirely unpleasant.

“We still cannot marry for a year. My
father cannot afford to alienate the duke, since he is next in line to inherit.
The duke might decide to take another heir if we displease him. So we have to
heed his wishes. Can you imagine our third cousin, Mr Barwinkle, becoming the
next duke? He looks like a flea bitten rabbit!” she pleaded.

The earl was silent.

“Please do not be angry, Richard. My family
cannot disregard his request on so important a matter. He is really quite
reasonable. I am sure once I plead my case he will reconsider. I am planning to
visit him and convince him. He is a clever man, cleverer than anyone I have
ever met. He must have a legitimate reason for asking us to delay the wedding.
I simply need to prove to him that I have made the right choice. I will allay
his concerns, and he is intelligent enough to listen to reason.”

The earl was getting angrier and angrier
all through Emma’s speech. Their courtship had been quick, and he had not yet
spent enough time with her to know her well. Her brothers had kept him busy during
most of their relationship.

A few moments alone together with an
abigail keeping a close eye on them was hardly enough time to learn her
character.

She had agreed to marry him and seemed to
like him, but neither of them had mentioned love. Love was unfashionable, and
marriages were made according to status.

The earl, however, when it came to taking a
wife, held very old fashioned views.

Her voice had warmed as she spoke, and the light
on her face made him uneasy. This was the first time he had truly fallen in
love, and it left him feeling insecure and uncertain as to Emma’s feelings.

He discounted the fact that the duke was
older than her father, probably missing teeth and balding. He even forgot that
the duke was her uncle and a relative. He was simply consumed with jealousy to
hear the admiration of any man besides himself on the lips of Emma.

It left him wondering if, in fact, his
fiancée was in love with the duke.

“You are still young and no doubt he seems
uncommonly clever to you because he is the duke and takes time out to speak to
you. You have not been in the world long enough to judge a man, my dear. He
must be full of faults that you have overlooked,” he said condescendingly.

“I am not witless. I know an intelligent
man from a buffoon. The duke is the best of men, and I am sure he is much
smarter than you,” she snapped, thoroughly angry at his sneering tone.

The earl was only six years her elder; how
dare he pass judgment on a man he had never met, let alone seen. His opinion on
her intelligence irked her as well.

She shouldn’t have spoken thus to her
future husband, but she needed to make sure the earl understood she had a mind
of her own and intended to keep it. She would not become one of those wives who
faded into the background once married, listening and agreeing to every foolish
whim of their husbands.

The carriage lurched in a pot hole, and
Emma was thrown against the earl.

He, for once, did not notice or care. His fiancée
should have been moony eyed and not found him wanting in any way. He was raging
with jealousy and could not wait to get rid of her.

He peeked out of the window; they were
nearly at her town house. He kept his eyes resolutely on the blackened London
streets, choosing to watch soot faced urchins rather than the beautiful woman
next to him.

Emma, in turn, watched his sulking profile
as she held the soft leather seat in a deathly grip. Her nails would probably
leave permanent indentations, but she did not care.

He had rapped the carriage walls in a
signal to his coachman to speed up the horses. It was a choice between tearing
the expensive leather to stay upright or holding on to the earl. She chose to
mangle the carriage.

It was in mutual relief that the two parted
that evening.

***

The earl was in his cups. He told his valet
the whole sordid story.

The valet, in turn, had a hard time keeping
his face straight.

“I am a man am I not? That old bugger would
not turn a hair, even if a naked wench danced on his lap. That is if he has any
hair. While Emma …” The earl stopped to take a big gulp of brandy. “Emma, she
is beautiful and desirable, but her tongue comes out with the wickedest things.
It is positively entertaining when directed at others, but I am her fiancé, for
goodness’ sake. Shouldn’t she consider me the best of men? Any decent well-bred
woman would, I am sure. Instead, she thinks the duke is cleverer than I am …
that blighter has made my lovely Emma fall in love with him. I wish I could do
something … anything! What do you suggest, Burns?”

The valet coughed and bent to refill the
earl’s glass. His portly belly jiggled as he said,

“She is marrying you, My Lord, and not the
duke. I would say that she loves you, but maybe for your peace of mind you
should ensure that she recognises your intelligence as being more finely honed
than the duke’s. After all, it never does to have one’s wife doubt your
capabilities. You will have trouble controlling her fanciful ways if she goes
running to the duke for every tiny piece of advice. She should be coming to you
with her woes and not believe that someone else may have better answers. I mean
imagine,” continued the valet, warming to his topic, “that she wanted to buy
six pieces of fish, and you tell her to buy seven in case something happens to
one of the pieces of fish. Mayhap it gets overcooked or burns? But she, does
she listen to you? No, sir, she does not! Instead, she goes to your elder
brother, and he tells her to buy eight. Eight mind you, not seven, in case two
of the fish get burnt or overcooked. So here you are thinking of economy and
the fact that you have to spend on a dinner of six. Instead, you end up paying
for eight. Now, tell me where is the wisdom in that? It’s perfectly disgraceful
to have your wife listen to your elder brother and not you,” finished the
valet, trembling with emotion.