The Earl's Wager Read online

  “That’s still a bad excuse for allowing him to ride with us.” She closed her mouth knowing she’d said too much, although inwardly, she fumed. Her goal was to make sure Harland stayed in their employ, and she mustn’t rile Oliver’s temper further.

  A knock sounded on the door, followed by Grandleigh’s voice. “It’s just me, Marsdale. Is it safe to open the door? No one is paying me any mind.”

  Oliver pushed outward on the door, and Will Sutton slid in beside him. “I’ve given my horse to your groom to secure.”

  The man was so tall, his knees nearly touched hers. His green eyes pierced her with such intense focus, she felt something shift inside her. She refused to acknowledge him and instead looked past Eloise to the window and the curtain covering it.

  Once Oliver tapped on the roof, they departed for Autumn Ridge. The carriage rocked, and silence filled the tight quarters. Georgia knew this was as good a time as any to make her plea on Harland’s behalf.

  “Oliver, please don’t dismiss Harland, I beg of you. It wasn’t his fault. The blame is entirely with me. I locked him in the tack room. There was nothing he could do to stop me.” She paused to gather her argument in some semblance of order in her head. “You know, once I make up my mind, how I am.”

  He sighed. “Yes, I know how you’ve convinced me to let you partake in horse training and racing. From now on, I’ll never be obliged to do so again.”

  “You know that’s the only thing that’s made my stay here even remotely bearable.” Tears pricked her eyes. Without Harland, or access to horses and racing, she’d have nothing. Well, not completely nothing. She did have Arabella, at least, but in her increasing state, she couldn’t be at the stables as much as she’d like.

  “Things are going to change, Georgia,” Oliver said very simply. “You’re to marry. Grandleigh has agreed to tutor you in some of our customs. He’ll make sure that you’re skilled at dancing and whatever else it is debutantes do.”

  She couldn’t allow this, couldn’t be maneuvered like a puppet with strings. “I can dance acceptably. I don’t need anyone teaching me anything. Besides, by your English standards, because I’m four and twenty, I’m already a spinster, so really there’s no point.”

  “You won’t have access to your funds if you don’t marry. How can you want that?” Oliver asked.

  “I will marry. I have plans for that, but I certainly don’t need any instruction to accomplish it.” Georgia sighed. Despite the predicament she was in, Oliver was a good man and cared whether she had some small modicum of happiness. He had to know that without access to the horses, she’d never be content. “I can’t be happy without Harland and the horses. I just can’t.”

  Hard lines etched across his forehead, Oliver gazed at her. “I haven’t decided whether I’m keeping Harland on or not.”

  “The question should be, do you want to win races or not?” Georgia cried. “He’s the best trainer there is.”

  “She does have a point,” Grandleigh interjected. “Perhaps if your jockey hadn’t taken ill, your horse wouldn’t have won that race today.”

  Georgia seethed inside. She could defend herself. “I’ll do whatever you want. Please, Oliver, don’t dismiss Harland and don’t take me away from the horses. It’s the only thing I love here.”

  Her cousin’s jaw flexed, something he often did when thinking. He arched a brow. “The only thing?”

  “Well…besides you and Arabella.” If she had to make tears flow down her cheeks, she could easily do so. “Please, Oliver.”

  “Very well. I’ll agree to keep Harland employed, but you must make allowances and keep to your end of the bargain.”

  “Whatever bargain it is, I agree,” Georgia replied without thinking.

  “You’ve got to agree to the tutoring Grandleigh’s offering to provide and go along with whatever matchmaking plan he implements. I imagine we’ll have to go to a few parties or balls and such. We need to get you out into the marriage mart. Even if it means going to London and staying in my townhouse, that’s what we’ll do.”

  The thought of spending any amount of time in a large town turned her stomach. “You know I don’t want to go to London. I’ll find someone in the country to marry. There are plenty of country balls, parties, and gatherings.”

  “So you’ll agree to work with Will in exchange for keeping Harland in my employ?”

  “The city is the ghastliest of places to be. I can’t go there, I just can’t.”

  “No need to be so dramatic.” Oliver gazed upward. “I know you don’t like London, but if you don’t find some interested suitors, we’ll be forced to go there.”

  As there was no way to get everything she wanted, she’d have to agree to work with Arabella’s brother. If he was related to Arabella, there must be some good qualities in him. She just hadn’t seen them yet.

  “Yes, I agree.” She folded her hands in her lap. “As long as I can continue to work with Harland in the mornings like I’ve been doing, then yes, I won’t put up a fuss about some tutoring from Grandlot.”

  “It’s Grandleigh.” The earl straightened his cravat, which was perfectly straight before he moved it. “But since we’ll be working so closely together during the next fortnight or so, I think it’s perfectly all right if you call me Will.” He paused as though waiting for some kind of response. When she said nothing, he continued, “Just privately, when it’s our family together…not in public of course.”

  “No. We should stick to what’s proper.” She tossed her head back. “I’ll call you Grandleigh. Thank you just the same.” She stared across the coach at him. “After all, shouldn’t I be following the rules of English society? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be teaching me? And already you’d have me break one of the most important rules? Addressing people with their appropriate titles is rather important, isn’t it? Should I call you ‘my lord’?”

  His gaze pressed into her and promised so many things, like maybe he wouldn’t be as easily manipulated as Oliver. She could have sworn she saw his eye twitch. “By all means, ‘my lord’ is perfectly acceptable. But if we’re going to stand on formality I’ll need to call you Miss Duvall, as well.”

  For now, she’d have to pretend to go along with him, which was fine. She had her eye on a neighboring gentleman, Sir Richard Hamilton, to marry anyway. The tutoring with Arabella’s brother wouldn’t last more than a few days. “I would expect nothing less, my lord.”

  She needed to arrange to meet with Sir Richard again. She’d chanced upon him while riding a few days ago. And from what Eloise said, he wasn’t in good health. “So we’re all in agreement. I go on as I always have working with Harland. He keeps his job. In return, I’ll be tutored by the Earl of Grandlot.”

  “Grandleigh,” Arabella’s brother hissed.

  “Oh, yes, Grandleigh. I apologize, my lord.” She glanced at Oliver, whose lips pressed into a straight, firm line of agitation, his expression saying more than his silence.

  Apparently, she had pushed far enough, and pretending she didn’t know Will’s name wasn’t earning her any favorable points. “I’m so sorry if I’ve offended you.”

  “No offense taken, Miss Duvall,” he replied smoothly.

  Perhaps working with him for a few days wouldn’t prove completely tiresome and might even provide a pleasant diversion. He certainly was no pushover, and despite his arrogance, he was easy on the eyes. In fact, Georgia might very well enjoy some mental sparring with him. He appeared to be confident in his tutoring abilities. Perhaps she wouldn’t be a model student, or perhaps she’d find a way to knock the cool sense of self-assurance out of his eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Sitting across from Georgia Duvall in the carriage, Will assessed his project. Finding the right match for his sister had been a challenge, but an American woman already past prime marriageable age, with this attitude, would prove more difficult.

  He’d gotten over his initial shock at seeing her dressed as a jockey. Actually, s
he wasn’t simply dressed like one, she acted like one. He couldn’t believe Oliver didn’t mete out some kind of punishment beyond her agreement to be tutored by him. She should be censured for such outlandish behavior, not to mention she could have been killed.

  However, Oliver did warn him—he’d called her a hellion, if he wasn’t mistaken, although he’d assumed Oliver had been exaggerating. Apparently not.

  A thin layer of dust still covered the woman in question’s face, and dirt crusted at the creases of her mouth. With so much filth covering her features, it was difficult to make an assessment of her person, but her blue eyes were certainly beautiful.

  He found it difficult to look away from the curves the racing trousers outlined. Though petite, her bottom curved not like a jockey’s, but a woman’s, and he’d been surprised Oliver didn’t wrap a coat around her waist. But people often saw what they wanted to see.

  “Is something amiss, my lord?” she asked, interrupting his assessment of her. He’d undoubtedly been staring.

  “No, not at all, just planning everything I’ll need to teach you in my head. Perhaps once we arrive at Autumn Ridge, and you’ve donned more suitable attire, we can discuss our strategy for procuring a husband for you.”

  The chit bit down on her dirt-covered bottom lip. “Why certainly,” she said coyly and turned to Eloise. “If you’ll have Mrs. Carston draw a bath for me once we arrive, I’ll bathe post-haste so I can attend my first lesson with the earl.”

  He detected sarcasm in her tone, but he pushed the thought away and focused on her physical demeanor. He wanted to tell her to quit biting on the inside of her mouth, it was unseemly. But instead, he filed the mannerism away in his mind to discuss with her later—during their first lesson, as she called them. She’d need to appear as a demure, willing woman who knew how to partake in polite conversation and ask appropriate questions at the right times, not gnaw on her lips like some kind of animal who’d just finished a meal. “We’re calling them ‘lessons,’ are we?”

  She shrugged and moved her tongue slowly along the outside of her teeth, as if determined to remove a twig. Was she doing the subtle move for only his eyes, to distract him? Certainly not. They’d barely just met. “It suits, I suppose.”

  “I believe there is a house party at Lady Laurel’s home next week.” He turned to Oliver. Of course he wasn’t looking at Miss Duvall to notice the strange things she did with her mouth. “I’ll make sure you receive an invitation. Normally, I’m sure you would have received an invite without my intervention, but with my sister’s current state of health, Lady Laurel may not have thought to invite you.”

  “Your sister’s current state of health?” Georgia queried. “You mean her pregnancy? Are you not allowed to say ‘pregnancy’ in England?”

  Will turned his gaze from Georgia to Oliver. “I see I have my work cut out for me.”

  “That you do,” Oliver agreed and absently brushed at the lapels of his waistcoat.

  Will eyed the Autumn Ridge estates as they approached. The superb landscaping and water features made the area a haven for deer and every kind of waterfowl. Westwyck Hall boasted a sweeping mansion with a central block and four wings. Will couldn’t imagine the upkeep of such a large estate.

  Oliver announced, “We’ve arrived.”

  “And so we have,” Will said with enthusiasm. He was ready to roll up his sleeves and get to work. “Would you care to meet me in the library, Miss Duvall? We can discuss our plans for your tutoring, set up a schedule of sorts. Once you’re in proper attire, of course.”

  “I’d be delighted,” Georgia said. This time she didn’t bite down on her lip, but she lazily swiped her tongue across it instead. “Once I’ve bathed and my hair is washed, I’ll get dressed and join you.”

  Will’s eyes involuntarily widened.

  “Is something the matter, my lord?” Georgia asked innocently.

  Will made a mental note to have several lessons in what was, and was not, appropriate conversation with a gentleman. What had at first seemed like a challenge now looked more like a monumental task. He cleared his throat and fiddled with his cravat, even though he knew no adjustments were necessary. “No. Nothing at all. Just making a list in my head of all the things we need to accomplish during your tutoring before Lady Laurel’s house party.”

  Will should have foreseen how this bargain could go terribly bad for him. Nonetheless, he’d committed to the matchmaking duty. And if he was being completely honest, he wanted to travel in the more elite circles of the ton—an easy way to accomplish that was to have a winning racehorse. “I’ll wait for you in the library. Take your time.”

  They walked across the graveled driveway to the front doors. The marbled entryway led to a hallway lined with paintings, where Will parted company with the ladies.

  “I won’t be long,” Miss Duvall said before approaching the circular staircase.

  The butler showed Will into the library, even though he knew very well where it was. Marsdale called out to him, “Shall I ring for tea?”

  “That would be brilliant.” Will strode across the blue-and-gold, intricately designed wool carpet before rounding a writing table and adjacent chair. “And if I could help myself to a quill and parchment?”

  “Of course.” Marsdale strode up from behind him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Grandleigh, I must say, you are taking this quite well.”

  “Taking what well? Our wager?” Will shrugged as if the task were simple, but as he’d discovered during the carriage ride, it was maybe not quite as easy as he’d originally thought. “If I’m to have one of your best racehorses, I’ll keep my end of the bargain. I’ll have her engaged in no time. No time at all.”

  “I say,” Marsdale said, rubbing his chin. “I admire your optimism. She’s been here several months now, and, suffice to say, she’s taken up quite a bit of my energy, and I admit I’ve left her to her own devices too often. But Harland has acted almost as a surrogate father to her—more than I could ever be. Georgia and I share a love of horses, but she bonded with the trainer instantly, and with the recent death of her father, I couldn’t bring myself to be stricter with her.”

  “I certainly understand. Arabella caused me much grief, as you know.”

  “Only too well, my friend. I’m just afraid, because I haven’t taken Georgia in hand the way I should, perhaps it has made her more defiant. Had I paid her a little more attention maybe…”

  “No, it’s fine.” Will waved a conciliatory hand in the air. “All perfectly fine. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  “All right, then.” Oliver gathered an inkwell and quill, along with some parchment from a cabinet drawer. He directed Will to a desk then said, “I’ll leave you to the library, and I’ll see to my wife.”

  Will sat down at the writing table. He admired the walls lined with leather-bound books while he contemplated how he might plan this tutoring schedule.

  After his father had accumulated so much debt and run their estate into near ruin, the members of the ton had treated him, and especially Arabella, poorly. Some had given them the outright cut. His sister had married well, and he’d subsequently paid off all his debts, but society had deemed his family’s actions as not quite sufficient to atone for his father’s transgressions.

  He wanted those same men who’d treated him as less than an equal to regard him as someone of greater accomplishment—esteem him. He wanted to be envied and admired, not looked down upon because of the sins of his father. So, he hoped to use the schooling of Miss Duvall to better his own fortune.

  The first step in his plan was to be included in the events that only the most sought-after were invited to, and Lady Laurel was already someone he had on his side. Being respected as Oliver Westwyck’s brother-in-law helped his quest immensely, and once he was the owner of a quality racehorse, he’d be that much closer to achieving his goals.

  When Georgia entered the library without being announced, Will glanced up from his writing and was mom
entarily stunned into silence. He stood and stared.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, my lord.” She sashayed across the room like a blast of fresh air off the ocean. With a little bite of lingering salt in her wake.

  She wore a simple, blue day dress, and her hair was pulled back quite severely and knotted at the base of her neck, but Will found her quite pretty. Without the trousers and the dust covering her face, turning her into a lady seemed a little less insurmountable. “I daresay, Miss Duvall, you’ve transformed yourself quite nicely. I’m afraid you no longer resemble a jockey.”

  “Thank you. I think.” She peered at him with a curious gaze and strolled to the opposite side of the writing table.

  “Won’t you sit down?” Will gestured to the wingback chair adjacent to the desk.

  She sat down and eyed him sedately as he resumed his seat.

  Will set the quill aside, leaned back in the chair, and steepled his fingers. “I was starting a list of things we might like to accomplish. I have some questions for you, like whether you’ve been schooled in dancing? We already know you require some counsel on appropriate topics of conversation.” He glanced down at his list. “I’ve made a note of that.”

  “My lord, before you continue, let me assure you that I require no need of your lessons, because I’ve already found a gentleman to marry.”

  “What?” This was an interesting twist. “I don’t think Marsdale knows about this, or he would have told me.”

  “No, he doesn’t. The gentleman I have in mind doesn’t know yet either.” She gathered her skirts in hand and stood.

  Will set his hands on the desk, pushed his chair back, and stood as well. Excellent. This might be much easier than he’d anticipated, and he’d be that much closer to acquiring his racehorse. Although… “He doesn’t know either,” he repeated. “Maybe you might inform him or, better yet, inform me who this gentleman is you intend to marry.”

  “We’ve met and spoken. I’m hoping he’ll be at Lady Laurel’s ball.” Her gaze lingered on him innocently, and yet he was certain there was more to what she was saying. And perhaps she wasn’t quite as innocent as Marsdale would have him believe. “Perhaps you can tutor me in the ways I might capture his attention?”