The Double Wager

Chapter 14

Henry had found it impossible to settle to any activity all day. She found herself constantly wandering to her room, from the window of which she could see a long distance I down the driveway. She hoped he would come today. She dreaded the thought of having to go through all this again tomorrow.

It was late afternoon when she finally spotted a curricle appearing from among the trees far down the driveway. Her heart beating faster, Henry hurried down to the drawing room and sank into a chair facing the door, a book in hand. Several minutes later, Trevors arrived with the announcement that Mr. Oliver Cranshawe wished to wait on her.

"Show him up, Trevors," she said; then, seeing that Cranshawe bad followed the butler, she leapt to her feet and smiled a shy welcome.

"Oliver," she said, extending a hand to him, "you came quickly."

"Did you expect differently, my dear?" he replied, smiling dazzlingly into her eyes and taking her hand in both of his. He turned it up as he lowered his head, and kissed the palm.

"Trevors," Henry said to the butler, who was hovering disapprovingly in the background, "I should like a light meal served immediately, please."

"Immediately, Miss Henry?" he asked. "It is not dinnertime yet."

"Nevertheless, I wish it," she replied. "I wish to take my husband's cousin riding while it is still daylight."

The butler bowed stiffly and withdrew.

"Riding, Henry?" Cranshawe queried. "I had other plans in mind, my dear."

Henry glanced at him coyly from beneath her eyelashes. "What, Oliver," she said, "in the house here where I am surrounded by faithful retainers? I know of a very pleasant and very private meadow from which we can count the stars.

He laughed and pulled her roughly into his arms. "To hell with the retainers," he said, "but I do like the idea of finally possessing you under the moon and stars. Where may I go, my dear, to change my clothes and freshen up for you?"

Henry leaned back and looked up into his face. "I have had Giles' room prepared for you," she said. "Come, I shall take you there. I must change, too, into a riding habit." To her immense relief, he released her and stood back to allow her to lead the way.

Less than an hour later, Henry and Cranshawe were on horseback, trotting toward the lower meadow. Henry had selected a russet-colored riding skirt because it had large pockets that hid the bulge of the loaded dueling pistol. But she could feel it bumping against her leg as she rode.

"Is it not as lovely and as secluded as I promised?" she asked gaily as they rode the horses single-file through the gap in the hedge into the daisy-strewn grass of the meadow.

Cranshawe smiled appreciatively at her and followed her lead as she dismounted from her horse and tethered it. "Indeed it is, Henry," he said. "I could hardly have discovered a more charming love nest. Come here."

She laughed. "The other side will be better," she said, away from the horses and with a more open view of the sky." She picked up her skirts above her ankles and began to run lightly across the grass. Cranshawe followed.

"Oh, what is that?" Henry asked, suddenly stopping in her tracks. She pointed to – a piece of paper fluttering against a stone in the middle of the field. "Do go see, Oliver.''

. "For you, tonight, anything, my dear," he replied, and changed direction to rescue the sheet of paper. He picked

it up and read it, his back to Henry as she continued on her way across the field until she came to the fence.

"What is this?" he asked incredulously, turning with the paper in his hand. He found himself looking down the barrel of a pistol held by a very determined-looking Henry.

"Read it more carefully, Oliver," she said coolly. "Perhaps it will make more sense a second time."

"What is going on here, Henry?" he asked, eyeing the gun. "You are not intending to fire that thing, are you?"

"Indeed I am," she replied, "and I would advise you to stay very still if you value your life."

"Little fool!" he exclaimed. "You would not dare. Murder is a hanging offense, you know."

"Oh, but I do not intend to murder you," she said, "as you would know if you had read more carefully the note that you hold. I am going to shoot you in the arm, Oliver. I am a good shot, I assure you. I shall hit the mark if you do not move. If you do move, of course, I might kill you by accident. That would be a pity, would it not?"

"This is madness, Henry," he said impatiently. "You know that sooner or later I shall have my way with you. Why make it harder for yourself? Now give me the gun." He took one purposeful step in her direction.

"Take one more step, Oliver, and I shall shoot you in the leg," Henry said calmly. He noticed that the barrel of the pistol angled downward very slightly. "I do not want to shoot your arm, you see, until you have signed that note."

"You will give me that pistol, Henry, right now," Cranshawe ordered, red with fury, "and be thankful if I end up making love to you tonight instead of thrashing you within an inch of your life, as you deserve." But he did not move.

"Be careful, Oliver," Henry replied, "your charm is slipping. Now, if you look at that note in your hand, you will be able to confirm that it says you were shot in the arm by Henrietta Devron, Duchess of Eversleigh, while you were trespassing on her brother's estate and attempting to seduce her. You will note also that there is a space at the bottom for your signature. If you look on the ground, you will find a container of ink and a pen beside the stone that was holding down the paper. You see, I think of everything. Now, will you please sign it so that we can get the shooting over with?"

"You are mad," he said. "What is the purpose of this, pray?"

Henry smiled grimly. "You see, Oliver," she said, "you will be returning to London with your arm in a sling. You would be the laughingstock for a long time if it became known how you received your injury. I shall have it in my power to prevent or to provoke that ridicule."

"Very neat," he declared, a ghost of his old smile playing about his lips. "Your silence in return for mine, is that it?"

"There is a brain behind the charm, I see," was the answer he received.

"I shall not sign, of course, he said, the smile becoming firmer.

"Then I shall have to put a bullet in your leg," Henry announced coolly. "The left one, I believe, just below the knee." She raised her left hand to steady the wrist of her right.

"All right, you minx, you win this round," Cranshawe said hastily, "but it will go all the worse for you, Henry, when I finally get you within my grasp."

"Perhaps, but you will need two sound arms for that, Oliver," she replied, lowering her left hand again.

Cranshawe searched around on the ground until he found the items she had described. He dipped the quill pen in the container and hastily scratched his name on the paper, using his knee as a desktop.

"Here is your paper," he said, holding it out in her direction. I am going to turn and leave, Henry. I trust that you have enough gallantry not to shoot a man in the back.''

"I shall still be aiming for your right arm between shoulder and elbow, Oliver," she said, quite unperturbed. "Of course, it is always harder to hit a moving target with accuracy. I advise you to stand absolutely still."

Again her left hand rose to steady her wrist. Cranshawe did as she bade him. A cold sweat broke out on his face.

"Don't shoot, your Grace!" a voice yelled frantically from the gap in the hedge. The gun dropped a few inches as Henry, unnerved, glanced across the meadow to see James Ridley rushing in her direction, having dismounted while his horse was still in motion. Oliver Cranshawe moved at the same moment but stopped abruptly again when she brought the gun jerking back into line with his body.

"Don't move!" she directed him coldly. "Mr. Ridley, you are far from home. May I ask what brings you here?"

"We heard this morning that you were here, your Grace," he replied, hurrying closer. "Then we found out that Mr. Cranshawe was on his way here too."

"We?" asked Henry.

Her answer came in the form of a loud bark from the other side of the hedge, followed by voices.

"Where did he disappear?" called a high, piping voice that was unmistakably Penelope's.

"Into the meadow, silly. I hope Trevors was right. He said they came this way. Let's go, Pen." The voice was Philip's.

"Wait for Manny. She's all tired out from running," yelled Penelope.

A few moments later, there was a new invasion of the field. Brutus was in the lead. He rushed first to Henry in an ecstasy of recognition, and then to Cranshawe, who was still stranded, motionless, in the middle of the meadow, his attention fixed on the pistol. Brutus seemed unable to make up his mind if this person was friend or foe. He settled the problem for the time being by flopping to the ground and fixing Cranshawe with an unwavering stare. He panted heavily and occasionally growled.

Philip, Penelope, and an exhausted-looking Miss Manf6rd came next.

"Henry!" Penelope yelled.

"Oh, I say," said Philip, "a gun. Are you going to shoot him, Henry?"

"Oh, bless my soul," Miss Manford gasped, "are you safe, dear girl? Please put down the gun. There is no need to kill Mr. Cranshawe, indeed there is not. Mr. Ridley is here to protect you."

"Come, Henry," Cranshawe coaxed, his voice not quite under control, "you really must do as you are told. There are witnesses now, you know."

"Yes, but friendly witnesses," she replied, and I have not changed my mind. I want you to sweat and squirm for a while, Oliver. Maybe you will have an inkling of what I have been through in the last weeks. Don't come any closer, please, Mr. Ridley. You will be close to my line of fire if you do."

"Really, your Grace, I sympathize with your feelings," Ridley said calmly. "I know much of what he has made you suffer. But nothing can be gained from bloodshed and violence. Give me the gun." He held out his hand slowly, but he did not move from where he stood, about twenty-five feet from Henry.

"Oh, James, do be careful," Miss Manford wailed.

"She is quite mad, as you see, Ridley," Cranshavve said. He was recovering his poise somewhat. The lengthy delay seemed to be to his advantage. Henry's arm would tire soon.

"Read them that paper," Henry ordered coldly.

"What?"

"The paper that you still hold in your hand-read it!" she repeated.

"Don't be ridiculous, Henry."

"Read it!"

There was a pause of some seconds. Finally Cranshawe lowered his head and began to read.

"Louder!" she directed.

He read what was written on the paper in a loud, clear voice.

"Now, Mr. Ridley, would you take it from Mr. Cranshawel please? I do not really want to have it spattered with his blood."

Ridley did as he was bid, pleading with Henry all the while. Finally he moved to one side and Cranshawe was again isolated in the middle of the meadow. Philip and Penelope stood at the other side of the field, one of Miss Manford's hands on a shoulder of each. Henry adjusted the pistol so that it was again in line with Cranshaw's right arm. Again she raised her left arm to steady her wrist.

"Drop the gun, Henry!" said a cool, authoritative voice from the gap in the hedge. The words were not shouted, but they accomplished what all the commotion of the previous few minutes had failed to do. The pistol immediately dropped to the ground from nerveless fingers as

Henry turned her head toward her husband. Cranshawe visibly sagged with relief.

"You!" Henry said. "What are you doing here?"

"The same as everyone else, I presume," Eversleigh said, strolling unhurriedly forward, viewing the beauties of nature." He lifted his quizzing glass to his eye as he gradually approached Cranshawe.

"Oliver!" he said, affecting surprise. I did mot know you were one of nature's devotees."

"I never thought I should be glad to see you, Marius," Cranshawe said, his self-assurance visibly restored. "Your wife was just about to kill me. She should be locked up in a madhouse."

Three voices chorused from the sidelines.

"Don't talk about my sister like that!"

"Don't listen to him, your Grace. He's a black-hearted villain.'' -

"Oh, bless my soul, what an evil man."

Brutus growled threateningly.

"There is a letter here that you should read, your Grace," Ridley said calmly from his place to one side of Henry.

"I heard it, thank you, James," Eversleigh replied. I think it would be rash of you to thank me for saving your arm, dear boy," he continued, turning his attention and his quizzing glass back to his heir. "I stopped Henry only because I could not possibly deny myself the pleasure of dealing with you myself."

"Oh, no, you don't!" Henry exclaimed, fury animating her again. "Why should men get all the satisfaction of working out their anger? This one is mine!" She strode determinedly toward Cranshawe, and before he could see what was coming and react, she had raised her fist and driven it with all her strength into his face. Her target had been his nose. She missed and connected with one eye instead. Her sapphire ring gashed him just below the eye.

"Little vixen!" Cranshawe gasped, clamping one hand over the wounded side of his face.

There was a chorus of cheers from the background, including some from Miss Manford. Brutus leapt to his feet, barking with excitement,

"Bravo, Henry!" Eversleigh said quietly. "Now stand aside, my love." He beckoned Ridley to his side, carefully removed his coat, and handed it to his secretary.

"I suggest that you do likewise, Oliver," he said amiably. I do believe you will be measuring your length on the ground rather soon, and there might be some bloodshed. I would think it a shame to ruin a perfectly good coat, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, this is just the type of situation you like, is it not, Marius?" replied his cousin bitterly. "You can show off your superior physical strength in front of an appreciative audience.''

"I know it is not your style, Oliver," Eversleigh replied calmly, unbuttoning the lace cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves back to the elbows. "You prefer to wound your opponents through women and through lies and trickery. Unfortunately, dear fellow, on this occasion you have no choice.

Cranshawe grimly pulled off his coat and tossed it from him. H is eye was already beginning to swell, the onlook- ers noted with satisfaction.

Really, the fight was disappointing when it finally got started, Philip confided to a small audience later. Eversleigh's very first punch-a right jab to the chin-produced a crunching sound and Cranshawe fell backward. He scrambled to his feet again, but spent the rest of the unequal contest defending himself. He did manage to land one lucky punch on Eversleigh's mouth; he even drew blood. But one punch after another of Eversleigh's was a potential leveler.

Cranshawe's weakening guard would drop to protect his ribs and stomach after the breath had been knocked out of his body by a well-placed fist, and then the same fist would punish his face and jaw. When he chose to protect his head, then his body was pummeled. To his credit, he did not go down easily the second time, but in the end he was swaying on his feet, his hands, still held in loose fists, hanging useless at his side.

Eversleigh held his opponent by the right shoulder, while he threw all his weight behind the finalunch, a wicked right hook that caught Cranshawe squarely below the chin and snapped his head back. The duke released his hold and watched his cousin crumple to the ground.

There was a curious silence among the onlookers. Even Brutus, standing to one side, was only panting. Henry broke the spell.

"Marius, you are hurt!" she said, her voice shaking uncontrollably, and she rushed to him, hurled herself into his arms, and burst into tears against his shoulder.

One arm came around her. The other hand cupped the back of her head and held it against him. "It's all over now, Henry," he murmured soothingly. "You are safe, my love.''

All else was forgotten for a couple of minutes as Henry let herself sag against him, allowing all the firm warmth of him to penetrate her exhausted limbs. She felt the truth of his words. Nothing could ever threaten her again now that Marius was here.

Finally outside noises began to penetrate her consciousness and she pushed herself wearily away, aware again that nothing had changed except that she was free of Oliver Cranshawe and that apparently all the world knew about her indiscretion.

"What the devil is going on here?" a new voice was demanding crossly. "Are you all mad? Am I master here or am I not?"

"I say," said Giles admiringly, "is this your handiwork, your Grace? How splendid!"

"Not entirely," Eversleigh replied modestly. "The eye is Henry's work."

"I say!"

"You should have seen it, Giles," Penelope shrieked. "He must have a broken jaw. I could hear the bone cracking way over there."

"Henrietta, what is going on here?" Peter demanded in. fury.

"It is quite a long story," she replied. "Could I tell you at the house, Peter?"

Cranshawe was beginning to stir on the ground. Eversleigh, carefully rebuttoning his cuffs and smoothing the lace over his hands, stood over him until he opened his eyes.

"I shall be returning to London tomorrow, Oliver," he said gently. "When I get there, I would wish you to be gone. I would advise you to remain outside the city for at least one year. If I encounter you within that time, or if after that time you I so much as let your eyes alight on my wife, I shall engineer a quarrel in which, for honor's sake, you will be forced to call me out. That will give me the choice of weapons, and I shall choose swords. I trust I make myself clear?"

Cranshawe gingerly fingered a split lip and moaned something unintelligible.

"Quite so, dear boy," his cousin replied, and turned away to put on his coat.

"Are we just going to leave him here, your Grace?" Ridley asked doubtfully.

"This is Sir Peter Tallant's property," Eversleigh pointed out coolly. "If he wishes to extend his hospitality, it is no concern of mine. But I would suggest that Mr. Cranshawe be allowed to recover here in quiet and take himself off to the nearest inn when he feels ready to travel. He may save his pride there, if he wishes, by saying that he has been set upon by highwaymen."

Sir Peter was not eager to offer hospitality to a rake of Cranshawe's reputation. Thus, Eversleigh's advice was followed, and the party returned to the house, Penelope riding with Eversleigh, Philip with Giles, and Miss Manford, blushing and protesting, with Mr. Ridley.

**********************************************************************************

Two hours later, the company dispersed to their several rooms, hastily prepared by the housekeeper. They had partaken of an equally quickly thrown-together meal, and had relived over and over again the events of the previous few days. Finally even the twins had no more to say. Oscar's colorful comments had been cut off by the pink blanket an hour before.

"I wish to talk to Henry alone for a while, Tallant," Eversleigh said, explaining why he was not preparing to leave the drawing room with everyone else.

Henry sat down again, and soon they were alone. She kept her eyes on the carpet beneath her feet.

Eversleigh regarded his wife in silence for a while.

"Well, Henry," he said finally.

She kept her eyes lowered. "It was you who paid the moneylender, was it not?" she said. "And redeemed my ring?"

"Yes, Henry," he admitted, "and I am sorry for the misunderstanding. It did not occur to me that you would think my note came from Cranshawe."

She did not reply.

"Will you come back home with me?" he asked. "Or are you serious in your intention to leave me?"

"I shall stay here, Marius," she said quietly.

"Might I ask why, Henry?" His voice was very gentle.

She hesitated. I just wish it that way," she said. "I have not been happy."

"I see," he said. "Henry, please, do one thing for me. Keep my name and allow me to care for you. I shall not force you to live with me or see me, but please, let me keep you in the sort of life that you are accustomed to. Don't disappear from my life. When you meet the man you will love, I shall divorce you so that you can marry him. And I shall see to it that you are not ostracized from society. I have considerable influence, you know."

"Yes, I know," she said, "but I shall not want to remarry, ever.

"Then remain as my duchess," he said, "wherever you wish to live."

"But you will need to marry again," she said. "You will want a son."

"No," he replied.

They lapsed into silence.

"I shall leave in the morning, early," Eversleigh said at last. "You need not see me again. I shall send Ridley down in a few days to make whatever settlement you decide upon.".

"Perhaps," she said dully.

"And do not worry about Miss Manford," he continued. I shall see her well settled. I believe she would be happier in retirement. I shall have my bailiff find her a suitable cottage on my estate in Kent. She will have a comfortable pension."

"Thank you," she whispered. "You are very kind."

"Come, my love, he said, rising to his feet and extending a hand to her. "I shall see you to your room."

"Thank you," she said.

They walked in silence up the broad staircase of Roedean and to the door of Henry's room. There Eversleigh took her hand in his, bent, and kissed it.

"Good-bye, Henry," he said. "You are young. You will forget this episode soon and be happy again as you were when I met you. I am sorry that I have saddened you, my love.''

He turned and entered his own room, which was directly across from hers. He closed the door softly behind him without looking back.

**********************************************************************************

Henry had been sitting in the window seat of her darkened room for over an hour. She had undressed but had not gone to bed. She knew she would not sleep, and she hated to toss and turn in bed.

How would she bear the pain? It was ten times worse than it had been three days before when she had taken a silent farewell of Marius. There he had not known. He had not been so sweetly and so sadly noble. He had not just fought for her honor. He had acted today as if he really cared.

Was it possible that he did care, just a little bit? He had come tearing down from London on horseback, without any luggage at all-he had had to borrow a nightshirt from Peter. He had punched Oliver far more than was necessary merely to bring him to the ground. He had held her and soothed her afterward as if her safety were really important to him. He had begged her tonight to let him care for her, although her refusal to go home with him had offered him the perfect excuse for washing his hands of her. He had offered her her freedom while disclaiming any wish to be free himself. Could something of their marriage be salvaged? Could she possibly oust Suzanne Broughton from his affections, make him forget how and why he had chosen her as his bride?

Henry leapt to her feet. What was she doing, planning to stay at Roedean, allowing Marius to return to London and his mistress? If she could get up nerve enough this afternoon to almost shoot Oliver Cranshawe and to punch him in the face, did she not have the courage to fight a mere woman for her husband's love?

Before her resolve could cool, Henry quickly let herself out of her room, crossed the hall, and opened the door to her husband's room. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She stood with her back against it for a moment, letting her eyes get used to the deeper gloom of this chamber.

Eversleigh was standing at the far side of the room, leaning against the window frame.

"What is it, Henry?" he asked.

"I wish to return to London with you tomorrow," she said.

There was a pause. "And where do you propose to go when you arrive there?" he asked.

She lifted her chin. "Home with you," she said.

He pushed himself away from the window and came toward her. She could see that he wore no shirt, only his breeches. "Why?" he asked.

"To fight for you," she announced defiantly.

He laughed softly as he stopped in front of her. "Absurd child!" he said. "Why do you have to fight for me? Who is threatening me?"

"Suzanne Broughton, she said. "She shall not continue to have you, Marius. This is the end."

"Indeed?" he asked softly. "And who is going to stop her?"

"I am," she said. "You saw this afternoon that I can fight.''

"Heaven help Suzanne," Eversleigh muttered fervently. And what do you propose to do after you have left the lady with a pair of black eyes, Henry?"

"Make you love me," she said.

"And why would you want to force me to do that?" he asked.

"Because you are my husband, she said, and I will not share you."

"Ah," he said. "And why would you be so selfish, my love?"

"Because I love you!" she hissed at him.

He stood motionless in the darkness. I see," he said. "And when did you come to this conclusion, Henry?"

"Oh, I'm sure I loved you when I first set eyes on you, she said in a rush. "You are so despicably handsome, you see, and I admired immensely that way you have of reducing people to size with your quizzing glass. And when you kissed me-twice-I hated it because you made me feel like jelly inside. Then, when you made love to me that night, I knew I must love you because, although you still made me feel like jelly, I knew I did not wish you to stop. And I was glad afterward that I had not made you go away.

"Were you, my love?" he said. "Now, how was it that I touched you? Was it like this?" Both his hands enclosed her breasts lightly and then then slid under her arms to pull her gently against him. His lips trailed a line of little kisses down one side of her face to her earlobe, which he took between his teeth.

"Yes, like that," she said, "except that you have never done, that to my ear before."

"Perhaps like this, then, my love?" His hands wandered lower to encircle her waist and then to bring her hips against him. His mouth moved across her throat, forcing her head back, and then up to claim her lips,

Henry seemed suddenly to come to her senses. "Don't," she said, jerking back.

"Why not?" he murmured, I thought you liked it, Henry. Can't you cope with the jelly?"

"No games, Marius," she said severely. "Nothing has been settled yet."

"What a shame!" he sighed. "Can we not wait and settle everything tomorrow?"

"No," she said, I know this is all a game to you."

"You don't like games, my love?" he asked softly, reaching for the buttons on her nightgown. "Let us get serious, then." One hand reached for her naked breast, and Henry had to gasp to get herself under control.

"You are not serious, Marius," she scolded. "You are making mock of me."

"Am 1, my love?" he murmured, his mouth against her throat again. His bands already had her nightgown off her shoulders and were easing it down her arms. I thought I was making love to you."

"Oh," she cried, exasperated, "I'll not stand for this, Marius?"

"Then you shall just have to lie down for it, my love," he said soothingly. "What a good idea." He lifted her into his arms and deposited her on the bed, where he joined her after removing his breeches.

He lay beside her on the bed and trailed his hand lightly down her naked body. "Now, what was it you liked?" he asked. "Can you remember? Was it this?" He leaned across her and kissed one breast, then the other. He took one tip into his mouth and caressed it with his tongue.

"Oh, stop this instant, Marius," Henry protested. "Oh, this is not fair."

"Maybe not, my love," he soothed, "but it creates wonderful jelly, does it not?"

"Oh!" wailed Henry as he lifted himself from the mattress and lowered his weight on top of her.

"I have just had an inspiration," Eversleigh whispered against her ear. I think maybe it was this that felt so good.

He parted her legs with his own and entered her deeply. Henry moaned and was lost. Soon her arms and legs were around him, urging him on to the climax that was very close for both of them. They both cried out when it came.

Henry wriggled out of Eversleigh's arms when he moved to her side. She lay on her back, staring up at the canopy above her head. I shan't let you go back to Mrs. Broughton after this, you know," she said belligerently.

"Shan't you, my love?" he asked sleepily. "And what makes you think that I want to go back to Suzanne?"

"Because she is all woman," Henry said severely, "and I am not. I look like a boy. I don't curve out at the hips and I have small breasts."

He laughed softly. "Naughty, Henry," he said. "You are not supposed to mention bosoms, Giles told you. You might embarrass me."

"Well, it's true, anyway," she grumbled.

"Yes, it is, is it not?" he agreed, surprise in his voice as he levered himself up onto one elbow. "Look! No curves, no bulges. Strange! You felt very much like a woman to me a few minutes ago." He lay back down and closed his eyes.

"Even so, I shall make you love me," she persisted, hurt. "I shall make you show me how I may entice you and tell me what pleases you."

He opened one eye and regarded her sleepily. "Always

wear your bonnet in public," he said mildly. "May I sleep now, Henry?"

"No!" she said firmly. "First you will promise to give up Mrs. Broughton."

"I promise, I promise," he agreed meekly.

"No, I mean really promise."

"Ah. I really, really promise, then."

"You are being quite absurd," she scolded. "Will you be serious?"

"What, again?" he asked, leering across the bed at her.

Henry slammed over onto her side and lay facing away from him, staring into the darkness. Soon she was aware of the warmth of his body close behind her. An arm encircled her waist.

"Henry," he said softly against her curls, "what a jealous little child you are. I have never loved Suzanne. I have not touched her since the day I met you except to half-throttle her this morning when she would not tell me where you were. Do you not know that I love you more than is good for me?"

"Don't make fun of me!" she snapped.

The arm around her tightened and he rolled her onto her back and into his body. "Silly little freckle-face!" he said. "How could I help loving you? When you first ran head-on into me at that dreary come-out ball, you bowled me off my feet. I was completely enchanted, and have been ever since. Don't you know how you have turned my world upside down? I thought it obvious enough. I have followed you around to every social function of this infernal Season like a lap dog just because I was bursting so with pride to display you as mine."

"What about that wager?" she asked doubtfully.

"Ah, you know about that, do you?" he said. "Well, touché, my love. What about yours?"

"Oh," she said. "Well, that did not make any difference. I loved you regardless."

"And I loved you regardless," he said.

"Really?"

"Really. And I will add this. I believe that was the most fortunate double wager ever made, my love."

"Oh."

"Now, will you let me sleep, Henry?" he asked wearily, peeking at her through one half-closed eyelid. "I have been living a celibate life for so long-with one memorable exception-that I fear I shall have to take this marriage very gradually again for a while. Advancing age, you know."

"No," she said. "I want to start finding out what pleases you. Is it this?" She leaned across him and blew a light kiss on his neck where it joined his shoulder.

"Minx," he commented. "I should have let you shoot Cranshawe and been hauled off to Newgate."

Iron-hard hands suddenly grasped her hips, and she found herself lifted up and deposited on top of his body.

"This might prove the death of me, my love," he sighed, "but I'll show you."

"Absurd!" she murmured into his ear.