Nicola Cornick - Lady Allerton's Wager

Marcus laughed. ‘A pity. Yet I do not doubt your loyalty to the notion of regaining Fairhaven for your family.’

Beth clenched her gloved hands together in her lap. ‘It is something that I feel I must do, my lord. My grandfather’s ghost is unquiet…’

Marcus smiled at her. ‘I hope you do not feel that in order to lay the ghost you must foster the quarrel!’ Once again he transferred the reins to one hand and put the other over hers. ‘I have a feeling, my lady, that you and I might settle this feud once and for all.’

This time Beth let her hand rest still under his. ‘I hope that we may, my lord,’ she said, deliberately reading nothing into his words. ‘Might I suggest that you accept my offer for Fairhaven as a first step? It is a very generous offer…’

‘It is.’ Marcus let go of her and picked up the reins again. ‘Too generous. Fairhaven cannot possibly be worth such a sum.’

Beth shrugged a little. ‘How does one assess sentimental value, my lord? To me, Fairhaven is priceless.’

Marcus smiled. ‘I understand that,’ he said slowly. ‘Fairhaven has become your passion, has it not, Lady Allerton? I wonder just what you would do to achieve that obsession.’

Beth stared at him. Despite the fact that his words only echoed what Charlotte had said to her previously, it was disconcerting to hear them from a relative stranger. It was even more disconcerting to read the double meaning behind them. She looked at him very directly.

‘I am not sure that I understand you, my lord. Are you rejecting my offer?’

‘I preferred your original one,’ Marcus said coolly.

Their gazes locked. The sun disappeared behind a grey cloud and suddenly the wind was chill. Beth shivered inside her pelisse, but it was not entirely from the cold.

‘Are you offering me carte blanche, my lord?’

Marcus laughed out loud. ‘You are very frank, my lady! I was under the impression that the boot had been on the other foot! You set the terms of our wager—’

‘You lost the wager,’ Beth said swiftly, ‘and it is because you did not honour your stake that I am offering so much more!’

‘You are offering more financially, I suppose. As I said, I preferred your original—more personal—offer!’

Beth could feel herself blushing and was vexed. She knew he was deliberately provoking her and was determined to stay calm. It was difficult, however, particularly as a tiny corner of her mind was acknowledging the attractions of such a course of action. To offer herself to Marcus in return for Fairhaven Island. It was immoral. It was iniquitous. And it was definitely tempting…

She frowned.

‘The wager was a means to an end, my lord! It is not my usual mode of behaviour to offer myself as part of a bargain!’

‘I see.’ Marcus had allowed the curricle to come to a halt under the bare branches of a spreading oak tree. ‘In that case it was a remarkably dangerous wager.’

‘It was.’ Beth held his gaze. ‘However, if I had lost, I had only to refuse to honour my stake—as you did, my lord!’

‘Touché!’ Marcus laughed again. ‘I must confess myself disappointed, Lady Allerton. I was hoping that you might be persuaded—’

‘Were you? You cannot know me very well, then, my lord!’ By now there was a warning glint in Beth’s eye. ‘I have told you that I am no courtesan! I wish you take me home now, if you please!’

‘Very well!’ Marcus’s tone betrayed amused admiration. ‘I will not tease you any further, my lady. And if it is true that I do not know you well, time can at least remedy that situation!’

The thought gave Beth little comfort. In the first place, she had a strange and disturbing conviction that Marcus did in fact understand her very well, for all his teasing. As for his pledge to know her better, her instinct told her that that could be a very perilous enterprise indeed.

Another country dance came to an end and Beth applauded enthusiastically and accepted the escort of her partner back to Lady Fanshawe’s side. It was very hot in the Duchess of Calthorpe’s ballroom for there were at least two hundred guests and the event was assured of the accolade of being a crush. The Duchess had chosen white as her theme to create the impression of approaching winter, and it was ironic that the temperature resembled that of the tropics. Hundreds of white candles added to the heat in the ballroom, creating such a fire risk that footmen were stationed about the room with buckets of water.

‘Are you enjoying yourself, my love?’ Lady Fanshawe fanned herself vigorously. ‘It is such a sad crush in here, I declare there is barely a spare rout chair to be had! And all this white is quite dazzling to the eye!’

Beth giggled. As well as the white candles there were filmy white draperies that were threatening to catch fire and droopy white lilies that evidently preferred a cooler climate.

‘You are in looks tonight, my dear,’ Lady Fanshawe continued. ‘That lilac muslin is very pretty and stands out well amongst the debutantes. Poor girls, I fear they will melt into the draperies!’

‘In more ways than one!’ Beth agreed, gratefully accepting a glass of lemonade from Mr Porson, who had been partnering her in the previous dance. He was a worthy young man and he showed signs of lingering at her side, which Beth did not particularly mind. At least she felt safe with him.

‘Mr Porson, do you think—?’ she began, only to raise her eyebrows in surprise as the young man shot away with barely a word of farewell. Kit Mostyn came up and took the vacated rout chair at his cousin’s side.

‘Good gracious, Kit!’ Beth said crossly. ‘What sort of reputation do you have that scares away my innocent admirers? Poor Mr Porson was only indulging in conversation!’

‘I doubt that it was my arrival that scared him off,’ Kit said drily. ‘The Earl of Trevithick has just come in, Beth. Porson won’t want to be seen trespassing on Trevithick’s ground!’

Beth glanced quickly at the doorway and looked away equally quickly, conscious that plenty of people were watching her. She was unhappily aware that she had become the talk of the town during the previous ten days, all as a result of Marcus Trevithick’s attentions. They had driven in the park twice, attended a concert and fireworks at Vauxhall, met at a musical soirée and danced at a couple of balls. That had been sufficient to set tongues wagging and it seemed to Beth that Marcus had done nothing to quell the speculation. He had behaved entirely correctly towards her on all occasions, and yet Beth was aware of something beneath the veneer of convention, something entirely more exciting and dangerous in his attitude towards her.

The interest of the ton was piqued because of the family feud and also because the Dowager Viscountess of Trevithick had made her disapproval of Beth very plain. Only the previous night, the Dowager had cut her dead at the opera and Beth had decided that she would have to avoid Marcus in future. This was not entirely because of his mother’s attitude but also because of some belated sense of self-preservation. Beth knew that she found Marcus all too attractive and she had heard something of his reputation and did not want to become another conquest. Now, however, her resolution put her in an awkward situation, for to shun Marcus’s company at the ball would be remarked upon. Beth fidgeted, drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair as she tried to decide what to do.

She saw Marcus start to cross the room towards her. He had paused to speak to an acquaintance but Beth saw that although he was talking to the man, he was still watching her with a deliberation that was most disturbing. She got hastily to her feet.