Winning Miss Wakefield: The Wallflower Wedding Series Read online

  “This is not what I expected,” she sighed, resigned to madness for the time being. “I couldn’t even look at you at dinner.”

  “Forgive me,” he whispered, his lips moving from her brow to her temple again, his nose burrowing into the fall of curls.

  It was more of an order than a request. She couldn’t help but smile at his arrogance. Only he could rail at her for invading his privacy, offer her a glimpse at a precious memory, and then demand her forgiveness, as if her opinion mattered to him.

  Perhaps it does, her romantic sensibilities told her. Wanting to believe that voice more than anything, any residual anger she might have had evaporated. “Your temper, it seems, is as quick to recede as it is to ignite.”

  “Hmm . . . so it seems,” he mused, his lips grazing the shell of her ear once more. His heated breath swirled inside. Ooh. “In my own defense, I thought you were conspiring to marry me.”

  What a lovely idea.

  However, just as the thought of having Bane with her like this for the rest of her life started to form, the cynicism and practicality she’d adopted took over. Too quickly, she reminded herself of the certainty of utter despair if she continued to keep her eyes closed to the truth.

  “That would be a fruitless endeavor,” she said, leveling with herself. “You’re not the marrying kind. In fact, you likely keep a mistress in every county from here to France.”

  His chuckle vibrated through the delicate flesh beneath the corner of her jaw. “It’s a wonder I have any time to myself.”

  She stiffened. That wasn’t a denial. Her hands slipped from his shoulders to push against his chest.

  He lifted his head and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, another arrogant chuckle rumbling in his throat. “I don’t currently keep any mistresses. My assignations are usually of a shorter duration, by way of mutual understanding.”

  She imagined that he added the last for her benefit, as if he thought her jealous. For now, she didn’t let his incorrect assumption deter her from their topic. “So every woman you’re . . . with knows from the beginning that you will not marry her?”

  “Of course.” The slight edge to his voice made him sound mildly offended. “I’m not so callous as to toy with a woman’s affections.”

  She’d guessed as much by his straightforward manner. Like her, Bane seemed to prefer honesty above all else. However, that thought gave her another. “Do they all know why?”

  He brushed the curls away from her forehead and traced the shape of her brows with the pad of his thumb. “Other than my aunt, you are the only other woman to know my reasons.”

  She didn’t know why being one of the people who knew about his past tragedies and his plot for revenge caused a light to flutter beneath her breast. Perhaps it was just the way he said it. Or perhaps it was the way his touch made her feel cherished instead of ridiculed. “You’re no longer angry that I know?”

  “I decided it was only fair,” he said, bending his head so that his lips could follow the same path as his thumb. “After all, you’ve shared your secrets with me. I will keep yours, and I’ve no doubt you’ll keep mine.”

  “I will,” she promised on a breath, feeling her entire being turn liquid. “I only ask one thing in return.”

  He stilled. His body tensed as if he were suddenly made of armor. Slowly, he lifted his head.

  She missed the intimate caress immediately. When he didn’t respond, she quickly continued. “Do not be alarmed. It’s a simple request to know your given name.”

  He didn’t exactly relax, but some of the tension left him. “No one calls me by my given name. So why would you want to know it?”

  Because no one calls you by your given name. Because a woman should have the name of the man she loves in order to whisper it to the heavens in her dreams. Because I love you, and perhaps saying your name will keep my heart from shattering when we part company in eight days. “Because if we ever find ourselves together in a darkened closet, I believe standing this close demands a modicum of familiarity.”

  The remaining tension left him in an instant, the muscles relaxing beneath her hands. She even heard him smile again. “That would make our bargain uneven. Not to mention, the likelihood of our meeting again in a darkened closet is remote at best.”

  Her silly idealistic notions wouldn’t allow her to be disappointed. Instead, she held on to an absurd hope that this wouldn’t be the last time she’d be in his arms. Somehow, she’d make sure of it. “There is still a week of the party remaining. You might have the need to apologize to me yet again.”

  “There is always that hope,” he said with another chuckle. “All right. I give you leave to call me Simon whenever we might find ourselves in a darkened closet together. If you pay me a forfeit for its use.”

  A forfeit. Mm-m. Rapid staccato beats of the drum rumbled through her at the endless list of possibilities. “I will call you Simon whether I pay a forfeit or not,” she said, hoping her voice sounded sure and strong instead of breathy and eager. “And since I do not play at bargaining, it will be the latter.”

  He tilted up her chin as if he were peering through the darkness and into her gaze. “You do not play at bargaining? You are perhaps the slyest bargainer of all.”

  A short laugh escaped her. “When you are the one who demands a forfeit? Who promises to keep a tally of each one of my hidden smiles in order to collect a debt? I have demanded nothing in return.”

  “I know enough to realize that the one who demands nothing, seeks everything.”

  Her mouth opened on a lie. “I don’t want—”

  “Know this, Venus,” he stopped her, his voice abruptly gruff and cold, even while the arm at her waist snaked around her tightly, pulling her closer. “I can never give you what you want. I could set you up with a house, visit you from time to time, give you money enough for your material needs . . . But I cannot give you certainty for your future. No husband. No children. And soon enough, you would grow to hate me for robbing you of your dreams.”

  Pressed flush against him, her breasts flattened to his chest, she could hardly breathe, let alone think. Even so, she made no move to free herself. “For the use of your name, the forfeit I pay is to become your mistress?”

  He inhaled sharply, his hand flexing into her lower back. “Not a single woman has ever possessed the option or wanted it. They were all content with what I could offer. You . . .” He let out a breath, slow and harsh, as if it were pulled from the very center of his being. Then, suddenly, he dropped his hands and took a step apart from her. “You would never be.”

  Denial was on her lips, along with a plea to be held again in his arms, to accept the terms of this unexpected bargain. But before she could do anything so completely foolhardy, another knock sounded on the door.

  Bitters had returned at the precise moment when her romantic sensibilities died a miserable death, and she was left with only cynicism and practicality. Not to mention a bruised heart.

  “As always, Lord Knightswold, I appreciate your candor. Now, if you would excuse me, I would like to return to the party.”

  “One day you will thank me, Miss Wakefield.”

  “I believe I already have. Now we are even.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Standing on the bluff, Bane fed his Warmblood stallion a handful of sweet grass as well as a carrot he’d saved from the day of the picnic. Below him, the others strolled along the pebbled beach as low waves left ribbons of foam along the break.

  Invariably, his gaze followed the figure in pale blue muslin. Her head was tilted away from him, but he could still see how the wind whipped the raven tresses that escaped her straw bonnet.

  He also noticed how she hadn’t looked at him once today. After last night, he’d expected no less.

  Bane dragged out a sigh and patted Ares on the neck. “That’s a dangerous one there, old boy. Her curiosity and guilelessness could bring a man to his knees. Make him forget what truly matters.”

  Thanks to B
itters, Bane had avoided a catastrophe of monumental proportion. Though his faithful valet had arrived a moment too late to keep him from all but begging Venus to become his mistress, he had arrived just in time to help him come to his senses. And apparently Merribeth had come to hers as well. The knock had been perfectly timed to offer at least one of them the presence of mind to walk away.

  “Only my revenge matters,” he said, paying no attention to the way the words sounded hollow. Paying no attention to how raw he’d felt last night after everything he’d admitted to her.

  The glimpse of her radiant smile distracted him. Even from this distance, he felt the impact of it, felt the sun shining on his face, felt the breeze through his hair. And as impossible as it was, he caught the distinct fragrance of pear blossoms.

  When she lifted her fingers to conceal her smile, however, he felt a swift rise of irritation as well as a stirring of desire. That made three today. Adding that number to the tally he kept, she now owed him twelve.

  A dozen kisses that he would never demand. Because, after last night, he knew he couldn’t trust himself to be alone with her. Something had changed for him, and he didn’t like it one bit.

  “My ingénue seems to be ripening,” Eve said, surprising him with her sudden emergence from the path, a calculating gleam in her eyes.

  He knew that denial, no matter how insincere, was the best option. “What ingénue would that be, Auntie?”

  Her mouth curled up at the corners in something just short of a grin. “I must say, I was surprised at how quickly she managed to gather her items for the scavenger hunt last night. And with the length of her taper when she returned to the parlor, she must have collected them all in the dark.”

  Without waiting for a comment, she turned from him to face the beach strollers. “I was also surprised that she chose Montwood as her picnic partner this afternoon for her prize. But they do make a fine pair, do they not? And she could learn so much from him in the ways of flattery. A few well-placed compliments would do our Merribeth a world of good to regain her place, insignificant as it was, among the ton.”

  “Perhaps,” he managed to say without gritting his teeth. “Though Montwood is far too foolish a fellow to be left on his own. He seems more interested in sowing his oats—”

  “Sounds like someone else I know.”

  “—rather than spending time with a marriage-minded miss,” he continued, ignoring the smug purse of Eve’s mouth. “No doubt, there are better ways to tutor without misleading one’s pupil into thinking he has an interest in her.”

  She fiddled with the cuff of her kid gloves. “I might have encouraged him to spend more time than a young man of his interests might, if left to his own devices. For Miss Wakefield’s benefit, of course.”

  “Of course,” he said evenly, strands of suspicion weaving through his mind. For a fortune hunter like Montwood to abandon the kettle of heavily dowried chits in London, he must have been promised quite the boon. “You are ever the philanthropist.”

  A low laugh purred in her throat. “She has little to recommend her. Not a sixpence to her name. No real connections—unless you count her recently married friend, which many seldom do. Although Merribeth is pretty enough, I suppose, if it weren’t for her teeth and that unbecoming arched brow of hers,” She looked askance at him.

  Sensing that she was trying to draw him out, he bit his tongue to remain silent.

  “It breaks my heart to think of her losing her beau after so long an attachment,” Eve continued. “You should have seen her wedding gown. A stunning work of art. Merribeth has the finest needlework skills. It’s a shame I haven’t seen her pick up a needle since Mr. Clairmore’s betrayal. Anguish must have robbed her of her love for everything else.”

  He kept his gaze out to sea, even as the others began their trek up the path. “Then you are not confident your ploy will work?”

  “Oh, you know me better than that.” She laughed. “I enjoy winning too much.”

  Something about this entire exchange unsettled him. “Usually too much to play by the rules.”

  She grinned. “Which brings our bargain to mind. Daniela Pearce is very cross. At first, it was because you kept your door locked night and day, and now she seems to have this notion that you are a sadist. Are you playing fair?”

  “Merely following the rules set to me.” He kept the key tucked in his waistcoat pocket at all times, apparently for good reason. He didn’t want anyone rifling through his belongings to make a false claim against him either. It didn’t seem to matter that he spent nearly every night sleeping above the stables.

  Eve pursed her lips in speculation. “That is so unlike you, Bane. I imagined you would have found your way around them by now.”

  He shrugged. “There is no female companionship worth the loss of Gypsy.”

  Shielding her eyes against the sun, she stared out at the beach. “I made the mistake of inviting Cordelia. I cannot stand the woman or the way she hangs on the colonel’s arm,” she said with a pout. “From my understanding, the two of you were close at one time. I thought she might tempt you.”

  “Married women do not tempt me.” This earned him an insincere gasp.

  “Bane, you surprise me yet again. No married women. At all?” When he shook his head in response, she pulled a frown. “A rake with principles, I never took you to be so . . . boring.”

  His frustration mounted as he watched the party’s progression up the winding incline. Ever solicitous, Montwood kept his hand beneath Merribeth’s elbow. Bane felt the urge to hurl the lad into the sea. “Perhaps you should stop believing rumors.”

  “Hmm . . . perhaps.” She absently adjusted the clasp of her earring. He knew toying with her jewelry was one of her tells, one of the ways she revealed that she was up to something more than she was willing to let on. Clearly, she was hiding the trump card for the final trick. “Though I should hate to have to hand over the information I’ve procured—as a matter of my own principles. In the very least, I should punish you for inviting Amberdeen to dinner. Now, you have put Sophie on a matchmaking quest. I don’t think I will ever forgive you for any of it.” Although the words were said in playful context, they came out with startling severity.

  The peculiar tenor in her voice brought to mind the day after his grandfather died. With the softest of whispers, she’d said the same words. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for any of it.” Only, at the time, he thought she was directing her hatred toward his grandfather. Now, he wondered if it had been him all along.

  An icy shiver slithered down his spine like a black eel, spreading unpleasant currents through him.

  “I should return to check on Gypsy,” he said, masking the disquiet he felt. “She was restless this morning.” Her time was drawing near.

  Eve waved her hand in a careless gesture. “Of course. Go on ahead. I’m sure we’ll be right on your heels.”

  Bane hoped not. He needed a few moments alone to settle his disturbing thoughts.

  When this bargain was first proposed, he’d taken it on as a lark. Eve enjoyed playing games to win, and this entire episode could be just another game to her. Besides that, she was family to him. The only family he had left. It felt disloyal to suspect her of anything more than her usual trickery and manipulation. And yet, his growing suspicions told him that the stakes were much higher. He felt the sudden compulsion to be certain.

  Mounting Ares, he set off toward the house but waited to spur the gelding faster until he rounded the bend.

  Once he arrived, he handed the reins to a groomsman—something he rarely did—and made his way into the house. As it was Sunday and most of the servants were in town, there were no maids milling about.

  His steps slowed at the study. For a moment, he wondered if the document Eve possessed might be hidden in plain sight all this time. Yet, knowing Eve’s desire for control, he knew she would keep such a prize under lock and key. Perhaps even in her bedchamber.

  Taking the stairs two
at a time, he soon found himself at her threshold. Another boon for him was her unlocked door, though he locked it behind him once inside.

  Crossing the room to the bureau, he was startled by the recognition that it was a companion piece to the one that once had been in his grandfather’s study. Strange that she would keep such a reminder here with her every day. It was almost as if she wanted hatred to fill her life.

  Perhaps Eve was more like him than he realized. The idea gave him pause. Along with it came a sharp sense of certainty. Whatever proof she had of the secret solicitor would be here. And for the first time, he wondered if that’s all he would find.

  The lid was locked. Of course. He expected no less. Quickly, he scanned the room, searching for the key’s hiding place, when his gaze landed on a wooden chest atop her vanity table.

  He thought of the way she fidgeted with her jewelry, and the answer suddenly seemed obvious to him. Lifting the lid of her jewelry chest, however, he merely saw a tray of rings and earbobs. A tray beneath that revealed bracelets, and beneath that, hair combs. At the very bottom, beneath the last tray, sat a small key.

  Wasting no time, he crossed back to the bureau and unlocked it. The surface hosted a messy array of letter paper, a broken quill, half a bottle of ink, and dusting powder. Even though it looked disorderly, he had the distinct impression that the dusting powder had been spilled intentionally, to let Eve know if anything was out of place.

  Bane was careful not to disturb the powder or any items as he worked his finger into the half-moon–shaped hole at the back. Remembering the search through his grandfather’s bureau for clues regarding the secret solicitor told him there was a latch to release the secret drawer.

  It sprang open with a faint click. At that precise moment, he heard the sound of the party opening the door below stairs. Their chatter rose up and gave him a sense of urgency.

  Deftly, he slid out the drawer; the corner of a letter appeared. He drew in a breath. In an instant, he saw that it was the correspondence that Mangus had with his sister.