Knaves' Wager (23 page)

"For what?" Lilith asked coldly. "It is merely a wager — a foolish one, since he cannot but lose, and I'm sure it's nothing to him to lose a few thousand pounds. Or a horse. Or whatever the… the stake was."

"But to wager on such a thing — a lady's honour — "

"I have my honour still, Rachel. Or perhaps you had doubts?"

There was a flurry of ruffles, and Lady Enders's face turned puce to match them. "Good heavens! How can you say such a thing? The thought never crossed my mind. I should never have mentioned the matter, I am sure, but that you… well…" She hesitated.

Lilith lifted her chin. "Yes?"

"My dear, it is only that you have been quite friendly with him of late."

Lilith made no answer, and Lady Enders plunged on. "I thought it my duty to let you know what sort of friendship he had in mind. Knowing of this matter, naturally you will not wish to continue the acquaintance? We do not know how many others are part of this infamous speculation, or in what manner he is to demonstrate — that is — "

"I understand what it is, Rachel. You need not be anxious. I hope I know how to conduct myself in these — or in any — circumstances."

Lord Brandon arrived, as he'd promised, promptly at a quarter to four o'clock.

He'd scarcely contained his impatience the whole long day, though he found enough to do in ordering up champagne and every sort of delicacy, in seeing the small house in Kensington filled with flowers, in checking the gowns hung in the wardrobe and the lingerie tucked with sachets into drawers. Today, for a few precious, uninterrupted hours, Lilith Davenant would be entirely his, at last.

And at last he was shown into the drawing room. He was not surprised to find her alone. He was surprised to discover she was not dressed to go out. She wore a plain brown frock, and her hair was braided tight about her head. Deep shadows ringed her eyes. As he moved eagerly across the room to her, he saw as well that she'd been weeping. A chill of anxiety ran through him.

"My love," he said, holding out his hands.

She retreated a step. Her white face set into taut lines and her posture stiffened.

"You will not touch me," she said. "You will not say another word. I meet you this once only to tell you our acquaintance is at an end. Henceforth, I do not know you."

The chill clawed at his heart now. "Lilith."

She turned and pulled the bell-rope. "Cawble will show you out. Good day, my lord."

"Lilith! What is this?" He reached for her hands, but she moved back another step and folded them tightly before her.

"This is how you lose a wager, my lord," she said.

He felt the blood rushing to his face.

"Good God," he breathed. "You must…"

The door opened, and Cawble appeared. "Madam?"

"His lordship is leaving, Cawble."

Lord Brandon left quietly enough.

Dismissed.

In a few cold sentences.

So cold, so certain, they'd crushed argument before it could begin, or when he might have begun, came the death-blow. He'd not mistaken the words: "This is how you lose a wager."

Numb, he climbed into his curricle. He stared blankly at the house a moment, then set the horses in motion.

He'd driven on blindly, he knew not how far — a street, a turning, another street — when Sims, his tiger, spoke up.

"My lord, it's that Hobbs. He wants you to stop."

Only then did Lord Brandon take note of the figure running after the curricle, shouting something. The marquess drew the horses to a standstill, threw the ribbons to Sims, and jumped down.

"Beggin' your pardon, my lord, but Susan told me I was to stop you no matter what."

"So you have," said his lordship. "I am at your disposal."

"She told me to tell you Lady Enders was by this morning. Her and my mistress was locked up private most of an hour, and when the missus come out the was — she was — What was it?"

Lord Brandon waited.

"In a taking, I think. What did Susan say? Up in the boughs. That was what Miss Glenwood told her. Up in the boughs like no one ever seen before." He looked up at Lord Brandon's still, hard countenance. "I 'spect she was warning you, my lord, or trying to. But I was down in the kitchen and no way to step out before you come. But Susan said I was to tell you anyhow."

Lord Brandon gazed blankly about him. Lady Enders. That was how Lilith had found out. Lady Enders must have overheard… last night. His fault.. He'd been so impatient to get away, he'd scarcely watched the stairs, let alone the corridor. Anyone might have overheard.

He dropped a few pieces of silver into Hobbs's hand, thanked him, climbed back into the curricle, and headed for the village of Kensington.

When they reached the house, the marquess sent Sims and the curricle away. Neither would be required this evening. He'd already dispatched the other servants, because strangers would have made Lilith uncomfortable.

Julian entered the small, tastefully furnished room where a cold meal had been laid out. The door to the adjoining bedchamber was partly open. He closed it.

He pulled a bottle of champagne from the silver ice bucket, opened it, and filled one crystal goblet.

lilies had been cut into the crystal. Lilies bloomed everywhere, in one form or another — upon the wall coverings and draperies and carpets. There were orchids, as well, because he'd once compared her beauty to orchids, and because she'd worn them in her hair — his gift. The first of many gifts, he'd thought. He would shower his imperious mistress with tributes.

He took his wineglass and walked to the window, where he stood a long while. Evening was hours away, yet black night seemed to be failing already. The heavy clouds had darkened, and rain tapped steadily upon the windowpanes.

She might have been with him now. They might have stood together, watching the rain draw hurried, swirling patterns upon the glass.

He would have appeared to watch the rain, but his glance would steal to her face, to study her proud profile. He would not have heard the pattering beat against the window-panes, only her quiet, cool voice, its cadences rich and smooth, even when animated, when she talked of Derbyshire and her land. Or wistful, as she sometimes was, caught by some bittersweet memory.

He would have made her laugh, perhaps. But he would not have been quite content until he had taken all the pins from her hair. He would not have been altogether easy until she was in his arms. Then he would sweep her into the storm with him, because hers was a passionate spirit, demanding and willful as his own. Not to be broken or bent. Still, he might have possessed it. Even now, all that was Lilith Davenant might have been his.

This is how you lose a wager.

He turned and hurled his wineglass across the room. It struck the mantel and shattered into sparkling shards.

Lost — aye, lost her — and all his own doing.

What had he told Elise? Something about the challenge being irresistible, wasn't it? A challenge merely. The tart had known him better than he knew himself. She'd comprehended quickly enough the extent of his overweening vanity.

That was it. Vanity and one thoughtless moment — and his was a lifetime of such moments — had cost him this one woman he wanted above all others. Wanted, he discovered now, as some blade seemed to twist in his chest, more than anything else in this world.

A few minutes after Mrs. Davenant had left her niece's room, Susan appeared to dress the girl for the evening. She found Miss Glenwood curled up in a chair, her chin resting on her hand and her brow puckered. She looked up at the maid's entrance.

"Oh, Susan, how I wish you and Hobbs had been quicker — though I much doubt it would have helped. It is worse than I thought"

"I was as quick as I could be, Miss Cecily," said the maid. "But Hobbs couldn't get away in time, and if the missus was to get wind — "

"She's got wind of something, and I wish I knew what it was. It must have been dreadful, because she is so miserable, and terribly, terribly confused. Why, she just now said she'd been
neglecting
me. Have you ever heard the like? And such a long lecture about my gentlemen friends. She said it all so kindly and sadly, I didn't have the heart to remind her I already knew all
that
."

"All what, miss?"

Cecily stood up and walked to the wardrobe. "I should like to wear the pink muslin, but tonight we'd better do without the lace."

"Do without? Your aunt'll have my head. You know how she feels about young girls showing their bosoms."

"Yes, and I should not wish to upset her, so I must be late going down, and you must be certain to arrange my wrap very carefully."

The widow's party was unusually late arriving at Lady Violet Porter's rout.

Lord Robert, who'd been elbowed, backed into, and trod on this last hour, was beginning to wonder how he could have been so mad as to come. He had no one to talk to, and he couldn't breathe. He'd have done better to spend the evening pacifying his mistress. Julian had warned that an emotional woman like Elise might so far forget herself as to create scenes at the most inconvenient times.

Then Lord Robert spied Miss Glenwood proceeding slowly up the stairs, her aunt on one side, Sir Thomas on the other. Miss Glenwood met his glance and smiled. Lord Robert promptly began shoving his way through the crowd. He reached the top of the stairs just as the trio did, greeted the widow and the baronet politely, greeted Cecily — took a second look at Cecily — then hastily excused himself.

He was about to plunge back the way he'd come, when he happened to glance back. He saw Mr. Ventcoeur bend over Miss Glenwood's small hand. In the next moment, that hand was tucked into Mr. Ventcoeur's arm.

Lord Robert left the rout.

Indecent was what it was.

What on earth could her aunt have been thinking of, to allow the girl to go about half naked, so that every lout in London could ogle her? And of all the louts to give her arm to, that crude imbecile, Ventcoeur.

Well, if the aunt didn't know better, Lord Robert Downs certainly did. He would give Miss Glenwood a serious talking-to. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow came and went and there was no talking-to, because Lord Robert found no opportunity. The one country dance Miss Glenwood allotted him was hardly conducive to serious conversation. She was winded at the end of it — as was all too evident in the rapid rise and fall of —

At any rate, by the time they'd both caught their breath, her next partner had stepped in to claim her.

The following night was exactly the same.

Consequently, early Monday afternoon, Lord Robert borrowed his cousin's curricle without permission, called at the house, and invited Miss Glenwood to drive with him.

She was very quiet until they reached the Park gates. Then she sighed and said she had something to tell him.

"Yes, well, I have something to tell you, Miss Glenwood," he answered. Before he could lose his courage, he plunged into the sermon he'd rehearsed.

She listened very attentively, then looked at him in a puzzled way. "I don't understand," she said. "When Papa wants to sell a mare, he doesn't cover the poor animal with blankets, but displays her to best advantage. I'm on the market, you know."

"On the what?" he cried.

"To be married. That's why I'm in London, isn't it? That's why all the girls come. And I don't at all understand what's so immodest. Lady Rockridge is quite strict, yet Anne's frocks are much more daring than mine, and no one's shocked. Even my aunt had to admit
that
, though she blushed the whole time. But poor Aunt is so confused."

Lord Robert made no answer. Miss Glenwood was a levelheaded girl, and it was quite true about Anne's frocks — indeed, about most of the gowns to be seen in any Season. All the same, it seemed very wrong for Miss Glenwood to go about in such revealing costumes. She was a child, still. Well, not exactly, but —

There burst into his mind at this moment a vision of a feminine form in breeches, and he grew dizzy.

"It's because they've quarrelled, you know," Cecily continued. "I know it was something dreadful because I heard Aunt Lilith tell Cawble that Lord Brandon was not to be admitted to the house. And your cousin must be just as angry, because he keeps away."

Lord Robert shook himself to attention. His cousin he could talk about articulately.

"Miss Glenwood, I must tell you, Julian would never keep away from anything on account of a woman."

"He was not at Lady Violet's rout Friday, or at Lady Shumway's Saturday, or Lady Greenaway's last night."

"Saturday was Kean's first appearance as Othello," Robert argued. "Naturally, Julian would go."

"For weeks and weeks he's always appeared wherever my aunt is. Yet ever since they quarrelled, we haven't seen him. I expect he's just as miserable as she is, and they're both too proud and stubborn to admit it."

"In that case, they're better off apart, don't you think?"

"How can you say such a thing?" Her blue eyes flashed a reproach. "You know they must marry. Fortunately," she added reassuringly, "I have a plan."

He was so startled he nearly dropped the reins.

"Marry? Each other? Your aunt is
engaged
already."

"Well, she can't many that tiresome, preaching man, can she?"

"Miss Glenwood — "

"You're confusing the horses, Lord Robert. Do call the one on the left to order before takes us into that tree."

Lord Robert drew the carriage to a halt.

"Miss Glenwood — "

"You needn't be anxious. It's a very good plan, and really, quite simple."

At this moment, an enormous grey cloud swallowed up the sun. The heavens darkened, and Lord Robert felt a chill at the base of his skull. "Drat," he said. "It's going to rain."

Miss Glenwood glanced up. "Not for hours," she said.

Sure enough, the cloud moved on and the sun shone brightly again. Nonetheless, Lord Robert felt as though the cloud had settled within him. "Miss Glenwood," he said gently, "you really oughtn't be contriving any plans. It's none of our affair, and even if it were, it wouldn't do any good, because Julian's a hardened bachelor. If they've had row, maybe it's for the best."