Wedding Wagers(36)

 

But his heart had other ideas. With every day that the house party  progressed, Victor was having a harder time imagining leaving Lady  Juliet behind to her brother's care, even if it was temporary.

Southill had confided in Victor a couple of nights ago about how dire  his finances truly were. They'd stayed up half the night going over  ledgers and debtors' bills. The only solution that Victor could come up  with was for Southill to sell some holdings and property. Southill had  argued that his sister's dowry would go a long way to resolving the  debts, but Victor had stuck to his recommendation of selling the  property. He'd left Southill in the library, stewing over his choices.

Victor had little faith in the man, which made it all the more  imperative that Lady Juliet marry and leave her brother to his wallowing  habits. Unfortunately, whoever married Lady Juliet would also take on  Southill as a brother-in-law, but that couldn't be helped.

"You look as if you've the weight of the entire kingdom on your  shoulders," Hudson said, joining Victor by the hearth while the  gentlemen and ladies had their tête-à-têtes throughout the drawing room.  Dinner had been eaten, cigars smoked, port drunk, and the men had  rejoined the women.

"I've had a peek into Southill's finances," Victor said.

Hudson scoffed. "Say no more. Do you need a strong drink?"

"Probably," Victor said. "But getting inebriated won't help anything."

Hudson chuckled. "You're a good man, Victor."

Victor nodded. "She told me that too." His gaze landed on Lady Juliet,  who was currently in a game of whist with Lady Diana, Lady Penelope, and  Mr. Talbot. The latter couldn't take his eyes from Lady Juliet, not  that Victor could blame the man. Victor had the same problem. Her pale  blue gown brought out the deep blue in her eyes and made her hair a  brilliant gold in the candlelight.

Hudson followed Victor's gaze, then cleared his throat. "Uh, look, I  know you are doing the honorable thing by bringing us all here to meet  Lady Juliet. But, in truth, every man in this room can plainly see how  you look at her."

Victor's eyes snapped to Hudson's. "What do you mean?"

Hudson lifted his hands. "Don't get upset. You are enamored of our  hostess, and none of us blames you. She is lovely and charming and would  make any man a fine wife."

"Right." Victor placed a hand on Hudson's shoulder. "And that's why you, my friend, are going to propose to her."

"Our friendship runs deep," Hudson said, "but not that deep. I'll not marry the woman my best friend is in love with."

Victor felt as if he'd been shoved in the chest. "I'm not in love with Lady Juliet."

Hudson didn't even blink.

"I'm proposing to Lady Diana tomorrow afternoon," Victor continued.  "I've explained to you, more than once, that my only concern with Lady  Juliet is that she leaves Southill Estate. And she needs a husband to do  that."

"I understand completely," Hudson said. "But I can't be that husband to her-not when you-"

Victor held up his hand. "We're finished with this conversation."

Hudson clenched his jaw, then nodded and stepped away.

Victor leaned against the edge of the hearth and surveyed the room while trying to keep a more nonchalant expression.

But his gaze landed once again on Lady Juliet at the whist table. She'd  bloomed into a confident and gracious hostess in only a few short days,  and Lady Diana had told him more than once that this was the most  enjoyable house party she'd ever attended.

When those raptures made their way back to London society, Lady Juliet would be flooded with invitations next season.

Tomorrow, he'd determined, he'd do his duty. He'd propose to Lady Diana.  A game of shuttlecock was planned for the afternoon, and he would  invite her on a walk through the garden. He would get down on bended  knee and seal his fate once and for all. Marriage to Lady Diana was the  only way he could truly be free. Next time he saw his father, the man's  insults would bounce right off because Victor would have won.

At the whist table, Lady Juliet tapped Talbot's arm with one of her cards, then laughed at something.

Victor knew he should be watching Lady Diana, but as long as Lady Juliet  was in the same room, that was proving more and more difficult.

"Can you meet me in the library after everyone retires?" someone said close to Victor's ear.

He didn't need to turn to know that it was Southill standing next to him.         

     



 

Everything inside of Victor wanted to shout no. "Of course."

Southill moved away, and Victor was left alone again to contemplate a  life that seemed to grow more and more dismal by the moment.

Two hours later, Victor sat across from Southill in the library. Several  candles flickered, two had almost guttered out, and the brandy nearly  all drunk by Southill. Victor had had half a glass, and even that much  had made him queasy, simply because he knew this conversation wasn't  going to be a pleasant one.

"I've consulted with another advisor," Southill started out, his blue  eyes already unfocused. "He's offered to marry my sister, and he's  pledged part of her dowry toward the renovations of my estate. Then  we'll combine the fields of our estates and breed horses. The income  will eventually pay off my debts."

Victor looked down at the glass in his hand and absently noted how the  amber liquid seemed to flash gold in the candlelight. This plan of  Southill's could only mean one thing; Stratford had made the offer. And  Stratford was the one Lady Juliet said she could not imagine  marrying-ever.

Victor took a sip of the brandy, wondering how he could put a stop to  this match. But who was he kidding? He had no real control over Lady  Juliet's future. That detail was in the hands of the man sitting on the  other side of the desk.

"What about Laurence Talbot?" Victor said. "The man is growing wealthier  by the minute, and you won't have to be under Stratford's thumb."

Southill frowned. "The shipping industry isn't reliable. The man might be making money this year, but what about in ten years?"

Victor leaned back in his chair. "Ten years could bring change for all of us. Perhaps we should embrace it."

Southill scoffed. "Have you spoken to your father lately about embracing  change? You and I both are a product of rules, traditions, and more  rules." He shrugged and downed another half glass of brandy. "I'd offer  you my sister, but you already made your opinion clear when you bashed  my face in. Besides, I hear your father's iron grip is going to last far  beyond the grave."

Victor set his glass on the desk so he wouldn't accidentally crush it in  his hand. "Do you have anything against Lord Hudson?" he asked, trying  to keep his voice calm.

Southill barked a laugh. "That old goat? I don't know why he's always  hanging around you. Everyone knows his mother's still alive and makes  the real decisions in the family. I don't want to wait until the old  crony's death before I can talk some sense into Hudson."

Victor exhaled. "Brooks?"

"He's barely out of leading strings," Southill said. "Besides, he's a  second son, and we all know nothing ever comes of that. Juliet will  spend her life grasping for seconds, and my debts will continue to  rise."

Victor leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "It seems  Talbot is the best option, and I believe you'll find your sister  agreeable, which will make the entire process smooth and quick. She  could be married before the leaves change color, and by Christmastide,  you'll be a redeemed man."

Southill's lips curled upward, but it wasn't any sort of friendly smile.  "You have it all figured out, don't you, Locken? What is Juliet's  future to you?"

"Nothing," Victor ground out, but he wasn't fast enough. Southill had seen his hesitation.

Southill shot to his feet, and Victor followed suit.

"Have you compromised my sister?" Southill growled. "Got her with child?  Is that why you're trying to marry her off so quickly by throwing money  at this house party and covering your tracks?"

Victor didn't move, because if he did, he knew his fist would find its way into Southill's face again.

Southill walked around the desk and approached Victor, stopping right in  front of him. So close that Victor could smell the alcohol on the man's  breath. The scent made the hairs on the back of Victor's neck rise.

"If I find out that you've even touched my sister," Southill said, "I  will, by all that's holy, both above and below ground, cut your throat."

Victor swallowed, but he didn't break his gaze. How he hated this man's face and voice.

Moments ticked by with the two men staring each other down. Victor  didn't move a muscle, but he was ready to react in an instant, come what  may.

Finally, Southill turned and poured himself another glass of brandy. After downing it, he said in a hoarse voice, "Get out."

Victor wasn't ready to leave, not without getting Southill's agreement  about Laurence Talbot. But Southill was on his eighth or ninth glass,  and if Victor didn't leave now, nothing about this night would end well.