Elisabeth Hobbes - A Wager for the Widow

‘Well, I can ill afford to hire anyone else,’ Sir Edgar cautioned. Will’s heart leapt with glee. The baron had practically introduced the subject himself.

Sir Edgar picked up his quill and tapped the end irritably against the table edge. ‘My only hope is that my wife finds husbands for my daughters and makes the expense worthwhile, although I can scarcely afford dowries at this time. Eleanor will have to provide her own, though I’m sure she would be more than happy to do so. Never have daughters if you can help it, young man!’

This was even better, Will thought triumphantly. He fixed his face into a sympathetic smile. ‘It is about Lady Peyton that I have come to see you...’ he began.

‘Eleanor, what of her?’ Sir Edgar peered at Will warily. ‘You don’t wish to marry her, do you?’ He laughed as he spoke, though Will thought he could hear a note of hope in the baron’s voice.

‘I would not presume to reach so high,’ Will declared. ‘I merely came to say that I have noticed Lady Peyton seems rather...’ he searched for a word that would not offend ‘...rather listless and vexed. I wondered if she might need something to occupy her.’

‘I’m sure she does,’ Sir Edgar agreed. ‘If I only had the time or finances to fill her days, I’m sure she would be much happier.’

Will sighed, then his face lit up. ‘I have an idea—!’ he began, then broke off. ‘No, it would never do,’ he said with a regretful shake of his head. He walked to the window and gazed out. From the corner of his eye he could see Sir Edgar leaning forward with interest.

‘If you have something to say, tell me,’ Sir Edgar instructed.

With mock reluctance Will spoke. ‘I have a suggestion that might satisfy all our needs.’

He outlined his idea to Sir Edgar. The baron sat back in his chair, hands together across his belly. ‘Excellent idea, William,’ he said finally. ‘Would you find Eleanor? I shall tell her immediately.’

‘May I suggest Lady Peyton is led to believe the plan is yours alone? After all, it was you who gave me the inspiration and I would not wish to take the credit.’

‘Nor the condemnation if it does not meet with Eleanor’s views?’ Sir Edgar asked shrewdly.

The two men’s eyes met and an unspoken acknowledgement passed between them. The baron recognised his daughter’s temper, too. An unprecedented twinge of sympathy seized Will at the thought of Lady Peyton’s brother and father both conspiring against her. Little wonder she preferred to live elsewhere.

Still, that was not his problem. He had less than three weeks to win his wager. Whistling cheerfully, he made his way in search of Lady Peyton, picturing the look on her face when she learned of his plan.

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