Knave's Wager

Lord Brandon’s heart did not quite soar, though he wanted her more than ever, if that were possible. He could not recollect when any woman had so stirred him with mere kisses, or when the lightest caresses had ever aroused such maddening desire. It had been enough, certainly, to make him forget where he was—aye, and who he was, if it came to that.

He was happy, and relieved, naturally, because his trials would soon be over. Still, her words troubled him. Though he’d used all his arts upon her, he did wish she wouldn’t remind him.

As soon as Julian had gone, Lilith ran up to her bedchamber. Having firmly declined Mary’s services, Lilith doggedly prepared herself for bed, though she was in such a tumult she could scarcely see straight.

She was not, as she’d reminded her would-be lover, a fool. Besotted though she was, she possessed sense enough to understand tomorrow’s ride would be no mere turn about the park. He would not be content to sit beside her, talking about draining fields or breeding cattle. Nor, she admitted to her shame, would she.

She had sufficient sense as well to comprehend that love was Julian’s euphemism for physical pleasure. Why he should want Lilith Davenant she would never understand. That hardly mattered any more. She wanted him, craved his company, longed for the sound of his teasing voice, yes, and ached for his touch. He was, just as everyone had claimed, irresistible. Thus, yet another infatuated woman would succumb to him.

She sat at the dressing table and brushed out her tangled hair. He’d pulled out every single pin in seconds, it seemed. Tonight he was not the teasing, lazy lover she’d first known.

This night, passion had come in a thundering fury. He might have ravished her easily enough in that tempest.

Yet a sweet tempest it was, sending joy surging through her... and that was why.

She put down the brush and began to braid her hair, the steady motion a counterpoint to the quivering ache within.

She’d never known such furious joy. She never would with any other. She would have it once, with him. She would not deny him, though she knew he’d leave her soon after. That was his nature. All the same, she would not deny him, because she would not deny herself. She must have his passionate lovemaking once—though she be damned for it. She must have that... because she would go on loving him all the rest of her life.

Chapter Fifteen

Rachel’s first instinct was to tell her brother what she’d overheard. In any case, had he bothered to glance at her shocked face when she entered the box, he would have questioned her immediately. Luckily, the box was dark, and he was too busy explaining the moral of the play to Cecily.

Thus the first wave of outrage passed, leaving more sensible second thoughts in its wake: if Thomas learned of the wager, he’d have to challenge Brandon to a duel, and the marquess would kill him. Even if Thomas survived the duel, his career would never survive the scandal.

Consequently, Rachel kept her news to herself, and took out her frustration on her husband when he appeared some ten minutes later.

At eleven o’clock the next morning, Lady Enders was closeted with Lilith in the sitting room.

Though her husband was an active politician, Rachel was scarcely a politic woman, and her terse revelations fell plain as bludgeon blows. All the same, except for a momentary loss of colour and the rigid set of her features, Lilith appeared to digest the news with her usual impassivity.

“A wager,” she repeated expressionlessly when Rachel had done ranting about perfidious males and the punishment they’d suffer if ever she had a hand in the nation’s management.

“Yes—as though a defenseless woman were a pack of cards or a set of dice. Oh, I knew he was a villain, but this is beyond mere villainy. It is beyond anything! How can a man appear so pleasing, with his heart so black and vile inside him? ‘Wicked sepulchres,’” Rachel quoted,” ‘which indeed appear beautiful outward.’ And so he did, my dear. Even I was taken in, so amusing he was, and such an agreeable smile. I should have known better. The leopard doesn’t change his spots. I shall never forgive myself.”

“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 appeare

d. “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 she 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.