To Wager with Love (Girls Who Dare Book 5) Page 5

  Harriet was blushing with such ferocity he could feel the heat of it against his skin—his bare skin, as he was stark bollock naked, as was perfectly obvious to their audience. It was only Harry who was covering him, and he’d done his best to cover her with his coat.

  Still, Jasper glowered at Mr Burton, Jerome, and his friends.

  “Turn your backs!” he growled.

  “I think we can do better than that,” Mr Burton replied, his expression one of deep disapproval as he opened the door and indicated that everyone should leave.

  They did, thank heavens. All except Jasper’s mother.

  “I should like to speak to you both back at the house as soon as….” She looked at the clothes scattered about the summerhouse and her lips twitched. “As soon as you are able. We have a wedding to arrange. I must say, Harriet,” she added, giving into the urge to grin, “I couldn’t be happier. Well, done, Jasper!”

  She clapped her hands together with obvious delight and bustled out of the room.

  Jasper held his breath.

  Harriet was rigid in his arms and still turned away from him. She didn’t move; he suspected she didn’t even blink. She seemed too shocked to react. He listened to everyone moving away from the summerhouse, heard their voices receding as his mother ushered them away.

  He took a deep breath, wondering what to say as his gaze fell on the smooth expanse of Harriet’s shoulder. Unable to resist, he leaned down and kissed it. She gasped, and for just a moment he thought that a good sound, and that perhaps they could finish what they’d started, but then Harriet scrambled away from him.

  “Going to be sick,” she managed, and barely made it out of the door before he heard retching sounds from outside.

  Perhaps not, then.

  ***

  By the time Harriet had cleaned herself up and dressed, she wanted to die. She’d never felt so ill in her life, but she was almost grateful. It kept her mind off the disaster she’d just made of her life.

  Don’t panic, she instructed herself. Do. Not. Panic.

  She was panicking.

  Jasper kept trying to talk to her, but she just hushed him, holding up her hand and glaring. He shut up. She couldn’t speak to him, not yet. Not until she figured out what had happened last night. It was all a blur, a hazy collection of half-remembered images and words jumbled up into a tangled mess. There was only one thing she could remember with any real clarity, and she really wished she could forget that bit. She flushed, turning her back on Jasper as she made a show of smoothing out her gown.

  Don’t think of it. Don’t think of it. Naturally she could think of nothing else. Nothing else filled her mind but Jasper’s naked body upon hers, his mouth fastened upon her breast and his hand between her legs, his fingers…. Her whole body heated as she remembered the exquisite pleasure of his fingers sliding inside of her, and the sounds she’d made as he’d given her the most incredible experience of her life.

  “Harry,” he said again, and she shook her head, fighting back tears.

  Oh, Harriet, you fool.

  She pulled open the summerhouse door and ran.

  ***

  Jasper watched her go. More than anything he wanted to go after her, but now wasn’t the time. He knew that much. Besides, he had a lifetime now, a lifetime to convince her that they were made to be together. He knew he ought not to feel so satisfied at the situation, especially when he’d trapped Harriet into it, albeit unwittingly. Yet, it was beyond him to feel sorry, to regret that it had happened. She would marry him—she had to—and she’d be his.

  Assuming she ever forgave him, either for this or for whatever he’d done to hurt her in the first place.

  With a sigh, he closed the door on the summerhouse and began to walk back to the house. He had just set foot in the gardens that lay directly behind the house when he caught sight of Harriet’s brother, Henry. He was striding towards Jasper, a determined set to his jaw.

  Jasper almost lifted a hand to hail him as he always did—considering Henry was his best friend—until he realised that he’d just ruined the man’s sister, and there was a chance he wouldn’t be thrilled about it.

  “You bastard!” Henry shouted from halfway across the garden, confirming his suspicions.

  “Henry,” Jasper said, stilling and holding out his hands in a peaceable gesture. “Henry, let me explain, please—”

  “Explain what, you blackguard?” Henry demanded, bearing down on him in fury. “How you got my sister drunk and seduced her? My God, I will thrash you within an inch of your life, you miserable cur!”

  Jasper sighed and didn’t bother trying to defend himself. He owed Henry the chance to vent his feelings. Even so, the thwack to his jaw came as something of a shock, more so as he stumbled back and landed on his arse in the middle of his mother’s herbaceous border, the fresh scent of crushed lavender rising up around him.

  “Christ,” he muttered, touching a cautious finger to his jaw and checking for loose teeth with his tongue.

  “Get up, so I can do it again,” Henry growled.

  “I love her, Henry,” Jasper said, looking up at his best friend and hoping he could hear the truth of his words. “I’ve always loved her and, for the record, she’s still a virgin and I’m going to marry her.”

  Henry stared down at him for a moment.

  “Oh,” he said, straightening and rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I suppose that changes things,” he said, his expression lightening. He reached out, offering Jasper his hand and tugging him to his feet. “Sorry about that,” he said, gesturing to Jasper’s jaw. “Had to be done, honour and all that.”

  “I quite understand, believe me,” Jasper said. “And while we’re about it, I didn’t get her drunk, either. How could you think such a thing?”

  Henry shrugged. “Didn’t expect to hear the two of you had been found together in the summerhouse. I know Harry never drinks, though, and… well, I didn’t know what to believe.”

  Jasper gave his friend an incredulous look. “You never realised?” he said, shaking his head in astonishment. “You never had the slightest clue I was in love with her?”

  “No,” Henry admitted, shaking his head. “Well, there was that summer, years back when you seemed to spend a deal of time mooning over her, and she blushed scarlet whenever you spoke to her. I thought then perhaps the two of you would get together, but since then… no. You’re always taunting her and making her furious, and I thought she couldn’t stand you truth be told.”

  Jasper let out a breath of laughter, though it was not an especially happy sound. “I think nothing’s changed,” he said bleakly. “Come on, I have to face everyone. We’ve a wedding to arrange.”

  ***

  Harriet dithered outside the door to the rose salon. Aunt Nell, Lady St Clair, and Jasper were all waiting for her inside. It was late in the afternoon and her headache had receded to a dull thud. The realisation that she’d been drunk had at least explained much of what had happened, and when she found out who’d poured whatever concoction had been in that punch, she would murder them. What a terrible coil she was in now.

  She curled her fingers around the doorknob but couldn’t seem to find the courage to turn the wretched thing. Just go in, and get it over with, she told herself. You can do it. Taking a deep breath, Harriet forced herself to move, and stepped into the room to find Aunt Nell and Lady St Clair all smiles, beaming at her. The urge to turn around and run out again was almost overwhelming.

  “Harriet, darling,” Lady St Clair said, holding out her hands. “I’m so happy. I confess I’ve been hoping for this day for such a long time. I’ve always considered you a daughter.”

  Oh, no. Harriet’s heart sank. This would not be easy. She turned to see Jasper watching her warily. He’d washed and changed and looked abominably handsome. She, by contrast, looked how she felt. Utterly wretched.

  “I’m so sorry, Lady St Clair,” she said, forcing the words out. “B-But I’m afraid I will have to disappoint
you. I can’t marry Jasper.”

  Lady St Clair’s smile faltered as Aunt Nell gave an audible gasp of shock.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Harriet,” her aunt snapped. “You must marry him. You’re ruined if you don’t.”

  Harriet steeled herself for the onslaught that was sure to follow her next words. “I don’t want to marry Jasper, and I’m quite certain he does not want to marry me.”

  “Don’t you dare put words in my mouth, Harry,” Jasper said.

  His voice was quiet, but his expression was thunderous. She could almost believe him, so intense was the look in his eyes. She could almost believe that the godlike figure by the window truly wanted plain little Harriet Stanhope, and not that he was being a gentleman and doing the right thing by his childhood friend.

  “I do want to marry you, and you have to marry me, like it or not. I’m sorry if that’s such a dreadful prospect, but you have no option.”

  “Actually, Jasper, I do,” she replied, turning to look at him. “But either way, it’s my decision, no one else’s, so do be sensible. You must see that we’d be disastrous together.”

  “No,” he replied, his tone clipped and angry. “I don’t see that at all, and what the hell do you mean?”

  “Harriet Stanhope, you’ve been caught in… in flagrante delicto with… a man,” her aunt wailed, with such melodramatic fervour that Harriet almost expected to hear a clap of thunder to underscore it. None came, however, though her aunt turned a startling shade of scarlet. “You must marry!”

  “I will marry,” Harriet replied irritably, deciding she may as well get it over with. “I’m just not going to marry him!”

  There was a ringing silence as everyone stared at her in shock, and then they all jumped as a knock sounded at the door.

  “Go away!” Jasper bellowed, just as Lady St Clair invited whoever it was to come in.

  The butler appeared, looking stricken and unsure of whether to close the door again.

  “Yes, Temple, what is it?” Lady St Clair asked, as calm and poised as always.

  “There is a gentleman here, my lady, a Mr de Beauvoir. He’s asking for Miss Stanhope. He’s most insistent that he see her.”

  All eyes swivelled to Harriet, who let out a breath of relief. She’d sent him an urgent message that morning but hadn’t dared hope he could come at once, as she’d demanded.

  “Show him in, please, Temple,” Harriet said, ignoring the looks of disbelief being sent her way.

  Temple looked to Lady St Clair, who nodded, then to Jasper, who looked as if he wanted to murder something. Temple retreated with haste.

  “Who is he?” Jasper demanded, crossing the room to stare at her.

  Harriet swallowed, a little unnerved by the depth of anger she could see in his eyes.

  “Mr Inigo de Beauvoir,” she replied, her voice not entirely steady. “My fiancé.”

  Jasper started as if she’d struck him.

  “Your what?”

  Harriet lifted her chin, trying hard to force the tears back. For a moment the temptation to throw herself into Jasper’s arms, cry, and tell him she was sorry was almost overwhelming, but that was stupid and weak. She’d been perfectly correct before. They’d make a disastrous marriage.

  “My fiancé,” she said again, softer now as she realised his shock was palpable.

  Poor Jasper, spoilt and adored his whole life. He never had got used to being told no.

  She knew that marrying him would be perfect, her dream come true—at first. Jasper would be attentive and loving, and going on the way he’d made her feel last night she’d be putty in his hands. She’d not be able to keep the wall she’d built about her heart intact. Good Lord, he’d dismantled so much of it in the course of a few hours last night she knew she’d been right to keep him at bay for so long.

  Jasper Cadogan was every childish romantic dream she’d ever had, but she’d not be made a fool of again. She would not open up her heart the way she had once before, only to be forgotten the moment she was out of his sight. As a young woman of sixteen she’d been shattered, but resilient enough to brush herself off and start over. As his wife, though, and the mother of his children….

  What then would she feel when he was away from her?

  What then would she feel when she heard the stories of his conquests?

  No.

  Jasper had never understood her in any case. He had no interest in her pursuits, no interest in learning of any kind, indeed he scorned it, and that she could not tolerate. Inigo did not love her, nor did she love him, but they both held a deep admiration and respect for the other’s intellect, and that was a good basis for a happy marriage. Not only that, he would be loyal to her and never bring her misery with his affairs. What more could she ask for?

  As if to answer her question, the door opened, and Temple appeared once more.

  “Mr Inigo de Beauvoir,” he said, before bowing and closing the door behind the new arrival.

  Harriet let out a breath of relief at the sight of him. He was tall and lean, with a rather hawk-like profile. His hair was black, unfashionably long, and his eyes were an odd grey-green, cool and impassive under thick eyebrows. At thirty years of age, he looked older, mostly because he took very poor care of himself, sleeping little and working long hours, hence his decision to find a wife. In all, he had a rather sinister appearance, though Harriet knew better than to judge him by his looks. They had been corresponding in secret for some years now, and they had become friends and colleagues of a sort. He had encouraged her learning at every turn and was a firm believer that women ought to be educated in just the same way as men. Women were equals in his eyes, and only appeared stupid in comparison because they were taught that this was what was wanted from them.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said, moving to greet him.

  He gave a formal bow, eyeing the rest of the room with his cool grey-green gaze. “Miss Stanhope, how may I be of service?”

  Harriet flushed, realising she must explain exactly what had happened last night and wondering just how he would react. They did not love each other, but still, she had agreed to marry him and….

  She swallowed.

  “I… I’m in the most dreadful fix,” she said, keeping her voice low and her back to the rest of the room. “Perhaps we could speak alone and… in private.”

  “There’s no need for that, darling.”

  Harriet jumped as Jasper’s voice came from close behind her.

  “Mr de Beauvoir,” Jasper continued smoothly, giving him a measuring look. “I’m St Clair. I’m afraid that Harriet and I were caught in a very compromising situation this morning. The news will be all over the village by now. We’ll marry, at once.” He paused, staring at Inigo. “You are at liberty to call me out, naturally.”

  “Jasper!” his mother exclaimed, putting a hand to her heart. “Oh, no!”

  Inigo remained expressionless, save for the slightest quirk of one eyebrow. “Calm yourself, madam,” he said, not looking away from Jasper. “I see no need for bloodshed, unless….” He looked to Harriet. “Were you forced?”

  “No!” she exclaimed as Jasper stiffened in outrage. “No… I… I was drunk… at least, I didn’t realise I was drunk. Someone put alcohol in the fruit punch, and it was such a hot night, and I was so dreadfully thirsty, and I drank a great deal and… and….” She trailed off as she realised she was babbling, before adding desperately, “I’m still a virgin.”

  Harriet had lived through many mortifying moments in her life. As a young woman who wore spectacles and was considered an oddity more often than not, it was inevitable, but never in her life had she experienced anything that made her want to curl up and die with quite such longing.

  “I see,” Inigo said slowly, pursing his lips. He regarded Jasper, who still looked as if he wanted to kill something, before turning back to her. “Well, Miss Stanhope, I see no reason for a great deal of fuss. It is clear you were inebriated, and I have no intention of punishing you for
a silly mistake. My offer stands if you still wish to marry.”

  “What?” Jasper exploded, his outrage so fierce that Harriet leapt from her skin. “No reason?” he thundered. “We were naked together… all night! The only reason she’s still a virgin and only just at that, is because I realised she was inebriated and called a halt, and I’m damn well going to marry her.”

  “Jasper!” Harriet and his mother exclaimed in horrified unison.

  Aunt Nell made a groaning sound and collapsed into an armchair. Everyone ignored her.

  “Well, can you deny it?” Jasper demanded, turning on Harriet. “Can you deny you wanted me, begged me?”

  Harriet stared at him, furious and humiliated, again. How could he say such shocking things about her in front of everyone? The urge to cry made her chest tight and her throat ache but instead she turned and regarded Mr de Beauvoir, who had been watching proceedings with the detached interest of a scientist watching the behaviour of some unknown species.

  “If you can forgive my shocking lapse of propriety, I will be happy to continue our engagement, Mr de Beauvoir, though I should be grateful if we could speed up the proceedings.”

  “I think that might be wise,” he said, one side of his mouth twitching a little in the first show of emotion she’d seen from him since he arrived.

  “Harry, no!”

  She gasped as Jasper caught her arm and swung her around, panic in his eyes. “Harry, for God’s sake, enough. Enough of this ridiculous charade. You don’t love him, and he sure as hell doesn’t love you. Can you really marry a man who doesn’t give a damn what we did together last night?”

  “I know he doesn’t love me,” Harriet said, exhaustion tugging at her bones and making her long for an end to this ridiculous melodrama.

  Her head was pounding, she felt sick, and she wanted to go away and have a good cry… but she had to get this over with.

  “Our marriage would be based on mutual admiration and respect, my lord,” Mr de Beauvoir said, with what Harriet had to admit was a rather condescending tone. “Love is an archaic and nonsensical idea driven by social mores to allow for physical passion. Indeed, marriage is an outmoded concept, however, we are not in a position to defy the world and so must conform. That aside, I greatly admire Miss Stanhope’s mind. She has an astonishing intellect, and I think we could do great things together. Last night’s—” He waved a hand nonchalantly. “—indiscretion… was brought on by alcohol and the attentions of a handsome man,” he said, smiling a little. “Any inexperienced young woman would have her head turned by such an event.”