A Desperate Wager (5 page)

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Your Grace,” said Sarah as the Duchess of Kirkbourne, Nathaniel’s mother, sat in the chaise next to her. Dinner had been wonderful, the food delicious and the company interesting. Sarah could not remember a time when she had enjoyed herself so much. Why had her father kept her out of society?

“
I am glad you enjoyed it, Lady Sarah. As you can see Kirkbourne house is a wonderful place for entertaining. I suspect the next dinner party hosted here will be hosted by you.”

Sarah felt her heart sink. The duchess was right. She would have to be hostess to Nathaniel’s friends and other aristocrats. A sense of dread seeped through her.

“Your Grace, I do wish to apologise for the rumours that are going around about our betrothal.”

The duchess laughed.

“Oh my dear, if I have learned anything about rumours in my time in the
ton
, it is that if you wait a day or two, another rumour will soon be along take its place.”

“
All the same, I am sorry that Nathaniel was forced into marrying a cripple.”

“
Lady Sarah, Nathaniel does nothing that he does not want to do. He is very stubborn that way. Your infirmity is merely a challenge to him. My son will be your fiercest protector and your greatest champion.”

All the ladies turned as the drawing room doors were opened to herald the arrival of the gentlemen from their port drinking. Nate led them in and headed straight for Sarah.

“Are you all right? Is there anything you need?”

“
Yes, I am fine.”

“
Really Nathaniel, you do me a disservice to suggest I have been such a poor hostess that Lady Sarah has not already been asked if she needs anything or that she would feel that she could not ask for something she needs.” She turned to Sarah. “You would ask, would you not?”

“
Of course. I am no shrinking violet in that respect, Your Grace.”

“
You see, Nathaniel. Stop being a mother hen.”

Nathaniel harrumphed his displeasure then moved over towards the fireplace to join a few men who were discussi
ng business from the House of Lords.

“
I do apologise, Lady Sarah. I should not have interfered but he can be rather an old woman in that respect at times. It is sweet but it can be oppressive. He takes after his father. Another one who was always fussing about my comfort.”

“
I take it Nathaniel does not take after his father in looks. He bears a very strong resemblance to you.” She had noticed it immediately. Nate and his mother shared the same dark colouring and almost olive complexion. She was also elegant in the extreme.

The duchess indicated a painting above the fireplace.

“That is Nathaniel’s father, the thirteenth duke. He has his father’s strong jawline and nose but my eyes.” Sarah nodded as she observed the portly red-haired gentleman, with the ruddy cheeks and long patrician nose, in the painting. He was handsome in his own way, Sarah supposed. “Their colouring may be different, but I doubt my husband could ever have denied his son—so alike were they in temperament. He will make a good husband, My Lady. He just needs a little time to adjust to the idea.”

Sarah hoped that the duchess was correct
. Her own fears were confirmed when a little while later, Nate swayed slightly as he walked back over to them to offer to take Sarah and her father home.

She had noticed the earl coughing a number of times and could now see that he was struggling to hide the fact that he really was rather ill. She nodded, praying that
Nate was sober enough not to drop her.

The
y drove back to her father’s townhouse in silence and he deposited her in the drawing room, barely wishing her goodnight. Then he left.

Why had he not kissed her? Had she been so bad at it the first time around? And what was she to do about his drinking? An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. Her marriage was not going to be plain sailing—of that she had no doubt.

Another week had passed with no visit from His Grace, the Duke of Kirkbourne, and Sarah was beginning to feel rather deserted by her betrothed.

Now she was sitting up in bed, eating toast while reading a missive from him. One might call it an invitation
, but it was more of a command for her to be ready to go to a ball that evening.

A ball indeed.

Had it escaped his notice that she could barely walk, never mind dance? How was he going to get her into and out of the ballroom? Carry her?

Oh the
ton
would love that.

Well at least they were already betrothed. Had they not been, a marriage would have to be imminent after he had carried her into a ballroom full of people, his hands all over her. It was completely inappropriate.

Of course, he had already carried her around his house, out to his carriage a number of times and even into her bedchamber. It seemed as if propriety was not to be part of their relationship given her situation. Damn her useless legs and broken back. Damn that stupid horse. Damn her stupidity for trying to jump a fence for which the horse was not ready. Perhaps if she had not been so foolish, she would have found a match herself. One just like Nate. Handsome and proud. She could have danced at him with balls and gone riding together on their country estate. Perhaps Nate would have wanted her and would have chosen her of his own free will rather than being forced into a loveless marriage.

Nate arrived at Brackingham House just before nine o’clock. He was on edge and he did not like it one little bit. He felt as if he was going to his first ball—all youthful hope of finding a pretty girl to dance with and full of a desperate desire to be accepted in the card room by men drinking whisky and brandy.

The butler invited him in and led him to the drawing room before announcing him. He thanked the servant and walked into the tastefully decorated room. Sitting on a light blue chaise, dressed in a white silk dress, her red tresses swept up into an elegant coiffure was his bride-to-be. Warmth flooded his belly
. To prevent the warmth from spreading lower, he had to consider some problems with drainage on home farm that he had been informed about that morning. Was this her first ball? Would this be, in essence, her come-out ball?

“
Your Grace,” she said simply, bowing her head in deference to his status.

“
My Lady,” He bowed deep, in the hope of getting further control over his treacherous body. Really, it was imperative that he find another argument to convince some of the stuffier peers to consider voting reform. Damn his lustful thoughts.

“
I am unsure why you commanded me to be ready to accompany you to a ball. I cannot dance.”

“
And there I was, ready to sign my name to the first set of country dances on your dance card, My Lady.” His tone was sarcastic. He could not help himself. Her censure was evident from her tone.

“
Alas, I must decline, Your Grace.”

“
Are you refusing to go to the ball? You appear to be dressed in a ball gown. My mother is waiting in the carriage to chaperone us.”

“
You commanded that I be ready. If I am to vow to obey you, I should start practicing now.”

“
I did not command.”

“
Your tone brooked no refusal, Your Grace.”

“
Stop calling me ‘Your Grace.’ Going to a ball is about more than dancing. It is about meeting people and making acquaintances and forging suitable friendships. I spoke to Lady Abernethy, and she has arranged a small area of seating to be set aside for you and my mother and anyone who joins you.”

“
Oh how nice. Instead of being in the wallflower corner, I shall be in the cripple corner.”

“
What? I am trying to be helpful. Is the wallflower corner where you normally stand—or sit—at balls?”

“
I do not normally attend balls.”

“
Never?”

She shook her head and
gazed at her hands in her lap. He had a feeling she was trying to hide a desire to cry. “This will be my first ball.” Her voice cracked slightly, and he could have kicked himself. He could be such an oaf at times.

He ran a hand through his hair and studied her for a moment before moving towards her and kneeling down. Lifting her chin and acknowledging the shining tears in her eyes, he felt like an idiot.

“I did not know and therefore I am sorry. I did not realise this would be difficult for you.”

“
You shall have to carry me in. It shall be terribly inappropriate.”

“
The worst the
ton
could do is cause such a scandal that we had to marry, and we are already planning to marry. I care not what gossiping idle women think. I care that you are comfortable. If it is too much for you, then I can send our apologies and take my mother home. But going to balls will be something that we must do once we are married. We shall even have to host one or two.”

She bit her lower lip—her small teeth turning the luscious pinkness white. Her eyes darted as she studied him
, and he did his best to convey a desire to do what was best for her.

“
Then we shall go,” she said, lifting her chin slightly. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and crush her to him and tell her all would be well. He pressed his lips to her temple and stood. “Ring the bell and the butler shall bring my pelisse, reticule and bonnet.” He did so and the items duly arrived. Sarah stayed seated while the butler helped her into the outer garment.

Nate lifted her
, and she wrapped her gloved arms around his neck. She smelled delightful and felt so warm. He wondered how much feeling she had below the waist. Could he give her pleasure in the marriage bed? He would have to think on such things later. He may even have to conduct an uncomfortably frank conversation with her in preparation of their wedding night. But now was not the time. Tonight he needed to show the
ton
that the sweet Lady Sarah Steele was ready to become a duchess. Better not to antagonise the sharp-tongued hoyden part of her character—the part of her character that aroused him beyond belief.

When he lifted her out of the carriage, she smiled weakly at him, feeling cold tendrils of dread clutch around her heart. But she had made her decision. She needed to be out in society if she was going to be a duchess.

A footman carried her crutches. Once they arrived at the receiving line, Nathaniel lowered her to the ground and she took hold of her crutches. Her pelisse and bonnet were dispensed with in quick measure. Sarah had asked that she might greet their host and hostess on her own two feet and he had readily agreed. A number of people in the queue to enter the ball ushered her ahead of them.

“Thank you,” she said, apologetically, feeling as though she was putting everyone out terribly.

“
Not at all, Lady Sarah,” an affable young gentleman said. “It is a pleasure to see you here.” She waited for the mutterings of distaste at Nate carrying her into the foyer initially, but she only detected one rather high-pitched grumble. Soon they were at the front of the queue.

“
Your Graces, Lady Sarah, it is a pleasure to have you here. There are seats set out near the refreshment table for you. Please do not hesitate to let a servant or one of the family know if there is anything you need.”

“
I do appreciate it, Lady Abernethy. And may I say that you have a beautiful home.”

“
Oh thank you, Lady Sarah. Your Grace—” She looked past Sarah to the duchess, “—I hope to have a chance to speak to you later in the evening.”

“
I look forward to it.” They moved slowly on.

“
Would you prefer to walk or would you like carried into the ballroom?” Nate asked. She could see a couple of stairs between them and the ballroom. At this rate it would be midnight before she got to her seat.

She hesitated. There would be so many people inside the ballroom
, and they would all watch her being carried in. She swallowed hard just as he slipped an arm around her and under her arm, before passing one then the other crutch to his mother. His other hand was scooping her off her feet and she clung to him.

“
Nathaniel?” she breathed.

“
They may look and they may gossip, Freckles, but they cannot hurt you. You will be the Duchess of Kirkbourne in one week, and any scandal that arises from you being carried into a ballroom shall disappear with your new title.”

Of course, he was correct. Titles were all that counted in the
ton.
Even reputations could be mended with a good marriage. She nodded and he strode forth, his mother at his side carrying her crutches. Should a servant not carry them? When a passing servant offered to take them, the duchess thanked him but refused.

Heads turned and murmurs began as Nathaniel cleared the ballroom doors and turned towards the refreshment tables. Heat flamed in Sarah’s cheeks
, but she smiled at those who caught her eye and a few people nodded a greeting to them, while a few ladies fanned their faces at the outrage.

She looked up at Nate, whose stony countenance seemed to frighten those close by. It was almost as if he was daring anyone to say anything and suffer the consequences he would surely mete out.

Of course, they thought Sarah should not be allowed out in society because walking was difficult for her. Some probably thought she should be in an institution. Perhaps even Bedlam, though there was nothing wrong with her mind.

Then Nathaniel was placing her gently on a seat, the duchess sat beside her and she was surrounded by well-wishers. She smiled at each
, and conversation started to flow. The initial surprise at her being carried in seemed to have faded and now friends and acquaintances stopped by to converse on their way to or from the refreshment table.

The music was wonderful
, and the Duchess of Kirkbourne was very attentive. Music was one of Sarah’s particular passions, and she rarely got the chance to hear any though she did occasionally play her father’s old pianoforte.

Nathaniel approached a number of times to ask if she needed anything. His attentiveness was sweet
, though she suspected the duchess expected nothing less of her son.

Sarah watched people dancing and sighed. She would love to have danced. A waltz would be her dream-come-true. The ladies looked as if they glided on air and the gentlemen swirled them, strong and virile and completely in charge. Would Nathaniel regret never being able to dance with his wife? And what about the marriage bed? Would her inability to move her lower limbs and the reduced feeling from her waist down to her mid
-thighs cause problems? Her cheeks flamed as she thought on such things. It looked as if they were going to have to talk before the wedding day, and it was going to be very uncomfortable.

A while after their arrival, Sarah glanced out over the ballroom, spotting Nathaniel. He seemed to be in deep conversation with an earnest and rather angry young fellow. The duke held his hands up is a gesture of submission. Why would Nathaniel be so submissive to someone who must be his social inferior? Why did he look so perplexed? And why were the young man’s hands balled into fists
?

“
You Grace, who is that young gentleman speaking to the duke?”

The duchess raised her head and followed Sarah’s gesture.

“Oh dear. That is Crosby. Excuse me.”

Then Nathaniel’s mother stood and hurried gracefully over to her son. When he realised she was there, the look on both his and Crosby’s faces changed immediately to affability. Crosby bowed low to the duchess then glanced over at Sarah and smiled.