Lady Allerton's Wager

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Beth realised that this was true. Marcus had loosened his grip on the reins and the horses, very well-behaved thoroughbred bays, were trotting at a decorous pace along the path. All of Marcus’s attention was focused on her and as soon as Beth realised it she became acutely aware of the warmth of his regard and the disturbingly intent expression in those dark eyes.

‘Well, yes…anyway…For a hundred years the Trevithicks prospered and Mostyns struggled, but they still held Fairhaven Island.’ Beth glared at Marcus, forgetting for a moment that he had not been personally responsible for wresting it from her grandfather. It was easy to fall back into the stories of her childhood, the enthralling tales of Trevithick treachery. ‘Then my grandfather inherited the estate and came up against your grandfather, my lord, the fifth Earl, George Trevithick.’

‘Ah, the Evil Earl. I have heard much of his exploits. They say that in his youth he was in league with the wreckers and the smugglers and the pirates and anyone who could help him make an illegal profit.’

‘I have no doubt. What is certainly true is that our grandfathers were implacable enemies, my lord, and had sworn to take their fight to the death. One stormy March night my grandfather was sailing for Fairhaven, not knowing that the Earl had already landed there and that the wreckers were waiting for him. There was a gale blowing and in the dark my grandfather did not realise that the shore lights were not placed there by his servants but were a trick of the enemy.’ Beth took a deep breath. ‘His ship ran aground and all hands were lost, along with the chest of treasure the ship had been carrying. My grandfather was the only one to escape ashore, but he was ambushed by the Evil Earl and cut down in the fight. Then the Earl stole his sword, the Sword of Saintonge, that had been in the family for centuries, and took the island into the bargain! Now, what do you think of that, my lord?’

Beth finished, out of breath, and looked at Marcus expectantly. It was a tale for a dark, stormy night rather than a bright day in the park, and it was difficult to believe that either of them were the descendants of men who had struggled to the death for supremacy only fifty years before. That conflict had been ruthless and atavistic, belonging to a previous and less civilised time. Beth allowed herself to consider the man who sat beside her, looking every inch the sophisticated society gentleman. She wondered suddenly just how much of that image was a façade, for she already knew from her dealings with Marcus that if one scratched the surface there was something infinitely more ruthless beneath. As for herself—how far would she go to regain Fairhaven? The stubborn tenacity of the Mostyns was in her blood. Perhaps both of them were true to their ancestry after all.

Marcus encouraged the horses to pick a bit of speed, then turned to Beth with a smile. ‘What do I think of it? I cannot deny that it is a tale that reflects no credit on my grandfather. Yet I have some questions for you, Lady Allerton. What was Lord Mostyn doing sailing in such dangerous waters at night? Why did he have his treasure with him? Was there not something slightly suspicious about his own actions?’

Beth stared. In twenty years she had never questioned the detail of the story. She remembered Maddy, her nursemaid, telling her the tale at bedtimes, by the light of the candle in the nursery at Mostyn Hall. She had imagined the perfidious, flickering light of the wreckers’ lamp on the cliff, the smashing of the ship’s timbers as it broke up on the rocks, the glint of gold as the family treasure tumbled into the depths of the sea…It had never occurred to her to wonder why her grandfather had been carrying so much money on his journey, nor what he had been doing sailing to Fairhaven on a stormy night. Until Marcus had spoken, she had not even thought of it.

Beth wrinkled up her nose, looking at him thoughtfully. ‘I must concede that it is odd…’

‘Indeed. One is tempted to go to Fairhaven to discover the truth of the whole story!’ Marcus flashed her a smile. ‘Would you accompany me, Lady Allerton, if I invited you to join me on Fairhaven Island?’

Beth looked scandalised. ‘Accompany you? I should think not, my lord! A most improper suggestion!’

Marcus laughed. ‘A pity. Yet I do not doubt your loyalty to the notion of regaining Fairhaven for your family.’

Beth clenched her gloved hands together in her lap. ‘It is something that I feel I must do, my lord. My grandfather’s ghost is unquiet…’

Marcus smiled at her. ‘I hope you do not feel that in order to lay the ghost you must foster the quarrel!’ Once again he transferred the reins to one hand and put the other over hers. ‘I have a feeling, my lady, that you and I might settle this feud once and for all.’

This time Beth let her hand rest still under his. ‘I hope that we may, my lord,’ she said, deliberately reading nothing into his words. ‘Might I suggest that you accept my offer for Fairhaven as a first step? It is a very generous offer…’

‘It is.’ Marcus let go of her and picked up the reins again. ‘Too generous. Fairhaven cannot possibly be worth such a sum.’

Beth shrugged a little. ‘How does one assess sentimental value, my lord? To me, Fairhaven is priceless.’

Marcus smiled. ‘I understand that,’ he said slowly. ‘Fairhaven has become your passion, has it not, Lady Allerton? I wonder just what you would do to achieve that obsession.’

Beth stared at him. Despite the fact that his words only echoed what Charlotte had said to her previously, it was disconcerting to hear them from a relative stranger. It was even more disconcerting to read the double meaning behind them. She looked at him very directly.

‘I am not sure that I understand you, my lord. Are you rejecting my offer?’

‘I preferred your original one,’ Marcus said coolly.

Their gazes locked. The sun disappeared behind a grey cloud and suddenly the wind was chill. Beth shivered inside her pelisse, but it was not entirely from the cold.

‘Are you offering me carte blanche, my lord?’

Marcus laughed out loud. ‘You are very frank, my lady! I was under the impression that the boot had been on the other foot! You set the terms of our wager—’

‘You lost the wager,’ Beth said swiftly, ‘and it is because you did not honour your stake that I am offering so much more!’

‘You are offering more financially, I suppose. As I said, I preferred your original—more personal—offer!’

Beth could feel herself blushing and was vexed. She knew he was deliberately provoking her and was determined to stay calm. It was difficult, however, particularly as a tiny corner of her mind was acknowledging the attractions of such a course of action. To offer herself to Marcus in return for Fairhaven Island. It was immoral. It was iniquitous. And it was definitely tempting…

She frowned.

‘The wager was a means to an end, my lord! It is not my usual mode of behaviour to offer myself as part of a bargain!’

‘I see.’ Marcus had allowed the curricle to come to a halt under the bare branches of a spreading oak tree. ‘In that case it was a remarkably dangerous wager.’

‘It was.’ Beth held his gaze. ‘However, if I had lost, I had only to refuse to honour my stake—as you did, my lord!’

‘Touché!’ Marcus laughed again. ‘I must confess myself disappointed, Lady Allerton. I was hoping that you might be persuaded—’

‘Were you? You cannot know me very well, then, my lord!’ By now there was a warning glint in Beth’s eye. ‘I have told you that I am no courtesan! I wish you take me home now, if you please!’

‘Very well!’ Marcus’s tone betrayed amused admiration. ‘I will not tease you any further, my lady. And if it is true that I do not know you well, time can at least remedy that situation!’

The thought gave Beth little comfort. In the first place, she had a strange and disturbing conviction that Marcus did in fact understand her very well, for all his teasing. As for his pledge to know her better, her instinct told her that that could be a very perilous enterprise indeed.

Chapter Three

Another country dance came to an end and Beth applauded enthusiastically and accepted the escort of her partner back to Lady Fanshawe’s side. It was very hot in the Duchess of Calthorpe’s ballroom for there were at least two hundred guests and the event was assured of the accolade of being a crush. The Duchess had chosen white as her theme to create the impression of approaching winter, and it was ironic that the temperature resembled that of the tropics. Hundreds of white candles added to the heat in the ballroom, creating such a fire risk that footmen were stationed about the room with buckets of water.

‘Are you enjoying yourself, my love?’ Lady Fanshawe fanned herself vigorously. ‘It is such a sad crush in here, I declare there is barely a spare rout chair to be had! And all this white is quite dazzling to the eye!’

Beth giggled. As well as the white candles there were filmy white draperies that were threatening to catch fire and droopy white lilies that evidently preferred a cooler climate.

‘You are in looks tonight, my dear,’ Lady Fanshawe continued. ‘That lilac muslin is very pretty and stands out well amongst the debutantes. Poor girls, I fear they will melt into the draperies!’

‘In more ways than one!’ Beth agreed, gratefully accepting a glass of lemonade from Mr Porson, who had been partnering her in the previous dance. He was a worthy young man and he showed signs of lingering at her side, which Beth did not particularly mind. At least she felt safe with him.

‘Mr Porson, do you think—?’ she began, only to raise her eyebrows in surprise as the young man shot away with barely a word of farewell. Kit Mostyn came up and took the vacated rout chair at his cousin’s side.

‘Good gracious, Kit!’ Beth said crossly. ‘What sort of reputation do you have that scares away my innocent admirers? Poor Mr Porson was only indulging in conversation!’

‘I doubt that it was my arrival that scared him off,’ Kit said drily. ‘The Earl of Trevithick has just come in, Beth. Porson won’t want to be seen trespassing on Trevithick’s ground!’

Beth glanced quickly at the doorway and looked away equally quickly, conscious that plenty of people were watching her. She was unhappily aware that she had become the talk of the town during the previous ten days, all as a result of Marcus Trevithick’s attentions. They had driven in the park twice, attended a concert and fireworks at Vauxhall, met at a musical soirée and danced at a couple of balls. That had been sufficient to set tongues wagging and it seemed to Beth that Marcus had done nothing to quell the speculation. He had behaved entirely correctly towards her on all occasions, and yet Beth was aware of something beneath the veneer of convention, something entirely more exciting and dangerous in his attitude towards her.

The interest of the ton was piqued because of the family feud and also because the Dowager Viscountess of Trevithick had made her disapproval of Beth very plain. Only the previous night, the Dowager had cut her dead at the opera and Beth had decided that she would have to avoid Marcus in future. This was not entirely because of his mother’s attitude but also because of some belated sense of self-preservation. Beth knew that she found Marcus all too attractive and she had heard something of his reputation and did not want to become another conquest. Now, however, her resolution put her in an awkward situation, for to shun Marcus’s company at the ball would be remarked upon. Beth fidgeted, drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair as she tried to decide what to do.

She saw Marcus start to cross the room towards her. He had paused to speak to an acquaintance but Beth saw that although he was talking to the man, he was still watching her with a deliberation that was most disturbing. She got hastily to her feet.

‘Kit, will you dance with me, please?’

Kit looked pained. ‘Must I? If this is some elaborate charade to avoid Trevithick—’

‘Kit!’ Beth frowned at her cousin’s lack of tact. ‘How can you be so unchivalrous? Even if it is, I still need your help!’

Kit grinned at her. ‘I only meant to warn you that Trevithick would not be fobbed off! By all means let us dance if we must!’

He took her arm and led her away from Marcus Trevithick, joining the set that was at the furthest end of the ballroom.

‘I saw you talking to Eleanor Trevithick when her mother’s back was turned,’ Beth said slyly, as they took their places. ‘If you seek to warn me, perhaps you will take some advice in turn? I hope you do not have a tendre there, Kit, for you must be doomed to disappointment!’

She had the satisfaction of seeing a hint of colour come into Kit’s lean cheek. He avoided her gaze. ‘Don’t know what you mean, Beth! Miss Trevithick is a charming girl, but I have no interest there!’

Beth smiled beatifically. ‘Of course not! How foolish of me even to imagine that you did!’

‘It’s bad enough having Charlotte dispensing advice,’ Kit said gloomily, ‘without my honorary sister joining in as well!’

They danced in perfect accord, though Beth found that she had to concentrate on her steps rather more than usual. Her gaze was drawn with tiresome repetitiveness to the tall figure of Marcus Trevithick as he threaded his way through the crowd and joined his mother and sister over by one of the long terrace windows. It seemed that some strange compulsion made it well nigh impossible for Beth to ignore him, for even when she was not looking at Marcus she sensed exactly where he was. It was only when Justin Trevithick came up to the family group and he and Marcus headed towards the card room that Beth started to relax, but by then the dance was ending. Kit bowed to her, then hastened away to claim another lady for the boulanger.

Beth was about to rejoin Lady Fanshawe, when she saw Marcus emerge unexpectedly from the card room again and start walking towards her through the crowd. She immediately dived towards the door and took refuge in the ladies’ withdrawing room, where she fretted and fidgeted for twenty minutes, uncertain whether Marcus would simply be waiting in the corridor outside. He was not. Wrestling with a mixture of relief and disappointment, Beth tiptoed back into the ballroom and saw that Marcus was now dancing with Eleanor. She made her way back to Lady Fanshawe’s corner of the room, only to find that her chaperon had disappeared.

Beth sat down, feeling a little self-conscious. She could see Kit, who was dancing with a plump debutante in a pink gown, but was looking over her shoulder all the time at Eleanor Trevithick. So much for his denials of an interest there! Beth smiled to herself. It seemed that she and her cousin were both caught in the same trap.

The crush in the ballroom was lessening now as some of the guests moved on to other engagements, and without the camouflage of the huge crowd Beth felt strangely vulnerable. She watched as the dance ended and saw Marcus look around and fix on her with an almost uncanny accuracy. In a candlelit room of a hundred and fifty people it seemed unreasonable that he was able to pick her out so quickly, but she did not feel she had time to stop and think about the implications. She started to edge towards the doors that led out on to the terrace, then paused, thinking that it would probably not be a good idea to wander out into the dark, especially on a cold autumn night. If Marcus decided to follow her they would end up playing hide-and-seek in the gardens and who could say where that would end. Glancing over her shoulder, Beth saw that he was getting closer to her, moving with a purposeful intent that was most disconcerting. She skittered along the edge of the dance floor, almost tripping over in her attempts to put some more distance between them. What she really needed now was someone to ask her to dance. Someone, anyone…

‘Would you care to dance, Lady Allerton?’

Beth turned sharply, her grateful acceptance withering on her lips as she looked up into the smiling face of Justin Trevithick. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. She was certain that Justin had seen her trying to avoid Marcus, but she was also aware that she could not refuse to dance with him without seeming dreadfully rude.

‘Oh, Mr Trevithick! I…yes…thank you, sir…’

Beth had met Justin several times in the previous ten days and had taken to him immediately, liking his sense of humour and easygoing manner. Just now, however, she was wishing him at the bottom of the sea. Dancing with Marcus’s cousin was getting too close to Marcus for comfort. She looked round and saw that Marcus was now speaking to a fashionable matron in striped red and white silk. He looked engrossed and suddenly Beth began to feel rather silly. Perhaps Marcus had never intended to approach her at all and all her diversions had served no purpose other than to make her look foolish. Probably she was flattering herself by imagining that he had ever shown any real interest in her.

Justin was waiting, a look of speculative amusement in his eyes. Beth hastily wiped all expression from her face and gave him her hand. She was pleased that she managed to keep up a tolerably bright conversation throughout the polonaise, only faltering slightly when she observed Marcus and the stripily clad matron disappearing through the door together. That was that, then. Evidently Marcus had found company more to his taste and had retired to enjoy it in privacy. Beth felt even more out of countenance at the unedifying jealousy that swept through her.

At the end of the dance, Justin guided her off the floor and into the refreshment room.

‘May I fetch you a glass of lemonade, ma’am?’ he suggested. ‘It may be a tame sort of beverage but is just the thing in a hot climate like this! If you take a seat in this alcove I will undertake to be back directly.’

Beth sank gratefully onto the window seat. It was fresher here with a pleasant draught of air that cooled her heated face. She rested her head against the stone window casing and closed her eyes. The noise of the ball swirled around her but she took no notice.

‘Your lemonade, Lady Allerton.’

Beth jumped so much that she almost banged her head against the stone. The voice was not Justin Trevithick’s, but the deeper tones of his cousin the Earl. Sure enough, Marcus was standing before her, a glass of lemonade in one hand, watching her with the same quizzically amused expression that he had been wearing all evening. Beth felt at a disadvantage and tried to get to her feet, but she found that Marcus was standing too close to her and that any movement would bring her into physical contact with him. This did not seem a very good idea, so she leant back instead and took the lemonade from him with an assumption of ease.

‘Thank you very much. How do you do, Lord Trevithick?’

Marcus gave her his devastating smile. ‘I am all the better now that I have finally caught up with you, Lady Allerton! I thought that I would never achieve it!’

‘I was expecting your cousin’s company—’ Beth began.

‘And did not want to have to tolerate mine instead? I fear I persuaded him to exchange places with me.’ Marcus shrugged lightly. ‘Now that I finally have you to myself, Lady Allerton, I would be obliged if you would keep still for at least a minute! I would like to speak with you!’

Beth shifted guiltily on the window seat. There was little chance of her escaping anywhere since Marcus was now leaning against the alcove embrasure and comprehensively blocking her retreat.

‘In that case you had better sit down,’ she said coolly, ‘and cease looming over me in that threatening manner!’

Marcus grinned and sat down next to her. ‘I will do as you ask on the understanding that you will not run away! What has all that ridiculous rigmarole been about this evening—dodging out of rooms, hiding away, avoiding even looking in my direction—?’

‘When I did look in your direction I thought you most preoccupied!’ Beth said tartly, before she could stop herself. ‘I am surprised that you noticed me at all!’

Marcus laughed. ‘I collect that you are referring to me stepping aside with a lady just now? That is my elder sister, Lady Grace Walters. She found the heat too overpowering in the ballroom and needed some fresh air.’

Beth looked away, feeling foolish. ‘I am sure that I do not care—’

‘Well, you do, or you would not have quizzed me about it!’ Marcus sat back on the window seat and stretched his long legs out in front of him. ‘And you still have not answered my question, Lady Allerton. What was all that play-acting for?’

Beth flushed. ‘I thought it best to avoid you,’ she said candidly, trying to look him in the eye. ‘There has been so much speculation about our…’ She hesitated, trying to think of the right word to describe their relationship.

‘Our friendship?’ Marcus supplied helpfully.

‘Friendship. Yes, thank you. So much speculation about our friendship, my lord, that I thought it best to subdue it by—’

‘By creeping about like an actor in a bad play? You have caused so much speculation tonight by your strategies for avoiding me that I am amazed you are not aware of it!’

‘Well, if it comes to that, you have hardly suppressed the gossip by cornering me in this alcove!’ Beth said, firing up. ‘It seems to me that you positively enjoy stirring up scandal, my lord!’

Marcus shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I confess that I seldom regard it. As you should not, my lady! Why should the tabbies concern you? I am minded to kiss you here and now and see what the scandalmongers make of that!’

Beth recoiled slightly. ‘Do not jest, my lord!’

‘Why should I be jesting? You did not object to kissing me before!’

Beth blushed scarlet. ‘My lord! Kindly lower your voice—’

‘Come and speak with me in private, then. I want to talk to you about your offer for Fairhaven. It is time that we settled the matter.’

Beth gave him a very direct look. ‘I do not believe you, sir! This is just a trick! In fact, I do not trust you! At all!’

‘Why not?’ Marcus grinned. ‘Because the last time we were private together we shared more than just a conversation—’

Beth waved her hands about in mute appeal. ‘I believe you must be inebriated to speak thus, my lord—’

Marcus captured both her hands in one of his. ‘Not in the slightest! But if you will not speak with me, come and dance with me instead!’

He had already pulled her to her feet and was steering her through the crowded room with one hand resting lightly in the small of her back. Beth was sharply conscious of his tall figure close beside her, so close that her skirt brushed against his thigh as they walked. She tried to move away a little but found that the press of people forced them together. She could feel the warmth of his touch through the thin muslin of her dress, and suddenly she felt hot and vulnerable. It was no state in which to begin a dance, and when Beth heard the waltz striking up she almost turned tail and fled.

‘No need to look so terrified, sweetheart,’ Marcus murmured in her ear. His voice was warm and persuasive. ‘I promise to behave!’

A strange shiver went down Beth’s spine. She did not dare look at him. She reluctantly moved into his arms and felt only slightly relieved when Marcus held her at an irreproachable distance from his own body and made no attempt to draw her closer.

They started to circle the floor in time to the lilting rhythm of the music. The faces of the guests spun past them, curious, avid, amused, sharp, and spiteful…It seemed to Beth that the music was whirling faster and faster and that the flickering candlelight washed over them like a kaleidoscope of black and white. Marcus’s face was in shadow, his expression inscrutable, almost distant. Yet despite his apparent coolness Beth could feel a current of heat running between them, intense and strong. She shivered again, convulsively.

Beth had intended to keep a decorous distance between them and to avoid the intimacy of conversation during the waltz, but some compulsion made her glance up into Marcus’s face as they completed their second circuit of the floor. His gaze met hers for a split second and now it was dark and heavy with a passion he made no attempt to conceal. Beth caught her breath on a little gasp and almost lost her footing. Immediately Marcus’s arms tightened about her, pulling her into sudden and shocking contact with his body. His cheek brushed hers, hard against the softness of her skin, causing a feeling of helpless, wanton warmth to flood through her. Beth shuddered in his arms, unable to prevent her body betraying her with its trembling. She saw Marcus’s lips curve into a smile, felt his own body harden with arousal against hers and thought that she might well faint with shock and sheer, sensual delight, there in the Duchess of Calthorpe’s ballroom in front of one hundred and fifty people. It was terrifying but also strangely exhilarating all at the same time, and she was thoroughly confused. She did not risk looking at Marcus again.