A Wager for Love Page 4

  that she was in truth a member of the Quality no less. With one shrivelling glare at the dejected footman, he addressed himself to Lavinia in measured tones. "Ahem. Can I help you, Miss . . .?"

  Holding her head high, Lavinia eyed him coolly. "Miss Davenham. And yes, you may. I wish to see your Master, the heir to the Earl of Saltaire."

  "I beg your pardon, Miss Davenham, but . . ."

  Lavinia cut in angrily. "No excuses I beg you. I wish to see your Master, and I shall not leave until I do. You may tell him that I am the sister of Lord Arnedale."

  This last comment was delivered in tones of dire warning, and it brought a worried frown to the butler's face. However, this was completely wasted on Miss Davenham, for she had turned from the butler and was making a passable pretence of examining the portraits adorning the walls. The butler sighed heavily, ushering Lavinia into the small salon. Closing the door, he started to mount the stairs, a look of pained resignation on his face. Trouble was brewing—he knew it in his bones.

  * * *

  Upstairs in his bedchamber, the object of Lavinia’s visit was seated in front of a small cheval mirror, long legs asprawl. His valet leaned forward, fussed over the fit of the clocked hose his Master had on, and then stepped back, waiting anxiously. For a second both gentlemen considered the effect of pale blue small clothes with a coat of dark blue velvet, lavishly embellished with a quantity of the finest Mechlin lace.

  "Yes, I think it will do. Perhaps the sapphire ring, and the matching pin. What think you?"

  The valet expelled his breath on a relieved sigh. My Lord might be an exacting Master, prone to sharp words and cutting remarks, but at least he was a credit to him. Not for My Lord the necessity of padded calves or shoulders, stiff with buckram wadding. It was true that his dress could be a little careless, his dislike of powdering most frustrating, but . . .

  His Master’s cool voice broke in upon his thoughts. "This lace, Fairmile, I really don’t think . . ." The words the Earl was about to utter were lost for ever as the butler knocked and entered. For once his air of implacable calm appeared to have deserted him. One might even have been forgiven for thinking him a trifle distraught.

  "My Lord, there is a young lady downstairs asking for you."

  For a second there was complete silence, and then when he did speak it was so quietly that it was difficult to understand why both the valet and the butler should blench so.

  "Of course you denied me, Thompson?,’ he asked smoothly.

  The unhappy Thompson shook his head apologetically. “I’m afraid the young lady was most insistent. She refuses to leave until she has had speech with you."

  The other's voice hardened a fraction. "You will return downstairs at once and remove this person from the house. Do I make myself clear?"

  The butler was beginning to look extremely flustered. "I think there may have been a mistake, My Lord."

  "Indeed there has, Thompson. A very unfortunate mistake‑for you," drawled the Earl suavely.

  The butler cleared his throat nervously. "No, My Lord, you don’t quite understand."

  The other’s eyebrows rose. "You astonish me, Thompson, I had always believed my understanding to be of a most superior order."

  The butler licked his lips. "Forgive me, My Lord, I was referring to the young lady. She told me she wished to see the heir to the Earl of Saltaire."

  The Earl appeared totally engrossed in the sapphire ring he was placing on his finger. He barely looked up. "Did she so," he drawled. "Perhaps you would care to explain to me then what she is doing here? To the best of my knowledge, my cousin still resides in Half Moon Street

  ."

  There was a brief and painful haitus, during which the butler consigned Miss Davenham to an unmentionable and painful fate. At last the unhappy Thompson offered defensively, "She was most determined, My Lord. She wouldn’t listen

  when I tried to tell her . . ."

  "Indeed?" The Earl’s lips thinned ominously. "Well, you may tell Miss ...?”

  "Miss Davenham," supplied the butler helpfully. "She said she was the sister of a Lord Arnedale."

  The smile which curved the Earl’s mouth on hearing these words was totally devoid of warmth. In fact it was distinctly unpleasant. His eyes rested speculatively on his butler, and the look in them made that gentleman feel extremely unhappy. "You begin to interest me, Thompson. You may tell the young lady," he paused slightly over the last word, "that I shall be with her shortly."

  The butler, thus dismissed, withdrew quietly.

  "Now, Fairmile, where were we? Ah yes‑the sapphires."

  * * *

  A good fifty minutes later, fuming with embarrassment and temper, Lavinia paced the floor ofthe room. She had examined the paintings a score of times, sat in every chair the room possessed and admired the view from the windows, but none of these admirable pursuits had served to lessen her fury one whit. She heard footsteps outside the door and swung round, hands at her sides, to prevent them from trembling. The door opened and Lavinia stared in disbelief. Her speech, so carefully rehearsed, and which until that moment had been occupying her every thought, forgotten. This tall, dark man with his lean, arrogant features and air of careless grace was not what she had expected at all. She watched him cross the room, a little warily. He leaned negligently against the mantle, his hooded eyes regarding her with insulting amusement. Try as she might, she could not prevent the colour rushing to her cheeks. For a second the strange, glittering eyes rested on her red-gold ringlets and wide, grey eyes, noting her discomfort sardonically.

  "Tell me, do you make a habit of calling on gentlemen unescorted?" he asked mockingly. "Or am I especially favoured? I seem to recollect some talk of your brother bringing you to London to find you a husband. Surely he cannot have suggested me?"

  Lavinia could only stare, speechless with rage. "How dare you. I had thought you merely to be a cheater of green young boys, but now I see I was mistaken. You are an arrogant coxcombe as well," she flung at him, hands clenched and eyes flashing.

  A grim smile crossed the harsh features of the man. "Most effecting," he sneered. "but it still does not answer my question. What are you doing here? Not purely a social call, I apprehend . . ."

  He watched her carefully from beneath lowered lids, whilst Lavinia, battling with pride and temper, said haughtily, "It is a matter of my brother's debts to you. I have come to redeem his notes of hand."

  He glanced thoughtfully at her, without evincing any surprise. "Your brother you say. That would be Lord Arnedale?"

  Lavinia was fast losing her somewhat precarious control of her feelings. "You mean there are others?" Then in a different tone, she continued. "Naturally I mean my brother Lord Arnedale. I should have thought you would have no difficulty in remembering him, Sir, especially since he made you the richer by a considerable sum last night."

  "Indeed, a considerable sum," murmured the Earl. "As yet unpaid, and you say you have come to redeem the puppy’s vowels. Tell me, do you keep the boy in leading string?"

  Casting caution aside, Lavinia took a deep breath. "I beg leave to inform you, Sir, that I find your manner most objectionable. You are insufferable."

  "So I understand," agreed the Earl, a gleam in his eyes, "however, much though it pains me to say this, and to a lady, too, your opinion of me is totally irrelevant to our discussion. We were, I believe, discussing your foolish young brother’s gaming debts. Tell me, my dear, do you always busy yourself so much about your brother’s business? Can it be that you are his guardian, or some such thing?"

  Lavinia bit her lip vexedly. There was no mistaking the irony in the man’s voice. Honesty compelled her to answer, "No. Well at least . . ." ·

  "You are worried lest the boy lose his fortune?" offered the Earl helpfully.

  Lavinia looked down at the floor. The discussion was taking a direction she disliked exceedingly. Looking up and finding the Earl’s eyes resting mockingly on her, she burst out, "Richard does not have a fortune.
That is why . . ." she broke off. The perceptive green eyes continued to regard her consideringly for a second.

  "I see, no fortune you say. Yet he was gambling at White's, and for very high stakes, unless I am mistaken."

  "And you are never mistaken?" she returned spiritedly.

  "I try not to be," confirmed the Earl gravely.

  Lavinia tried to hide her agitation. The interview was not proceeding as she had planned. By rights, the man standing so calmly in front of her should have been reduced, if not to abject remorse, then at least to a proper realisation of the wickedness of his actions, instead of which, far from being brought to any true appreciation of the dishonourable nature of his behaviour, Lavinia had the distinct impression that he was toying with her, like a cat with a mouse.

  "Well?" prompted the Earl, breaking in on these uneasy thoughts.

  "Yes," replied Lavinia stiffly, "l believe the stakes were high. Richard did not realise . . . that is . . ." she started to flounder a little.

  "What you are trying to say," cut in the Earl, "is that Richard was too befuddled with wine to know what he was doing."

  Unwilling to acknowledge the truth of this statement, Lavinia struggled valorously to make a recovery. "He is but a boy . . ."

  ". . . and without a penny to his name?,’ queried the Earl softly.

  Lavinia frowned. This was getting on dangerous ground; she had little desire to admit that Richard had in fact very little money. "Naturally my brother has his estates. I would not consider him to be penniless precisely," she replied loftily.

  "But certainly not plump enough in the pocket to meet debts of seventy thousand guineas," drawled her tormentor. "So where does the money come from?"

  "I cannot see what possible business that is of yours," responded Lavinia hotly. "I have here a draft for the amount, surely that is all that concerns you?"

  "Oh but, my dear, that is where you are sadly wrong. Why, you could have done all manner of foolish things. Pawned your mother's jewellery. Held up the London Mail!"

  At this she eyed him a trifle suspiciously. "The money is my own." Despite her intentions, her voice was slightly muffled. "I have recently come into it."

  "Ah, I see," breathed the Earl. "You are an heiress and doubtless possessed of a fortune, of which this seventy thousand guineas is only a part?"

  "That can scarce be any business of yours, Sir," rejoined Lavinia tartly, instantly regretting her words as the green eyes narrowed unpleasantly.

  "I surmise I am correct," continued the Earl, ignoring her words, his eyes fixed on her face.

  Somehow‑she did not really know why‑Lavinia felt compelled to answer, however unwillingly. "Well, yes . . ."

  For a moment the Earl stood with his back to her, a small secret smile curving his mouth, and Lavinia was aware of a strange portentous silence. "So, you are an heiress and have come to redeem your brother’s debts. Truly a good sister. I do hope the boy is suitably grateful?"

  Lavinia pressed her lips together firmly, determined not to be drawn, but she could not prevent the delicate colour flooding her cheeks.

  "There are, of course, many ways in which debts can be paid," mused the Earl. "It could be that I should prefer another form of settlement."

  "Another form?" queried Lavinia uneasily, genuinely puzzled by his strange words.

  The Earl smiled thinly. "It would be most unfortunate if it were to get out that your brother had to depend on you to pay his debts." He shook his head. "For a man not to honour his obligations . . ."

  "But you shall be paid,,' whispered Lavinia, bewildered. "See, I have the draft here." Hurriedly she fumbled with the clasp of her reticule, but the Earl’s words stilled her hands.

  "And I have told you, the payment I shall ask of you is not money."

  Lavinia became aware of a certain dryness in her mouth, "Wwwwhat, is it then?,’ she stammered.

  "I have it in mind to get me a wife," murmured the Earl, his eyes resting on her for a moment.

  "A wife," repeated Lavinia, unable to tear her gaze away from his, "but what has that to do with Richards debts?"

  The Earl crossed the narrow strip of floor between them. "Only this, Miss Davenham. I need a wife, and it occurs to me that you fulfil all my specifications."

  After one brief look at his face, Lavinia stood frozen to the spot. So unnerved was she, that she found herself completely unable to enquire exactly what the Earl’s specifications were. Obviously the man was mad. He should be locked up in Bedlam. Despite her fear she managed to say quite firmly. "I’m sorry, I could not marry you."

  "Oh, but I think you will. You see, my dear, unless you do I very much regret that I shall not be able to consider your brother’s debts paid."

  Horrified, Lavinia took a step back. "But we don’t even know one another. I don’t even like you."

  Even this paralysing honesty did not seem to have any effect on the Earl. He merely paused in the act of taking a pinch of snuff to eye her a little sardonically. "Like," he scoffed, "does that matter? It is a wife I want not a mistress."

  His bored tones made Lavinia feel extremely gauche as, struggling to regain her composure, she declared stoutly, "Well, I shall not marry you, and that is an end to the matter."

  The green eyes darkened and there was a certain something in their depths that made Lavinia shiver a little. The Earl stepped forward, and then checked as the door opened.

  "Ah, Gilles, there you are."

  The newcomer, unable to see Lavinia who was standing to one side of the door, sounded normal enough, she decided with relief, as Lord Ware hurried into the room.

  Seeing that the Earl’s attention was distracted, Lavinia pulled her cloak firmly round herself, darted forward, flung the draft down onto a small desk, and before anyone could stop her, rushed from the room, carefully keeping her face averted from the newcomer. If this tale were to get round town, it would mean social ruin. She shuddered. At least she had escaped.

  Meanwhile, Lord Ware was facing his furious friend. "Lud, Gilles, who was that? A pretty piece and no mistake, but it isn't like you to have them here."

  The EarI’s mouth set in a hard line. "You will oblige me by forgetting that you have ever seen that young lady."

  Lord Ware shrugged. “If you wish it, but tell me, who is she?"

  The Earl smiled. "That I cannot tell you, at least not yet. By the way, Ware, I think I recall that Lady Fitzallen gives a rout patty tonight."

  "Aye," nodded Ware gloomily. "The whole ton will be there. It will be a sad crush."

  "Yes, I thought so," said the Earl in a satisfied tone.

  Lord Ware turned a startled expression on his face. "You surely aren't thinking of going, Gilles? Why, the last time I saw Lady Fitzallen she was swearing she would never speak to you again, something about a niece of hers."

  "I trust I shan’t have too much difficulty in persuading the lady she was, er misguided," replied the Earl laconically. "Still, I don’t think I shall be required to use such drastic measures."

  "Drastic measures‑what the devil are you talking about, Gilles? I don't understand."

  Saltaire smiled a little at the plaintive tone of his friend's voice. "All will be revealed in due time, Ware‑never fear."

  With that Lord Ware had to be content, for it was plain that the Earl would say nothing more on the subject. Even had he been privileged to see the Earl, shortly after he took his leave of him, placing the draft into his desk, writing a short note, sanding it, and then giving it to a liveried flunkey with an unpleasant smile, with the instruction to "see that this reaches my cousin, Ordley, at once‑there will be no reply," it is doubtful whether he would have been any the wiser.

  * * *

  Lavinia retraced her steps back to Lady Elizabeth's oblivious of the stares of passers-by, her thoughts in a whirl. The man must surely be deranged. There could be no other explanation for his behaviour. Regaining her cousin's house at length. she walked slowly through the hall and started to mount the stairs.


  "Ah. Lavinia. there you are. You naughty girl, you have been a positive age. I declare I had begun to think you lost."

  Lavinia stopped, one foot poised on the first stair, as her cousin came hurrying towards her. Lavinia sighed, "I’m sorry. cousin. I . . ."

  "Why. Lavinia. whatever is amiss?" asked her cousin in tones of lively dismay. "You look so pale." She clamped her hand to her mouth. a dreadful thought seizing her. "Never say there has been a mistake. Your grandmother has left her money to that wretched uncle of yours after all."

  Lavinia shook her head unhappily, biting her lip. All at once she was consumed with an overwhelming desire to confide in someone. Speaking slowly, her voice hesitant, and keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the floor she began. "It is nothing like that. Elizabeth, I assure you. Indeed, my grandmother’s fortune was far larger than I had dreamed."