To Wager the Marquis of Wolverstone (7 page)

“I suspect not as much as you’ve missed a
certain gentleman. Now at last you can be together, non?”

Sabine’s smiled died and the pain in her
chest returned. She shook her head fighting tears. “It’s not that
simple.”

“Oui, it is. You must tell him the
truth.”

Pain gripped her. “I’m no longer sure he’d
believe me. He’s changed. He’s not the fun loving man of his
youth.” Her eyes welled. “I did that to him. I took away his
ability to experience joy and love. He no longer has the same happy
disposition; instead he’s filled with mistrust and hate.” A small
sob escaped. “He hates me and I don’t think I can bear it.”

“Hate and love, two sides of the same coin,
m’amie. He still has feelings for you. If he didn’t, he would not
be so hurt. He would not care about the past. It’s been ten years.
He should have moved on with his life but he hasn’t. Your
reappearance would mean nothing to him if he did not still have
deep and passionate feelings.” She looked at Sabine coyly. “I
believe he would forgive you, especially when he learns the truth.
You
must
tell him
.” She took a sip before placing her
tea cup on its saucer. “He will no doubt be angry that you didn’t
tell him ten years ago, but I’m positive he still loves you. He’ll
welcome you back with open arms.”

Sabine chewed on her lip. Would he? She had
a son. A son who would forever remind Marcus of the past and the
ten years they had lost.

“I’ll tell him when my parents have been
avenged. The tournament will be over within a few days. Not long to
wait, given that I have waited almost ten years.”

“Marcus has agreed to help?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

Monique leaned forward. “What are you not
telling me?” Silence settled over the room. “Well.” Monique
prodded.

Sabine placed her cup on the side table with
a shaky hand. “He offered a wager. He’ll win the tournament for me
and when he does, I am to become his paramour until he is finished
with me.”

Monique’s face broke into a sly smile. She
clapped her hands. “Parfait! He does still desire you. You will win
him back. Once the wager is won, and Gower has been destroyed, you
can reveal the truth about the past and then you can live happily
ever after.”

“You make it sound so simple. Nothing where
the Marquis of Wolverstone is concerned is ever that simple.”

Monique nodded before pouring the tea. “I
did not say it would be easy.” She laughed gaily. “But I suspect it
will be very pleasurable. If I were you, I’d enjoy the man’s bed.
He’s rumored to be an expert lover. Your wager with him could be to
your advantage. Seduce the man, Sabine, make it so he’ll never want
to let you go.”

A shudder rippled through her at the mere
thought of trying to seduce such a renown and experienced rake.
What did she know of seduction? Nothing! Being in his presence once
more, she understood why so many women had fallen at his feet.
Marcus wasn’t just handsome. His sinful dark looks made a woman
think of sex. More disturbing were those piercing amber eyes that
promised heaven. There was an air of command about him that made
any woman want to be commanded—preferably in his bed.

She seduce him? It was laughable. He was far
more likely to seduce her into doing something stupid—like fall in
love with him all over again. That would lead only to pain and
disappointment.

“He’ll never ask me to marry him. If he
decides to keep me as his mistress I’ll have no choice. I agreed to
be his paramour for as long as he requires it of me. Part of me
hopes he beds me and immediately sets me free, while the other side
of me wants very badly for him to keep me forever.”

“Then to get your heart’s desire, you’ll
have to tell him.” Monique raised an eyebrow and sipped her coffee,
before saying, “Nothing is gained without risk, ma chere amie. We
both have learned that. The question you need to ask is this: what
are you prepared to risk to win your happiness back?”

She relaxed back into the chair and stared
out the window. It was a good question. She deserved some happiness
after the life she had led. “I’d risk anything, except Alfredo’s
happiness.”

Monique seemed satisfied with her answer.
“Good. So you’ve agreed you should tell him?”

She nodded, fear clutching at her insides.
“But it doesn’t mean he’ll believe me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have proof.”

She frowned, her terror rising, and shook
her head. “No. Don’t ask that of me.”

Monique stood and moved to where Sabine sat.
She knelt at her feet and took her hands. “If you want a future
with Marcus, you must confess everything. You are not a coward,
Sabine. If you were cowardly, you would have stayed safely in
Italy. For once think of yourself.” At Sabine’s silence, Monique
whispered, “There was a reason you fell in love with Lord
Wolverstone. Whatever else he has become, he is still honorable at
heart. Have some faith in him.”

She leaned forward and hugged her friend.
“You’re right. I should have had more faith in both of us. I’m not
a helpless girl of eighteen anymore. I can forge my own destiny
now. Once Gower has been defeated and fled England, I’ll tell
Marcus everything.”

Chapter Seven

Sabine couldn’t seem to relax and enjoy the
Barforte’s ball. Her stomach churned at the thought playing
continually in her mind of what would happen when Marcus won their
wager.

Her head was filled with Monique’s words.
Appease his wounded pride. Turn the game on its head and make
him fall in love with you, again. Seduce him, again.

Her nerves were taut. What did she know
about seduction? Her husband came to her bed in the dark,
nightshirts remained on and the business was all over in a matter
of minutes.

“Sabine, are you all right? You appear to be
miles away.”

She pulled herself together and smiled
weakly at her old friend, Lady Judith Harcourt. “Memories…”

“I’ve learned to hide from them, even the
good ones. And speaking of good memories…”

Judith pointed to the stairs. Sabine looked
up and tensed as she noted Marcus’s arrival. He was a dashing sight
as he walked down the stairs with his mother on his arm. Every
female’s eyes fell upon him. His seductive dark looks were a
warning, yet in equal measure, an enticing invitation to every
woman in the ballroom. There was an air about him that stirred the
ladies’ senses.

His trousers clung provocatively to his well
muscled, powerful thighs as he continued his descent. His
exquisitely tailored midnight blue coat caressed his fine physique;
the color complemented his dark hair which gleamed in the
candlelight.
My, God,
she thought. He was so handsome her
heart almost stopped.

“Behold the notoriously addictive
Wolverstone! Beware of him, he hunts women with a wolf’s instincts,
with cunning and flair, but in the end, he leaves them pining.”

She noted the wistful look upon Judith’s
face. A stab of jealousy seared through her. “You sound as if you
speak from experience.”

Judith couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away
from Marcus as he made his way down the stairs. She sighed. “He’s a
marvelous lover and fiendishly inventive in bed. The best I’ve ever
had.”

Old wounds re-opened and she gagged on her
pride. He’d slept with the woman who was the closest thing to a
friend she’d had from within the
ton
.

Raw pain beset her. Her heart desperately
needed armoring. She should have been prepared. She looked around
the crowded room and realized he’d likely slept with half the women
there. She doubted any of them had ever regretted doing so.

Judith was the daughter of an Earl. She and
Sabine were the same age. Sabine’s father had taught Judith’s
brothers, and the two girls would often play and day-dream together
while her father taught, even though their stations in life were
very different.

At eighteen, Judith had gone on to marry
Viscount Harcourt. It was not a happy marriage by all accounts, but
her husband had died only twelve short months later. Judith had no
intention of ever marrying again. She enjoyed her new found
freedom.

When she heard Sabine had returned from
Italy as Contessa Orsini, Judith had welcomed her with open arms.
Judith’s help within the
ton
had made it far easier for
Sabine to enact her plan.

The ladies stood watching the handsome
Marquis escort his mother toward the group of powerful dowagers
holding court at the far end of the room. Once he had delivered his
mother into their midst, he turned and surveyed the crowd as if
looking for someone. She caught her breath as she met Marcus’s bold
hungry gaze as his eyes sought her out from across the room.

Suddenly, the ball proved too much of a
crush; the heat almost suffocating.

Judith’s wry comment brought her back to her
senses. “It would seem Lord Wolverstone has a new conquest in his
sights. He looks as if he wishes to devour you. I remember you were
his favorite many years ago.” With bitterness edging her tone, she
added. “Enjoy, but be careful. That wolf has a bite.”

Sabine panicked. No one must know about her
relationship with Marcus Danvers. “I have no intention of allowing
him to bite me.”

Judith tipped her head back and laughed
gaily. “I’d let him do more than bite. You would enjoy it, but
don’t lose your heart to him. He doesn’t have one.”

“He used to,” she said under her breath.

A shadow appeared before her, blocking her
view of Marcus. The strains of the first waltz could be heard. A
man with a familiar voice bowed low over her hand. “Lady Orsini,
may I have the honor of this dance?”

Henry St. Giles in all his angelic beauty
stood before her. She ignored Judith’s teasing look and replied,
“Of course.” Judith did not realize, St. Giles was not there to
pursue a pleasurable liaison with her.

As they moved toward the dance floor, she
heard hushed gasps from the crowd; the guests parted as if Moses
was parting the Red Sea. There, at the other end of the room was
Marcus, with a young debutante on his arm. He was leading her in
the waltz. She was a young, beautiful, moonstruck debutante, with
dark chestnut hair. Sabine’s step momentarily faltered.

“Her name is Amy Shipton; she’s the Duke of
Cavendish’s daughter. This is her first season.”

What was Marcus up to? Jealousy engulfed her
and she could barely breathe, but then she calmed herself. She
looked at his mother who was beaming. As she’d surmised, Marcus was
doing a favor for his mother, that was all. “Dowager Wolverstone at
least seems pleased.”

Henry pulled her toward him as his arm
slipped from around her waist. “She should be. She plans to see
Marcus wed her at the end of the season.”

Sabine knew Marcus would never marry a girl
so young. “I hardly think Lord Wolverstone would be interested in a
girl almost young enough to be his daughter.” She looked across to
Judith. “He has no need to marry. There are plenty of women willing
to share his bed.”

He gave her a victorious smile. “You sound
almost jealous. Now, why would that be, given that you once left
him? Perhaps you’d like another chance to devastate him? Run out of
men to torment in Italy, have you?”

Her hands itched to slap the bitter hatred
off Henry’s face. Instead, she remained silent, going through the
motions of the dance, refusing to look at the couple dancing
nearby.

Henry wasn’t going to let her off so easily.
“Didn’t you hear the gasps from the crowd? Marcus has never danced
with any debutante before, and certainly not the first waltz.”

She felt her hands get clammy within the
confines of her gloves. “And your point is?”

“He is seriously contemplating marrying
her.”

Sabine did stumble this time. Her head
swirled and she thought she would faint. Henry cursed under his
breath and pulled her toward the doors leading onto the balcony. As
he waltzed them outside, he urged. “Take deep breaths.”

He waited while she fought to regain her
equilibrium.
Marcus married?
She didn’t know why she should
have been so surprised. She’d been relieved when she’d arrived in
London and learned he was still unmarried. Blind hope had then
enveloped her. She was not too late.

“Marcus understands that it’s time he did
his duty and produced an heir. Amy could make him happy. She’s
kind, intelligent and beautiful.”

“It sounds as if you should marry her
yourself,” she blurted out.

He leaned on the balcony rail next to her.
“Why did you seek Marcus out; don’t give me that rubbish about
avenging your parents. You don’t need him for that. I know of many
men who would like to earn the amount of money you’ve promised
Marcus. Men who are much better card players.” His eyes swept her
from head to toe. “You also have other incentives that would make a
man do anything for you. Why did you go to him?”

She swallowed, her dry throat closing up at
the memories his words evoked. She could hardly tell him that when
the tournament was over Marcus would relish his revenge and that
this was the safest way to achieve her goal. She wanted Gower to
suffer as she and her parents had suffered, but not at the risk of
Marcus’s life—or her son’s.

“My reasons are personal.”

He stood taking the measure of her, as if
trying to assess her true intentions.

“Leave him be. If you ever truly loved
Marcus, then let him finally put you behind him and move on with
his life. Don’t ruin what his mother has put in train. I believe
Amy will make him happy, and so does he. Make him happy. Amy could
do something for Marcus that you never could.”

The truth of Henry’s words cut her to the
bone. Now she knew that in taking her to his bed, Marcus truly
wanted only revenge. There had never been any chance that by
becoming his lover more would follow. He’d already selected his
wife. He was using her and when he’d humiliated her enough, he’d
walk away and marry an innocent, a young girl who was more
deserving than she. He’d probably forget he had ever known her.