Page 2 of War of the Wedding Wagers
Yes, he called her Eugenia because Alice had insisted he Christian-name her during the agonizing dinner parties Eugenia had endured as their guest. Alice had enjoyed entertaining before the children.
“Yes, Thornton?”
His eyes, a deep, contemplative hazel flecked with gold, bored into her as she waited, breathless, for him to pose his question.
“Marriage is a serious business, would you not agree?”
“I… wouldn’t know.” Why had she said that? He wasn’t referring to her personal experience of it.
Lady Pendleton clicked her tongue. “Eugenia hasn’t an original opinion in her head. She doesn’t know what she thinks, as I was observing earlier. And she certainly has no idea of who would make an ideal marriage partner. How could she since she is a spinster? Which is why I don’t engage her thoughts when it comes to the matchmaking of which you’ve just accused us, Lord Thornton; though I would lay claim to a few successes over the years.” She looked smug.
“Couples of different dispositions can make very successful marriages, I think.” Eugenia stuck her chin out, quaking inwardly at Lady Pendleton’s disapproving frown as a quadrille ended and couples moved across the polished floor in a swish of silk and muslin. What? For venturing an original opinion?
But Lord Thornton’s interested look was sufficiently bolstering for her to go on. “The difficulty is that if one party is of a shy and retiring nature, it is a challenge for the other to find the—”
“The what, Eugenia?” Lady Pendleton snapped. “Spit it out!”
“The pearl within,” Eugenia said faintly.
Perhaps her nervous humility pleased Lady Pendleton sufficiently, who said, “Why, that was very poetic, Eugenia,” albeit with another of her condescending smiles.
Thornton smiled too, though not at Eugenia. His interest had returned to Sir Frederick and his young companion. “Our newly returned baronetisa challenge,” he murmured. “I have a niece who has quite lost her heart to him. Her mama—my sister—has implored me to keep her out of his sights, even though I’ve reassured her that Sir Frederick will be no threat if he remains true to his proclivity for tiny, vivacious blonde damsels. My niece, Emma, you see, is chestnut-haired.”
“Well, then, your sister has no need to worry.”
“You would think not. However, my sister is not convinced and says she won’t rest easy until Sir Frederick has made it to the altar without embroiling Emma in scandal. My observation is that, since Sir Frederick’s return from the Continent, he remains interested only in bold, golden-haired young ladies with beauty and wit—of which my dear niece has neither, though she has many other redeeming qualities. However, this has not reassured my sister at all.”
Eugenia gazed at Thornton’s handsome profile while her mind sought desperately for a response. It was difficult to concentrate as she breathed in a waft of his bay rum cologne mingling with the sweet perfume of hothouse flowers arranged in tall Grecian urns around the ballroom. Thornton had voiced a problem. Well, a problem for his sister which manifested as irritation for himself.
Perhaps this was Eugenia’s opportunity. Perhaps she could be the person who could solve Thornton’s sister’s concern so that she would stop vexing him, which would in turn earn Eugenia the gratitude of both… and maybe the admiration of Thornton.
These thoughts were landing so quickly with no means of outlet so that, when a tall, dark-haired young lady, soberly attired in Pomona green crossed her path, she seized her opportunity—mostly because Lady Pendleton had opened her mouth to speak.
“I maintain my belief that couples with disparate dispositions complement one another and I will prove it,” Eugenia interrupted, indicating the young lady who had stopped a little distance from them to send a dispassionate look about the ballroom before she seated herself in a window embrasure half retreating behind the thick, brocade curtain.
Emboldened by Thornton’s look of interest as much as by Lady Pendleton’s clear disparagement, Eugenia went on, almost desperately, “If Sir Frederick has such a flamboyant, bold disposition, he needs a quiet, serious, even dull helpmate to temper his restless impulses. I propose Miss Amelia Fairchild as his ideal match.”
Lord Thornton’s eyebrows rose. “Surely you jest, Eugenia?”
Eugenia tried to keep her smile steady in contrast to the beating of her heart. “I do not.”
“You propose that these polar opposites can be united by your devious machinations?” Thornton’s voice took on a gravelly note as he leaned towards her, a collaborative look in his eye. “Are you suggesting a wager?”
Eugenia was proposing no such thing. But even if the glint in Lord Thornton’s eye was due to an excess of Madeira, he was nevertheless singling Eugenia out for his especial attention. And what’s more, suggesting something that, though she’d considerit outrageous under normal circumstances, had attracted his positive attention.
Why, now she thought about it, agreeing to turn it into a wager would surely facilitate further contact with the handsome viscount.
So, ignoring Lady Pendleton’s scandalized look, she said, boldly, “Indeed, I am.”
Even Lord Thorton looked taken aback as if he’d never imagined Eugenia would take his remark seriously. So, in case he withdrew, Eugenia thought quickly. She’d just accepted Lord Thornton’s wager. What was required in a wager? Money? She had no need of money. Neither did he. No, she needed to wager something much more creative. Something Lord Thornton would find intriguing; something he might want.
But what did he want?
Then she remembered. After all, thirty years was not so long ago. She’d felt like a girl only yesterday. His visit to her father’s house when she’d just reached marriageable age was imprinted on her mind. But he, five years older, had barely noticed her. No, he’d had eyes only for the painting of Persephone that graced the wall of her father’s library. That painting now hung in her own drawing room.
However, she’d not forgotten how he’d admired it as he’d spoken to her father of his love of art, particularly Greek mythology.
“A wager, Lord Thornton? Why, I’ll wager my Persephone if I am unsuccessful in uniting reclusive Miss Amelia Fairchild and swaggering Sir Frederick. I recall you once admired it. What will you wager?” Now shewasbeing bold. The flare of surprise in his eye was gratifying and for the first time in as many years as she could remember, Eugenia felt a frisson of excitement and, yes,need, thrum through her body. She’d already accepted that she’d lose the beloved painting for undoubtedly Sir Frederick was asunlikely a contender for Miss Fairchild’s affections as the rake was for that bluestocking’s.
