The Wicked Wager Read online

  The earl was silent.

  “Please do not be angry, Richard. My family cannot disregard his request on so important a matter. He is really quite reasonable. I am sure once I plead my case he will reconsider. I am planning to visit him and convince him. He is a clever man, cleverer than anyone I have ever met. He must have a legitimate reason for asking us to delay the wedding. I simply need to prove to him that I have made the right choice. I will allay his concerns, and he is intelligent enough to listen to reason.”

  The earl was getting angrier and angrier all through Emma’s speech. Their courtship had been quick, and he had not yet spent enough time with her to know her well. Her brothers had kept him busy during most of their relationship.

  A few moments alone together with an abigail keeping a close eye on them was hardly enough time to learn her character.

  She had agreed to marry him and seemed to like him, but neither of them had mentioned love. Love was unfashionable, and marriages were made according to status.

  The earl, however, when it came to taking a wife, held very old fashioned views.

  Her voice had warmed as she spoke, and the light on her face made him uneasy. This was the first time he had truly fallen in love, and it left him feeling insecure and uncertain as to Emma’s feelings.

  He discounted the fact that the duke was older than her father, probably missing teeth and balding. He even forgot that the duke was her uncle and a relative. He was simply consumed with jealousy to hear the admiration of any man besides himself on the lips of Emma.

  It left him wondering if, in fact, his fiancée was in love with the duke.

  “You are still young and no doubt he seems uncommonly clever to you because he is the duke and takes time out to speak to you. You have not been in the world long enough to judge a man, my dear. He must be full of faults that you have overlooked,” he said condescendingly.

  “I am not witless. I know an intelligent man from a buffoon. The duke is the best of men, and I am sure he is much smarter than you,” she snapped, thoroughly angry at his sneering tone.

  The earl was only six years her elder; how dare he pass judgment on a man he had never met, let alone seen. His opinion on her intelligence irked her as well.

  She shouldn’t have spoken thus to her future husband, but she needed to make sure the earl understood she had a mind of her own and intended to keep it. She would not become one of those wives who faded into the background once married, listening and agreeing to every foolish whim of their husbands.

  The carriage lurched in a pot hole, and Emma was thrown against the earl.

  He, for once, did not notice or care. His fiancée should have been moony eyed and not found him wanting in any way. He was raging with jealousy and could not wait to get rid of her.

  He peeked out of the window; they were nearly at her town house. He kept his eyes resolutely on the blackened London streets, choosing to watch soot faced urchins rather than the beautiful woman next to him.

  Emma, in turn, watched his sulking profile as she held the soft leather seat in a deathly grip. Her nails would probably leave permanent indentations, but she did not care.

  He had rapped the carriage walls in a signal to his coachman to speed up the horses. It was a choice between tearing the expensive leather to stay upright or holding on to the earl. She chose to mangle the carriage.

  It was in mutual relief that the two parted that evening.

  ***

  The earl was in his cups. He told his valet the whole sordid story.

  The valet, in turn, had a hard time keeping his face straight.

  “I am a man am I not? That old bugger would not turn a hair, even if a naked wench danced on his lap. That is if he has any hair. While Emma …” The earl stopped to take a big gulp of brandy. “Emma, she is beautiful and desirable, but her tongue comes out with the wickedest things. It is positively entertaining when directed at others, but I am her fiancé, for goodness’ sake. Shouldn’t she consider me the best of men? Any decent well-bred woman would, I am sure. Instead, she thinks the duke is cleverer than I am … that blighter has made my lovely Emma fall in love with him. I wish I could do something … anything! What do you suggest, Burns?”

  The valet coughed and bent to refill the earl’s glass. His portly belly jiggled as he said,

  “She is marrying you, My Lord, and not the duke. I would say that she loves you, but maybe for your peace of mind you should ensure that she recognises your intelligence as being more finely honed than the duke’s. After all, it never does to have one’s wife doubt your capabilities. You will have trouble controlling her fanciful ways if she goes running to the duke for every tiny piece of advice. She should be coming to you with her woes and not believe that someone else may have better answers. I mean imagine,” continued the valet, warming to his topic, “that she wanted to buy six pieces of fish, and you tell her to buy seven in case something happens to one of the pieces of fish. Mayhap it gets overcooked or burns? But she, does she listen to you? No, sir, she does not! Instead, she goes to your elder brother, and he tells her to buy eight. Eight mind you, not seven, in case two of the fish get burnt or overcooked. So here you are thinking of economy and the fact that you have to spend on a dinner of six. Instead, you end up paying for eight. Now, tell me where is the wisdom in that? It’s perfectly disgraceful to have your wife listen to your elder brother and not you,” finished the valet, trembling with emotion.

  “Here, have a brandy.”

  “Thank you, sir, I think I will.”

  The two sipped in silence for a while until a huge smile lit the earl’s face.

  “Burns, old chap, you are brilliant! That’s it! I know exactly what to do. If you were a maid, I would have kissed you.”

  “Thank you, sir, but please recall I am a man and not a maid,” replied the stoic valet.

  “And, Burns, next time your wife buys an extra fish, allow me to pay for it.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Chapter 2

  Emma was pacing the length of the morning room. Her mother hid a smile.

  “This is just a lover’s quarrel. You will have many such in the coming months. Don’t scowl, my dear. It makes you look ghastly.”

  She scowled harder. The earl had captured her heart the first time he had spoken to her. Like every other female during the season, she too had appreciated the earl’s good looks.

  His face was chiselled bones and angles, and his blonde hair looked temptingly soft. His best features were his cornflower blue eyes that sparkled with mischief at all times.

  He had been a rake, leaving more hearts broken than any other man during the season. He enjoyed speaking his mind, particularly unsettling those of the starched variety. His very nature had appealed to her, which was so like her own.

  Yet all through that first dance he had treated her as if she were infested with fleas. His coldness had hurt more than anyone else’s indifference.

  When he had proposed, she had been the happiest girl in England.

  She stopped pacing and abruptly sat down. He would be here soon, and she could not have him find her in any other state than composed … but her thoughts soon flew back to him, her forehead scrunching up in worry. No matter how much she tried, she could not compose herself and banish him from her mind.

  She reflected on his faults—his arrogance and his possessiveness. She could handle the possessiveness. After living with her three elder brothers, the earl was relatively tame. The arrogance was what bothered her. She was a thinking being. She could not blindly believe that her fiancé had no faults. No man was perfect, and it was unfair of Richard to expect her to believe otherwise.

  Admittedly she had gone on about the duke deliberately to annoy him. Some imp inside her had pushed her to do so. Perhaps it was the frustration of waiting and the fear of something going wrong to stop the wedding.

  There was yet another thing which Emma had kept from the earl; she would be leaving for the duke’s residence in a
week, and her return was indefinite.

  It could be months before they saw each other again. At a time when their courtship was still so new, to give the relationship a break was troubling her. What if he fell in love with someone else? They still had so much to learn about each other, and every moment together was precious. Insecure and unhappy, she picked up the sewing.

  A glance at the clock showed he was late for his usual morning call. She worriedly stabbed the cloth, wondering if she had gone too far by arguing with him the last time they had met. She had just finished stitching a leaf when the butler announced the earl’s arrival.

  Emma forced herself to stay seated when all she wanted to do was leap up and run to the door.

  The earl entered the room and jovially greeted them. Emma searched his face and apart from a few tired lines around his mouth found him in an amiable mood.

  She could tell he was dying to speak to her alone, and sure enough he asked her mother’s permission to allow them to take a stroll in the park.

  Emma leaped up and headed towards the door before her mother could give her consent. She ran and fetched her parasol, calling for her abigail.

  Bessie had been with her for years, and she was the perfect chaperone. She turned deaf and blind around the couple, discreetly falling back at the right time.

  Thankfully she had donned a pretty yellow walking dress that morning, and apart from briefly waiting for her maid to join her, nothing else delayed her.

  They leisurely set out, enjoying the last few days of sunshine before autumn set in. Summer was over and the season at an end, yet not a cloud dotted the sky.

  She stared out at the great expanse, marvelling at the blue that matched her fiancé’s eyes.

  “Forgive me, I was out of temper the last time we met.”

  “It was nothing,” replied Emma.

  The earl had expected an apology in return. Women were difficult to understand, and he wisely did not push the issue. He was pleased to have her in a good mood instead of sulking like most other women would have been. He was in no humour to cajole. Instead, his head was brimming full of plans that he wanted to share.

  “When do you leave for the duke’s estate?”

  Emma turned to face him, looking anxious as she replied, “In a week, and I am not sure how long I will have to stay on to convince him. It could be a month or more. My parents have decided to stay on in London instead of leaving for our country home. They want to be prepared in case the duke agrees to a shorter engagement, and London has the best of shops.”

  “Excellent!” The earl rubbed his hands together in relish.

  Emma stopped walking and planted her hands on her hips, “Do you have a mistress tucked away that I should know about?”

  “Eh?”

  “The prospect of not seeing me, possibly for months, seems to give you immense pleasure, My Lord.”

  “Oh, Em, you do not understand, I have a plan. Oh, yes, a most excellent plan.”

  Emma stared at the earl. He looked like a little boy who had something awfully naughty up his sleeve. She waited in silence for an explanation. She would hear it, and then decide if she should, in fact, be offended.

  “You told me that the duke is the cleverest man you have ever met, that he can know a man’s mettle within a minute of meeting him, and that no one can deceive him. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly, wondering where this was going.

  “I want to prove to you that anyone can be fooled, including the great duke. Not only has he forced us to wait, but you are going off to his estates to convince him. I have no idea how many months we will be apart, and our courtship is still in its nascent stages. I cannot bear to have you parted from me fo r any length of time.”

  Emma listened in silence, pleased that the earl thought exactly as she did. She agreed with him wholeheartedly, except about fooling the duke.

  That statement made her feel uneasy.

  “So what is your plan?” she asked hesitatingly, not sure if she wanted to know.

  “All this morning I have been investigating and it seems the duke needs a head gardener rather desperately. You, my dear, will forge your father’s handwriting and write to the duke. You are to write that a man with the greenest thumb in all of England needs to find an adequate position, and would the duke be willing to hire him.”

  Emma gaped at him. He could not possibly intend to do what she thought he was intending. Could he?

  “I have studied botany, so I know a little about plants. I will pretend to be a head gardener, and I wager your wonderful duke will be none the wiser.”

  “You are mad. You will be caught in a day.”

  “I will not be caught, I assure you. We will have more time to spend together, and you will learn to trust your husband and his skills better,” he finished triumphantly.

  “Your plan has so many holes that I do not know where to start.”

  “It does not. Name one.”

  “What if your plan does work and we marry, how are you to explain posing as his gardener?”

  “The duke does not have time to deal with gardeners. I may see him briefly during his walks. Other than that, he will never know who I am. A person sees what he means to see. If he sees a man dressed as a gardener, then he will look no further. Dukes have no time to waste on the lower class.”

  “He never forgets a face. You do not know him. This plan will never work … the housekeeper does most of the hiring, but you can charm her. She has a soft spot for good looking men. The duke is another matter … this is the most ridiculous plan I have ever heard.”

  “Think of our trysts in the garden. The secret meetings would create the perfect scene for courting. The stolen kisses and the scent of danger …”he whispered.

  Emma coloured up, “If we are caught?”

  “That’s the genius of the plan, Em. If we are caught, all will be known, and the result would be that I would have to marry you as soon as possible in case I had compromised you. And that is exactly what we both want,” he finished gleefully.

  She grinned in return. Her fiancé had a devil of a sense of humour. His plan sounded more and more probable.

  “What do I win if you lose the wager?”

  “If the duke discovers me within a month then you, my dear, have permission to follow the duke’s advice on any matter, while my own words can be overlooked. I will concede defeat and thereafter agree your duke is far cleverer than I am. I shall be humbled, what more could you want?”

  “And if you win?”

  “If I last a month without being discovered, I shall compromise you and make sure you let your family know so that we are married with a special license as soon as possible.”

  “You are evil you know?”

  “I know,” he said cheerfully.

  “Wait … what if the duke wrote to my father about the gardener, thanking him and such?”

  “Mention to the duke that of late your father has become absent minded due to the stress of planning the impending wedding, and your mother is driving him demented. If your father does reply saying he never sent any gardener, then the duke can chalk it down to stress. I will also be accompanying you on your journey, so the duke has no reason to doubt the fact that I have been sent by your father, since you will vouch for me.”

  “You have an answer for everything.”

  The earl smiled and pulled her into an alcove.

  “So you will write the letter?”

  “Yes, this sounds like too much fun to disagree.”

  “That’s my brave, Em,”he said, before bending to kiss her.

  Chapter 3

  Emma was convinced she had lost her mind. What in the world had possessed her to agree to the earl’s plan? He had been standing too close to her, and his talk of kisses and trysts had addled her brain.

  How could she have thought, even for a moment, that having the earl disguise himself as the duke’s gardener would be fun? What in the world were they thinking?

&
nbsp; She sat on her bed staring at the letter she had just written to the duke. She had to admit that her forgery was pretty convincing.

  She was used to corresponding with her father’s associates when he was busy, and copying his handwriting had seemed fun a few years ago. Practice had improved her skills, and she had even written to the duke at times when her father wished it. The duke had never been able to tell the difference.

  She was not worried about being found out. The letter would not pose an issue, rather it was the earl that worried her.

  If he had thought her brothers were bad, then the duke was ten times worse. He was extremely fond of her and had always treated her like another daughter.

  However, his fondness translated to running her life as well as his daughter’s. He could be most generous, but in return, he expected complete obedience. It was a marvel he had agreed to the wedding at all.

  Sighing she set the letter aside. She wondered if she should post it or hand it over when she met him. Giving it to him personally seemed the safer option. The post was unreliable, and hopefully this way he would not feel obligated to reply to her father.

  She shivered in her shift as she snuggled into bed. It would take a while to get warm as Bessie had forgotten the hot bricks tonight.

  The earl thought this was all a game. He seemed to overlook the fact that he would have to sleep in the servant quarters and deal with people not of his class.

  Did he even know what a head gardener’s duty entailed? Would he even last a week? She did not think so, and however much she wanted him close to her, his leaving as soon as possible was for the best.

  If her uncle discovered the deceit, then there would be hell to pay. The duke would not blame her parents for her folly, but he could make life exceedingly difficult for them nonetheless.

  What could she do she thought biting her lip. Dissuading the earl was impossible. The only thing she could do was wait and see how things played out.