Page 26 of The Marquess' Wicked Wager
“My honor, then.”
“I am hardly one to judge.”
The Viscount looked away, and his bushy brows twitched. “And yet, you have honored the bet. Why?”
“To protect your daughter...at first,” he added as an afterthought.
“And your good deed gave way to love, is that right?” Worthington began to turn away, shaking his head.
“Is that so unbelievable?” Albert scoffed. “If you have cornered me with the intention of riding me off the cliff, I’m afraid my father shall be quite displeased with you. He has made clear that my head is his alone.”
“I do not answer to your father.”
“You do not answer to him, no. You simply do his bidding.” Albert gripped tightly at the reins of his horse. The clouds had parted, and the sun was beating down on them now. His muscles tensed beneath the starch of his shirt. “I love your daughter,” he lied. “I have asked for her hand, and she has accepted. Fighting this will only hurt her.”
“What do you care about hurting her! You don’t know a thing about her!”
Albert could hardly argue. Hedidn’tknow a thing about Edna beyond the way she infuriated him...and enthralled him. “Familiarity is hardly the leading factor in a match, and I’m surprised you would throw that in my face after you so readily handed her to a man who could not even name her.” Albert bit back a growl. His ire was building. “They say many things about you, Worthington. Unbelievably, they are all true.”
Silence fell upon them, giving way only to the hush of the breeze. “You will not have her,” the Viscount prickled, at last, angling his horse away.
“I would like to see you try and stop me.”
“You will not ruin her.” The words were not a question, nor a trust of faith. They were viscously commanding.
Before Albert could think of what to say next, the man was gone, leaving behind only the rustling of leaves as he headed back through the clearing.
“That went slightly better than I had imagined.” Albert whipped his head around. His uncle was mounted behind him, quiet as a mouse on their hill. He had been tucked away in a small outcropping of trees and was now riding toward him.
“I thought you rode off to find the others by the lake,” Albert said through a laugh. “Instead, you’ve turned a spy.”
“Not a spy, Albie. Did you really think I’d leave you in the clutches of Bloomsday? Not a chance, my boy.” He edged his horse a little closer.
“And you heard all that from there, did you?” Albert gestured for the clearing.
“I’m not quite so old as to have lost my hearing.” His uncle smiled, and it was soothing. “Shall we be off?”
Albert drew his hand up to stroke at his neck. “A moment, if you don’t mind.” He let his hand hang. “My father visited me before the engagement party.”
“I imagine he had only good tidings to deliver.” The remaining strands of his uncle’s hair wafted in the wind. “Or did he say something to trouble you?”
“Something troubling, aye.” He sighed. “He proposed an exchange of sorts—Miss Worthington for the truth about my mother. I denied him.” He intonated the words carefully and watched even closer from Lord Miles’ reaction. Quick as the rise and fall of a breeze, his uncle’s face flashed with guilt. “Might you know a thing of it then, uncle?”
He nodded slowly. “I prayed this day might never come.” The words were like daggers to Albert’s heart. “But I will not give you the answers you seek, Albie. I can’t.”
Albert meditated for a long, quiet moment. “I have thought night and day of what he said, and I have come to this—my mother abandoned me; though I cannot blame her for it, I cannot like her for it either. So, there is nothing I want to know except…is it true?Doesshe live?”
“She does.” His uncle leaned forward to pat his back, but Albert turned his mare away. “I know you will be cross with me. I know it, but I had no choice. She preferred you think she was dead than a poor mother.”
Albert had nothing much more to say. “She is a poor mother,” was all he offered, until he turned his horse toward the main path and added, “And I shall let her rest in the grave we made for her.”
* * *
It took fifteen indulgent minutes for him to trot down to where his uncle had suggested they picnic. From where he rode along the road, he could see Violet (in the most shockingly dreadful fuchsia number he had ever seen) ordering about a gaggle of servants. A few other ladies were in attendance though none he particularly recognized, but the party paled in comparison to the group from the night prior.Thank heavens.
He reined up behind the carriages, dropping off his horse and handing her to a nearby groom. He removed his top hat and sauntered over to his uncle, who had arrived before he had and was looking quite at home outstretched on a blanket.
“Where is...” he began, only for his uncle to point toward the bank of the lake. Toward Edna.
