A Desperate Wager (17 page)

Sarah had to speak to him about his drinking. They had to sort things out. But Nate solved the problem of how to broach the subject. They had lain together, wrapped in each other’s arms after making love for what seemed like hours. She nuzzled into his chest and he stirred, smiling down at her.

“
I should put another log on the fire, then perhaps we could do that again. Assuming you are not in too much pain from the accident.”

“
I would like that,” she muttered languidly. “Then perhaps you can tell me about Crosby.”

“
Crosby?”

“
Yes. You mentioned him this afternoon when you were foxed, and I believe he has something to do with
why
you got foxed.”

“
I refuse to talk about Crosby. It is none of your business.”

His tone brooked no reply
, but she would not be bullied by him because he was in a foul mood. She pushed up onto her elbow and scowled.

“
Nathaniel, I am your wife. If you are going to fall around drunk every time something happens that you do not like, I have a right to know the source of our misery.”

“
’Something I do not like?’ Good God. Sarah, you were almost killed. We both were.”

“
Carriage accidents happen all the time. Was Crosby in a carriage accident?”

He moved from under her, effectively pushing her away
, and stood. He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled on his breeches, stockings and shoes. It seemed he no longer wanted to tumble her again. Damn, why would he not just stay still and talk? Surely that would help.

Suddenly the air around her body felt cold, perhaps because of the shock of his rejection, perhaps the loss of his body heat and perhaps because the fire was dying.

“I need a drink,” he stated. Sarah’s heart seemed to drop into her belly. He was not going to take this well.

He looked to the table where the decanter usually sat.

“I locked away all the spirits.” Her voice was strong.

“
You what?”

“
I locked them away.” She lifted her chin defiantly—unrepentant.

“
Why would you do that?”

“
Because you need to stop drinking.”

Nate pulled on his shirt and glowered at her.

“I think you shall find,
Your Grace
, that I am the master of this house and if I want to get foxed every God-damned night of my life, then I shall bloody well do it.”

“
Stop cursing and let us talk about this sensibly.”

“
As I said, I am the master of this house and I shall bloody well swear if I want to. Duke’s privilege.”

“
Please, Nate.”

“
Please what?”

“
Please come back here and talk. Tell me what bothers you.”

“
You bother me, Sarah. You are the only real problem in my life.” He grabbed up his remaining clothes and headed towards the door.

A haze of red fury surrounded Sarah as she lay naked in front of a dying fire, the bell pull too far away. He was going to leave her for servants to find and clean her up and dress her. She would not allow him to leave her in such an undignified state. He had made a promise on their wedding night that he would not.

“Do not dare leave me here in this state, you arrogant blaggard,” she screamed. She cared not if the servants heard. She just did not want them to find her like this. Tears nipped at her eyes, and her fingers hurt from clenching them.

He turned slowly.

The tears were spilling over her cheeks, and she swiped them away like an annoying fly. “Do not leave me here, naked and cold, my hair a mess and your seed spilling out of me. The servants will have to dress me, clean me, carry me to bed. What if a male servant answers the bell?”

He pushed his hand through his hair and walked slowly back over to her. Without a word, her took his handkerchief and cleaned between her legs, then lifted her shift. Not one word passed between them as he dressed her.
After he’d finished, he pulled on his own waistcoat and coat and lifted her.

How she wanted to throw her arms around him, to call for the housekeeper to bring some brandy. She wanted to tell him everything woul
d be fine and she had just overreacted. But it was for his own good, even if he could not see it at present.

Carrying her out into the hall, they found
Garvie snuffing out all but a few candles to light their way.

“
Bank the fire please, Garvie. Also send Tilly to see to Her Grace, then you can get off to bed. What state is the old master bedroom in?”

“
It is ready to be used except for the dustsheets over the bed, Your Grace.”

“
Good.”

“
There is no fire lit though.”

“
It is not so cold tonight, Garvie. Thank you.”

The butler bowed
, and Nathaniel strode off towards the East Wing. Sarah gripped his neck, mortified and hurt that he had all but announced to the butler that their marriage bed was no more.

When they arrived in their bedchamber
, Nathaniel placed her gently on the bed but scowled ferociously.

“
So you are to leave me here and return to your old room upstairs.”

“
I will not lie with a lady who seeks to control my movements.”

“
Yet I must lie with a drunk who controls mine.”

“
That is entirely different.”

“
Why? Because I am a woman? Or because I am a cripple?”

He studied her for a moment then turned to leave.

“It is impossible to talk sensibly to you when you are in this kind of mood. Good night, Your Grace. I am going to find some spirits and get totally foxed.”

“
You will not find any. We locked away all your flasks and every decanter and bottle.” He stopped, hand resting on the doorknob.

“
I want a drink,” he ground out. She did not answer. He thumped his closed fist against the doorjamb before throwing open the door and slamming it behind him.

“
Good night, Your Grace,” she answered the closed door, her voice dripping with sickly sweet sarcasm. Damn her father for thinking Nathaniel Spencer was good enough for her.

A week was a very long time when one’s husband was upset with one, Sarah mused as she stared out the window of the drawing room, book in one hand but her gaze resting on the private road.

They had been civil to one another, she supposed, but he had visited her in her bedchamber only once. She had felt terrible sending him away but her courses had come. So she was not with child. He had looked vaguely disappointed and she had not been sure if it was the fact she was not carrying his child or the fact that he could not tumble her. She had apologised profusely and he had waved it away as if it was of no consequence—as if she was of no consequence.

But her courses were over. She had informed him, and he had nodded but said nothing. A trundling noise made her pay attention to the road which, hitherto she had not really been watching. A small cart being drawn by a solitary pony was travelling up towards the house. On the cart was a large wooden box. Very large. It must be furniture of some sort.

A middle-aged man in smart but worn clothing pulled the pony to a halt outside the front door. He ordered two footmen to carry the intriguing box inside. Then her husband was standing on the step, paying the driver a few coins, a delivery charge.
The man climbed back on his trap and set off, presumably back to Kirkbourne village.

Five minutes later, a footman entered the room pushing a high
-back upholstered chair. The chair appeared to have wheels underneath and handles on each arm rest. The duke followed the footman in.

“
Your carriage awaits, Your Grace,” said Nathaniel, smiling for the first time in a week. Sarah raised an eyebrow and looked back at the chair. He wanted her to sit on it?

“
It is a chair that moves on wheels?”

“
Yes. This kind have been available for some time, but the cabinetmakers have to make them to order. Their workmanship is exquisite. Only the best for my duchess.” Was he being sarcastic? She could not tell. He seemed genuinely delighted.

“
I have never seen such a thing before.”

“
That is because you do not know many fat old earls with gout, duchess.”

“
It is?”

“
Yes. I must tell you that this piece of furniture is called a gouty chair. It was originally made for fat old earls with gout, but I do believe that it will suit your purposes adequately.”

“
I can move around the house by myself?” Nathaniel had lifted her and was placing her onto the chair. He nodded.

“
Yes, you can. Sadly only the ground floor but in this house, the ground floor is vast.”

Sarah’s eyes filled with tears and she tried to swallow the huge lump in her throat. Nathaniel had been so distant all week that she had feared her marriage, as it had been, was already over. And now he had given her this gift of freedom. She was unable to speak because of the strength of emotion flooding her.

For ten years she had only moved as far as her useless legs would allow her to drag them, or as far as someone else was willing to carry her. She’d had no real independence until now. He was standing beside her, waiting for her to try out the handles and make the thing move, but she could only tug on his coat until he understood what she wanted and kneeled beside her.

Sarah gulped in air as she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. She was vaguely aware of Nate’s tentative attempts to soothe her. His hands slowly wrapping around her, his little shushing noises, the tightening
of his hold and one hand rubbing her neck.

Ten
years of pain and frustration spilled out at that moment. One kind gesture, the magnitude of which he could never understand. This gift of liberty from the prison of her own immobility was more precious than all the jewels in the King’s crown. How could she ever thank him?

Another sob rose in her throat but she tamped it down and sniffed, hoping to regain some of her composure.
She placed a slow, wet kiss on his cheek. Under her lips, the muscles in his face moved as he smiled. After withdrawing, she cupped his face, making him look into her eyes.

“
Oh Nate, you shall never, ever know how much this gift means to me. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart.” She pressed her lips to his before straightening, digging the handkerchief out of her gown pocket and blowing her nose in a very unladylike manner. Then she gave her husband her sunniest smile and began to turn the handles. Freedom—at last.

Nate threw down the report from his Yorkshire estate and sighed. He could settle to nothing worthwhile. His mind wandered, and once again he considered Sarah’s reaction to the gouty chair. He had expected her to like it and to appreciate the mobility it would afford her, but he had not expected tears of joy and for her to cling to him as if he had just saved her life. But then he could not possibly know what it must feel like to be in her situation.

He realised with a start that he had not organised for new leg braces. He had promised she would get better ones
, and he had not carried out that promise. But he hated those damned things. He would take them into Bath to the saddle maker and see what could be done. Perhaps it was time to make that journey they’d had to abandon.

Nate had organised more hands around the stables to look out for any intruders
, but so far there had been nothing. No one could work out who had sneaked into the stables and sawn the carriage wheel or why. And so far there had been no further attempts on either of their lives. But Nate was not keen to start to relax just yet.

A knock sounded at the door
, and he stared at it as he called for the visitor to enter. The door opened slowly and then the sound of the wheels on the wooden floor reached his ears. Sarah.

“
I apologise for disturbing you, Your Grace…”

“
Not at all. Please come in.” He stood as she wound the handles, moving herself and the chair farther into the room. She was flushed with excitement and her eyes sparkled. Nate congratulated himself on his ability to make his wife smile.

“
It is time for afternoon tea. I wondered if I might join you, or if you would like to join me in the drawing room.”

“
We have no visitors. Would you like to have it here?” Her hopeful smile turned to one of relief. Was he such a boor that she was afraid of him? He crossed to the bell pull, and a footman answered carrying a tray of tea and cakes. Sarah had obviously organised it beforehand. The footman bowed and left, and Sarah moved her chair over to the desk to pour the tea. Nate settled himself on the other side of the desk.

Sarah finished pouring and passed him his cup and saucer. He selected a cake and sat back.

“I wanted to apologise for my reaction to the chair. You must have thought I was fit for Bedlam,” Sarah started, her voice tentative and her gaze wary.

“
Not at all. I cannot say I understand how it must feel to be dependent on others to help you move around, but I do have some imagination. I would think that any increase in your own mobility would be cause for celebration.”

“
Oh Nathaniel, it is. And this chair is perfect, even if it was meant for fat old earls.”

“
Well this one was made for a beautiful young duchess.” Sarah’s cheeks reddened, and he felt a rush of something. What in heaven’s name was it? Surely it could not be love. Caring perhaps, or affection. Or maybe it was lust.

It had been a week since he had bedded her, but that luscious red hair haunted him in the wee hours as he tossed and turned in the master bedroom. She was usually writhing under him in the throes of passion, that
certain blissful look on her face just before she reached her release.

O
ccasionally, just as he was about to drift off, he would jerk awake with the sudden vision of her on the roadside, just like Crosby, her red hair tumbling around her and her lifeless eyes staring up at him. He shuddered and shook the thought away. He forced his gaze to her décolletage. Now that was a much better image to have in his head.

When he lifted his gaze back to hers
, she was studying him as if trying to decide the best way to approach him on a topic.

“
I have been thinking about my leg braces,” she started. Nate felt a pang of guilt. He really should have organised replacements by now. “And a few times this week I have tried to stand without them when no one is around. Oh Nate, I am so close. My legs are shaky, but I can just about get myself upright.” The shine of excitement was back in her eyes. Pride, longing and hope radiated from her. God, she was beautiful.

“
It would be easier with help?” She nodded, a look of uncertainty creeping in.

“
I could ask Tilly, but she is shorter than I am and I think it would be too much for her. I could ask a footman, I suppose.”

“
Do you have any idea how envious I become whenever another man carries you anywhere?” His voice was gruff. Jealousy seemed to coil around his soul like a python, eager to squeeze the very life from him. He took a deep breath. She would not be unfaithful to him with a servant. She was not that type of lady. But it did not stop him distrusting any man who required to be so intimate with her.

Sarah scowled at him.
“I… there is sometimes no choice.”

“
I know but it does not stop me feeling that way. No man is going to help you learn to walk…”

“
But Nathaniel!”

“
No man, but me.” He sat back, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

“
Oh! You provoking man!” she cried without any real heat or censure in her tone. She had the sunniest smile in all England, he mused as a rush of blood headed towards his pantaloons. He stood, not trying to hide the effect she had on him. As he rounded the desk, her eyes flitted down to the buttons on his pantaloons and her cheeks flushed again. He pressed his hips forward slightly, making her eyes widen. But it was not maidenly shock that he saw when she lifted her gaze to his.

He tucked a stray auburn curl behind her ear and pressed a kiss to the bridge of her pert little nose.

“You, Freckles, shall be the death of me. But what a wonderful way to go.” He stood, strode to the hearth and pulled the bell rope over the mantel. By the time the footman entered, Nate was back behind his desk, seat drawn in to hide his predicament.

“
Fetch the duchess’s crutches from
our
bedchamber, Wilson. Thank you.” The footman nodded and left.

“
You do realise, of course, that after having to keep my hands off you for a week, they may, uh wander somewhat as we work.”

Sarah moved the handles on her chair
, bringing herself round to his side of the desk. She beckoned him with her finger and he moved to her side, kneeling so he was just slightly lower than her.

“
You have two minutes before Wilson is back.” She opened her mouth slightly and pressed it against his. When she licked his lower lip, he had to hold himself back from pulling her off the chair and onto the floor underneath him.

Sarah curled her fingers into his hair then boldly placed her palm at the front of his pantaloons. He held onto the armrest of the chair, allowing her to lead because if he took control there would be no turning back. Wilson would find them enjoying the pleasures of the marital bed on the floor of his study.

Devil take it, but this woman had a strange influence on him. Every time he touched… nay… every time he looked upon her, he got a strange warming feeling in his chest. He seemed to like his duchess more than was good for him.