Page 9 of The Lyon Whisperer
“That’s a fine idea, madame. A fine idea.” Culver drew what looked to be a bracing breath. “Fallsgate, I propose a wager—”
“Here now, why should I risk another wager? I’ve already won a fortune off of you. I have it from your own lips you can’t afford to lose any more, and I can’t take any more from you in good conscience. I won’t accept the responsibility of bankrupting you.”
“Hear me out. I propose…” he smoothed his mustache, “…an immediate marriage between my nephew, the Iron Lion of Barrosa, Baron of Sidford, future Viscount of Everston, and your daughter, Lady Amelia Duval of Fallsgate, with the understanding that he’ll make a proper lady of her, to your specifications, within six months’ time—or I forfeit the money.”
Fallsgate stared at the man, allowing his words to ruminate. Amelia marry Culver’s heir, the Iron Lion of Barrosa? Not a bad idea, that. If anyone could whip the girl into shape, he could.
Evidently Culver took his silence as hesitation. Sweat dampened his forehead, and his nostrils flared. “A-and I’ll agree to double your winnings should m’nephew fail.”
Fallsgate couldn’t staunch the slow smile that spread over his face. “Culver, you have yourself a deal.”
Chapter Three
The only soundin his uncle’s den in the big house on Raymond Street was the sound of the clock on the mantle.Tick, tick, tick.
In dumfounded disbelief, Chase stared at his uncle, slouched on the sofa across from him, looking as chagrinned as he’d ever seen the man.
Finally, he found his voice. “I’m sorry, my lord, but…” He huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “It sounded as if you just blithely announced you’d arranged my marriage, to take place in less than a fortnight, to a woman not of my choosing,because of a wager you lost at a gambling hell.”
“N-no, not exactly, m’boy. In point of fact, I lost a wager, yes, but then I proposed another. Hence, your wedding.”
Chase rose and paced from the sitting area to the oriel window. Annoyed by the cheerful garden view, he turned to glare at the man who’d taken him in after his father’s death, a man he cared for like the father he wished he had. “My wedding,” he said softly. “Uncle?”
“Yes?”
“Are you out of yourever-loving mind?” he bellowed, his voice increasing in octave with each word. “I thought I made it clear when I returned to England that I would assume control of the Culver estates, take charge of your nonexistent investments, and manage yours and Aunt Francine’s allowance in order that I might right what you so abominably mismanaged in my absence—for your sakes, and that of your tenants—”
Uncle Harry sprang to his feet, his expression placating. “And because you’re so much better at it than I am, naturally.”
“Flattery does not become you, Uncle, nor will it sway me.” Though he managed a normal tone, his ire had not dissipated in the least. “I said I’d do everything I could for the estates and you, under one condition. Do you recall that one condition?”
His uncle twisted one corner of his mustache. “I had to release the reins of the estate to you.”
“And?”
He sighed. “And I agreed to subsist on a strict allowance.”
Subsist. Normally he’d chuckle over his uncle’s overdramatization. Instead, he kept his expression stony and let the silence stretch several seconds.
“By placing a bet beyond the scope of your ability to pay, were you abiding the terms of our agreement?”
The older man wrung his hands as if squeezing a towel. “You don’t understand. I had a straight. Astraight.How could I have predicted Fallsgate’s royal flush?”
“You couldn’t. That’s why it’s calledgambling.”
The viscount dropped onto the sofa as if in defeat. “You’re right, as usual.”
Chase meandered back to the armchair he’d vacated, massaging one temple. “The whole idea of me marrying would be laughable were the situation not so infuriating. I haven’t the slightest interest in marriage, and do not anticipate that changing anytime in the foreseeable future.”
Harry frowned. “What? Whyever not?”
Chase ticked points off starting with his thumb. “All our liquid funds are invested in the estates, leaving no money with which to woo, marry, and support a wife. I’ve no time for the business. My every waking minute is tied up, between dealing with the lagging estates and my duties to parliament. The recent fires in Copsham alone have me up all hours.”
Harry waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “None of those reasons seem adequate to deny yourself the joys of wedded bliss.”
Wedded bliss? Talk about the ultimate gamble. The institution of marriage was a hazard at dice at best.
Uncle Harry and Aunt Francine managed quite nicely. However, he need only reflect on his parents’ tumultuous union to shudder at the notion for himself until such a time as siring an heir became a necessity. Not that he intended to explain his rationale. He did not wish to spur his uncle’s misplaced guilt which always surfaced when reminded of the chaotic upbringing Chase had endured prior to his mother leaving, and his father’s subsequent decline.
