Wager for a Wife Page 14

  The top piece was a pastoral scene worthy of pride of place on a duke or prince’s wall. He traced the details of it with his finger before setting it aside. Underneath it was a pair of woman’s kid gloves with delicate flowers embroidered on the cuffs.

  There were other items of equal quality: monogrammed handkerchiefs, pillow covers, samplers. He took out a handkerchief that bore an elegant W, held it to his nose briefly, and put it in his pocket.

  Eventually, he closed the trunk and left the attic with the bundle, then went in search of Mrs. Holly. He found her taking inventory of the linen closet.

  “Mrs. Holly, look what I found in the attic,” he said. “Perhaps they can be put to use.”

  “Good heavens, milord; here, let me help you.” She swiftly removed the bundle from his hands, setting it on a nearby chair, and then grabbed a cloth from a shelf in the linen closet. “I’m sorry to say it, but you’re a sight,” she said and proceeded to brush at his shoulders and arms. “So much dust!”

  He nudged her hands away. “Never mind the dust; we can see to my clothing well enough later. But I have found something of value—my mother’s needlework. There are some old paintings in the attic as well. If the art itself isn’t up to snuff, at least the frames might be put to good use.

  “Your mother always did such fine work with a needle,” Mrs. Holly said, already taking stock of what William had brought her. “So talented, she was. I remember her sewing this one, in particular.” She held up an exquisite rendering of the Madonna and Child. “She began it shortly after you left for Eton. I think it gave her comfort; she was the mother of a beautiful son too.” She set the piece aside, brushing her hand over it, and then inspected the next.

  “There are gowns of hers in the attic,” he said.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Holly said. “Your father insisted all of her remaining personal effects be put in storage. It didn’t stop him from selling off what he could get a price for though, did it?”

  “I believe my mother would be pleased if we were to bring her things out of storage now and put them to good use making Farleigh Manor respectable again. If you can find a way to remake her gowns into something useful, you have my permission to do so.”

  “You’re absolutely right—especially if it is her son’s home now. I shall see what can be done,” she said.

  He was placing a huge burden on everyone to take limited resources and restore his home so quickly after so many years of avoidance and neglect on his part. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here more often over the years. I should have confronted my father again and made sure Farleigh Manor had the resources it needed to remain prosperous. I should have taken better care of you all.”

  “You were but a boy then; there wasn’t anything you could have done,” she said. “We understood this. Your father wasn’t the most agreeable of men, if you don’t mind my speaking out of turn.”

  “Not at all.” He smiled grimly. “Nonetheless, when I left Oxford, I should have come here, even though Mama was gone and my father spent the majority of his time in London.” And even though his father had told him never to return. “I’ve been remiss, and I’m sorry.”

  “But you’re here now, and things are going to get better,” she said resolutely. She carefully stacked each of the pieces of needlework, reminding William of a question he’d meant to ask her. “When did my father begin taking the valuables from Farleigh Manor?”

  “Not while your mother was still alive, thank goodness, except for the piano. He said she was too ill to play it and it wasn’t doing anyone any good sitting in the music room. Even so, it nearly broke her heart—if he hadn’t broken it already, that is.” Her mouth set in a stubborn line as if she were tired of apologizing for speaking her mind about William’s father. “After she passed away, God rest her soul, one or two items seemed to disappear whenever he visited. He always had a reason—Lord So-and-So had admired the dining table, Lady Such-and-Such had asked about the chairs. It often seemed like the only time he visited was to remove an item or two he could sell. And that knave of a steward slipped an item out here and there too; I’m sure of it.”

  Ah, yes, the steward who had vanished. He must do something about replacing the man sooner rather than later.

  “Tomorrow morning, I will be inspecting the lands,” he said. “And then I must return to London. I have a commitment I must keep.” He must resume his courtship of Lady Louisa, for that was his top priority. He needed her money, but he also longed for her, heaven help him. He deserved neither.

  He couldn’t wait to see her again.

  * * *

  Louisa decided—somewhat late in the day—that she was not going to stay home simply because her betrothed had left London, even if it was only for one evening. She’d sat at home too much already in the past two weeks. Soon enough, she would be married to William and making her home somewhere in Buckinghamshire. Besides, a lady had only one come-out year, and this was hers. She should enjoy it while she could.

  Unfortunately, her parents had accepted an invitation to dine with the Duke and Duchess of Atherton this evening and had already left in the carriage, so there could be no assistance from that quarter.

  Alex was no help either.

  “Sorry, Weezy, but I’m off at any moment to join some friends. In fact, Kit and Phillip should be here at any minute.”

  Botheration. “Is Anthony going too?” she asked, feeling her hopes drop.

  “No, actually. He was invited but wasn’t in the mood for an evening out with the rest of us. He thinks he’d rather stay home and read, poor dull chap that he is.” Alex shook his head in mock sorrow. “It would do him some good to let loose a bit, but that’s Anthony for you. You’d think he intended to become a vicar. Ah, the lads are here.”

  And Alex was gone.

  Anthony was in the library, she was not surprised to discover, seated by the fire, one leg thrown over the arm of the chair, swinging lazily, while he himself was engrossed in whatever he was reading.

  “Anthony?” she asked in a low voice so as not to startle him.

  “No,” he said and turned a page.

  “Anthony.” Her voice was louder this time since he knew she was there.

  “No,” he repeated.

  She closed the door behind her and crossed the room to sit in the chair opposite his. “Seriously, Anthony, talk to me. Please?”

  He closed his book, leaving a finger in it to keep his place, and looked at her with raised eyebrows.

  “Mama and Papa and Alex are all out for the evening.”

  “Yes,” he said in a tone that suggested she was stating the obvious, which, clearly, she was. “And?”

  “And Lord Farleigh has gone to the country for a day or two.”

  “What is it you wish, Louisa?” he asked with a sigh.

  “I don’t wish to stay home, Anthony. I wish to put on my loveliest gown and have Tibbetts style my hair. I wish to go to parties and balls and routs and chat with my friends and dance with young gentlemen. I wish to feel the night air as I step out of the carriage, tingling from the excitement the evening holds in store. I wish—”

  “You want to do all that tonight?” Anthony asked, sounding alarmed.

  She wished she were free.

  “Of course I don’t want to do it all tonight,” she said, exasperated. “But tonight, I at least have a chance to enjoy the Season, and I don’t want to pass on this opportunity to go out and mingle and feel the romance of it all—oh, men simply do not understand!”

  He set the book on the small table beside the chair. “Come on,” Anthony said, rising to his feet. “We men are not so bacon-brained as all that—especially when a young lady points it out to us. I am at your service for the evening, little sister. Let’s go through that exhausting pile of invitations on Mama’s desk and see if there is one among them that will suit your fancy.”

  “Oh, Anthony!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you. This means so much to me.”

 
“Apparently.” He chuckled. “Which means you will owe me a favor at some future point in time.”

  “Anything! I promise.”

  “A huge one.”

  “Anything, truly!”

  “I mean it, Weezy. You are forcing me to go out into the wilderness that is the ton and face its predatory creatures—dewy-eyed misses and their eager mamas.”

  Louisa laughed. It felt good to laugh. It seemed like ages since she had. “Thank you, Anthony. I shall do my best to run interference between you and anyone who attempts to get their claws into you tonight.”

  “I will hold you to it,” he said.

  * * *

  The only real invitation Louisa could choose for this evening was the one to join Lord and Lady Melton in their box at the theater. It wasn’t precisely what Louisa had had in mind; she’d wanted to mingle and dance with her peers, but since William would not be accompanying her, she realized it was in both their interests to keep the gossips at bay. Lord and Lady Melton were dears though, and when Louisa sent off a note asking if the invitation was still available to her and Anthony, the answer that had returned with the footman was a resounding yes.

  “I’m so pleased you decided to join us,” the countess whispered only a few hours later, when Louisa and Anthony, who arrived after the performance had begun, seated themselves next to the Meltons in their private box. “Always so delightful to have young people about, don’t you agree, Melton?”

  The earl, who was sitting on the other side of his countess, grunted softly, his attention remaining on the stage, where a line of dancers was pirouetting very prettily.

  Louisa and Anthony turned their attention to the stage as well.

  “I had thought,” Lady Melton whispered behind her fan, “that you might be escorted by young Lord Farleigh, but it is always a treat to have Lord Anthony with us.”

  “My brother is good company,” Louisa said, not wishing to explain William’s absence. “Lord Farleigh and I intend to visit Vauxhall Gardens tomorrow evening. I have longed to visit the pleasure garden and am looking forward to it.”

  Anthony elbowed her and gave her a look that said she was speaking more loudly than she should and was beginning to babble. She shut her mouth and smiled at Lady Melton, then focused on the dancing.

  A tenor, whose voice was exceptional, followed the line of dancers. Since he was singing in Italian and Louisa didn’t speak Italian, her mind—and her eyes—began to wander.

  She looked around the theater, spotting Alex and Kit and Phillip, along with a few other young gentlemen, down in the gallery—undoubtedly only their first stop in a night of revelry that would continue until dawn. Alex and Kit were a lively pair, with Phillip usually dogging along after them. Louisa half suspected Phillip remained with them solely to keep the other two out of mischief—much like Anthony tended to do.

  Her eyes moved upward to scan the private boxes, taking in the elegance of all those in attendance. Gentlemen in black evening wear added contrast to the rich colors of the ladies’ silk and velvet gowns. She spied Lord and Lady Wilmington, with some of their friends, in their private box. Others of Louisa’s acquaintance, including Sir Frederick and Lady Putnam and their eldest two daughters, Harriet and Charlotte, were also here for the performance. Even Baron Moseby . . . She blinked rapidly.

  “Goodness, Anthony,” she whispered, leaning toward him. “Who is that lady with Baron Moseby in his box?” She was a rather striking woman of middle years, with coal-black hair piled high on her head, wearing a burgundy gown scandalously cut to enhance a rather ample bosom.

  Anthony’s eyes moved from the gallery, where he’d apparently spotted Alex and the others, and searched the private boxes until he spotted Baron Moseby and his guest. “Never you mind, Weezy,” he whispered back.

  “Oh . . . I see,” she replied.

  Lady Melton glanced at them to see if everything was all right, so Louisa smiled at her and returned her attention to the stage. The tenor finished his aria, bowed at the enthusiastic applause he received, and exited. It was intermission.

  “I believe I would like to stroll for a bit and stretch my legs,” Lady Melton said as she and Lord Melton rose from their seats. “Would either of you care to join Melton and me? Or perhaps you’d rather remain here and take in the sights before you? It is nearly as entertaining to watch the people at the theater as it is the performance itself.”

  “I believe I shall remain here, but thank you for the offer,” Louisa said, still reeling somewhat from the sight of what she assumed was Baron Moseby’s mistress. The baron had been attempting to court Louisa not so many days ago. She shuddered at the thought.

  After the Meltons left the box, Anthony stood. “I think I shall find Alex and the others,” he said. “Since you pried me from my comfortable fireside and book, I may as well see what plans they have for the remainder of the night.”

  “What about me?” she asked indignantly. “Are you intending to leave me to the Meltons and ask them to take me home afterward? It was kind of them to allow us to attend the theater and join them in their box on such short notice. If you dash off and I must beg their assistance in returning home as well, I shall be utterly mortified.”

  “Don’t worry, Weezy,” Anthony replied. “I will see you home safely first, regardless of what follows. I’ll be back in a trice.”

  Louisa was alone in the box.

  Alone. It was the complete opposite of how she’d intended to spend the evening.

  Feeling more than a bit disgruntled, she leaned forward so her elbow rested on the railing in front of her—not a ladylike thing to do, and her mother would be horrified if she were to see her right now—but Louisa didn’t particularly care at the moment.

  She watched Anthony enter the gallery and join Alex and the others. He gestured up toward the Meltons’ box, and Alex and Kit and Phillip and the other young gentlemen all turned as one to look in her direction. Kit and Phillip waved, and Alex, the silly wretch, blew her a kiss.

  She rolled her eyes and sat back.

  Anthony hadn’t intended to go with them, but now he probably would, and Louisa should have expected it. The Osbourne estate bordered Ashworth Park, and they’d all grown up together. Alex and Kit had always been the two who seemed to find trouble wherever they went—and still did, for that matter.

  Was William like those two? Was he the type of person trouble seemed to follow? Did he have a mistress like Baron Moseby did? She marveled that the baron had brought the woman to a public place like the theater. Perhaps if Louisa were to look around the theater again, she would be able to discern other gentlemen in attendance with their mistresses. And surely, still other gentleman of the ton kept their mistresses a secret.

  Such things had never been discussed in Louisa’s presence.

  But now she was to marry a total stranger, and she realized there were things she didn’t know and couldn’t understand about men, about marriage, about what to expect. She knew she would not enjoy being married to someone, even of the finest quality, if he were inclined toward such selfish indulgences. William had been right, she realized, when he’d told her she was extremely fortunate her parents’ marriage was a loving and faithful one, a fact about which she had no doubt and, until recently, had taken for granted.

  There was a soft knock on the door of the box, plucking Louisa from her thoughts. The door opened, and Lord Kerridge entered, closing the door behind him. “Lady Louisa, I hope I’m not intruding,” he said.

  The night needed only this.

  “Lord Kerridge, this is not a good idea,” she said, even as she felt all the blood in her body congeal in her stomach.

  “I will take only a moment of your time, and then I will leave. You have my assurance of this.”

  “Very well,” she said. She glanced about the theater, at the gallery and the other boxes. Everyone seemed occupied with their own conversations, including her brothers and their friends. Plague Anthony for leaving her alone!

 
; “Lady Louisa,” he said once she’d given permission for him to remain. “I have no wish to cause you any more scandal than your current betrothal already has, but I must speak to you.”

  “Lord Kerridge—”

  He held up his hand. “My apologies. That was an ungentlemanly thing for me to say. Allow me to start over: I observed that you are here tonight without your betrothed, and I realized it gave me an opportunity, perhaps a final one, to speak to you and assure myself that you have clearly thought the matter through.” The earl slid smoothly into the chair Anthony had been using. He was fitted out in his elegant evening wear, a burgundy waistcoat embroidered with gold thread contrasting with the black of his coat. The light from the theater sent shots of deep red through his chestnut hair. He was a handsome man, and right now, he was looking at her with grave concern, his brows low over his eyes, his mouth—a mouth she had kissed—curved downward.

  “Lord Kerridge,” she repeated—she could no longer call him George—“I am grateful for your concern, truly. But—”

  He laid gloved fingers over her lips, stopping her from speaking. “You must hear me out, and then I will go.” When he sensed that she would not speak, he removed his fingers and continued. “Your Viscount Farleigh has been absent from London and its society for several years. I can find few people who know him, really know him. In my estimation, it seems he has few acquaintances and even fewer friends. He is an utter unknown—except for the reputation of his pater, who was a walking scandal, as you well know. How do you know his son is not like him? I cannot imagine you in a match with such a man.”

  “Lord Kerridge, you must cease speaking to me in such a way,” she said, trembling.

  “Please, allow me to finish,” he said, drawing closer. “I have never, nor will I ever, offer marriage lightly to anyone. I have current and future responsibilities to consider and will marry only a lady I feel worthy to be a duchess—to be my duchess when the time arrives. You are the daughter of a marquess, your upbringing has been impeccable, and that makes you worthy. And so I ask you to end this sham of a betrothal, which is based solely upon other men’s follies. Marry me. I offer it to you once again.”