Page 1 of The Marquess' Wicked Wager
ChapterOne
Edna swished past a gaggle of women, the feathers of their headpieces sticking up like a flock of pastel geese. They chattered just as loudly. She was certain she had seen her godmother’s ruby-red gown flounce her way just a moment before. It was why she wore such bold colors, her godmother had always said, so Edna could find her in a blizzard of black-suited men. Edna smiled at the thought and bunched up her skirts to better slide through the crowd.
“Edna, my dear! There you are,” Violet said a littletooloudly. She raised a cream-colored fan studded with rubies the same shade as her dress and flipped it open, flapping it about above the crowd of people. “Come quickly, darling. I have found just the mark.”
Edna stifled a groan, replacing it with a smile. She finished apologizing to the gentlewoman she had tapped to pass by, and she pushed her way to her godmother. She sighed in relief as she made it through at last, feeling like she could breathe again.
“Good, you look quite flushed,” Violet beamed. “Perfect for reeling in a fish.”
Edna shook her head, and her ringlets bounced around her neck—a coppery chestnut shock against the light blue chiffon that draped gently across her shoulders. “Godmother, you are incorrigible!” she protested, but Violet merely smirked.
“I could say the same for you, Miss Worthington. Now, enough of this idle chatter. Come see what I have found for you.”
Edna had no time to argue as Violet grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the far side of the ballroom. The Huberts had gone all out in celebration of their daughter, Janine, who was but recently returned from her tour around England and its isles. She was out to marry now as all good ladies were though it was said she hadn’t the decorum for the market. Janine was lovesick at the drop of a hat, and Edna loved to tease her about it—a habit she had not been able to correct since their time at finishing school although Janine made sure to give as good as she got. However, the matter grew less funny every day, for theywouldhave to marry and soon. Her own father seemed to be on the prowl himself. And heaven forbidhegot to choose her husband!
It was to avoid such a fate that she allowed her godmother to tote her around so. Perhaps if she could find a man to love first, someone who could show her sweetness, safety, and passion, she and Violet could convince her father to let her marry the man ofherchoice and not his.
“There!” Violet crooned in a gleeful whisper, whipping open her fan to conceal her lips from the room as if no one at all knew what she was up to. “Along the back wall. The tall one with the honeyed hair. My, he has the body of a sailor and the eyes of a kitten.”
Edna couldn’t help but scoff. “What good will any of that do me? Kittens have no place at a ball. Nor do sailors, quite frankly.”
“Exactly.” Violet snapped her fan shut. “He’s not like all the other barbarians here. He’s fitter than most, and I can tell he has a gentle spirit. I would wager he’s his mother’s favorite, despite being the second son of an earl. But when an older brother dies, a second is just as good as a first. Such is the case here.”
Edna’s lips pursed, and she fought to keep her brow smooth. A grimace would not help her chances. Nevertheless, she felt dastardly now, fishing for a man who was still grieving his brother.
“No, no. Not him. He’s…” Edna paused, searching for the right excuse, “much too tall.”
Violet gawked at her with puckered lips and a look of mischief. Edna shrunk, her back kept straight by her corset alone. Then Violet broke into a bright grin. “Oh, I see. This is because of what I told you at our last soiree, isn’t it? About height being most important when it comes to pleasure. Well, when my late Jamison and I—”
“Goodness, no!” Edna blushed, swatting at her godmother as her cheeks flushed bright pink. Why her godmother insisted on speaking so salaciously, sographically, about such private matters, with a dead husband no less, she would never understand. It didn’t matter that her stories tickled parts of Edna’s brain society warned her against feeding—she would not survive a scandal should anyone overhear.
Violet sought to protest, but Edna cut her off. “We are at a ball, Godmother. Inpublic. You mustn’t speak so…brazenly.”
“Oh, what are these gossips going to do about it? I had my first Season almost three decades ago, darling. I’m hardly in search of a husband.” Violet brushed Edna’s concerns aside as easily as one might swat away a gnat. “No one could replace my Jamison, especially not at my age. It isyouwho is on display, my little diamond of the Season, and I plan to make the best match for you possible.”
Edna blushed at the whispered title. Being called theDiamond of the Seasonwas as good as being a duchess to many, and her father knew it better than anyone. She had been declared a treasure upon her debut not two weeks before—though she hardly knew why. Still, her father could not seem to stop patting her head, telling her over and over, “Diamonds are worth far more than any baron or viscount can afford”. Indeed, he had his sights set high for her, diamonds clouding his vision as much as his gambling.
She cleared her throat with as much gentility as she could muster and brushed the silk folds of her dress smooth. “Then let us set our sights on someone less sad looking, shall we? No one in full or half mourning.”
Violet audibly sighed, her thin brows arched high. “A missed opportunity, but I shall concede—only because I love you dearly. Hmm…”
She turned slowly from one side to the other, pausing on a group of men descending the grand staircase at the center back of the room. Their trim suits stood out like blackberries scattered amongst a fresh dusting of marble snow. Each walked as if he owned the room and all the women in it—chins high, hands tucked behind their backs, and slack grins that sat below greedy eyes—and Edna had no interest in men like that.
“Excuse me,” Edna started, stepping closer to Violet as she turned around to see a tall, older man smiling at her. He had sparkling blue eyes, not unlike the first bit of crystalized ice that appeared each winter atop Blackbird Pond. His dark hair was peppered with white—he was most likely just past his middle age—and his shoulders were pressed stiffly back.
“I couldn’t help but notice you from the far end of the room,” he said in a deep, base voice. “Your radiance shines brighter than any jewel here and far brighter than any other woman for that matter.”
“You are too kind, My Lord,” Edna managed to say, bowing her head in a shallow curtsy.
“Or far too doting for a man who has yet to make an innocent young lady’s acquaintance,Your Grace,” Violet chimed in, her voice terse and uninviting. Edna glanced at her godmother, trying to read her eyes for more information. Had she notjustbeen trying to find Edna a husband? Whatever could be so wrong with this one? Aside from his age, of course. Aside from the fact that his countenance inspired mostly fear.
The man let out a dry chuckle, his eyes sharpening as they turned toward Violet. “It seems I have no need to make my acquaintance. I am glad to see you are as gregarious as ever, Lady Rees, with that wagging tongue of yours. No doubt my reputation precedes me.”
“It does, indeed.”
“Regardless, I am not talking to you but to the beautiful young gem before me.” He turned his blue eyes on Edna again and put up the same smile. “As you heard, I am the Duke of Craster, and you must be the Honorable Miss Edna Worthington.” He clipped his heels together and gave her a straight-backed bow. When he came up, his eyes dragged along her frame, like ants slowly crawling up a tree. “Will you allow me the honor of filling up your dance card? Perhaps the honor shall be yours.”
Edna glanced quickly at Violet, whose lips were pressed together so tightly that all color had faded from them. But she did nothing more; he outranked them both, and there were conventions to follow.
