A Wager for Love Read online

  “Shsss,” her friend pleaded agitatedly behind her fan, whilst Lavinia sat in her chair looking determinedly forward and wishing herself a hundred miles away. Never in her life had she endured such humiliation. and all because of her husband. Unfortunately, far from dropping the subject, the aged dame surveyed Lavinia coldly through her lorgnette. “Hmm, well if the chit don’t know by now that Saltaire keeps a mistress, it’s time she did.”

  Help was at hand. Ware got to his feet. “Come. dance with me.” She smiled thankfully. eyeing him a little ruefully as he led her out onto the floor.

  “Thank you, I fear my sense of humour has quite deserted me, and I was about to place myself completely beyond the pale.”

  “Oh you mustn’t take any notice of Lady Charlotte. she is renowned for her bad manners. Indeed. I fear she feels it is almost expected of her,” he replied easily, giving her time to recover. But despite his words, inwardly he was himself angered and shocked at Saltaire’s behaviour. Of course, he had made no pretence of loving the girl, but even so, to treat her so. He could not have made his disinterest more plain had he shouted it from the root tops. When the dance finished, he bowed gallantly to Lavinia. “It you will excuse me for a second, I’m sure you would welcome a drink, it is so stuffy in here.”

  Lavinia smiled a little regretfully as he went and returned to her seat. She was, she decided, making too much of the matter. So she was in an unpleasant situation, but many wives had to endure such humiliation. Still, try as she might, she still felt chagrin as she recalled her position. To be left amongst the dowagers, whilst her husband amused himself elsewhere. “It is just your pride that is hurt,” a little voice whispered, “because he prefers Kitty to you. Nonsense,” she said sternly to herself, “Why should I care on whom his fancy alights?” The small voice persisted, “But you do.” Did she? She wondered. Was that the truth? Was she jealous? Surely not, why she did not even like the man.

  Indeed, it was quite time that someone taught her arrogant husband a lesson, and who better than herself. Straightening her back, she looked up, her eyes widening, and she caught her breath in a gasp as she exchanged glances with the man standing in the doorway. His eyes rested on her appreciatively for a few seconds. He was tall and impeccably dressed, his face handsomely tanned beneath his wig. He could not be over five and thirty, perhaps a little less. Lavinia made up her mind there and then. Well, if that was the way Saltaire wished to play the game, then let him, but he had better be on his guard for she intended to give him a taste of his own medicine.

  Her mind thus made up, Lavinia faced the room with cheerful calm, but her cheeks a little hot. By the time she had recovered enough of her composure to search discreetly for the handsome stranger, he was gone. Try as she might she could not help feeling a little disappointed; there had been something in his eyes.

  Lord Ware had spent a trying half an hour endeavouring to catch the eye of one of the waiters and secure a glass of wine for Lavinia. No sooner had he got one and started to fight his way back through the crush of bodies, than a young lady stepped backwards, dislodging the glass and spilling half of its contents. She turned apologetically, saw Ware, and a malicious gleam of amusement lit her eyes. It was Juliet Manfreyd. She was still smarting from her interview with the Earl, but she knew Society far too well not to realise the interpretation that would have been placed on her non-attendance at the rout party. From the moment Saltaire had left her house she had cursed her folly in thinking he would not learn of her other lovers; but she still had every hope that he would come round, and one glance at his wife had been sufficient to reassure her that there would be no competition from that quarter. Ware flushed a little under her too knowing eyes. He had never liked her. He knew that she was aware of the fact and, what was worse, was amused by it.

  One delicate eyebrow arched. “Ware, and carrying ratafia unless I am mistaken.” She wrinkled her dainty nose. “Not your drink, surely. I know Jenny’s taste is deplorable,

  but surely it doesn’t drive you to that?” She gestured disdainfully to his now half empty glass. She had the attention of her companions now, and they looked at Ware, with differing degrees of amusement. He began to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

  “It was not for me,” he said stiffly.

  Amusement shone in Juliet’s eyes. He had fallen straight into her trap, “Not for you. Lud, Ware, for a lady perhaps? Come, tell us?” she coaxed teasingly.

  One would-be-wit broke in, tittering, “Perhaps he wishes to keep it a secret? Eh Ware, these jealous husbands …”

  “You mistake the matter,” he began heatedly, “I was but procuring a glass for Saltaire’s wife.”

  Juliet’s smile was tinged with triumph. “Saltaire’s wife, dear me, Ware, that is vastly daring of you. But why isn’t Saltaire himself with her? They have only been wed these

  two or three days past.” She was all round-eyed innocence.

  The wit tittered afresh. “Oh, my dear Madam, the Earl thinks nought of his new wife. “‘Tis the talk of the town, he but married her for a wager.”

  Malice glittered afresh in Juliet’s eyes. “And now, Ware here, has rushed to her aid. The poor creature, I vow there is nothing more pitiful than a neglected wife.”

  Keeping a tight rein on his temper, Ware bowed distantly and turned again to try to find Lavinia. It was perhaps unfortunate then that, before he could reach her side, he should

  have seen Saltaire apparently deep in conversation with Kitty. The sight of his friend, looking indulgently down into the pert face raised to his, brought Ware’s anger to a head. Not for one moment did it strike him as odd that behaviour, which hitherto he had accepted with a shrug and a smile, should now anger him to the extent it did, and even had anyone pointed it out to him, he would probably have thought nothing of it. After all, Lavinia was Saltaire’s wife, and entitled to courtesy, if nothing else.

  “Is there something wrong, Ware?” asked the Earl in amusement.

  “Should there be?” returned Ware, stiffly.

  “Why no, I’m sure it is quite normal for you to go about looking as if you wished to commit murder, and what on earth is that you have in that glass?” he enquired momentarily diverted.

  He looked at the glass, an appalled expression crossing his face, “Lord, ‘tis never ratafia.”

  “It is for your wife,” said Ware.

  “Ah.” There was a wealth of understanding in the dulcet tones. “I think I begin to see a little light. Such concern, and all on behalf of my wife,” drawled the Earl.

  Ware, however, was not to be placated. “Perhaps if her husband were more attentive, there would be no necessity for others to intervene?”

  Saltaire shook his head, an ugly expression on his face. “If you value our friendship at all, Ware, you will say no more. ” Saltaire had changed from a charming attentive companion to a frightening stranger.

  “It is too bad of Lavinia to sit in a corner moping,” pouted Kitty.

  “Indeed,” agreed Saltaire grimly. “I shall have a few words to say to my wife when we return to Grosvenor Square. I had not thought you so susceptible, Ware. A drooping mouth, a few sulks and you are ready to accuse me of all manner of evil.”

  Ware flushed painfully, “You mistake the matter, Saltaire. Lavinia has said nothing to me.”

  The mobile eyebrows shot upwards. “So,” he marvelled. “You reached this staggering conclusion completely unaided, did you?”

  Stung, Ware retorted. “It did not take any great powers of observation-the whole room is ahum with it.”

  Saltaire shrugged nonchantly. “So, within the week they will have something else to gossip over.”

  It was not long after this that Saltaire and his party left. Kitty declared that Ware’s remarks had quite destroyed her enjoyment, but to herself she admitted to feeling slightly guilty. Poor Lavinia, all on her own, perhaps she had been a little thoughtless. Until that moment she had not really thought about the Earl’s behaviour but now she realised his
attitude to his new wife was scarcely loverlike. She recalled Richard’s words that his sister had been forced into the match. She stole a look at the Earl’s stern profile and could well believe him capable of such an act.

  The journey back to Grosvenor Square was accomplished in silence. Only Richard ventured the odd word, but even he fell silent when he realised that his efforts were not appreciated. Despite Saltaire’s casual assurance that he would be most welcome, and Lavinia’s attempt to persuade him, he had remained firm in his resolve to stay on with Lady Elizabeth, and in some ways Lavinia was quite relieved at his decision. It would be much easier for her to sustain her role as a happy wife, if she was called upon to do so only infrequently. Saltaire, with his worldly air and assurance, had quite bowled over the youthful Richard, she knew, but she doubted if his good opinion would last for long were they to live under the same roof. For Richard, as she was beginning to learn, had a very serious side to his nature. Indeed he had lost no time in declaring his firm intention of returning to the country and putting his estate in order, firmly rejecting all Lavinia’s offers of financial assistance and stating that she had already done more than enough. This, accompanied by a speaking look, had almost caused Lavinia to cast herself upon her brother’s chest and tell him of her distress. For distressed she undoubtedly was. No amount of telling herself to pull herself together, had the desired effect, and she was sorely out of spirits.

  They set Richard down at Lady Elizabeth’s house before completing their own journey, Kitty sat dreamily in her seat, gazing into space, reliving her triumphs of the evening. Lavinia sat tensely on the edge of hers; her head was aching badly and she longed for the sanctuary of her room. She glanced across at her husband and saw that he was lounging back easily, the bored expression she had grown to know marring his handsome face. The carriage then stopped and the postilion ran round and opened the door. Lavinia gave Saltaire her arm and stepped out.

  “A glass of wine, Lavinia, Kitty?” enquired the Earl.

  Lavinia shook her head, flushing a little at his sardonic expression.

  “Come, my dear, it is most churlish of you. You complain that I neglect you and then when I suggest we spend half an hour together over a glass of wine, you refuse.”

  Ignoring Kitty’s start of surprise, she burst out, “I did not complain to anyone. Whose company you spend your time in is of no consequence to me, I assure you.”

  Kitty broke in, “Lord, Lavinia, never say you were put out because Saltaire’s mistress was there, why no-one gives a fig for such things now.”

  There was a smothered oath from the Earl. “Thank you. Kitty, I believe I can handle this without your assistance, and if you persist in such indelicate comments, young lady, you will quickly discover just how wrong you are. No wonder your grandfather was delighted to get you off his hands.”

  Kitty pouted, “I’m only repeating what the whole party was saying. After all, she is your mistress, isn’t she?”

  Without answering her question, the Earl continued coldly, “When I wish to be regaled by gossip picked up from the gutters, I shall ask for it, but until then you would do well to refrain from such vulgar behaviour.”

  Kitty gazed at him wide-eyed, and then raising her skirts fled up the stairs. Never had she heard such a stern note in his voice before.

  Lavinia watched her, wishing she could follow, but unfortunately for her Saltaire blocked the way. She looked wildly round, but the hall was empty.

  “lf you’re looking for the servants, you look in vain. They know me too well to be in evidence when I return home at night.”

  She flushed at the insinuation in his voice, noticing for the first time the strange glitter in his eyes. Was it not enough that he paraded his mistress openly before her? Must she be constantly reminded of his inclinations at every turn?

  “Now, Madam wife, there are one or two matters I wish to discuss with you, so let us have that glass of wine.”

  “I don’t want one,” she began stubbornly. In her opinion her husband had already had at least one glass of wine too much.

  Saltaire, had he been aware of her thoughts, would have been amused. He could drink double the quantity he had consumed that evening, without ever beginning to feel the effects. He stepped forward, “Perhaps not, but I do.” Inwardly quailing, she preceded him into the library, too much on edge to appreciate the warmth of the fire or the mellow comfort of the room.

  “It occurs to me that we ought to give a ball.”

  “A ball?” Lavinia could scarcely conceal her astonishment. This was not what she had expected at all. In fact she was so surprised that she said the first thing that came into her head, and instantly regretted it, but it was too late to recall her impulsive words, “A ball, but who will come to it?”

  The green eyes hardened. “You consider me so far beyond the pale then, Madam? I assure you that you are very much mistaken, but then perhaps it is I who are wrong, perhaps it is merely that you do not feel up to such a task?”

  She could only stare at him.

  “There, it does not matter. I know of several ladies who would be only too delighted to assist you.”

  Infuriated, Lavinia found her tongue and lashed back at him, “What ladies? Or do you mean one of your doxies. If so, I believe I can well do without their advice.”

  The Earl seemed totally unmoved by her fury. “Again, you mistake my meaning, Madam. My doxies, as you so vulgarly call them, are my business. I have not the slightest intention of introducing them to my wife. Now if we may continue our discussion without these childish tantrums.” He paused significantly as she coloured hotly. “Your gown,” he gestured distastefully to the dress she was wearing. “I trust you will not appear again in such a garment.”

  Lavinia could say nothing. She had been mortally aware of the limitations of her wardrobe, but how dare he mention it in such a manner. With a tremendous effort of will, she faced him squarely, and to her relief her voice scarcely trembled at all as she addressed him. “I don’t think I take your point, Sir. Am I to bedeck myself like a trollop? Would that be more to your taste?”

  There was an empty silence which seemed to the anxious Lavinia to stretch for minutes. “A trollop?” mused the Earl at length. “Umm, well I suppose that at least would be an improvement on appearing like a country dowd and making a complete laughing stock of yourself and me.” He shrugged a little. “It is nothing to me if you wish to make a fool of yourself. But when it comes to my reputation, it is a different matter altogether,” he drawled unpleasantly, taking a pace towards her, and leaning forward menacingly. “And just in case you feel inclined to ignore my wishes, Madam, let me tell you that I am perfectly capable of taking you to a modiste myself and seeing that you are dressed as I wish. Do I make myself clear?”

  She swallowed nervously. Did he make himself clear? Only too clear. And she knew him well enough already to know he was making no idle threat, but she allowed not one jot of her trepidation to appear on her face, merely replying coolly, “And doubtless you have plenty of experience.”

  “As you so rightly say, I have the experience,” he agreed suavely, “Now, Madam, do I have your agreement?”

  She made a last rallying attempt to best him. “And pray who is to pay for all these fine feathers? Myself, I have no doubt.”

  His eyes watched her coldly. “Be careful, Madam. I have already warned you against willfully provoking me. However, to answer your question, I believe that I am at least I

  able to provide my wife with sufficient to clothe herself. So, it is agreed.”

  His tone was dismissive and Lavinia got unsteadily to her feet.

  Why did he always have this effect of making her feel so helpless?

  His voice halted her at the door. “I shall shortly let you have a list of guests for the ball, and I think we should hold it at the end of the month.”

  She whirled round in dismay. “But so soon? I mean …”

  He raised one haughty eyebrow. “You cannot be re
ady?”

  Seething, Lavinia left the room, and as soon as she gained the sanctuary of her bedchamber, she dismissed her maid in a curt tone of voice. “I don’t need you tonight. You may go.”

  She pulled off her gown, eyeing it with disfavour. It was dowdy. She clenched her fist, trying to prevent the tears spurting from her eyes. Was it her fault she had nothing fit to be seen in? If only she had been with Lady Elizabeth a little longer, she would have had a wardrobe to rival anyone’s. Obeying an impulse, she walked across to the closet and threw open the doors. She viewed her gowns with distaste. They had all been purchased in Rome, and were eminently suitable for a young lady of quiet, retiring habit, but certainly not for a Countess. Only the pale green satin had any pretensions to fashion. But the memory of what had occurred on the fateful night when she had first worn it, vividly untenable, came to mind, making her turn away in revulsion. No, she could never bear to wear that gown again. She smiled a little grimly. So her husband thought she was dowdy, did he? Doubtless he also thought her dull, complacent and biddable. Well, he should soon learn his mistake. She brushed her hair vigorously, trying to find an outlet for her temper, and then, once in bed, lay awake for what seemed like hours, trying to think of unpleasantly, satisfying fates for her husband. At last she fell into a dream-troubled sleep where she was being pursued by a hoard of beautiful women, all shrieking after her that she was too dowdy. When she awoke, she was completely unrefreshed, but had only one thought in her mind-to teach her arrogant husband a lesson he would never forget.

  Chapter Eight

  Kitty was sipping her morning chocolate when Lavinia burst into her room like a whirlwind, announcing that she must hurry as they were leaving for the shops within the hour.

  Surprised, Kitty put down her cup. “But, Lavinia, it was only yesterday that you told me you did not need anything. “

  “That was yesterday,” was the only response from Lavinia.

  Thus Kitty bid her maid to help her dress, and before two hours had passed, the ladies were stepping from the house and entering the carriage.