Page 22 of A Gentleman's Wager

The thought struck too late, for he had already scribbled his initials onto her dance card. “I shall find you anon, Miss Stanley.”

Louisa watched him slide into the crowd with her teeth dug into her lower lip. She suspected she ought to be rather afraid of the marquis.

“There you are.” Bella tapped her on the shoulder. “How is it you’re not with the captain? Have you seen our host anywhere?”

“No, and I can’t seem to find Frederick.”

“He’s outside by the fountain, bobbing for apples with my brother. I say, Lou, are you all right? You seem rather flustered.”

“Yes, well, I suppose I rather am.”

“Why, whatever has happened?” Bella tore off a glove and pressed the back of her hand to Louisa’s brow.

“I’m fine. Not ill, Bella. I’ve just been asked to dance by a marquis is all. That’s enough to instil a little giddiness in anyone.” Now did not seem the moment to get into an explanation of all that had occurred.

“Pennerley? He asked you,” Bella exclaimed, her voice curiously laden with reproach. “Well, aren’t you the favoured one. He was frightfully rude to me earlier, and Lucerne implied that was normal.” Her friend chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I suppose he’s caught wind of the fact you’re an heiress and hence worth favouring. Whereas I’m a lowly nobody.”

“You’re hardly that, Bella, you’ve a very nice dowry. In any case, he doesn’t strike me as a fortune hunter.” If he had an agenda, she suspected it was constructed purely for the purpose of his own entertainment. “At least I shan’t mind dancing with him. He’s rather handsome, if intense. My aunt would never allow it. She’d say he was a rake and escort me straight into the arms of the most pious man she could find.”

“Your aunt says every man who isn’t a shepherd of the Almighty is a rapscallion.”

“Dukes…” Louisa mused. “She approves of them.”

“Aye,” Bella agreed, “But even amongst that scarce breed she only truly favours the ones ready to topple headfirst into their own graves. You’d best hurry and persuade Wakefield to marry you quickly, or she’ll have you betrothed to the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

“Bella,” Louisa retorted. “I think he may already be wed.”

However, her friend didn’t hear her. She was already off in pursuit of Lucerne.

~*~

Was Frederick avoiding her?

Louisa followed a narrow path through an archway cut into a hedgerow towards the sound of laughter and splashing. It had taken her a little while to find her way outside and into the right section of the gardens.

Bright gaily coloured hanging lanterns lined the path and made rainbows on the slippery wet cobblestones that surrounded the vast stone fountain. A multitude of onlookers stood watching the contestants competing in the apple bobbing, many of whom were entirely soaked. She noted one young lady’s dress was so wet it was almost entirely transparent and several others had shed shoes and stockings and were paddling alongside apples bobbing in the water.

“I won,” Frederick remarked when she hurried over to him. His hair was wet at the front. He deposited an apple into her hand, then proceeded to dry off his face on a towel offered him by a liveried footman.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Louisa said.

“Well, I’ve been right here.” He passed the towel on to another contestant.

“Have I… I didn’t mean… That is, I didn’t ask Pennerley to kiss me.”

“I saw what he did, Louisa. Why would you think I would blame you? He’s a varment, through and through. No, rather I’m incensed that he took such liberties. I beg you to stay away from him.”

“I will try, but—”

He stopped her words with the press of his finger. “Come, let’s go down to the river where we might speak with some degree of privacy.”

“All right,” she agreed. This was precisely the sort of thing her aunt constantly warned her about and wasn’t that all the more reason to accept! She’d never had a moment’s fun the entirety of last Season. Others whispered of illicit rendezvous, and stolen moments, but she’d barely even been allowed to speak to a gentleman, let alone go anywhere that wasn’t the dancefloor in full sight of the room with one.

The further they drew away from the house, the more her pulse began to quicken. Although, really, they were only a few steps away across the lawn, at the edge of the tree line, still in earshot of other guests, and really, they had wandered all over the grounds at Wyndfell Grange together, sometimes with Bella as an escort, but more often as not without. The dark path of the river hurried along to their left. A pair of black swans glided past, shadowy, and serene. Frederick turned and clasped her about the waist. “I believe you’re the most beautiful I’ve ever seen you this night.”

“You flatter me. It’s too dark to even see properly.”

He stared at her for an agonizingly long moment. “I speak from my heart.”