The Marriage Wager (23 page)

Lord Selbrooke turned an affronted gaze on his son. “What do you mean? This young woman stole one of our family heirlooms! Surely you cannot be so foolish, so naive, as to believe her protestations.”

“No, I am not foolish,” Dominic replied levelly, his blue eyes like shards of glass. “Nor, I imagine, is anyone else in this room foolish enough to believe this tale you have concocted.”

The Earl’s eyes widened. “How dare you—”

“No, Father, how dare
you?
” Dominic exploded, stepping forward to face his father, putting himself squarely between the Earl and Constance. “How can you have allowed your greed and animosity to lead you to so strip yourself of all honor?”

His father swelled up in indignation and opened his mouth to speak, but Dominic stepped forward and took the necklace in his hand, which seemed to rob the Earl of speech. Lord Selbrooke sputtered and reached in vain to take it back, but Dominic had already turned and was holding it out in his hand toward the guests on the staircase, who were all gazing at the scene with avid interest.

“I realize that none of you know Miss Woodley as I do. You may not be certain, as I am, that the idea of stealing anything from anyone would never occur to her. You probably have no idea that she tried to argue me out of marrying her because she felt that I had a duty to my family to marry otherwise.”

He paused for a moment. Everyone’s eyes were glued to him. Constance’s heart warmed within her chest at his words, and tears pressed against her eyelids. Nothing else mattered, she thought, as long as Dominic believed in her.

“However,” he went on, “even if you do not know Miss Woodley, I would think that anyone with a modicum of sense—anyone, at least, whose mind was not clouded by his own greed—would quickly see that if a woman were about to marry the future Earl of Selbrooke and would then have not only this necklace but every other jewel in the Redfields safe to wear, as well as having this house and these lands and a rather large amount of gold and silver plates at her disposal, she would not throw it all away to steal one paltry necklace.”

The silence after his words was deafening. Finally, in a faint voice, the Earl offered, “The necklace would have given her immediate gain. She would not have to wait. She would not have to marry.”

“No. Nor would she if she had taken your offer last night,” Dominic answered smoothly. “Would she? And if, by chance, she had actually chosen to steal a necklace that she could have had only for agreeing not to marry me, it seems odd that she would not have hidden it but would instead put it her trunk in plain sight of anyone who might open it. Without even a lock upon it. Not a particularly clever action for someone who must have been smart enough to break into the safe in your study. But then, I suppose her carelessness in not concealing what she stole is no odder than the idea that, having broken into the safe, she stole none of the other jewelry there, even the earrings and bracelet that match this necklace. Speaking of peculiarities, I find it strangest of all that you happened to discover that this necklace was missing at dawn this morning. And that you had such an unerring instinct as to where it was hidden. You did not have to bring in any other bags or search her reticule. You just looked in this trunk.”

Dominic’s gaze remained on his father for a long moment. Then he turned to Constance. “My father offered you this very necklace last night in return for your refusing to marry me?”

“Yes.”

He looked back at his father. “I would not have thought you would stoop so low as to try to bribe a young girl with this.”

He turned his hand to the side, letting the necklace slide from his grasp. It hit the floor, and as everyone watched in astonishment, Dominic raised his foot and smashed down on the necklace with his heel.

“Paste,” he said flatly, lifting his foot to reveal the mess of powder and chain.

Gasps echoed all over the room, and everyone’s eyes were now focused on the Earl. All color had drained from his face. His mouth opened and closed spasmodically.

“I think we all realize what happened here,” Dominic went on, his voice deadly quiet as he turned to his father. “But I think it would be best if you admitted to everyone what you tried to do to Miss Woodley, so that there will be absolutely no threat of any stain to her good name.”

His father set his jaw rebelliously, and Constance was certain that he was about to refuse.

Dominic quirked one eyebrow and said without inflection, “Or perhaps you would like me to continue to enlighten everyone about our family.”

The Earl’s nostrils flared. Bright spots of color flamed in his cheeks, and hatred shot from his eyes. But he turned toward the crowd gathered on the staircase and said, “Leighton is correct. I was wrong to accuse Miss Woodley.” He swallowed, casting a last venomous look in Constance’s direction. “She did not steal the necklace. The servant put it in there when he carried down the trunk.”

Lady Rutherford’s servant, Constance thought, and turned to look at the woman. Lady Rutherford was staring at the Earl, her face livid.

“Selbrooke, you are a fool,” she said flatly. She whirled around, saying, “Come, Muriel.”

She strode out of the house, followed by her daughter.

When Constance turned back around, she saw that Lord and Lady Selbrooke had also disappeared from the entryway. There was silence as everyone else turned to look at each other.

“Well,” Francesca said, “after that, I think the only recourse is breakfast.”

She proceeded to urge everyone down the stairs and along the hallway to the dining room. Constance was aware of a number of eyes upon her as people drifted past, but Dominic’s stony gaze encouraged no one to stop and talk.

At last the only ones left in the entryway were the two of them. Constance, who had turned away during the group’s passage, turned back to Dominic. The sorrow she saw in his face tore at her heart.

“I am sorry, Dominic,” she whispered. “If I had had any idea that this would happen, I would not have left. I did not mean to hurt you or your family.”

“Did you so dislike the idea of marrying me that you had to run away?” he asked, his face grim.

“No!” Constance cried, horrified, tears springing to her eyes. “No, it was not that! It was never that I did not want to marry you. I love you!”

She had not intended to admit it to him—ever—but she found she could not hold back the words, so hurt was the look in his eyes.

Dominic’s eyes widened in surprise. He crossed the floor to her in two quick strides and took her hands. “Do you mean that? Truly?”

“Yes. Yes, of course I mean it.”

“Constance…” A grin broke across his face, and he lifted her hands to his lips, kissing them, then released them and gazed at her with a foolish grin upon his face. “I had hoped. I had thought that you might—that you would, perhaps, come to love me in the future—but then…” He paused, frowning. “Why did you run away? And with the Rutherfords, of all people! You must have been desperate.”

“I was afraid that if I stayed, you would persuade me to marry you.”

“Why would that have been so bad?”

“Dominic, you know why. I told you—I could not bear to be the cause of your misfortune. To have you and your father turned against each other even more fully, your duty to your family unfulfilled, your estates remaining encumbered, all because you made a poor marriage.”

“Constance!” He stared at her in exasperation. “I told you it would be all right, that I would work it out. And I will.”

“But how? I haven’t anything but a pittance to bring to our marriage.”

“You have yourself, and that is more than enough,” he told her quietly. “Listen to me. I have no need for a great deal of money. During the war, I lived on what I could forage in the countryside often enough. And we will not be penniless. We may have to economize, but I don’t care for that. I have a small estate in Dorset. It was left to me by my uncle, the same one who purchased my commission for me. It has a very pleasant manor house, with a small estate farm that produces enough for us to live on. I invested what I received when I sold out of the army, and it will give us a little more income. It will be a good enough life for me, if it is for you.”

“It would be a wonderful life!” Constance assured him. “But what about Redfields? And your parents?”

“I would not be concerned about my parents if I were you,” Dominic said caustically. “But, of course, that is not your nature. I have already told my father that if he agrees to my plan, we will move into Redfields and institute it immediately. If not—or if, as I presume after what he did to you today, you are unwilling to live in proximity to them—we will live at my manor house until I inherit the estate, and then we will move here. We will sell the house in London, as it is not entailed, and we will use it to help pay off a good portion of the debt. We will then institute a number of economies, primary among them not going to London for the Season. I have no need to live in London, if you will not be too unhappy with a simple country life.”

“I will not be unhappy at all. A simple country life is what I lived the whole of my existence until this summer.”

“If we have to, I will sell what my uncle left me, but I would prefer to keep it as a property for a younger son or a daughter. I can use my investments, too, against the debt. I have been talking to the estate agent’s son since I have been here, and he has a good many ideas for better farming methods that will increase our income. There are a number of other things that we can do to decrease our expenses. The FitzAlans have overspent their incomes for centuries. Decreasing the expenses will also increase our profits. The added profits can be used to pay down the debt. We can sell a number of horses. We have far more than we need. And there is no reason to keep three different family carriages. We can sell two of them. That will help to pay the debt, as well. Forrester and I agree that I can cut the encumbrance on the estate by half within the first five years. By the time I pass it on to our son, we will have paid it off entirely.”

Constance smiled, enjoying his enthusiasm. It made her warm inside to hear him speak of “our son.” If only…

“It will not be a bleak life, though,” he assured her hastily. “You must not think that there will be no luxuries. No joy.”

It would be joy enough, Constance thought, to live with Dominic. The thought of sharing a life, making plans, raising a family together, filled her with such longing that she wanted to cry.

“It would be easier to marry into money,” she said softly.

He grinned. “Yes, not nearly as much fun,” he retorted. “Besides, I don’t think I would want it if I could not have you.”

“What?” Constance stared at him. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course I mean it.” He looked at her oddly. “Why else would I ask you to marry me?”

“But you did not say that!” Constance cried. “You never said that you
wanted
to marry me.”

“I didn’t?”

“No. Indeed, you did not even ask me to marry you. You just told everyone that we were engaged. And you did that only because Muriel forced your hand. You did it to keep me from being plunged into scandal. That is not reason enough to marry me! I want your love, Dominic. I do not want to spend the rest of my life in love with you, knowing that you married me only because you were too much a gentleman not to. Knowing that you regretted it. You would come to hate me. And I could not bear that.”

He stared at her. “Hate you! Constance, don’t you know that I could never hate you? I love you. I would never regret marrying you. I am sorry that I did not ask you properly. Muriel did force my hand, and I regret that it happened the way it did. For then I had to blurt it out to everyone without having a chance to ask you first.”

“Do you mean that you intended to ask me to marry you before Muriel said that?” Constance asked, amazed.

“Yes, of course. You say I was too much of a gentleman not to marry you so that there would be no scandal. Did you think I would, as a gentleman, take you to my bed unless I already planned to marry you?”

Constance let out a breathy little laugh. “Did you not also think, my dear, that you might have let me know that at the time?”

“I am a fool,” he said. “I freely admit it. I have no excuse other than that your beauty rendered me incapable of thinking.”

He took her hand in his and dropped down onto one knee. “Miss Constance Woodley, you are the heart of my heart. The only woman whom I have ever loved or ever will love. I offer you my heart, my hand, my fortune—or lack thereof. I will count myself a rich man, indeed, if you will but consent to entrust your hand and your heart to me. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Constance said, laughing and crying all at the same time. “Yes, yes, I will marry you. I love you. Oh, stand up, you foolish man, and let me kiss you.”

“Gladly,” he said, and he did.

And she did.

D
OMINIC AND
C
ONSTANCE WERE
married in St. Edmund’s church in Cowden at the end of July. It was, some said, not as grand as the FitzAlan family weddings in years past, but all agreed that none had ever been more beautiful, nor had the bride and groom been happier. It was, after all, a love match.

Lady Calandra and Lady Francesca were her attendants, and though both were beautiful women, neither could match the bride in radiance. Her love shone from her eyes as Constance walked down the aisle to where Lord Leighton stood with the rector. And Leighton gazed back at her with a look in his eyes that made more than one woman in the church heave a sigh and turn to her husband, wishing that he looked at her in such a way.

They left the church as husband and wife, cheered by the villagers and their tenants, and rode back to Redfields, where the wedding supper awaited them and their guests. All the late summer flowers had been stripped from every garden around to provide decorations for the ballroom, and both food and drink were in ample supply.

If the Earl of Selbrooke and his countess were not happy about the marriage, as was widely rumored, the two of them hid it well enough, smiling, feasting and dancing with as much enthusiasm as they were ever inclined toward. After their honeymoon trip to Scotland, Lord and Lady Leighton intended to return to Redfields to live. Lord and Lady Selbrooke would by then have removed themselves to the dower house a few miles away, which Lady Selbrooke had spent the past two months renovating to her liking and furnishing with her most valued pieces of furniture. Lord Selbrooke said that it was for the best that way, as Dominic was eager to take up the duties of management that would one day be his.

There would be a great many changes coming, as everyone knew, and, frankly, most were quite eager to see them. The FitzAlan family had figured in much of the village history, and the people of Cowden were proud of them. But the present Lord and Lady Selbrooke were not especially well-liked. Lord and Lady Leighton, it was clear, would be different.

Their marriage had also increased the reputation of Lady Haughston as a matchmaker. It was rumored, not only here in Cowden, but also in London—and throughout the most aristocratic families in the rest of the country—that Lady Francesca had discovered the new Lady Leighton at a party and had immediately envisioned her as the perfect bride for her brother. She had an intuition about such things, people said—and quite a few agreed that she was not above giving a couple a timely push or two if the pair was a bit slow about finding their destiny.

Certainly, Lady Francesca had a look about her that reminded one of the proverbial cat who had consumed a canary—and gotten away with it unnoticed, as well.

At the wedding party, Francesca stood to one side of the ballroom, observing the bridal pair as they waltzed around the floor. Dominic was smiling down at Constance, his blond head lowered to catch what she said. Constance’s face was turned up to him, and there was a glow on it that made Francesca’s heart stumble a little in its beat.

“You have done it again, my lady,” said a deep male voice just behind her.

Francesca turned to face the Duke of Rochford. She was not surprised to find him there, though she had not seen him since the house party here over a month earlier. He had traveled to one of his other houses to oversee some business or other, as he was wont to do, and Francesca had gone to London to help Constance choose her wedding gown and trousseau. But she had known the Duke would be at the wedding and would seek her out. He was always a gentleman, even when he lost.

Indeed, perhaps even more so when he lost.

She smiled at him. “Yes, Your Grace, I have.”

“Not only engaged before the end of the Season, but even married before then, as well,” he went on in his usual sardonic tone. “Perhaps I should give you a bonus.”

“What we agreed upon will be enough,” Francesca responded.

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a square box. She took it and slipped it into her reticule.

“Not even going to look?” he asked.

“I trust you.”

“Do you?” He looked at her consideringly for a moment.

“Of course. You can be quite odious about many things, but you always pay your debts.”

“Mmm. Some take far longer to pay than others, I fear.”

“You are in a very cryptic mood,” Francesca said.

He shrugged. “I may pay my debts, dear lady, but I never like to lose.”

With a polite bow to her, Rochford left. Francesca looked after him until he disappeared in the crowd. Her fingers were itching to dig the box out of her reticule and open it, but it wouldn’t be seemly. She had to wait until she could retire to her room. And that meant waiting for the bridal pair to leave.

Fortunately Dominic and Constance seemed eager to begin their honeymoon. They did not linger at the wedding supper, but slipped upstairs to change their clothes, then left the house. Francesca watched them climb into the carriage, a lump in her throat.

She watched through the window of the carriage as Dominic leaned over and kissed Constance and her hand came up to curve around his cheek. For a moment they were lit by the setting sun slanting through the window, and their faces glowed with a golden light.

Francesca had to press her lips together hard to keep the tears from overflowing her eyes.

She waved until they had disappeared out of sight down the drive. Then she turned and made her way through the crowd of well-wishers and up the stairs to her room. The party would continue, but she had done her duty and could retire.

Maisie was in her room when Francesca entered, and she came over with a smile. “Surely you’re not done yet, my lady.”

“Actually, I think I am. I’m a bit tired, Maisie.”

“And no wonder. Shall I take down your hair?”

Francesca nodded, and Maisie went to work on the hair pins, removing them and setting them aside in their crystal dish. Soon the heavy weight of Francesca’s blond tresses tumbled down, and Maisie picked up the silver-backed brush and began to pull it through her hair.

Francesca took the box from her reticule and set it on the vanity table in front of her. She opened it and drew a sharp breath when she saw the bracelet.

It was exquisite, a dainty concoction of sapphires as blue as her eyes, strung with diamonds in between. She ran a finger over the precious stones.

“Ooh, my lady,” Maisie breathed. “That’s beautiful, that is.”

“Yes, it is,” Francesca agreed absently. Rochford’s card lay inside beneath the bracelet, his strong, angular hand clearly visible.

She took out the bracelet and laid it over the back of one hand. The diamonds caught every stray bit of light, flashing it back at her. The sapphires were dark and mysterious. It was beautiful, and clearly expensive. Exactly what she would have expected from Rochford.

“Shall I take it to the jewelers to sell for you?” Maisie asked. It was their custom after Francesca was gifted by the grateful mother or father of the bride whose path to the altar Francesca had been instrumental in clearing.

“No,” Francesca said after a moment. “I believe I will keep this one.”

Maisie looked down at her mistress, somewhat shocked. But Francesca did not notice her. She was too busy gazing at the bracelet.

Francesca rose and walked over to the dresser, where a large teakwood box lay. She opened the lid and moved the shelves out, revealing the wooden bottom of the small jewelry chest. Pressing a rosette carved in the bottom of the front of the box, she slid out the thin wooden layer that appeared to be the bottom of the jewel case. Beneath it lay a compartment.

Inside the compartment were two sapphire-and-diamond earrings. They were as beautiful as the bracelet, though they were years older. They also clearly matched the new piece of jewelry.

Francesca laid the bracelet gently in the compartment beside the earrings, then slid the wooden layer closed, concealing it.

“I think it is time, Maisie,” she said as she pushed the shelves back in and lowered the lid of the jewelry case. “We must start considering who we shall take on next.”