Wedding Wagers(45)

"Just so long as you are not familiar with the lady."

"I warned you." Eli's fist sprang forward, catching the side of Sherborne's nose as he turned away.

Sherborne feinted to the side but in the same motion swung back, arm  out, fist formed, and landed a solid punch to Eli's middle. He'd learned  a few tricks himself over the years, particularly those spent at school  among other frustrated young men like himself. If ever anyone had  deserved to have the wind knocked out of him, it was Eli today.  Sherborne felt he'd shown as much patience as he was capable of. Old  friend or not, Eli had just crossed the line.

But Eli did not appear either wounded or discouraged. "If there is a next time it will be pistols."

Sherborne shook his head. "You fool. I've come home to marry Emily  Montgomery, so if you're still harboring that boyhood fantasy about  having her yourself, you'd best forget it. She may know your name now,  but you need to know your place. As for our wager, long ago, I'd have  been inclined to forget that as well, but given your actions this  afternoon, I've changed my mind. I suggest you give your notice to the  Baron sooner rather than later. But don't worry. You'll not work here.  Once Emily and I are married I'll send you to Claymere. You can exercise  and groom my horses all day long there, and I won't even care if you  pretend they're yours."

Definitely late for his appointment now, Sherborne took a step toward  the house. "Put the saddle away and finish grooming Sage before you go."

"Do it yourself." Eli tossed the curry brush at Sherborne, who fumbled with it a second before clasping it tightly.

His anger erupted in full blown force. "How dare you tell me what to do. I pay your wage for services here."

"I receive no wage," Eli said in a tone that indicated his own temper  was just barely in check. "I came here to help out of respect for the  late Earl. But no more."

"You-are not paid?" Sherborne felt his mouth hanging open and snapped it shut. Impossible.

"If you don't believe me, confirm it with your steward. I am here out of  a sense of loyalty and long-remembered friendship. I did not wish your  father's estate to go entirely to ruin."

"How dare you suggest-It's not-" Entirely. Sherborne glanced about,  noting the neglect he'd tried to ignore. The front garden looked decent  enough, if not as glorious as when his parents had lived here, but the  grounds in general were overgrown and neglected. The fence needed  mending, the stables a fresh coat or two of paint.         

     



 

Inside the house his personal rooms were clean, but the remainder had the appearance of being left alone far too long.

"Since Father's passing, my mother prefers London. There has been no  reason-until now-to concern myself overly with affairs here."

"I hope you do now." Eli walked toward another horse, presumably his  own, grazing nearby. "I hope you take greater care here in all your  doings, from the upkeep of the house to the care and courting of your  bride."





"Wear your hair high with the silver, jeweled combs tonight. They suit  you." Lady Sophia Grayson sashayed into her sister's bedroom, pausing to  admire her own reflection in the full-length mirror.

"They make my head ache so," Emily complained, looking up from her book and watching her sister pose in front of the glass.

"That's right, see how it's done." Sophia exaggerated the swing of her  hips as she crossed behind Emily. "If you want a man to notice you, you  have to give him something to notice."

"A head full of heavy jewelry?" Emily made a face.

"No, silly. The way you walk. Like this." Sophia paraded past Emily once more.

No, thank you. Emily would die before she'd strut around like that in front of anyone, especially Lord Rowley.

"You want the earl to take interest in you, don't you?"

Emily did not answer immediately. Do I? It was what her father wanted,  certainly, but she wasn't yet sure she felt the same. Her life here was  comfortable. She was content. She didn't need a beau, or especially a  husband.

"Em-ily." Sophia dropped down beside her, nudging Emily practically off  the chair. "Do you even realize how lucky you are? The earl is near our  age. He is handsome, reputable, charming. Would that papa had chosen a  gentleman like that for me."

"You were happily married," Emily said, aghast at her sister's suggestion that she had not favored her late husband.

"Henry and I managed well enough, but he was fourteen years my senior  and not particularly attractive. His title and money were very  admirable, though." Sophia burst into a fit of giggles entirely  inappropriate for one her age and in her circumstance.

Emily frowned, recalling how immensely pleased their father had been  when the duke offered for Sophia. Their father seemed no less pleased  when the earl had called on them two weeks ago and then invited Emily  for a drive a day later. They had gone driving again since and ridden  together the day before. Tonight's ball was to be the real test.

Will the earl and I suit? Somehow Emily felt certain she would know when  they danced. She would feel it when he took her hand and during those  times they brushed shoulders as they passed each other and turned round.  She would know when they stood across from each other and looked into  one another's eyes. She would feel-something.

She did not expect excitement or a swoony feeling of romance, but hoped  she might feel comfortable, as if she and Lord Rowley might be friends.  She had never witnessed that in her parents' relationship but, if she  must be married, longed for it in hers.

That wasn't too much to ask, was it?



Sherborne resisted the urge to take out his watch and check the time. He  thought it had to be nearing two in the morning. Surely a country ball  like this would not carry on into the hour before dawn as those in  London frequently did. He'd been Miss Montgomery's partner for the  supper dance some hours ago and found her agreeable enough, if not on  the quiet side.

During the meal her sister, Lady Grayson, had also been seated nearby  and had entertained both her partner and the others around her.  Sherborne had requested a dance with her shortly after and now wished-as  he watched her holding her gown and turning about prettily-that he  might request another. But of course that would send the entirely wrong  message. Sherborne's quest here wasn't about finding the woman who most  intrigued him, it was about securing the one with the largest dowry. The  Collingwood manor and estate needed it. Quickly.

With that to motivate him, Sherborne played the part of the charming  guest and danced three times more, doing his best to seek out those he  felt had probably danced the least. He soon realized why they were not  dancing. If their looks were little to recommend them, their wit held  even less. Talk of the weather and fashions and their mad king were  boring him to tears. At least the Montgomery sisters were both more  interesting than that. Emily enjoyed riding and the countryside, and  they had discussed horses and their adjoining property at length. Sophia  had had him laughing out loud as she described the idiosyncrasies of  each of their neighbors.         

     



 

At half past three, Sherborne not only checked his watch but deemed it  the appropriate time to request a second dance with Emily. She consented  with that same demure expression she'd presented to him earlier, and he  found himself wondering what it would take to coax her from her  shyness. They had spoken somewhat comfortably on their drives the past  week. He wasn't certain what had changed this evening.

Perhaps it was that she'd been taught that reserved females were  preferable. He hadn't time for that or any other courting games. They  both knew what this dance was about, and he saw no reason for pretense  of any sort.

"Miss Montgomery?"

"Yes." Her eyes fully met his for the first time all evening.

She was tired, fighting a yawn this very second, and Sherborne found  himself wondering what it would be like to see her sleep. His mind  wandered dangerously, imagining a wedding night when they might share a  bed.

"I have enjoyed your company tonight," he said truthfully. As much or more than anyone else here.

"I have enjoyed yours as well." She smiled, just for him, and Sherborne  felt a sudden peculiarity. She wasn't like the other girls he had spent  time with. He'd not seen the appeal of marrying someone unaccustomed to  the society he relished being a part of, but he suddenly saw possibility  there as well-for all the things she might experience with him for the  first time. They changed partners once more but passed each other, their  shoulders brushing. Such an inconsequential touch compared to those  he'd enjoyed from females before, and yet …

She smiled at him again when the cotillion ended. Sherborne took her  hand, bent over it, and allowed his lips to linger over her soft skin.  "May I call on you again the day after tomorrow?" he asked boldly.