A Desperate Wager (6 page)

Nathaniel had tried to avoid Oscar Crosby. He had left the card room a few minutes after the younger man had entered, attempting not to make a scene. He understood why Crosby was angry at him, why he wanted revenge, but he was unsure how to assuage the young man’s ire. Nathaniel could not bring his brother, Martin, back from the dead. He had offered to pay for Crosby’s youngest brother’s education. But the family had refused.

But Oscar had fire in his belly and he wanted Nate to know just how much damage that stupid curricle race had caused. The duke hardly needed to be told and he lived with that knowledge every day. He tried to drown the memories in brandy, but it seldom helped. And now, here he was being berated again. It was a damned uncomfortable moment.

A tap of a fan on his sleeve drew his attention from the litany of his faults being recited by young Crosby. His mother stood, smiling serenely.

“
Mr Crosby, it is a pleasure to see you again,” said the duchess, giving him a kind, motherly smile.

“
Your Grace, always a pleasure.” Crosby bowed low, but as he straightened again he raised an eyebrow.
You need your mother to save you
, it said. The duchess turned back to Nate.

“
Lady Sarah is looking rather flushed, is she not? It may be wise for you to take her outside for a short while.”

Nathaniel glanced over to the seating area. Sarah’s cheeks were scarlet and when she saw them all glance over, she looked down and adjusted the fingers of her gloves. If he did not know better, he would assume she was having scandalous thoughts. The idea made him want to chuckle. But it was terribly hot in the ballroom.

He excused himself and strutted over to his betrothed. Her blush deepened. Was she having scandalous thoughts? He’d had a few of his own that evening. Her gown was very fetching and the low, square neckline showed just the right amount of décolletage to make any man hot under the collar. He could tell that Lady Sarah had a fine pair of breasts. His mouth watered at the thought. But he had to tamp down lascivious thoughts for the moment. In one week he would see them in their full glory. One more week.

“
My Lady, you look flushed. Would you like to go out to the balcony for a while?”

She smiled warily.

“But getting out there… and there are no seats…”

“
I have a plan. And I shall carry you, if you do not mind, of course.”

“
No.”

“
Excellent.” He bent at the knees and scooped her into his arms. He knew people were watching. A hush had descended around them. But he did not care. He was a duke and had he danced naked across the ballroom, he would only have caused a scandal for a few days. The irony that Sarah doing the same thing would cause her to be ostracised was not lost on him.

“
You are very bold, Your Grace,” Sarah whispered in his ear. Now if anything was going to cause a scandal, it was that.

“
Rank and privilege, my love. It means I get away with almost anything.”

“
Indeed.” He manoeuvred her out of the French doors and breathed in the cool night air. A number of couples stood on the large balcony, looking out over the garden, or sneaking chaste—and not-so-chaste—kisses.

He walked into an area darkened by the shadow from the large townhouse and sat her on the large stone balustrade. Keeping an arm around her back to hold her in place so she did not topple backwards into the garden, he moved to her side.

“It is rather dark here, Your Grace.”

“
Hmm,” he breathed in the smell of early blooms from the Abernethy garden and the scent of Sarah. His beautiful, wilful Sarah.

“
Are you
trying
to create a scandal, Your Grace?” she asked. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck and she sighed, moving her head to give him better access. She did not sound as if she was chastising him.

“
It is rather arousing when you call me ‘Your Grace,’ Freckles.” He was brushing his lips down towards her shoulder. She gripped his evening coat and as he moved along her collarbone, he noted her swallowing hard. She was most definitely enjoying it. He kissed the other side of her neck as his breeches tightened. Damn. He wanted her. Here and now—on the balcony of Abernethy House.

“
A gentleman would surely have kissed me on the lips before ravishing me.” Her tone was light, but her words were enough to bring him back to sanity. He pulled away from her, still supporting her back.

“
I apologise.”

“
I did not ask you to stop.” Her voice was teasing and he could not quite make out her features in the dark.

“
I fear I must, else we will end up pre-empting our marriage vows.”

“
We will?”

He brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek, the heat still evident.

“You make me quite insane with need.”

“
I do?”

“
Yes.”

“
I do not understand. My legs… my…”

“
Sarah, your legs are only one part of you. You are beautiful, responsive, stubborn, perfect.”

“
Why do you stay away?” Her question stopped his musings on her finer qualities. “I mean, since you proposed, you have only seen me once. I know you are still angry with my father for gambling while you were foxed, but he was doing it for me.”

For her. Was this an admission that she had known of her father’s plan? He could not be sure. And suddenly he did not want confirmation of her deceit.

“I need to make arrangements in the house for when you come to live with me. I have also had to send information up to my country estate so they are prepared for your arrival.” He was not going to tell her that he wanted to see her so he could feel the weight of her in his arms, have that pert little bottom brush against his groin when she slipped low in his hold, or have his arm accidentally brush the side of her breast as he held her under her arm.

He was considering kissing her lips
, when the strains of a waltz filtered through the night air. Sarah sighed. This time it was not a sigh of pleasure but one born of frustration and a little resignation.

“
I wish I could dance a waltz,” she mused.

Her face was turned towards the music and the
light of an oil lamp cast a glow over her features. She looked wistful, and he felt a pang of regret for the beautiful young woman who was denied her season and the chance to waltz her way into a good match. He wondered. Could she dance—with a little help?

“
Are you able to hold yourself on the balustrade and not fall over into the garden?”

She laughed.

“Yes, of course. I have enough strength in my back to stand, if not my legs. That is why I must wear braces. To stop my knees from buckling. Why?” He kneeled and removed her dancing slippers. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“
Taking off your slippers. What did you think I was doing?” He had noted earlier that she was not wearing her usual boots which were attached to her leg braces. These braces attached at the ankle and they looked rather uncomfortable.

“
I do not know. I can feel nothing in my feet.”

“
Nothing?”

“
Absolutely nothing. You could chop them off and I would not wince.”

“
Oh I see.” He stood. “Hold onto my neck and when I help you down, your feet will be on my shoes.”

He placed his hand under her pert bottom and drew her off the balustrade. When he knew her feet were nearly at the ground, he moved his own feet until he felt the warmth of her soles touch his own stockings.

“This is ridiculous, Nathaniel,” she breathed. Devil take it, she was so close.

“
Most likely, but you wanted to dance.” He grabbed her skirts, assuring his fingers had caught her leg brace, moving one leg so her foot sat more securely on his, and then he did the same with the other leg. He placed one hand at the small of her back and caught up her hand in his. Instinctively she grasped hold of his shoulder. “Next time it shall be easier.”

“
Next time?”

He ignored her question because he had no idea if he could even do this. He had memories of his uncle doing this with his cousin, dancing her around a village assembly when no one else was looking. But an eight-year-old child was very different to a pretty, breast-heaving woman with a broken back. And those breast
s were heaving against his chest and doing things to his body that were just not proper.

“
Think in triple beats. One two three, one two three, one two three,” he intoned as he moved them away from the balustrade. He quickly adjusted his grip on her spine and she steadied. He missed his step and had to catch the rhythm of the music again, but the glint of her teeth in the moonlight showed she was smiling.

“
I am dancing,” she whispered, her voice full of awe and wonder. They danced a few more bars before he lost the tempo again. He was a good dancer but this was a test, even of his skill.

He began to settle into the music
, and they twirled slowly around their own little part of the balcony. He knew it was not the most graceful dance but her glinting eyes told him she was happy to be dancing.

He did not know who was more disappointed, Sarah or himself when he stumbled and had to catch them both against the stone balustrade with his forearm. He groaned. It hurt like the very devil. Sarah squeaked and clung to him, trusting him implicitly. He righted them both and smiled ruefully.

“I believe we shall have to practice before we make our dancing debut on the social scene, my love.” He quickly lifted her back onto the balustrade and retrieved her slippers, placing them on her feet, marvelling at the complete lack of movement when he did so. No wriggling of toes or coquettish giggles caused by ticklishness.

“
Is your arm hurt?” she asked as he straightened.

“
No. It is fine,” he lied. It was going to be badly bruised, but he did not want her to feel responsible. Not for the bruise at least. That said, had she not sent her father to dupe some unsuspecting peer to offer for her, he’d be sitting in White’s getting resoundingly foxed.

“
We should go back into the ball or everyone will think you have ravished me,” she said simply.

He pressed his lips to hers, short and very sweet, but enough to show her that he wanted more—much more. He hoped she understood how much he truly wanted her. He could learn to forgive the treacherous beginnings of their courtship but could not go through a marriage where she believed he bedded her out of duty. A perfunctory sex life was no sex life at all.

He must be able to fulfil her sexual needs properly. Surely it was just a case of finding the right angles, the right erogenous zones.

He had no wish to be an unfaithful husband—visiting courtesans to find some relief from his frustrations.

He lifted her and carried her back into the ballroom. As he laid Sarah on her seat, his mother brushed his coat sleeve—where he had fallen against the balustrade. It was a quick motion, but it pained him. He gritted his teeth and grinned. He mouthed a thank you to his mother and walked over to the refreshment table, returning with lemonades for the ladies.

He picked up one for himself. He did not want to get drunk tonight and disgrace himself in front of his mother and Sarah. He could always have a few glasses of brandy once he got home.

Nate hovered around Sarah and his mother, not entirely sure what to do with himself. The card room was too tempting. One person would suggest a brandy, then one would pour it despite his protestations and it would tease him until he gave in. Better to remain with the ladies.

“
Please sit down, Your Grace. You look like Caesar trying to guard us. Your mother and I shall come to no harm.”

Nate grimaced. She thoug
ht he looked like a Labrador. He sat gingerly on the chair at her side.

“
Have we silenced the gossips, do you think?” he asked, glancing around the ballroom before lifting her gloved hand and placing a kiss on it.

“
Well, if our trip to the balcony did not, that kiss will have convinced them you are head over ears in love with me.” Her voice was tinged with sarcasm.

“
If I were to go any further, My Lady, they would be far from silenced. I doubt that ravishing you in a crowded ballroom would do either of our reputations any good.” He loved watching the pink appear on her cheeks. Was the very upright and innocent Lady Sarah having naughty thoughts? He hoped so.

“
It is good that the
ton
believe me to be at least enamoured of you, Your Grace.” Her tone was teasing but it felt like a punch to the guts. Did she not even like him?

That was a shame
because he really was beginning to like this beautiful young lady that had been forced upon him despite the fact she had cheated him—or her father had. Either way, this had not been his choice.