Page 64 of A Gentleman's Wager

Louisa screwed up her face in thought. “Oh, let me get this right. He said, ‘She’s probably in the stables with the other horse’. Bella, what other horse?”

“Bastard,” Bella growled under her breath. “Not horse, Louisa. He was saying… Oh, never mind. How dare he?”

“Curiously, that’s precisely what Lord Marlinscar said. He told him to get out of his sight with his vile slander, and I think there was probably more, but they’d moved into the corridor by then, and I couldn’t quite hear. They both sounded very angry though. Why is everyone falling out with one another? You don’t think Pennerley will leave Lauwine too, do you?”

“No,” Bella retorted. She didn’t. He’d stay purely to vex her. “What happened then?”

Louisa pulled her needle to the end of its thread, then snipped away the excess. “They both went off somewhere. I’ve not seen them in hours. Why does Pennerley dislike you so, Bella?”

“I don’t know, Louisa. He probably thinks I’m not good enough for his friend.”

“But that’s nonsense.”

“I imagine he thinks Lucerne should marry someone with a title.” Himself, in fact. Not that such a thing was in any way possible.

Louisa pulled her down onto the settee and leaned into her. “Do you think Lucerne will ask you, Bella? How grand it would be if we were both to become betrothed to men who are such good friends. We’d be able to see one another all the time. That’s assuming that Freddy and Lord Marlinscar make up of course. They will, don’t you think?” She clasped her hands together and lodged them beneath her chin. “They must come back soon, and all will be well, surely.”

“I expect so,” Bella sighed. She needed her brother to return so that Lucerne stopped feeling obliged to be on his best behaviour and could get back to his rakish ways. Otherwise, she might very well lose her chance with him, especially if he was disposed towards indulging Pennerley’s sodomitical fancies. “Anyway.” She stood. “I think perhaps I ought to get changed.”

“Oh, yes, do.” Louisa quickly nodded her head. “You do smell awful fusty.”

Bella made it only a couple of yards along the corridor before being waylaid by Lucerne’s valet.

“My lord wishes to speak with you,” he said in his thick Italian accent. “He bids me to bring you to his sitting room.”

“Oh.” Would it be best if she changed first, and freshened up a little? Only, Ivo’s position blocked the route to her room, and he showed no inclination to depart. Perhaps he did mean right away.

“Lead on.” Lucerne would have to take her in her thoroughly sodden and bedraggled state.

Lucerne’s quarters lay in the depths of the east wing, far away from all his guests. Curious that he should choose such isolation, or not curious at all if what she suspected was occurring between him and Pennerley was fact.

That was speculation, of course. She had only Pennerley’s words and a single kiss as the basis for her assumptions, and the latter might have meant nothing at all.

The air was chillier in this part of the building. Ivo passed along the corridors ahead of her like a spectre, a candelabra clutched tight within his fist. Here the ancient, hand-painted Chinese wallpaper curled away from the walls, revealing patches of Tudor wattle and daub. Mouse droppings sat collected in the corners mixed with balls of dust. Clearly, Lucerne hadn’t been able to undo all the neglect to Lauwine wrought by it standing empty so long. At least, not yet.

Lucerne had his back to her when she entered his sitting room, Ivo having gone in first and announced her. “You wished to see me.”

He latched the window, then turned. “I nearly sent a search party out for you. I feared the worst and had already begun composing hideous explanatory letters to your brother in my head trying to account for how after a mere few days I’d failed so comprehensively to care for you.”

Such fuss over nothing. Joshua would not have fretted so over her being out in wild weather. “I’ve been no further than the garden. I was never in any danger.”

A loud clap of thunder drowned out her words, followed almost instantly by a bright white flash of lightning.

“What was that?”

“I said I was quite safe in the folly.”

“Taking yourself outdoors in the rain was folly.”

She might have reminded him he’d done the very same but two days ago after his fight with Wakefield.

“Standing there shivering in wet clothes is folly. Why the devil haven’t you changed? Dammit, having you here at all is the definition of foolishness. Rushdale should not have left you. He shouldn’t have asked.” He raised his hands as he spoke, their position climbing along with the volume of his voice. “You’d better come and sit by the fire.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed, hurriedly doing so. Every part of her was damp and chilled, and Louisa was right, she smelled like a mop-head left to fester in a damp pantry. Pennerley would laugh uproariously if he saw or smelled her, assured of his victory.

Lucerne wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, then he pressed the back of his hand to her brow. “No obvious temperature. That’s good.”

“I was going to get cleaned up, but then your valet waylaid me. Truly, I’m perfectly fine. I don’t melt in the rain. I need only a change of clothes.”