Page 18 of The Wager and the Wedding

As soon as Adelaide’s stomach was empty, Isabella helped her back down belowdecks. She didn’t like how cold and clammy Adelaide’s hand felt on hers, or the way her sister was shivering. Isabella could only pray that their brief foray into the elements didn’t bring on something far worse than a little seasickness.

In the cabin, Isabella helped her sister onto the bed. Martin returned and knocked on the door, then opened it, holding out a carved, wooden cup with a dram of the sleeping draught.

“Thank you,” Adelaide murmured before swallowing it down.

Martin handed her a small, hard biscuit, and she took it with a tenuous smile.

“You are too kind, my lord.” Adelaide took a few tentative nibbles. “Mmm. You’re right. That does help.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “That’s good, my lady.”

Isabella’s heart melted a bit at the sight of Martin’s kindness to her beloved sister. She couldn’t afford to like this man, but she had to admit, grudgingly, that sometimes he wasn’t terrible.

“I’ll leave you two alone to dry off and rest,” he said, bowing. And then he was gone.

Adelaide took off her shoes and slid beneath the thick wool covers on the bed after finishing off the last of the biscuit, and Isabella sat down beside her.

“I like Lord Martin,” Adelaide said, peering up with her big brown eyes. “He’s kind. I’m glad you married someone with a good heart.”

Clearing her throat, Isabella tucked her sister in. “Well, don’t get too attached.” She smoothed stray hairs out of Adelaide’s face.

“What do you mean?” Adelaide started to sit up, brow furrowed and face full of concern.

Isabella pressed her gently back down. Should she tell her sister of her plans? It would be hard to hide in such close quarters. Perhaps it was time to be honest. “I don’t plan to stay married to him.”

She explained about the deal she’d struck with Martin, and her sister’s frown grew deeper.

“But why would you leave a good man? I don’t understand.” Adelaide reached out for Isabella’s hand with an imploring look.

“He’s not a good man. His head is as swollen as an overfilled wineskin. Besides, I need to marry someone who is willing and able to defy Lady Eleanor so that I can keep you with me. There is no way I’m letting that harpy have you.”

“But maybe Lord Martin can—”

“He won’t,” Isabella said firmly. “Lady Eleanor sent him, remember? We can’t trust him. And you should hear the way he talks to me. Please believe me when I say that the baron is not the solution to our problems.”

Adelaide frowned and retreated beneath the covers. “If you’re certain you’ve thought this through—”

“I have.”Well, maybe not entirely.Certain details were still fuzzy. Isabella needed time to think.

Adelaide covered her mouth as an enormous yawn overtook her. At least the sleeping draught was working quickly. Perhaps then Isabella might have some time to truly plot out her future.

As her sister dozed off, Isabella kicked off her shoes and settled back against the headboard. At last, she had some peace and quiet to consider her options. She began a mental list of possible ways to approach Lord James of Norfolk. For hours, she was absorbed in her planning, so it startled her when there was a knock on the door.

With a silent curse, she got up and went to the door. She didn’t want to wake her sister.

Opening it, she saw Martin.Of course.

“How was your day, my lady? It looks like I interrupted you in the midst of deep thought.”

She slipped out the door and let it close behind her to leave Adelaide in peace.

“I was planning. I think I’ll marry the Earl of Norfolk once our marriage is annulled. He always liked me.” There was no reason to keep her intentions a secret. It wasn’t as if Martin was truly her husband.

A muscle in Martin’s jaw bulged momentarily before he schooled his face into nonchalance. Was he bothered by this news? If so, it served him right for thinking this marriage was anything other than a pretense.

“That oaf?” Martin asked lightly. “He knows how to handle a lance on the tourney grounds. I’ll give him that. But don’t expect him to be a good and faithful husband to you. From what I’ve seen, he dips his wick in any passing strumpet that shows him abit of leg. And he has a reputation for being cruel and ambitious. Is that truly what you want?”

Isabella was well aware of the earl’s reputation and habits. “Why would I care what he does and with whom if I’m the countess of all of Norfolk?” It wasn’t entirely true that she didn’t care, but her life with her mother and Lady Eleanor had taught her to prize practicality above sentiment under all circumstances. The earl served her purposes, and that was all that mattered.

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