Love In The Wager (Women 0f Worth Book 4)

  Love in the Wager

  Kasey Stockton

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Kasey Stockton

  Cover design by Blue Water Books

  First print edition: August 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations for the purpose of a book review.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Lydia

  2. Edward

  3. Lydia

  4. Edward

  5. Lydia

  6. Lydia

  7. Lydia

  8. Edward

  9. Lydia

  10. Lydia

  11. Lydia

  12. Lydia

  13. Edward

  14. Lydia

  15. Lydia

  16. Lydia

  17. Lydia

  18. Edward

  19. Lydia

  20. Edward

  21. Lydia

  22. Edward

  23. Lydia

  24. Lydia

  25. Lydia

  26. Lydia

  27. Edward

  28. Lydia

  29. Edward

  30. Edward

  31. Lydia

  32. Lydia

  33. Edward

  34. Lydia

  35. Edward

  36. Lydia

  37. Edward

  38. Lydia

  39. Lydia

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Peek into the next book

  Also by Kasey Stockton

  About the Author

  For my Mom, the ultimate example of selflessness.

  Prologue

  Edward

  “Mr. Thornton, you’ve received a letter.”

  Sighing, I slapped the cards on the playing table, turning frustrated eyes on my butler, Melville. Could he not see that I was in the middle of an important game? One more hand in my favor and I would win enough to pay off my vowels to Mr. James. I took the letter, requesting Melville to bring more ale.

  “My apologies,” I said to Mr. James, flipping the letter to see who it was from. Lord Stallsbury. I could get to it later. I tossed it aside and turned my attention to the man across from me.

  His eyes were sharp for a man so old, noteworthy when considering how much he’d had to drink that evening.

  Melville returned with the requested ale and we waited for him to leave before playing once more. I filled my glass, downing half the contents quickly. We flipped our cards and the drink sank to the bottom of my stomach, souring. I clamped my mouth shut. How would I recover from this?

  “One more game?” I asked, hoping to sound nonchalant.

  Mr. James scoffed, tossing his cards to the table. “You’ve nothing left to wager, boy.”

  My eyes immediately sought the painting hanging on the opposite wall, over the older man’s white head of hair. My country house, Thornville Place. My sister would be livid. But what else could I do? We couldn’t very well pay all of my debts with the sale of the house anyway.

  Either way, we were sunk.

  “Perhaps I do.”

  I’d grabbed his attention. He glanced at me under bushy white eyebrows, his side whiskers twitching while he chewed on his cheek. “What is it?”

  “Thornville.”

  He stilled, and I tried not to show my nerves.

  “You serious, Thornton?”

  I nodded.

  “What’s the wager?” he asked.

  “The house, for all of my debts.”

  “Deal.”

  I shook my head. “All of my debts, James. If I win, you pay off everything. If you win, you get my house.”

  The older man tried to contain his smile and I knew I had him.

  “Deal,” he said, this time with more pleasure.

  A warning rang through my body, but I paid it no heed. The ale had done nothing to blur my sensibilities, for I had drank a tenth of what I’d poured this evening for my friend. I could not find my practices unethical, for they were no worse than what I’d find in any gaming house in all of London.

  The cards were shuffled and dealt, and there was a nervous energy about us as we played. My hopes rose with each new card and I found my heart beating in rapid succession in my chest. I’d dug this hole myself, but I was about to get Sarah and I out of this mess once and for all. It was time to quit the cards and focus on rebuilding my estate. Once my debts were paid, that is.

  I watched James check his cards, a slight twitch to his mouth that I’d come to learn was his tell. I froze, unsure if he was eager or displeased by what he’d drawn. Swallowing, I laid my cards face up, my breath shallow and infused with equal parts fear and excitement.

  James locked eyes with me, the whites of his own wide and energized. “Your life is about to change, Thornton.”

  He laid his cards and my world spun.

  That was certainly an understatement. I let out a breath and closed my eyes. It was a done deal now, and there was no turning back.

  “When shall I move in?” he questioned, sweeping the cards from the table and gathering them into a pile. Leaning back in his chair, he eyed me greedily and I itched to strike him with my clenched fist. But alas, it was not James’s fault I had so stupidly wagered my home.

  Thornville had been in my family for three hundred years. There was likely a line of Thornton ghosts surrounding our table and shaking their fists at me. ’Twas a good thing I could not see my ancestors.

  “I must remove the heirlooms first, of course,” I said. “But I can arrange to do so forthwith. It will not take long to vacate the grounds.”

  James nodded slowly, his hands coming to rest over his ample belly. He watched me intently and my skin crawled. He was plainly cooking something up in his mind, and I didn’t think it was going to be good.

  “Unless…”

  I did not pay heed to the hope that rose within my chest. I picked up my glass and took a sip as though whatever he was about to propose was of little consequence to me.

  “Unless,” he said again, “you would like to strike a deal?”

  I lowered my glass, careful to guard my expression. “I’m listening.”

  “You’ve met my daughter, Lydia?”

  I searched my brain for the face of Lydia James. She had been present at a ball recently and we’d been introduced—I was fairly positive for the name was quite familiar—but I couldn’t bring a face to mind.

  Nodding, I said, “We’ve been introduced.”

  James did not move, but smiled. “Yes, I recall. She is a meek little thing who cares more for her books than her own father. She wouldn’t make any trouble. In fact, I think she would make a thoroughly respectable wife to any man. Quiet and obedient, what more could you want?”

  My eyebrows screwed together. I’d lost control over my features, but I could not follow his line of thought. “What are you suggesting, sir?”

  “Do you want your house back?”

  Would agreeing be a violation of my pride? Of course I wanted my house back. I simply stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

  “Well,” James said calmly. “You can have it back—and I will relieve your debts to me—if you but marry my daughter.”

  I held my breath, watching the older man’s side whiskers quivering as he waited. I’d gambled more than my share during my life, but never before had the stakes been s
o high. A woman’s life, surrendered to me in exchange for a house?

  But to be free of the debts I owed Mr. James, to be given the chance to restore my ancestral estate and perhaps have a new beginning?

  The temptation was strong, drawing me in with the appeal of a second chance.

  But, the woman.

  I could not even recall what she looked like. I had met her recently, so if she was horse faced or covered in warts, surely I would remember. Though, in exchange for my house and relief of some of my debts, it was an enticing prospect regardless of her appearance.

  “I will pay all of your debts,” Mr. James said. Had I waited too long to speak? He appeared eager now. The cards were on my side.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “All of my debts? My debts are numerous.”

  “And my fortune is sufficient. I will pay off all of your debts and you can keep your house if you will agree to marry my daughter.”

  What choice did I have? Marriage to Miss James, regardless of her appearance or demeanor, was worth what this man offered me. I was a weak man, a gambler, but I was willing to give it all up for the chance to redeem myself.

  For my family and their future—for my sister, Sarah—I would sacrifice.

  “Very well, Mr. James,” I said. “You have yourself a deal.”

  1

  Lydia

  I checked my basket, but the books were hidden well and I was fairly positive Father would not request to look through it, anyway. Light poured through the windows of the breakfast room, bathing my aging father in an ethereal light and highlighting his wrinkled face.

  “Did you have a pleasant evening?” I asked, swinging the basket beside my leg as I waited for Father to finish chewing his toasted bread. He picked up the goblet beside his breakfast plate and gulped his wine, before setting it back on the table with a loud thunk.

  “I had a productive one,” he said.

  Oh, dear. I did not like the look he was training on me at present. It did not bode well for the busy day ahead of me. I must skirt this quickly if I was going to escape.

  “Shall I tell Mrs. Humphrey about your recent acquisition, Father? I believe she would love to see the painting for herself. She once told me how she adores landscapes containing sheep.”

  I watched distraction take over his features. “You are to see Mrs. Humphrey today? A silly woman. Though, she is welcome to come see the painting.”

  I was not going to see Mrs. Humphrey, but that was irrelevant. “She shares our home county, you recall,” I said softly.

  He nodded, and I curtsied. It was done. And easily, at that. I turned for the door and nearly made it out when he called to me.

  “One thing first, Lydia.” He cleared his throat. “I have obtained a husband for you.”

  I stilled, my hands gripping the basket tightly. Glancing back over my shoulder, I considered his words.

  He’d found me a husband? But how could he have done so? For at least two Seasons I’d had no suitor worth mentioning. And furthermore, I liked it that way.

  “You remember Mr. Thornton?” he continued.

  That man? Of course I remembered Mr. Thornton. How could one forget the man who requested a dance and failed to arrive at the start of the music? It had been mortifying, watching him dance with Miss Hannigan in my stead. Clearly, I was not memorable to him.

  I turned to face my father fully. “I do not comprehend.”

  He gave me a condescending smile, tilting his head. “He has requested your hand and I agreed. The banns will be posted tomorrow and the wedding shall occur in three weeks’ time.” He took another bite of his toasted bread before continuing, “You will find him to be an amiable husband, I am sure.”

  My mouth hung slack. “Have I no say in the matter?”

  “It is done, Lydia. There is no say to have.”

  Energy drained from my person. “All is not lost yet, Father. Perhaps we can come to another arrangement? Might we call on him and discuss this in person?”

  “The notice went out this morning,” he said crisply. “It is done.”

  My shoulders sank. If a notice was sent to the papers, it was, indeed, done. Unless… “Father,” I said quietly, “what if I refuse?”

  His hand paused just before his toast reached his mouth. Setting it down, he leveled me with a look. “You cannot refuse. We’ve come to an agreement and signed the papers. You will marry Thornton, and if you do not, you shall not be welcome here anymore.”

  My heart plummeted in my chest. I nodded, swallowing the bile which threatened to rise from my throat. Turning away, I walked from the room with my shoulders set and my back straight. Life had just altered for me in no small way, and I was prepared to adjust accordingly. If only I could understand the motives behind Mr. Thornton’s offer. He’d ignored me at the ball only a fortnight prior after begging a dance. I had only been grateful no other person was present when he’d requested the dance, aside from my father, of course, or it would have been significantly more embarrassing.

  ‘Twas a blessing, I supposed, that Society was light, at present.

  Nodding to my maid, Christine, as she stood waiting in the hallway, I waited for Jacob to open the front door and stepped outside into the brisk Autumn air. Baring trees littered with gold, dying leaves set the backdrop for our quiet street, and I inhaled a lungful of the cool air, pulling my shawl tighter about my shoulders while clutching my basket closer to my chest.

  Glancing over my shoulder to be sure my servants were trailing behind me, I set off for King Street. My steps carried me rapidly toward my destination as though my feet could outrun my thoughts. I walked a fair distance before glancing back to ensure my servants were close behind me, and instantly regretted my haste. While we walked about London a good deal, Christine was clearly not as eager to arrive at Mrs. Coulter’s house as I was, and her red cheeks and rapid breathing were testament of her struggle. I halted at once.

  “Jacob, please obtain a hackney for the remainder of our journey. I find that my wish to arrive is greater than my desire for exercise this morning.”

  “At once,” Jacob said, bowing. He turned for the road and I pretended to find an interest in the contents of my basket to give Christine a moment to catch her breath. One would think after our consistent forays to King Street my maid would be accustomed to the distance, though I could not fault her today for not being accustomed to the speed.

  We arrived at Mrs. Coulter’s home minutes later, and the kind, simply dressed matron ushered us into her parlor. My stomach sat uneasy from the short carriage ride, but a few deep breaths later, I was well enough.

  I sat at the end of her blue brocade sofa and set the basket on the cushion between us. “I shall do my best to obtain funds in the future, but I was hopeful these books would be useful for now.”

  Mrs. Coulter reached for it, moving aside the cloth to reveal an array of children’s books. “These are splendid,” she said, moving them about and reading the titles. “The novels you brought me last week have already been well utilized by some of our more educated students, but I find them a bit advanced for the younger set.”

  I nodded. “I believe I am ready, Mrs. Coulter, if you can convince your husband to accept my assistance.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but I sensed another excuse and lifted my hands to stave her. “Please,” I begged. “I know I have no experience, but I can read and I hold the desire to help. Are those qualifications not enough?”

  Sighing, she gave me an endearing smile. “You know Thomas appreciates your desire to help. But he fears for your safety and age. Reasonable concerns, I allow.”

  “But I shall not volunteer in the Mint. And I bring my maid and footman with me anytime I leave the house. Surely they are sufficient protection?”

  Hinges squealed as the door inched open and a pudgy little finger appeared around the edge. Sighing, Mrs. Coulter shot me an amused glance. “They might be, but I cannot speak for Thomas. Allow me to discuss the matter with him furt
her and I shall have an answer for you by next week.”

  I swallowed, nodding. It was not a guarantee, but it was a good deal closer. “Thank you. What else are the children in need of? Might I produce something for the schools?”

  “If only one percent of London were as charitable as you, Miss James, the entirety of its population would be well taken care of.”

  A blush warmed my cheeks as I cast my eyes down. I was not looking for praise. “I only wish to help.”

  A small boy snuck through the open door, darting behind the sofa. Mrs. Coulter reached forward and squeezed my hand. “And we are quite grateful, indeed. Now, what do you say to a treat? I shall ring cook right away and request a plate of the divine shortbread she baked only this morning. Of course, it is too bad my dear children are all busy at present or we could invite them to join us.”

  A small, blond head popped up behind us. “I am here, Mama! I am not busy at all!”

  I could not help but laugh at the hopeful gleam in the child’s eye. I glanced back at Mrs. Coulter and the delight reflected in her own caused my heart to squeeze. Her life was a balance of her own joyful family and helping poor London children learn a basic education. I could not imagine a more blissful existence than that.

  “It shall work out for the best eventually,” Mrs. Coulter said. “Do not imagine that Thomas will turn you away forever. He merely wishes to protect you.”