The Wagered Widow (43 page)
Authors: Patricia Veryan
“Uncle Geoff!”
“Welcome, sir!”
Lord Boudreaux trod down the steps, as elegant and distinguished as ever, to be hugged, his hand shaken, and his shoulder pounded. Eyes twinkling, he said to Rebecca, “Do you know, my dear, that this brother of yours has some of the most interesting notions? We mean to build a canal together.”
De Villars said an interested, “The devil you do!”
“Whatever for?” asked Rebecca, curiously.
“Why, to carry off some of the rainwater, I suppose,” said her aunt, with considerable logic.
The men laughed.
“For shipping, my love,” explained Mr. Melton. “Capital idea, Boothe. I just may want to be in on this.”
Falk returned, Millie following, with glasses and decanters.
Rebecca looked around that crowded, merry room and felt drenched with happiness.
Later, when smells of dinner were drifting fragrantly through the house, de Villars took her by the hand, and they slipped quietly away. He stopped in the entrance hall and kissed her. “My apologies, Little Parrish. I could not wait another second,” he said, opening the front door.
“Where are we going?”
“Not very far.” He took a ring case from his pocket and opened it. “Do you know, I cannot think who this is for. Unless I have been so reckless as to offer for someone.”
“Rogue!” Rebecca peered at the small cluster of diamonds, winking in the light of the setting sun. “Oh ⦠Treve!”
He slipped the ring onto her finger and kissed it reverently. “Be warned. You cannot give it back to me with some tale of loving another. For,” he gazed into her eyes, “I shall not believe you, my fishwife.⦔
He drew her hand through his arm and led her around the side of the house and into the alley. A groom waited there, walking a fine Arabian stallion up and down. Rebecca stood very still, her heart leaping. The horse turned its head and whickered a greeting. She said on a sob,
“Saracen!”
And ran to throw her arms about the silken neck, while the Arabian snorted and blew gustily down her back.
Her eyes full of happy tears, Rebecca asked, “Treve, my dearest dear! How did you
know?
How ever did you find him?”
De Villars nodded dismissal to the groom and, as man and animal moved off, took his lady into his arms. “My betrothal gift to you, beloved. Andâit is my business to know everything about youânow and for ever.”
He bent to her. Rebecca darted a nervous glance to the street. “What if someone should see? Treveâ
no!
Iâ”
And after a blissful moment, she sighed, “Trevelyan de Villars, unhand me! Oh! Now
that,
sir, was
very
naughty!”
“My love,” the miscreant breathed, “you have not yet begun to know how naughty I am!”
“Have I not?” she asked, with more eagerness than scolding. “Andâand shall I like your naughty ways, sir?”
He smiled down at her, his heart in his eyes, and murmured, “I venture to believe, Little Parrish, that you shall like them very well.”
In this particular instance, time proved the beliefs of Mr. Trevelyan de Villars to be perfectly justified.
Patricia Veryan
was born in England and moved to the United States following World War II. The author of several critically acclaimed Georgian and Regency series, including the Sanguinet Saga, she now lives in Kirkland, Washington. You can sign up for email updates
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Contents
THE WAGERED WIDOW
. Copyright © 1984 by Patricia Veryan. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
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ISBN 0-312-85341-6
First Edition
eISBN 9781250101464
First eBook edition: September 2015
