Lady's Wager (13 page)

Lord Woodcliff flashed a wicked smile then turned to Mr.
Taylor. “Sir, are you familiar with this portrait?”

Charlotte stiffened, aware of people stopping their
conversations to listen. She hadn’t expected Lord Woodcliff to make the matter
this public. It risked someone discovering the wager and causing a scandal.

“I am,” Mr. Taylor replied. “I’m the one who arranged the sitting
with Mr. Gainsborough.”

“What need do you have for Mr. Taylor’s expertise?” Lady
Redding called, her interest piqued.

“It’s nothing, just a small debate between the two of us,”
Charlotte hurried in an effort to remove the lady’s attention from the
conversation. It was a fruitless attempt for Lord Woodcliff would not be
deterred.

“Miss Stuart believes the portrait was painted during Mr.
Gainsborough’s Rubens phase. I say it was during his Van Dyke phase. We’re both
very certain of our opinion so only Mr. Taylor’s expertise can settle the
matter.”

They looked to Mr. Taylor who rose slowly and
deliberately, all too happy to command the attention of the room as everyone
listened, waiting for his answer. Charlotte wasn’t so excited, especially with
Aunt Mary fluttering her fan nervously in front of her face and making her
curls bob. Charlotte silently cursed her stubborn pride. Once again it was
causing her a world of trouble.

“Miss Stuart,” Mr. Taylor began and she laced her hands in
front of her and settled her shoulders, convinced victory was only a moment
away, “I’m afraid the gentleman is right. The portrait was painted under the
influence of Van Dyke.”

She was wrong. How could she have been wrong? Surely the
wager was fixed. If she were a gentleman, she’d call Lord Woodcliff out but as
a lady, she could only stand still against the desire to run from the room, out
of London and all the way back to Paris. Surely the quagmire of living beneath
Napoleon was preferable to the one she’d just tripped into.

“I’ll speak with your uncle about settling the debt
tomorrow,” he whispered, his low voice as unnerving as the situation she now
found herself in.

“Yes, please, for I’m sure he’ll have much to say on the
matter.”

With any luck he’d object to the strange proposal. He had
to, didn’t he?

“Let us have a quadrille,” Lady Redding announced. A
slender woman took a seat at the piano and started to play as the younger
guests begin to form up the dance. “Miss Stuart, will you and Lord Woodcliff
lead?”

Charlotte moved to decline but Lord Woodcliff spoke first.

“It would be our pleasure.”

He took her hand and she followed him in a haze to their
position on the dance floor. As the music played, the couples whirled through
the steps, and it was all Charlotte could do to keep up or not appear as though
she were attending a wake. What had she done? What would her aunt and uncle
say? A scandal was sure to ensue for she couldn’t marry Lord Woodcliff,
especially under such circumstances. She should have been more reserved like
Aunt Mary always advised, then she never would’ve gotten herself in this
ridiculous mess.

“Aren’t you pleased?” Lord Woodcliff whispered as he
clasped her hand to lead her through a circle.

She refused to acknowledge him or how hard it was to
breathe with him so close. If the engagement were allowed to stand, she’d be
much closer to him soon. No, it couldn’t stand. “I don’t wish to discuss the
matter tonight.”

During a turn, she caught Lady Redding whispering to Aunt
Mary who listened with wide-eyed shock. Did Lady Redding know? Did Aunt Mary now
know? Charlotte wanted to rush over to the ladies and find out, but she
couldn’t leave the dance until it was over.

After what seemed an eternity, the music ended. She
curtseyed to Lord Woodcliff then made for Aunt Mary, forcing herself not to
look back at him, or anyone else who might be watching her. She could imagine
them whispering about her and what they would say tomorrow when the truth
behind the wager was revealed. It wouldn’t be revealed, she’d see to it.

“I have a headache and wish to leave,” she announced.

“We’ll do no such thing. If you’re well enough to wager
away your future, you’re well enough to sit through the rest of the evening,”
Aunt Mary scolded.

“How do you know?”

“Lady Redding told me. She had it in confidence from Lord
Woodcliff’s father that he planned to offer for you tonight but I didn’t think
he’d resort to such theatrics. Of course, given your stubbornness, I can see
now why he did.”

Charlotte crossed her arms in
defiance. “He’s won nothing for I’ll refuse him.”

*****

“You
can’t refuse him,” Uncle Charles answered from across the breakfast table.

Charlotte gaped at him, stunned. Aunt Mary had informed
him of the wager the moment they’d arrived home and Charlotte had spent a
fitful night worrying about what he might say. She never imagined he’d force
her to honor such a debt.

“But I was gulled.” She flung down her serviette and
pushed away from the table to pace the room.

“As your encounter with Mr. Brummell made the rounds, so
will this. To refuse him now will cause you an embarrassment from which you may
never recover. You can’t raise funds for the hospital if you’re not received in
society,” Uncle Charles reasoned.

Charlotte sat down on the settee, dejected and Minnie
hurried to her, hopping onto her lap and nuzzling her hand. Charlotte stroked
the dog absentmindedly as the full truth of the situation descended on her.
Uncle Charles was right and she chided herself again for having been so
foolish.

“Do neither of you care for my future happiness?”
Charlotte asked weakly.

Uncle Charles sat down next to her, a measure of pity in
his countenance. “I’ve inquired into Lord Woodcliff and he’s well regarded. He
shares your interests and desire to travel and I believe you could be very
happy together, if you’ll put aside your pride and accept his affection.”

“I’d hardly call it affection since we’ve barely enjoyed
more than one or two civil conversations together.” It was a lie but she
couldn’t think of a better argument. There did exist between them something
deeper than idle talk or heated debates. She’d caught it in the quiet moments
in Hyde Park and the things they’d shared at Almack’s. Whether it was enough to
build a marriage on, she wasn’t sure. She’d intended to get to know him better
and see where it led. She never expected it would be to the altar, at least not
so soon.

Aunt Mary joined them, sitting on Charlotte’s other side.
“Think what you can do as Lady Woodcliff and how many more hospitals you can
help.”

“Lady Woodcliff to a man who only desires me to replenish
his family’s fortune.” Her experience with the Comte was repeating itself
again, except this time it would end with a different marriage – hers.

Aunt Mary heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’ve seen nothing
in his behavior with you to arouse such suspicion.”

“And we’ll make the necessary trust arrangements to guard
your inheritance,” Uncle Charles assured.

“See, you have nothing to worry about.”Aunt Mary patted
her hand cheerfully.

Before Charlotte could reply, they were interrupted by a
knock at the morning room door.

“Enter,” Uncle Charles called and as soon as the butler
opened the door, Minnie leapt from Charlotte’s lap and hurried into the
hallway. Her excited bark revealed the identity of their guest before the
butler could, increasing Charlotte’s anxiety. The time needed to think, to ponder,
to find a way out of this situation was suddenly gone.

“Lord Woodcliff to see you sir,”

Uncle Charles nodded. “Show him to my office. I’ll be with
him shortly.”

The butler left, closing the door behind him.

Uncle Charles turned to Charlotte. “Will you have him?”

She twisted the sash of her dress through her fingers as
her aunt and uncle waited for her answer. If she refused him, she might be
ruined along with her ability to help the hospital. As a married lady, her
circle of friends would increase and with it her ability to solicit patrons.
She rose to pace the length of the rug, weighing the consequences of all the
options. She struggled to find one more suitable than the other but they tumbled
through her mind faster than she could sort them out. She wasn’t prepared to
make such a decision, but it seemed as though it was being made for her and
this upset her even more. It was everything she didn’t want in choosing a husband,
everything she’d feared. Yet strangely, in the midst of all her uncertainty,
there existed more surety in this morning than in the morning the Comte had sent
his parting note.

Aunt Mary moved to rise but Uncle Charles stopped her. He
approached Charlotte, placing his hands gently on her shoulders.

“I rarely ask anything of you, but I ask you to make a
genuine effort to be pleasant to Lord Woodcliff because I believe both of you
can be happy together. In the meantime I’ll continue to research his
background. If, after a reasonable amount of time and effort on your part, you
don’t find him an agreeable man who’ll make you a good husband, or if I
discover something objectionable, I’ll allow you to break the engagement. But
don’t be cross with him simply to be cross or I’ll see through the sham and
call it for what it is.”

“You’d force me to marry him?”

“No, but a broken engagement isn’t a thing to be taken
lightly. Besides, despite all your protestation, I suspect you do harbor some
fondness for him.”

Charlotte looked down at the roses woven in the carpet. She
cared deeply for Lord Woodcliff but she couldn’t allow her regard to blind her
to the truth of his character or intentions like it had with the Comte. They
hadn’t sprung the parson’s mousetrap yet and there was still time to discover his
true motives. If all he wanted was her fortune, she could break the engagement.
Charlotte felt this was a gamble she couldn’t lose.

“Will you have him?” Uncle Charles asked again.

Charlotte nodded. “I will.”

Aunt Mary threw her plump arms around Charlotte in giddy
excitement. “Oh my dear, I’m so happy for you. And now we can purchase your
trousseau.”

“I’ll speak to him,” Uncle Charles said. “Would you like
to see him when we’re finished?”

“Yes.” She had a few things of her own to discuss with her
betrothed.

“Good. Don’t worry, things
will work out, you’ll see.” Uncle Charles planted a small kiss on Charlotte’s
forehead then made for the drawing room door.

*****

Edward waited for Mr. Stuart in the cluttered office,
moving about the room to admire the many items and articles from India and the
Colonies. He picked up a strange hatchet from the bookcase and turned it over
in his hands, the bright feathers hanging off the carved wooden handle brushing
his sleeve.

Mr. Stuart having a weapon so close at hand didn’t ease
Edward’s concerns. After the salon, his father had been kind enough to point
out how Miss Stuart might have accepted him in the heat of the moment, but it
didn’t mean she, or her family, would allow the engagement to stand. Only his father,
Henry and Lady Redding knew the secret of his proposal, leaving Miss Stuart
free to cry off without being labeled a jilt, though Edward doubted such a
title would dissuade her from refusing him. Even if she did maintain the
engagement, Mr. Stuart might be outraged at Edward having made an offer without
consulting him, especially one which risked compromising his niece.

“It’s called a tomahawk. The Indians use those in the
Colonies to dispatch their enemies. They’re quite adept with them,” Mr. Stuart
explained as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

Edward returned the weapon to the bookshelf, wondering how
Mr. Stuart intended to dispatch him. “I’d hate to be on the wrong end of such a
weapon.”

“It does have a sting.” Mr. Stuart sat down behind his
desk, and Edward settled into one of the two leather chairs positioned before
it.

“Care for a drink?” Mr. Stuart reached for the bell to
ring for his butler but Edward raised a staying hand.

“No, I need a clear head to meet this morning.”

“I’ve spoken with my niece, Lord Woodcliff.” He set the
bell down and leaned back in his chair.

Edward sat forward in his, unable to tell if Mr. Stuart
was pleased or disappointed. He’d seemed good-natured and easygoing at White’s,
but on the issue of his niece’s future happiness the gentleman might have a
different countenance.

“Sir, I know the circumstances surrounding my proposal
were unusual.”

“And probably quite necessary given my niece’s nature.”
Mr. Stuart tapped his fingertips together over his chest. “Do you really want
to contract an engagement under these circumstances?”

“I love your niece and I know she loves me.”

Mr. Stuart’s hands paused in their tapping. “She told you
this?”

“No, not in words, but in other, more subtle ways. I never
would’ve proposed if I’d though she didn’t, though, if she’d been more amenable
to the idea of marriage I might have recommended myself differently.”

“I see. If you believe you’ve won her heart, then you have
my blessing, but there must be stipulations. My niece is a wealthy woman in her
own right and as her guardian, I’ll do all I can to protect her and her
fortune.”

“I assure you, I have no interest in her money. I have an
income of ten thousand pounds a year.”

Mr. Stuart’s jaw fell open. “But I’d heard you were in
strained circumstances.”

“I’ve encountered too many young ladies with little
interest in me beyond my title and income. Like Miss Stuart, I seek love, not
status or wealth, so before I came to London, I had it put about my family’s
fortune was much reduced.”

“You have more in common with Charlotte than I suspected.”
Mr. Stuart rubbed the curved arm of the chair. “Why didn’t you tell her and
remove at least this one objection?”