Page 19 of A Duke Makes a Deal
Clara’s ears began to ring.
“He said it was appalling that your mother had been a maid and that your father was an embarrassment,” Bettina dug in.“He said he wouldn’t marry you if you were the richest girl in the entire world.”
Fury bubbled within Clara as Bettina’s words cut into her. Was everyone in the ton an absolute monster? She could barely control her breathing as she began speaking, words flowing from her mouth without registration.
“He’s just mad he lost his bet!” Clara lashed out.
The words fell from her mouth too quickly, before she could weigh the wisdom of letting them slip. Several pairs of stunned eyes stared back at her.
“Clara?” Her mother’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her.
Turning, Clara saw a sizeable crowd had formed. People were watching her, speaking behind their hands as they glared at her. She could feel herself turning red.
“What bet?” she heard Bettina ask behind her.
“Clara dear, I think it’s time to go,” her mother said, cutting through the crowd as she reached her daughter.
Clara felt sick to her stomach as her mother pulled her away, hearing more and more people behind her echoing the questionwhat bet,and speculating that it was likely that Dilworth had made some grievous gamble.
“Oh no,” Clara said as they hurried to their carriage. Her gloved hand curled into a fist and she pounded it gently against her forehead. “Foolish, foolish idiot.”
She had just caused a scene in front of half of London. Surely she was ruined and any chance of making a future match had gone up in smoke the moment she let her temper get the better of her. How could she have let herself become so unrestrained in front of so many people?
She sighed. Maybe she was being too dramatic. Maybe there wouldn’t be too much hullabaloo about what had just happened in the park and it would all blow over?
Clara tapped her forehead with her fist again, knowing that it wasn’t likely.
“I’m such a fool.”
“Easy dear, what’s all this about?” her mother asked, pulling her hand away. “What bet? And did I actually overhear something about Dilworth proposing to that Bettina girl?”
Clara shook her head as she climbed into the carriage, plopping herself on the bench seat. She was quiet until the carriage pulled away and only spoke when her mother’s hand reached for hers. Turning, she saw the concern in her mother’s eyes.
“Dilworth is a gambler—and not a very good one. After losing all of the money he had brought with him to the ball last night, he proceeded to bet me and my dowry in a card game,” she said sadly. “A game that he lost. After witnessing such a thing, I can no longer feel any respect for the viscount. It’s why I’ve not made any attempt to see or speak about him.”
“A card game?” her mother repeated. As the words settled around them Mary’s eyes went wide with horror as she realized what Clara was saying. She grabbed her daughter’s hand and squeezed. “Oh, no, Clara. That can’t be true. That’s despicable!”
“It is true. Once he realized that he’d ruined his chances with me, he must have rushed to the next heiress he could find. He proposed to Bettina Moppet last night, right after her family returned to London,” Clara said as her gaze dropped down to her knotted hands.
“Oh darling, I’m so sorry,” her mother’s grip tightened. “Oh, what your father will say.”
“Must we tell him?” she asked, feeling ashamed. Her father had had his suspicions of the viscount from the beginning, but she hadn’t wanted to listen. It was embarrassing to have been proved so entirely wrong. “I can’t bear to discuss it anymore.”
“I’ll inform him myself,” her mother said, before sighing. “We should have never come to London. I knew what these people were like but I thought it wouldn’t matter—that our wealth would make us belong. How wrong I was.”
“I just want to go home,” Clara said as the pain of her betrayals bubbled up. “I just want to leave and never come back.”
Her mother’s grip tightened on her fingers again and for a while neither spoke. When the carriage reached their home and they were about to climb out, her mother spoke.
“My dear, to whom did Dilworth lose his bet?”
“The Duke of Combe,” Clara said.
“Goodness gracious. Is that why the duke came to visit this morning?” her mother asked. The fine lines on her drawn face made her appear older and Clara hated to see her so distraught. “To…to claim his unscrupulous winnings?”
Clara glanced at her mother in shock.
“Goodness no, Mama. He came to apologize for putting me in such a position.”
