To Wager the Marquis of Wolverstone (9 page)

Sabine could see the bookmakers all around
the park still busy taking bets. She scanned the crowd but couldn’t
see Gower, but she knew he’d be here. He’d be sweating until the
very end.

Sabine wore a hat with a large brim to
obscure her features. She didn’t really have to hide her identity
as there was no reason why she shouldn’t be there. If Gower came
across her, with Judith at her side, he wouldn’t be at all
suspicious of their attendance. After all, half of the
ton
was here today, all eager to have a wager on the outcome of the
tournament.

The ladies settled on a rug under the trees
not far from the officials’ tent. The two women attracted a lot of
attention. Many of Judith’s admirers stopped by to share a drink
and to discuss who they believed would be the victors.

“I was wondering, Lady Harcourt, since you
are well acquainted with Lord Wolverstone, if you knew he’d be
entering?” Lord Cornwall asked as he settled on the rug next to
her. “I didn’t know he was a good card player.”

“I didn’t either,” Judith responded.
“However, if I recall, the man is good at everything,” and she gave
a wicked knowing laugh.

A wave of irritated jealousy skittered down
Sabine’s spine. “Surely, he stands no chance against these
gentlemen. I’ve heard there are professional card players in the
tournament.”

The toot of a horn interrupted the
conversation. “Well, we’ll soon see.” Lord Cornwall said as he
stood up. “That signals the end of round two.” He scanned the tent
Marcus’s group was in. “Yes, it looks as if he’s through to the
next round.”

When Sabine learned of her enemy’s wager she
knew Marcus was the man who’d be able to trounce Gower for her. A
good memory and head for numbers gave a player a distinct
advantage. If there was anyone who understood numbers and whose
memory seemed very long, it was Marcus.

At each of the tables, players sat in two
fixed partnerships, the partners facing each other. Partners were
assigned at random, and were changed after each hand to avoid any
coercing or cheating.

Whist is part luck and part skill. Starting
with the player on the dealer’s left, the rounds are played
clockwise. Each player throws down one card. The other players have
to match it by throwing down a card of the same suit. The idea is
to win each round with the highest card of the suit being played.
This is called a ‘trick’. There are thirteen tricks in a game and
each trick earns a point for the winning pair.

There are also trump cards. The rules of the
tournament see the trump suits designated before play begins. For
the first deal, it is hearts; second, diamonds; third, spades; and
finishing with clubs.

The pair at each table who won the best of
three deals would progress to round three. Now there were only
eight players left at two tables.

Sabine drew in her breath and took a large
gulp of champagne. She wished she could move closer to better view
the play but she was scared her intense interest in the game would
be noticed.

Luckily, it was Judith who gave Sabine the
opportunity to see the game up close. Judith wanted to cheer Marcus
on.

They made their way to the tent and Sabine
barely stifled her gasp when she saw who was in Marcus’s final
pairing. He was playing with Bottomly against Prendergast and a man
called Sir Deverell.

Sabine squeezed her eyes shut. She knew what
this pairing signified. Marcus had to win. If he did, Gower was
finished. It then wouldn’t matter if Marcus was the overall victor
or was knocked out in the final round.

Gower had wagered Prendergast to win the
field. In other words, Gower would win a huge amount of money if
Prendergast was in the final victorious pairing with any other
player. If Marcus and Bottomly won this round, knocking Prendergast
out, Gower’s bet was lost.

Gower would forfeit everything.

Marcus suddenly noticed her presence and
gave her a slight smile. She noted the strain on Prendergast’s face
and she began to pray. Could her victory come this quickly? She
followed the cards as they were played and noted Marcus and his
partner inching ahead.

The next smile Marcus gave her one was
filled with triumph and she knew they must be winning.

She could barely keep her breathing stable;
her feelings were running amok with the tension. Her eyes began to
search for Gower among the crowd in the tent. She wanted to see the
look on his face when he realized he was ruined. As if pulled by an
invisible force, she looked to the left and there, in the far
corner of the tent, was Gower himself. His face was ashen. She
could see beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his
temples.

She allowed a victorious smile to break over
her lips as his eyes met hers. His eyes narrowed in return and his
look of despair changed to one of intense fury. His face grew dark
red in rage and she could see his fists clenched tightly at his
sides.

Sabine didn’t care. It took only a few more
minutes for a hush to descend on the tent when Prendergast pushed
back his chair and shook Marcus’s and Bottomly’s hands in
acknowledgement of defeat.

Marcus’s eyes sought her out immediately and
she mouthed the words
thank you
before taking Judith’s hand
and leading them both out of the tent.

“How marvelous, Lord Wolverstone has really
caused an upset.” With a wink she said to Sabine, “I told you he
was good.”

Sabine didn’t quite know how she felt. She
had had her revenge, at last. She’d ruined Gower as she had so
ardently desired, but somehow the victory seemed flat. She had not
experienced the much anticipated sweetness of success. She began
now to understand more clearly that when she had approached Marcus
for help, she hadn’t been solely hoping to avenge her parent’s
deaths. She’d hoped for—well, she didn’t really know what she’d
hoped for.

Marcus. She realized she wanted Marcus to
love her again. She almost doubled over in agony. Could this be her
new beginning?

Fear invaded her body. If Gower was run out
of England due to his inability to pay his debts, she’d have no
excuse, no reason not to tell Marcus about the past. How would he
react? Would he even care? It was both terrifying and exhilarating
that soon she might be able to regain the happiness she’d been so
sure of ten years ago.

Overcome by her conflicting emotions, Sabine
slipped away to gather her thoughts. She walked toward the lake and
peace flowed over her as she noted the King’s deer frolicking in
the brilliant sunshine from across its shining surface.

She raised her face to the sun and
whispered, “I’ve done it, Papa. You and mother can rest in peace
now.”

Suddenly life was full of possibilities. A
ray of hope burst within her and warmed her cold and tired soul.
She didn’t fight the happiness that flooded through her, not this
time. It was her turn to walk in the sun.

“You look rather pleased with yourself. I
wonder why?”

A dark shadow descended over her bright day.
She swung around at the sound of her nemesis’s voice and took a
step back. Gower looked utterly enraged. He was standing far too
close. Keeping calm, she replied, “It’s a beautiful day. Why would
I not be happy?”

His mouth tugged on a cheroot. He blew the
smoke insolently into her face before adding, “I think it has
something to do with Marcus Danvers knocking Prendergast out of the
tournament.” His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. “I couldn’t
understand why Marcus would suddenly enter.” He moved closer. “It
was
you
. You asked him to.” He towered over her
threateningly but she refused to cower, not to this man, not ever
again. Marcus’s victory had given her sudden strength.

He spoke through clenched teeth. “Do you
know what else I’ve learned today?” His voice dropped to a menacing
hiss, as, flicking the cheroot away, he grabbed her by the
shoulders, his fingers biting into her flesh. But Sabine refused to
acknowledge the pain. “A certain lady has been buying up all my
vowels.” She peered over his shoulders. “Marcus won’t save you this
time. He’s still playing.”

“Let go of me, you bastard.” Anger flared
and she gave him a back hander across the face. He didn’t see it
coming and it was enough to knock him off balance and for Sabine to
break free of his hold. “You’re right! I did buy up your vowels. I
hold your very existence in my hands. How does
that
feel?”
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the trickle
of blood where her rings had caught his lip. Emboldened, she pushed
on. “If you don’t leave England by the end of this week, I shall
call in your vowels and let everyone know you’re bankrupt.” She
leaned in closer, overcome by a surge of confidence. “I’ve always
known how morally bankrupt you are. Now you’re going to be
financially bankrupt too.”

He didn’t attack her as she’d expected—or
perhaps even hoped. Her pistol was in the pocket of her skirt and
she was prepared to use it unhesitatingly.

Instead, he snarled, “I don’t think so.” An
evil smile broke over his lips. “You don’t want Marcus to know what
happened ten years ago. That’s why you came up with this silly plan
and got Marcus to enter the tournament, isn’t it? You get your
revenge and no one has to know what a little slut you were back
then, especially not Marcus. You don’t want him to know under any
circumstances because you understand what he would have to do.”

An icy uneasiness chilled her warmth. He
moved closer once more. “What would you do to keep Marcus from
learning the truth?” A finger roamed down her neck heading toward
her bosom. His touch made her stomach heave. “You know what he’d do
if he ever found out, don’t you? You also know that I’m deadly with
a sword and if he issues a challenge, I get the choice of weapon.”
He leaned in and spoke into her ear, his breath making her recoil
in revulsion. “You will sign over
all
the vowels to me. And
then you will leave England and go back to Italy where you belong.
Besides, think of Alfredo. What if something were to happen to the
boy…” He bit down hard on her ear and she had to bite the inside of
her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Horrid memories of the
past blazed to life again, paralyzing her with fear.

He stepped forward, viciously squeezing her
breast. “And for all the trouble you’ve put me through, I think
I’ll give myself a bonus. You are to come to my bed. He laughed at
the look of utter horror on her face. “Why should Marcus have all
this deliciousness?”

Sabine simply stood mute, all her dreams
evaporating like a ghost racing the dawn. She stood shaking her
head, unable to believe what was happening. Her brilliant plan lay
in tatters at her feet.

He moved away from her as voices floated
near them on the breeze. “Friday, it’s to be then. You’ll bring me
the vowels on Friday. I’ve a house near Holborn which I use for
entertaining. We’ll make a night of it.” He bent and kissed her
hard on the lips. “I’ll be waiting.” With that he turned and left
her standing alone in Richmond Park, a quaking mess of jangling
anger and fear.

Her one moment of glory had been annihilated
in a split second. Her enemy knew her too well. She had three days.
She drew in a shuddering breath. Tears welled in her eyes. She
would not let Gower win again. But she had to do this on her own.
She would not risk Marcus getting hurt. She’d already hurt him
enough.

She angrily wiped the tears from her eyes,
pulled herself together and calmly walked back to where Judith
waited for her with her band of merry followers.

There was only one thing to do. Give the
vowels to Gower and then flee England, get her son to safety and
protect Marcus from the truth.

Gower would be able to carry on with his
life as if nothing was amiss once she left England, as she could
never call in the vowels from Italy. He’d simply ignore them.
Worse,
far worse
, she would have to give up her tentative
hope of a life with Marcus. But then she didn’t even know if she
stood a realistic chance of any life with him. Henry St. Giles was
right. Marcus would be perfectly happy with Amy Shipton.

She didn’t know what devastated her the
most. Knowing that she’d failed to inflict revenge on Gower or the
fact that she’d never see Marcus again. She drew up short to
re-consider her position.

She had three days only. It would take a bit
of organizing to pack up her house, to cancel the lease and to book
a passage back to Italy.

If she knew Marcus, he would call on her to
make good on their wager tonight. He would not wait to taste his
revenge.

She placed her hand over her heart, trying
to control its fluttering. She squeezed her eyes tight. She could
have one night at least.

Excitement replaced the pain; the sensation
racing its way through her body like a raging river. It made her
long to be in his arms and experience the delight she was certain
she’d find there. Just for once, she wanted to make love with the
man who’d owned her heart and soul for the last ten years.

After everything she’d endured, she deserved
it.

They both deserved it and perhaps it would
allow Marcus to find peace.

That would be her parting gift to him.

Pleading a headache, Sabine arranged for
Lord Cornwall to escort Judith home, her friend’s appreciative
smile indicating her pleasure with that arrangement, and left. She
had much to accomplish before tonight for it was her intention to
make her part of the wager a night that would last her a life
time.

Chapter Nine

It had been a long day and an even longer
night. It was close to midnight before Marcus finally won the
tournament. The pressure had eased off him once he’d ensured Gower
was ruined at the end of round three.