Page 2 of A Gentleman's Wager
“It’s the truth.”
“Some flibbertigibbet’s broken your heart I suppose.”
“No, indeed. It’s simply a case of the time being ripe.”
A huff and a shake of Charles’s sandy head followed. “Then I suppose it may as well be here.”
The man swung the cane he’d been leaning upon. “My thoughts exactly.” He turned towards the house and used the crutch as a pointer. “The labourers arrive tomorrow to start on the grounds and the interior, although the east wing will have to wait. I plan to be in permanent residence by the start of October.”
“No!”
Bella clasped her hands across her mouth, but the gasp was already made. She waited to be found, but neither man appeared to have heard her.
“You’re mad, Marlinscar,” Charles slapped him heartily across the back. “You’ve not spent winter in the countryside, have you? You’re a lily-livered city boy.”
“Charles, I’m sure it cannot be that bad, else estates such as this would not exist. In any case, I find most things tolerable after a bottle of brandy.”
They started moving towards the house.
“Aye, you’re right. That is true. I wouldn’t say no to a snifter or two right now.”
“Come then, let’s investigate that hamper my housekeeper was so thorough as to prepare.”
A flash of sunlight hit the glass in the French doors as they stepped inside the building. Finally, the door swung to, leaving behind only a few bent stalks to mark their passing.
On another occasion Bella would have been right behind them with her nose pressed to the glass eager to discover the Hall’s interior. Presently, she let the branches fall back into place as tears trickled down her face. He had come, as she’d always known deep down that he would, but his purpose was simply to reclaim his ancestral home, not claim her like a romantic hero.
If Lauwine was to be inhabited again, it would mean the end of everything – the hayfield lawn, the willow cave, the vast sanctuary she’d built for herself. There’d be no coming and going whenever she pleased. The arbours in which she’d entertained straw-dollies, the grottos where she’d woven daisy chains would all be barred to her, and a flock of servants and groundsmen would ensure it.
It would all be hopelessly ruined.
~*~
Having sobbed herself into a stupor, Bella woke sometime later to find the afternoon shadows stretched long. With a grimy hand she wiped the tears and perspiration from her face, then craned her head to listen for voices. All sat as quiet as it had ever been. The gentleman had left, and with any luck her suitors would have taken their leave too, allowing her to return home with tidings of their new neighbour. Though that would wait a while longer yet. For, if this were to be her last visit, then she would make a final tour of each cherished vista.
It hurt to leave the willow cave. A thick lump appeared in her throat, and her nose tingled with the possibility of further tears. After saying goodbye to the fountain, and the overturned cart by the yarrow and the ox-eye daisies, she waded down slope to where the woodland bordered the riverbank. All was as it had ever been, the path just as wide, the ferns as thickly grown. Still, it was difficult to push aside the conversation she’d overheard to believe Lauwine still hers. It already felt like a fading dream.
She was almost at the point where the brook met the river, when she heard a splash that was definitely not caused by a fish.
“Dash it!” Were they still here?
A reprimand for trespassing was not how she desired her introduction to Viscount Marlinscar to go.
Bella scurried into the rhododendrons, sinking low before peeping through the foliage in the direction of the noise. The viscount was crouched by the river’s edge, one hand playing idly in the water. There was no sign of Charles Aubrey.
Whatever was he about?
He had taken off his coat so that he stood in his shirtsleeves. Did he mean to… He couldn’t mean to… Oh, my! It seemed he did mean to. Bella watched in open mouthed astonishment as he shed his waistcoat and tugged his shirt over his head. Then, off came his breeches too, so that she was treated to the sight of his lily-white cheeks.
Often the miners and fieldhands would strip to the waist to work, so it wasn’t as if she’d never seen bare flesh before. She just hadn’t seen any gentlemen ungarmented. He was quite the sight. Muscles tapered the length of his body. She watched them shift beneath the skin as he moved towards the water’s edge.
Perhaps this was nothing more than an elaborate dream brought on by heat exhaustion? She would wake presently, parched and grubby with only the prospect of turning down another unwanted proposal to worry about.
Lord, could a man of his rank really be this perfect? No nostril hair, one perfectly serviceable chin—where so many possessed two or none—and golden hair that framed his face in a wayward tumble that the cherubs in the church mural would envy. Not to mention there was something distinctly enthralling about his lack of modesty.
She simply had to take a closer look.
Lucerne Marlinscar was not at all how she’d ever imagined him, which was not to say that he didn’t fulfil her expectations of a fairy tale prince. Indeed, he did so rather too well. In truth, he might very well have been the most handsome man she’d ever seen. A slow burn of arousal lit low in her belly, making her wriggle. What would it be like to press her fingers to his flesh? Would his skin be soft like her own? Just then he looked straight ahead to where she lay and a flicker of something passed through the depths of his eyes.
