The Wedding Wager (3 page)

She must have looked doubtful, for he continued, “I’ll admit she’s a charming woman, but as you know quite well, I’m finished with all that. I don’t even miss it.”

She couldn’t help giggling at his virtuous look. Nevertheless, she was rather relieved that he hadn’t had an
affaire
with Lady Dearing. Which was perfectly silly. Of course he’d had plenty of liaisons with other ladies that Harry hadn’t met.

“Don’t laugh at me, Harry!” said Julian, recalling her attention. “If you and your aunt would only come up to London, you’ll see how well I can avoid temptation.”

“I’m sure I can trust you to tell me when you finally succumb. There’s no need for me to go to London.”

She saw Julian eyeing her curiously. She hoped he wasn’t going to ask about her aversion to London. The winter preceding Harry’s first Season, Julian had taken a bad fall while fox-hunting. He’d spent the next few months languishing in Leicestershire while his broken ribs and other injuries healed. When they’d seen each other again, she had been disinclined to discuss what had happened, and fortunately he hadn’t pried. It seemed she wasn’t so lucky now.

“I’d hear rumors, but I wish you will tell me yourself what happened that Season. Why do you despise London so much?” he asked, in a gentle tone that was difficult to resist.

She frowned. “I didn’t
take
.”

“It sounds like nonsense. Why didn’t you take?”

“Do you really want to know?”

He nodded.

She sighed. It seemed she’d have to tell him what happened. “Perhaps you are acquainted with Sir Digby Pettleworth.”

He nodded again. “He gives dandies a bad name. What did he do to you?”

“He offered for me. Or more precisely, for my dowry. I suppose my refusal wounded his vanity, for he then proceeded to do his utmost to ruin me socially.”

“What exactly did he do?”

“He spread it about that I had set my cap at him, but that any man of taste would prefer a debtor’s prison to marriage with a lady with so little grace and countenance. Pretty soon I became known as the Homely Hoyden, and my only suitors were those who were on the brink of ruin.”

“The ass! I wish I’d been around to teach him a lesson!” The bay tossed his head at the ferocity of Julian’s tone.

Harry smiled. She couldn’t help feeling flattered that Julian would have championed her so hotly.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s good to know you would have come to my rescue, but really, I don’t think there’s anything you could have done to help.”

“I would have thrashed Pettleworth to an inch of his life. Perhaps it’s still not too late?”

Again, Harry felt warmed by his eagerness to defend her. Despite herself, she found herself wondering what it would be like to have someone like Julian always willing to protect her. She suppressed the treacherous thought; she didn’t need any man’s protection. Besides, Julian would have acted in exactly the same manner had she really been his sister.

She shook her head. “There’s no need to be so bloodthirsty on my account. I left London soon afterwards, and I assure you I am perfectly happy with the life I lead now. None of the men I met in London would have tolerated marriage to an eccentric lady with a passion for breeding and training horses.”

“You don’t know that,” said Julian.

He looked at Harry, trying to see her as the
ton
would have seen her during her debut. Her hair was a soft shade of brown, a warm color like November leaves, although it was pulled back in an unbecoming, severe style. Her eyes were a light blue-gray, and rather fetching when they sparkled with laughter, which happened often enough while they were together. But perhaps Harry hadn’t laughed much in London?

He scrutinized her facial features, but decided he couldn’t tell if she was pretty or not. She was just Harry, his friend from childhood. He had seen her face too many times; it was so familiar to him that he could not pass a judgment on it. But surely she wasn’t homely.

As for her figure—well, she was of average height. No one could call her a Long Meg, nor could they say she was a poor little dab of a creature, either. Neither was she particularly thin or particularly fat, as far as he could tell. Most ladies had their riding habits tailored closely to show off their figures to the best advantage, but not Harry. All of her clothing was rather loose and shapeless, giving little impression of the figure beneath. She claimed it was comfortable, but Julian suddenly wondered if Harry had deliberately cultivated her dowdiness as a defense against those who would judge her by such superficial standards.

“Harry, not everyone is so shallow,” he said. “You were merely unfortunate in some of the people you met. Your Aunt Claudia is a dear, but she wasn’t the right person to oversee your come-out, or choose your clothes. Well, she can’t see five inches past her nose! Believe me, dressed to the nines, with the right friends to help you, you’d do very well.”

“I don’t care for having friends who esteem me only for my connections and attire. Even less for a husband who courted me for money alone.”

“That’s why you should marry me.”

“Oh, you
are
stubborn!” She laughed as they turned to make their way back home.

Having taken his luncheon with Harry and her family, Julian remounted his now rested horse and made his way back to town. As he rode, he pondered what Harry had said about her Season. She had spoken lightly, easily disparaging those who had hurt her. But hurt her they had.

As a young, athletic and wealthy peer, he had never been the target of unkind wit; but now he could see how it could be used against an unsuspecting innocent from the country.

This must be why Harry was so adamant against marriage. Strange, he’d never thought about her marrying anyone. She was just his friend Harry, and would remain so, a fixture at Woodford Park, always to be relied upon, the sister he’d never had. Why hadn’t he ever wondered at her not being interested in what the vast majority of young ladies were obsessed with?

Clearly, she was convinced that no man could value her for herself. Julian felt another stab of anger, and an unexpected protectiveness, at the thought of Harry’s fragile, youthful confidence being so thoughtlessly destroyed. On the heels of that thought followed a picture of what Harry’s life would be like if he married her and did not change his ways.

People would say that they had married for convenience, to join two of the largest estates in Kent, and expect him to pursue his mistresses while ignoring his unfashionable wife. Harry would be subjected to still more cruel gossip.

Well, he wouldn’t let that happen. He would marry her, and he’d be the perfect devoted husband. He’d guide her in choosing a new and becoming wardrobe, and convince her to make her reentry into society as the new Viscountess Debenham. He’d enlist the help of all the goodhearted people he knew to make her feel welcome, and he’d teach the fops and nasty cats who had snubbed her what a grave mistake they had made. This time, no one would dare belittle Harry, or they’d have Julian to reckon with!

Throughout April and into the beginning of May, Julian continued to successfully avoid the many temptations the Metropolis offered a handsome and wealthy young peer. He decided not to undermine Harry’s fragile confidence by relating any details of the lures various ladies used to entice him, but those lures were many and varied.

When the audacious Lady Heatherton invited him to a select dinner party, and he discovered that the company consisted of only himself and his hostess (Lord Heatherton being conveniently out of town) he managed to quickly and carefully extricate himself from the hopeful lady’s embrace.

When Miss Fairgood ‘accidentally’ got herself locked into her father’s conservatory with him, Julian broke a window to get them out before enough time passed for her eager relations to declare them compromised.

And those were just two of many similar incidents.

Julian was beginning to be a trifle annoyed. Word had somehow gotten round that he was reforming his ways, and all of London seemed outraged at this change in the natural order of things. Men roasted him mercilessly over his reformation, but the ladies were even worse. Instead of giving him up as a lost cause, they seemed to regard him as a challenge. He found himself the target of more feminine traps and wiles than he had ever encountered since he had come to town. It was as if half the females in London were conspiring to break his resolution.

The devil of it was that Julian adored women. Slender willowy ones, curvy voluptuous ones. They all had such pleasing smiles, such soft voices, and they always smelled of lavender or roses or some other heady fragrance, expressly designed to entice the helpless male of the species. And they seemed to enjoy his attentions so much, he hated to disappoint them.

Still, he’d had no real difficulty resisting any individual lady’s advances. There was no particular female, of easy virtue or otherwise, that invaded his dreams. Nevertheless, he found himself feeling restless at night, and unable to fall asleep with his usual ease.

No doubt it was the strain of avoiding so many ambitious females. The only respite he got was on Tuesdays, when he rode out to Kent to visit Harry. At least
she
wasn’t pursuing him like a hound after a fox.

When he was with Harry, walking or riding, or playing chess with her in her drawing room, Aunt Claudia nodding peacefully in the corner, he could relax his guard.

What he couldn’t figure out was why on Tuesday nights, after riding fifteen miles out from London, spending several hours with Harry, then riding fifteen miles back to London, he
still
couldn’t fall asleep.

As the weeks went by, Harry continued to enjoy Julian’s weekly visits. He often brought her small gifts, sweets one time, a treatise on horse-breeding the next, but she reminded herself that they meant nothing. He’d brought her gifts in the past, and no doubt he did the same for all his other lady friends.

It was a pleasant time, but now and then Harry felt just a little sadness that it would soon be over. She could see just a hint of strain, an unaccustomed tautness in Julian’s demeanor, no doubt due to the effort of renouncing his accustomed pleasures. It was merely a matter of time before he succumbed to some charmer’s wiles.

Meanwhile, she would enjoy this bright interlude in her life while she could.

* * *

Harry drew her bow, and took careful aim at the target set up on the lawn at Woodford Park. She let the arrow fly, and was pleased to see it hit the target a mere finger’s breadth from the bull’s eye.

“Good shot!” said Julian as he took his place in front of the target. His own arrow flew slightly awry, and hit one of the outer rings of the target.

“I think
you
are a trifle out of practice,” said Harry with a smile.

Julian returned her smile. “When we are married, you must give me lessons every day.”

Harry decided his smile was utterly too engaging, even as she dwelt briefly on the blissful image of married life that his words conjured up. Sternly, she reminded herself that it was an illusion.

“I am afraid you are doomed to disappointment,” she said, shooting again. Her second arrow landed close to the first.

Julian’s second shot was no better than his first, but Harry’s third arrow completed a neat, small triangle around the bull’s eye.

“It’s deuced warm out here,” Julian complained. He removed his coat and threw it on the garden seat behind them, before taking his place in front of the target again. Harry watched him as he took aim, more slowly this time.

His blond hair and white shirt shone, almost dazzling Harry’s eyes in the bright sunshine. As he drew a leg back in the proper stance, the taut musculature of his arms visible through the fabric of his sleeve, she had to admit Julian cut a fine figure. No wonder there were scores of silly females ready to make perfect fools of themselves over his charming smile and broad shoulders. Thank goodness she was not one of them!

Julian shot again, then they went together to the target to retrieve their arrows.

“You’ve been enjoying my Tuesday visits, haven’t you?” asked Julian as they returned to their earlier position.

Harry decided his voice had a suspiciously silky quality. It was not difficult to see where his question led.

“I suppose so,” she said in a carefully nonchalant tone. “You are, perhaps, a slightly more lively conversationalist than Aunt Claudia.”

Julian choked on a laugh just as he let his first arrow fly. It missed the target entirely.

“Thank you for the compliment, m’dear,” he said. “But you must admit it’s been fun, and marriage would be even better. Why don’t we just end this silly wager and let everyone know we are engaged?”

Harry looked back at Julian. There was a candid, winning light in his eyes. She couldn’t help feeling flattered by his eagerness, but it would not do to let him know that.

“We are not engaged,” she said, slightly vexed to see her first shot hit the rim of the target.

“We’re not engaged . . . 
yet
,” said Julian, and shot his second arrow. This time his aim was better. “But you can’t deny that I’ve stayed virtuous for almost two months now. All I have to do is endure one more, and I’ll be the winner.”