Page 8 of A Gentleman's Wager

Lucerne swallowed hard. A certain part of him was in rather dire need of adjusting. “I suppose it’s fair to say I’ve been lax in my custodianship, though in my defence, Lauwine has only belonged to me these last three years.”

“I thought it had been the province of the Viscount Marlinscars for generations.”

True, though he couldn’t have told her where it even stood a few months ago.

“Three years ago, is when I assumed the title.”

Bella hopped off the swing while it was still in motion, forcing him to catch her as she landed. Well, not forcing him per se. He was sure she’d have landed agilely as a cat.

“So recently? I thought the old viscount died many years—” She resumed her hold of his arm.

“Correct.” Lucerne cleared his throat. “Some fifteen years ago, in fact. The viscountcy then passed through my brothers, before reaching me.”

Bella put her hand to her mouth. “Brothers, plural? I am sorry to hear that, and for your losses. I had no idea—”

“It’s quite all right, you weren’t to know. It’s hardly typical for a fourth son to inherit.”

“Exceedingly rare, I imagine.” She cocked her head to look at him, while they continued to amble through the garden. “What is it a fourth son is supposed to do? The firstborn is heir apparent, the second for the military, the third the clergy...”

“Marry well,” he suggested. He’d never felt remotely impoverished, his brothers had been generous with funds, but one supposed that would have changed over time, if they’d had families of their own to support, and daughters to provide dowries for. “Write the odd political speech or stanza to beauty.”

“You’re a poet, then?”

“Good lord, no. I leave that sort of thing to more able fellows such as Mr Aubury, whom I think you know.”

Much of the warmth fell from her face. “Yes. He’s one of the few local squires my brother hasn’t yet attempted to engage me to, though I should imagine it’s only a matter of time.”

“Of course, every good brother desires a—” He stopped, seeing her spirit wilting before him. “You don’t seek to be married?”

Bella sighed. “It’s more that I don’t seek to be wed to a bumpkin or a buffoon. Offers from outside those quarters I’ll consider on individual merit.” Their gazes locked. Her eyes were twinkling blue. A dimple winked mischievously in her left cheek. Was she actually propositioning him?

“As it happens, I’ve no mind to marry a ninny or a natterer, so I entirely see your point of view.”

She dug her teeth into her plump lower lip. “The local mamas will be very disappointed to hear that.”

“I find mamas are so frequently disappointed with things its best not to worry overly much about it.”

“Is yours?”

“Alas, no. Long in her grave. God bless her soul. I’m quite alone in the world.”

“That’s dreadful. I at least have Joshua, and he’s a good brother for all his notions about my future. Though, of course, you are not friendless.”

“No, indeed.” Both their gazes turned in Wakefield’s direction. He and Miss Stanley were seated beneath a small wooden arbour smothered in sweet peas and curling honeysuckle. They were gazing adoringly at one another, in far too open a fashion for Lucerne not to remark upon the fact. “I had wondered why he was so keen to join me on this visit. I did not realise that your guest was the lady whose acquaintance he’d made on the journey here.”

“He spoke to you of Louisa?”

“Regaled me at length. She—”

“Made no mention of him at all.”

“Ah! Well, that is probably best. He’s penniless,” he said, knowing that message would pass from Bella to her friend, and perhaps put an end to what was certainly an untenable infatuation on Wakefield’s part. What was the fool thinking? As if he hadn’t pressures enough on his finances, without risking an entanglement with a young lady of a standing far superior to his own.

“Louisa has plenty of money. She inherited her brother’s estate, and he from their parents and two wealthy uncles. The Stanley’s are very well—”

Lucerne stilled. “Is that so.” He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip, anticipating the bite of words upon them later. Did the rogue know that, or was he just mooncalfing? “Wakefield’s father left him extensive debts, and four sisters to support upon a captain’s salary.”

“You think him after her money?”