Page 10 of A Lady's Wager
Laughing glances found their way in Corah and Melinda’s direction as well as toward the few others who had lost their wagers. Corah folded her arms. This might be some people’s ideal method for finding a husband, but it was not Corah’s style. She and Grandfather both wished she knew what her style was. Or perhaps these girls were simply trying to have some fun at what could sometimes be a stale gathering. This was not her sort of fun either.
“Miss Bradford, shall we start with you?”
Corah groaned inwardly. “Why not?”
They all took their seats on the sofa and armchairs like obedient children in the schoolroom. Corah attempted to keep her expression neutral so she wouldn’t look like a prisoner awaiting punishment. No one could be as terrible as Mr. Haltwhistle. She prayed for someone dull, quiet, and easy to engage. Once they restored their honor, as her cousin put it, by winning wagers, Corah would never play these games again. Beside her, Melinda looked ready to lose her breakfast. Poor girl. Why did she insist on this if it terrified her so? She patted Melinda’s hand and changed her prayer for two dull, quiet, and easily engaged gentlemen.
Miss Whiting grandly shook the jar where she kept the names written on little scraps of paper. “Who will the gods of assembly balls choose, Miss Bradford?”
If the gods of assembly balls were the ones who chose, Corah was fairly sure they were also the gods of pranks and foolery.
Miss Whiting reached into the jar and slowly pulled out a slip of paper to a chorus of giggles. Corah nearly rose and snatched it from her to read it herself. Must she do this so dramatically? Miss Whiting examined the slip and gave a slight scowl. “This is a gentleman I am unfamiliar with. My brother suggested this name. You will have to enlighten us after your victory.Ifthere is one.”
Just say who it is.Corah gave a tight smile. “Someone new. How fortunate am I.”
“Your gentleman is…” Someone whispered in the long pause.
Corah ground her teeth and closed her eyes. This would be the very last time she ever kept company with Miss Whiting, no matter how much Melinda begged. Pleasing her cousin was not worth her sanity. At least when she went to London, she would leave this all behind.
“Mr. Derrick Owens.”
Her eyes flew open. Melinda gasped and started to blurt something, but Corah silenced her with a nudge to the ribs.
“Is he not the old bachelor who recently moved into Queen Square?” Corah asked quickly. That was Mr. Owston, and Grandfather had already suggested she consider him for marriage. It hadn’t taken long for Corah to make a decision on that, as he was opposite of Lieutenant Owens in every way. “I don’t think we have been introduced.” That part wasn’t a lie.
Looks of recognition circled the group, and Miss Whiting’s eyes caught a wicked glint. “I think you are right, Miss Bradford. How well you know our society. I wish you the best of luck, and I do hope he is an easier catch than Mr. Haltwhistle proved.”
Corah gave a nervous laugh, but not for the reasons the rest of the young ladies thought. “I could certainly use an easier target.”
Derrick Owens. He wasn’t an easy target by any means, but the thought of finding a way to get him to engage her for thesupper dance made her heart scamper about her chest. He’d been so attentive the last time, so protective of his comrade’s sister. What’s more, they could finally be properly introduced and fix the lie she’d told Grandfather.
She didn’t listen to the rest of the names, only nodding and mindlessly murmuring in reaction to the announcements. Memories of his warm, uninhibited smile took up the better part of her thoughts.
And deep in the recesses of her mind, an idea—one she refused to fully acknowledge—blinked to life. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to go to London to find a husband at all.
THE SUN HAD NEARLY TOUCHEDthe horizon when Derrick and Mrs. Stewart set off to honor their dinner invitation. Somehow she’d secured an invitation nearly every night since his arrival. It made him miss the familiarity of wardroom dinners aboard theSt. George, even if the food was gravely inferior.
“Remind me, who are we to thank for their generosity in inviting us this evening?” he asked. With any luck, he’d receive an answer from Captain McRae in a few days and not have to worry about social engagements anymore. Or perhaps Captain Lennox. Lennox resided just across the Bristol Channel in Newport. Derrick had decided to stay in Bristol until he received word, as it would be easier for someone to locate him if he stayed in one place. And if he could hardly bear Bristol’s society, London would suit even less.
His hostess adjusted the carriage blankets around her. “Mr. Colston and his family. His wife died several years ago, and his widowed daughter keeps house for him. Her daughter lives there as well, along with several other grandchildren who lost their parents too early.”
Derrick nodded. This wouldn’t be as terrible as he thought. An old man and his daughter were hardly something to worry about. Unless the daughter was a young widow. Blast. He tapped his fingers against his leg. She most certainly was a young widow or Mrs. Stewart would not have been so keen for him to accompany her. The sly devil. No wonder she and Grandmother had been such fast friends. He could only imagine the trouble they’d caused in their younger days.
“Mr. Colston mentioned he met you the other day. He seemed impressed. At least as impressed as I’ve ever known Mr. Colston to be.”
Derrick squinted. “Where did we meet?” He’d done an abominable job of remembering the people he’d met in Bristol. When one lived in a new city every month, renting cramped rooms by himself or relying on the invitations of friends, one met too many people to bother keeping them straight. There was one young lady he was certain not to forget, however—the one he’d caught singing silly songs at the crack of dawn in a park. Not only did she have the nerve to keep her word with the wager, but he’d discovered at their last encounter she was exceedingly well-read. Better than he was. She’d recommended a whole list of books to him he’d never have time to read. Though he might find a few to take with him on his next voyage.
“He mentioned he saw you at Haysom’s. The bookseller’s.”
Derrick straightened. The Bradfords’ grandfather. Of course. After three years of hearing young Bradford talk about the family, how had he forgotten? “He has two lovely granddaughters, does he not?”
“He has two fine granddaughters, indeed.” She said it artfully, as though trying not to let on that his interest pleased her. “A man could not go wrong in securing the hand of either young lady. Though I have heard the elder, Miss Bradford, isquite pernickety when it comes to gentlemen. A man might have better luck with the younger granddaughter, Miss Lee.”
Some men didn’t mind a challenge. “Pernickety?”
Mrs. Stewart leaned closer as though they weren’t the only two in the carriage. “Her grandfather has discussed drawing up marriage contracts with several young gentlemen since she entered Society, but he hasn’t gone through with a single one. He gives reasonable excuses, of course. Still, rumors have abounded that it is not he but she who opposes the matches.”
“Does she not wish to marry?” All the more reason for him to spend time with her while in Bristol. A lady who wanted nothing but friendship was just his sort of woman.
