A Wager for Love Page 10

  For a second wild hope crossed her face. Perhaps if she disgraced herself, he would set her free. Divorces were not unheard of. Of course one’s reputation would be gone, and one would be forced to live abroad, but at least she would be free.

  The dark eyes bored into hers. “Oh no, you can forget that. Disgrace me, and you shall live to regret it. Have you never heard of the Bastille or Bridewell. Think hard, my dear.”

  A shiver shook her slender body. How could she have fooled herself into thinking this man could be pleasant. Willing her tears not to fall, she broke away from him. “You need have no fear that I shall besmirch your name, Sir. I hold my own honour too high.” Her voice was cutting and the glance she cast him scornful. “I vow I can think little enough of the honour of a man who stoops to cheating to win himself` a bride.”

  “It is not a bride I want, Madam wife. I can find women willing enough to share my bed anytime I choose. No, I merely wished for a well-born lady to share my name, and one with a fortune without the taint of shop. Unfortunately,” he sneered, “I could not be as choosy as I might have wished.”

  She flew at him then, the palm of her hand leaving a dull red imprint on the white skin. Horrified at her own behaviour she turned, but before she could move her wrists were gripped in steel fingers and held behind her back whilst the Earl pulled her towards him, his eyes smouldering. Instinctively, Lavinia froze within the circle of his arms, clamping her lips tightly together, aware all of a sudden of the slow thudding of the Earl’s heart against her. His mouth descended on hers with punishing ferocity, and she had to fight not to submit to its subtle persuasion.

  At last he released her, whispering mockingly, “Be warned, my dear, I can be most, er, unpleasant, if I choose. Play the game my way, and all will be well. Refuse and…” he shrugged meaningfully. “You know what you may expect. His eyes narrowed unpleasantly, “Or perhaps I am mistaken, can it be that my attentions would not be so, unwelcome?”

  With a mocking laugh, he left her to her thoughts. He was hateful. Hateful, she told herself. How dared he abuse her so. Subject her to such … such insult. At this point she dwelt again on the nature of the insult, fingering her mouth tentatively.

  Two days later a strangely assorted party arrived at the Earl`s Grosvenor Square house. Saltaire dismounted from his horse and handed first his wife and then the ecstatic Kitty out of the coach, before giving his attention to the other members of the party.

  “Richard, if you will attend me tomorrow, we shall see about your membership of the Clubs.”

  It had cost Lavinia dear to see the growing friendship between her brother and the Earl. To be sure on Richard’s side, it was more admiration for the older man, and many times had Lavinia been tempted to tell Richard just what feet of clay this man had, but always she had refrained. What good would it do? Richard could do nothing to help her now. She was resolved only to keep as much distance as possible between the Earl and herself. That way perhaps she could regain a modicom of peace.

  With Richard disposed of, the Earl turned to his friend, Lord Ware. “l will no doubt see you at Lady Bellington’s party tomorrow, and you, too, Charles.” He then inclined his head and guided the ladies into the house.

  Lavinia, finding herself once again in the small salon of the Earl’s house, determinedly ignored the feeling of apprehension which swept over her, and with a praiseworthy attempt at lightness smiled at the exuberant Kitty, handing her over to the housekeeper. “Miss Kitty will be staying with us for a short time. Perhaps you would find her a room?”

  Since the news had been broken to her that she was to accompany the Countess to London, Kitty had scarcely been able to keep still, and she followed the housekeeper, flashing the Earl a smile in passing.

  Sighing a little, Lavinia mounted the stairs in the wake of Kitty and the housekeeper. Walking along a broad corridor, she glanced idly at the portraits lining the walls, noticing

  here and there a strong likeness to her husband. One portrait in particular, that of a cavalier, with that smile in his eyes. She shuddered a little. Why did she allow her husband to affect her so? It was ridiculous. “You are becoming foolish,” she chided herself mentally, hurrying forward as she saw the housekeeper waiting for her.

  Smiling, she opened a door. “This is your room, My Lady. The Earl instructed us to prepare it for you. All the Countesses of Saltaire have used this room. It is connected to the Earl’s by a dressing room, see here is the door.”

  Fearfully Lavinia glanced in the direction of the door. There was a key in it. However, despite her forebodings she could not repress a cry of delight at the room. It was obvious

  that it had been newly decorated. The walls were paneled in apple-green silk, and there appeared to be a quantity of delicate gilt chairs in blonde satin, but the main feature of the bedroom was the magnificent tent bed with its draperies of green and gold.

  “The Earl left strict instructions about the decoration of your room, My Lady. I do hope you like it.”

  In any other circumstances, Lavinia would have found the bedroom and the small salon off it delightful, but as it was … She sighed a little. She must not sit daydreaming, it would soon be time to dine. She must get ready.

  The maid who brushed her hair and deftly produced her gown, although a pleasant girl, was not Mary, with her cheerful chatter of the doings of her young man. But still, Lavinia supposed, she would have to accustom herself to her new station in life. or one thing alone, she was sure. She would visit Lady Elizabeth at the very first opportunity. An

  enquiry of Richard had elicited the information that he had left that good lady a note, explaining where he was going, and Lavinia intended to waste no time in inviting her cousin to Grosvenor Square.

  The ringing of the gong broke in upon these thoughts. With a murmured thanks to her maid, she gathered up her skirts. The maid later confided in her friends that the new Countess, although pleasant enough, was very strange. “You should see her gowns. I should be ashamed to appear in half of them myself. Hardly any lace at all on them, and

  do you know, when she left for dinner she did not even look in the mirror once.”

  All were agreed that this was passing strange behaviour in one so recently a wife, and married to such a very handsome gentleman as the Earl. But still, the Quality were forever doing odd things.

  Scarcely had they sat down at table when Kitty, enchanting in blue saque, her glossy ringlets bouncing with health, burst out, “Lavinia, pray tell me, when may we go to Bond Street? I declare I have do not have a single thing fit to be seen in. I shall look positively frowsty.”

  Frowsty she might feel. but she certainly did not look it. Lavinia smiled slightly, “Tomorrow morning, I promise you.”

  As only the two ladies were dining, the Earl apparently abroad on some engagement, they had dispensed with formality and were sitting opposite one another at the long mahogany table. Kitty, seeing that Lavinia seemed a little quiet, enquired, “Is there anything wrong, Lavinia, you do look pale?”

  “Oh, ltis nothing, I have the headache, that is all.”

  Instantly Kitty was all sympathy, suggesting first this remedy and then the other, so that inside half an hour Lavinia did in truth have a headache. A headache? taunted a small knowing voice. More like a heartache. Such a thought was not to be borne. Lavinia thought fleetingly on her hus band. It was quite unaccountable, instead of being elated at

  his absence, as she well knew she ought to be, she owned to a definite lowness of spirits.

  In a small but charmingly furnished house off Green Street. the object of Lavinia`s thoughts was standing leaning against the mantel regarding the other occupant of the room, with a bland smile.

  “But, Saltaire, I expected you days ago. You promised …” Red lips pouted invitingly.

  “I was called away unexpectedly, my dear.”

  Juliet, Lady Manfreyd, got to her feet, and paced the room chewing her bottom lip angrily, the satin skirts of her gown hissing gent
ly. This was too much. She had been Saltaire’s mistress for the past three months. Oh, there had been other involvements, she knew that, and she also knew that he would never marry her, but to be cast off like this! Never in all her life had the lady experienced such chagrin. She was the one who did the casting off. The blonde curls, with their light dusting of powder, lay gleaming softly against her white skin; the gown she had on was the height of the dressmaker’s art (and as yet unpaid for); jewels glinted softly round her throat and in her ears. However, the Earl was apparently oblivious to her charms. She tapped one foot on the floor. Four days ago she had written to Saltaire on first hearing the rumour that he was to take a wife; and for four days, she had been without an answer.

  “My dear, your displeasure is most flattering, but hardly called for. After all, have I not turned a blind eye to your, er, shall I call them friendships? Have I not paid every bill without demur? But now I very much regret that we have come to the parting of the ways.”

  Every word that he said was all too true. He had been a generous, if uncaring lover. Indeed, it was true to say that his generosity extended to everything but himself. jealousy

  tore at her, for of all the men she had known, this cold, sardonic creature was the only one to touch her heart. For a moment she toyed with the idea of cajoling him, only to discard it. “So,” she said sweetly, “You are so enamoured of your pretty little wife, that you fear lest word of our association reaches her ears?”

  Saltaire laughed, showing white even teeth. “Lud, Madam, it matters little to me, and enamoured is hardly the word I should have chosen.”

  Lady Manfreyd barely restrained a gasp. “So why then?”

  Saltaire crossed the room and stood for a second with his back to her, picking up a delicate Sevres ornament. “Shall we say I find myself reluctant to share your favours with

  another, especially when, if you will excuse the expression, I am paying very dearly for them.”

  The blood left her face, and a cold hand gripped her heart. “Lud, Gilles,” she trilled, “Never say you are jealous.” She tittered striving for a light note.

  The Earl turned to face her, his eyes cold. “Not jealous, my dear, just fastidious,” he said apologetically.

  Fury blazed from her eyes, and before she could stop herself she picked up the vase and hurled it at him. It smashed against the fireplace, leaving an ugly chip in the marble, falling onto the hearth in a thousand small pieces.

  “That, I fear, was most unwise of you-a costly ornament.” Without another word he picked up his hat and cane and with a small bow left the room.

  The Earl, arriving unexpectedly at his home, and requesting that his bride and her charge dress themselves to accompany him to a party, caused a minor flurry. My Lady, he was told, was lying down with the headache. “Well, My Lady must just rise,” was his only comment, dutifully conveyed by the round-eyed maid to Lavinia. Such a beginning did not augur well for their first public appearance as man and wife, but Kitty, at least. was pleased to be going out.

  Chapter Seven

  Lady Bellington’s rout party was in full swing when Viscount Ordley arrived at Brook Street. It was already well gone eleven o’clock. He had gone straight from White’s where he had been playing since early afternoon, having risen from the tables a good few thousand pounds out of pocket. The rooms were already very crowded, but he barely gave the occupants more than a cursory glance as he strode forward. He had come to Lady Bellington’s with one purpose in mind and one only-to see for himself his cousin’s bride. He took a gulp of wine. pulling a slight face. It was foul-trust Jenny Bellington. He glowered afresh, completely unaware of the fact that he was gripping his wine glass so tightly that his knuckles were white with tension.

  “S’death, Ordley, what can be bringing such a frown to your face, I thought only Saltaire was capable of that.”

  Ordley swallowed hurriedly and glared up at the newcomer. “Lord, Andover, must you creep up on one so, I dare swear you have just knocked halfia score years off my life.”

  “Forgive me,” returned the Marquis of Andover. “Old habits die hard.”

  “And your old habits necessitated the soft step, eh?” sneered Ordley.

  “Er, yes. One might say that my experiences to date have brought me to that regrettable conclusion,” responded his companion.

  “So back from France already, are you? How did you find our dear Louis?”

  lf Ordley’s question had not just made it clear that the newcomer was fresh from France, the eloquent shrug which accompanied his reply must have done. “Much the same.”

  “And La Pompadour. The court still fawning over her?”

  “Dear me, Ordley. You are out of spirits.” Andover shrugged again, the handsome face slightly sardonic. “Indeed one might say that La Pompadour is as indestructible as Versaille itself and twice as ugly.”

  “So you return …” mused Ordley, his small eyes sharp.

  “As you so sapiently state, Ordley, I return. I found myself a trifle bored, you understand?” He watched Ordley from lazily amused eyes.

  Ordley said nothing, merely Frowning darkly, his mind on his cousin. He toyed with his wine glass for a few more seconds. “And so, what think you of my cousin’s latest start?

  You must have been vastly surprised. You leave England for a few short weeks and return to find Saltaire an Earl and a married man.”

  “Married?” One mobile eyebrow quirked in amusement. “You jest, Ordley, surely?” He looked again at Ordley’s surly countenance. “Ah no, I see I mistake the matter. You do not jest. So Gilles is wed. What can have possessed him? Not a revengeful relative I trust? I collect there have been certain murmurings in the past.” He looked a little thoughtful and then shook his head slightly. “But no, not Gilles. One may dislike, even perhaps hate him, but never could one imagine him in a situation so, so bourgeois, shall I say?”

  Ordley shrugged petulantly. “It was a matter off a wager.”

  “lndeed.” He betrayed no surprise at this, merely saying coolly, “Tell me, Ordley, is Saltaire’s wire here then?”

  “Aye, over there in the corner, the one with the unpowdered hair. Haughty piece ifyou ask me. They say the young girl with her is Saltaire’s latest flirt. ‘Tis all about the town.

  Saltaire disappears for two days and then returns with a wife, and a new chere amie, but then you know Gilles.”

  “Indeed I do,” murmured the other. For a second his eyes rested on the new Countess, a rather strange expression in their blue depths. “So doubtless within a few months the new Countess will provide her Lord with an heir and then what will become of your hopes, Ordley?”

  Ordley scowled. This point had not been lost on him. “Trust Saltaire. How was I to know that he would manage to rake up the chit from nowhere, fortune and all? Cost me seventy thousand guineas that has.”

  The Marquis, involved in taking a pinch of snuff, enquired gently, “How comes that about?”

  Ordley lost no time in giving him the full details of his wager with his cousin.

  “How very foolish of you, Ordley,” was all the response he got. “As you so rightly said, one might trust Saltaire to win.”

  Ordley smiled unpleasantly. “Still rankles does it, him taking the dazzling Isabella from you?”

  Just for a second, there was a flash of fury, swiftly concealed in the blue eyes. “Dear me, what a long memory you have, Ordley, that was a good few years ago. There have been many, er, fair charmers since.”

  His eyes returned to the Countess and her companion. Kitty was laughing up into the Earl’s face, whilst Lavinia sat by, her eyes fixed on the floor, her hands clasped tightly in

  her lap. Never in her life had she experienced such humiliation as she was experiencing now. She was not stupid, she could interpret for herself the pitying looks she was receiving. Let them think what they wished, she would not allow it to hurt her.

  Dragging his eyes from Lavinia, the Marquis said softly, “Ordley, I think I
should like an introduction to your new relative.”

  Ordley eyed him speculatively. “What, now?”

  “No, I think not, perhaps when Saltaire is not quite so much in evidence?”

  They eyed one another in mutual understanding.

  Lavinia was not enjoying the party. She bit her lip as she watched Saltaire openly flirting with Kitty, telling herself that her concern was for her young charge. Let Saltaire do what he willed, but not with Kitty. She was now completely on her own, as Kitty and the Earl danced together. A soft voice at her shoulder made her start.

  “All alone, how fortunate, for me.” She turned with a smile on her lips. Already she had formed a liking for Lord Ware, with his impeccable manners and easy friendship. Seeing and correctly interpreting the look on her face, he assured her, “You mustn’t mind Saltaire, ‘tis just his way.”

  Lavinia bit her lip. Surely she had not been so transparent. With a gallant attempt at gaiety she responded, “Oh no, to be sure, who wants a husband who is forever in one’s

  pocket? Not me. It is just that being so new in London I know so few people.”

  “You know me…” responded Lord Ware gravely, and was rewarded with a warm, speaking look. Hastily he attempted to turn the conversation into less dangerous channels. “I see Miss Kitty is enjoying herself.”

  “Oh yes, indeed,” Lavinia sighed wistfully. “How lovely to be Kitty, carefree and gay as a bird.”

  Automatically her eyes sought out that corner of the room where she had last seen her husband and Kitty, but although Kitty was there, surrounded by an admiring crowd of young men, there was no sign of Saltaire. A frown creased her brow, and then whether by accident or design, she did not know, a woman sitting to her right leaned forward and addressed her companions in a piercing whisper, plainly audible to the whole company.

  “Lud, there is Juliet Mantreyd. Saltaire is a cool one-his wire, his mistress and his latest flirt all in the same room. I swear that man has no …”