Page 24 of A Gentleman's Wager

“Tell it to that prize bastard sometime, will you?”

“Certainly. Who is he?”

Frederick spat the cork into the fire. “Vaughan, the Marquis of Pennerley.”

“The man you’ve been visiting us so frequently in order to avoid?”

Wakefield subtly inclined his head. “The very same.”

“What did he want with Louisa?”

“She’d promised him a dance.”

“Ah,” Joshua reclaimed the bottle and helped himself to a swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand once he was done. “I’m sure she’ll not lose her head over him.” He patted Wakefield’s shoulder, then turning to Miranda Hayes, asked, “Shall we join them?”

Wakefield scowled. “Guess I’ll go and join a card table, then.”

“Yes do,” Miranda purred. “Milli’s there, and she’d love to have you.”

-16-

Bella

The hour had grown late by the time Bella managed to escape the attentions of the Misters Lumb. Viscount Marlinscar remained impossible to pin down. She had yet to decide if he was deliberately snubbing her, simply oblivious to her pursuit, or was he merely enjoying the chase. Whichever it was, between Gaukroger and the Lumbs she was near run ragged and sorely in need of a moment’s respite. All she needed now was for Cockroft to come upon her unawares and manhandle her into a compromising situation he could have them discovered in. Even then, she’d rather be ruined than marry him. They really weren’t compatible at all. She grimaced reminded of how ardently he relished the prospect of further fondling her bubbies. She’d suggested he might prefer to find himself a dairy maid. Whereupon he’d come over rather queer and stammered something about teats and squirting or was it suckling. Either way, she’d offered him a very firmno thank you. Alas each no was taken as further incentive. Perhaps she ought to propose a night of passion with each and take up with the one who could satisfy her the best. Except, she suspected the answer would be none.

Viscount Marlinscar on the other hand… He, she suspected, knew his way around a woman’s body, how to coax pleasure from it, how to be soft, but also rough when required. Moreover, he possessed wit and a handsomeness of form none of her local suitors displayed. That he owned this place that she loved didn’t hurt either. Though perhaps what intrigued her most was that though he’d flirted, he hadn’t pressed for anything more of her than the friendship one might hope to find between close neighbours.

“I say, Miss Rushdale. Annabella, yoo hoo, is that you?”

Cockroft – he’d followed her exactly as she’d suspected.

Bella took herself through the first closed door she found, latched it on the inside, and backed away slowly, only to bump her rear against a desk. She winced and curled her fingers against the leather blotter as the doorknob rattled. After a wretchedly long moment the action ceased. “I spoke to your brother again, Miss Rushdale. He quite agrees with me that it’d be a very favourable match.”

She doubted Joshua had agreed to any such thing, given that he’d snorted rather than reprimanded her for the slugs remark. It wasn’t even as if her brother were desperate to be rid of her, only not to appear derelict in his duty as her guardian.

“But of course, you must weigh the matter properly, tis a woman’s prerogative, after all.”

“I say,” said another voice. “Is there a reason you’re hallooing at a door?”

“Ahem,” Cockroft, cleared his throat. “Tis a private matter, between myself and—”

“Generally, it’s not a good sign when a lady bolts the door against you. Perhaps you might consider a different dance partner, Mr Cockroft.”

Was that Lucerne sending him on his way? She thought… she hardly dared hope that it might be.

There was some other rumbling of voices, which ended in departing footsteps. Bella breathed a sigh of relief, then tentatively crept to the door. She lifted the latch carefully, so it wouldn’t make a sound, then cracked the door open. Lord Marlinscar stood on the other side. “Are my entertainments so poor you have to resort to my library for enjoyment?” he asked, as if the exchange with Cockcroft hadn’t taken place.

Bella opened the door wider, allowing him to enter. It wasn’t as if it had even dawned on her that it was the library that’d she’d entered. The room was all in shadows, lit only by the amber glow of the banked coals in the fireplace. Lucerne took a candle from off the mantle and lit it. Then, he set it down upon the desk where it danced giddily, precisely like her heart.

The dim light favoured him, softened the more angular aspects of his appearance. It painted threads of gold through his flaxen hair too.

“Do you read a lot, my lord?”

“Some.” He gestured to the walls of books around them. They were not, to Bella’s astonishment, all dry dusty tomes on crop rotation and sheep farming. Nestled among such texts were treatises on Ancient Greece, the Orient, and the New World. Then, further along Wollstonecraft and Godwin, and Monk Lewis and Mrs Carver too.

“You have some of my favourites,” she remarked. “Was not Oakendale joyously macabre?”

“Perhaps unnecessarily so. I confess I’ve not much of an appetite for such gruesomeness.”