So he would give her his attentions. Together they would satisfy both their needs—hers for a man, his for the honor of winning his wager. And doubtless they would also have some pleasure together. He did not believe that there had been an occasion in the past several years when he had allowed a woman to
rise from his bed unsatisfied.
So why feel guilt? Why worry about the undoubted vulgarity and tastelessness of the wager? Probably nine-tenths of the wagers recorded in the betting book were equally so, since they were generally made when the gentlemen were in their cups.
Besides, life had become confoundedly dull of late. The Season had lost its charms after so many years of sameness— he had spent those few months in town for all of the last ten years, ever since he was one-and-twenty and freshly down from university. He had thought several times during the past month of retiring to his estate earlier than usual. He always enjoyed his summers there, working at the books, working on the land, visiting his tenants and neighbors, conversing with his mother and his younger sister, sometimes entertaining his older sister. And this year, like last, there would be that young sprig of a nephew to brighten the days when she visited.
But he had stayed. One was always afraid of missing something if one left town too early. So this house party was as good a distraction as any. Not the party itself, of course— that was almost bound to be dull—but the pleasure of the chase, knowing that the stakes were high. He was looking forward to meeting Mrs. Diana Ingram. He hoped she would be there when they arrived the following day.
"I'm afraid you don't have any choice in the matter," he said to a tight-lipped Lord Crensford. "You can't expect me to give in to that snake Rittsman without even a fight, Ernie. Besides, it isall yourfault, you know. I would have settled for any female who was reasonably within my reach. It was you who opened your mouth and suggested your sister-in-law."
"I was so drunk it is amazing I was still upright," Lord Crensford said hotly. "No one should have listened to me. What the deuce possessed me to mention Diana, anyway?"
"You're in love with her," Lester said.
"I most certainly am not!" Lord Crensford transferred his ire to his other cousin. "That is a filthy thing to say, Les. Diana was Teddy's wife.My own brother.Of course I admired her before she was married, but that was a long time ago.Before she became my sister.And I still take it as unkind of you, Jack, to refuse to go to Rittsman and insist that the name be changed."
"Don't be an ass, Ernie," Lord Kenwood said calmly. "And if you feel so strongly on the matter, why did you write to your mama to tell her that you were bringing me?"
''I could hardly tell you not to come after saying at White's that you could," Lord Crensford said. "A gentleman doesn't go back on his word."
"Ah." Lord Kenwood regarded his distant relative with one eyebrow raised. "So you must keep your honor, Ernie, while I must go back on mine."
"It's not your honor that bothers me," the other said. "It's Diana's."
The marquess grinned. "Well, I'll tell you what, Ernie. I'll promise you that your precious Diana will know the most pleasurable hour of her life as I am in the process of winning my wager.On my honor.What do you say to that?"
''If I weren't even more to blame for this than you, Jack,'' Lord Crensford said, "I would slap a glove in your face. That's what I have to say to that. Not that I have a glove downstairs with me, it's true, but I would soon get one. But I can't because I am to blame. But if you were a gentleman, Jack, you would give this up.If not for my sake, than for Diana's."
The marquess shrugged, gathered his pack of cards together, and shuffled them in his hands. Enough was enough. They would only talk themselves in circles again, and he would only end up feeling somehow in the wrong again. As he already did, he supposed.
He must look at the matter rationally. Perhaps even without that incident at White's he might have come to this house party if Ernie had mentioned it. If he had come he would have met Mrs. Ingram. And if she was as lovely as she was reputed to be, he would have been attracted to her. And since she was a widow and therefore very probably available, he would have wooed her and bedded her to their mutual satisfaction before he returned to London and the end of the Season.
He would have had her even without the wager. There was nothing to feel guilty about. After all, he was not going to ravish the woman. He was not going to do anything to her that would be against her will. She would offer herself to him as eagerly as he would take her. It was always so. He would give the five hundred guineas to one of his mother's charities. And perhaps add another five hundred guineasof his own.
Lester yawned yet again. "I'm for bed," he said. "You might as well come up with me, Ernie. There's no point in tossing any coin over the barmaid. She is for Jack as surely as this is my nose." He tapped it. "Enjoy her, Jack. But remember, you have ten more miles to ride tomorrow—don't ride all night too." He laughed heartily at his own bawdy joke and got to his feet, stretching.
Lord Crensford downed the last of his ale and got up too. "Good night, Jack," he said. "Give her one for me, eh?"
3
The Marquess of Kenwood sat at the table for a few more minutes, realizing as he did so that he had drunk rather too much again. Not that he was anywhere near as drunk as he had been at White's the week before. But his brain felt sluggish, and he felt too tired to make the difficult decision to get to his feet and take himself up to his room.
At least Carter had arrived finally, having spent a miserable hour in a muddy ditch together with the baggage of three gentlemen. Carter, of course, had somehow managed to put in an appearance looking spotless. Not even a hair on his head had been out of place.
The barmaid came over to the table and began to clear away the glasses left behind by Lester and Ernie. She said nothing, but she glanced at him slantwise from beneath a very provocative set of eyelashes and displayed an appealing expanse of bosom to his view as she leaned over to wash off the table.
Lord Kenwood got to his feet, undecided. But tired or not, it was not in his nature to pass by a pretty wench, especially when she was available.And more especially when she was so patently eager.
He set his hands lightly on her waist from behind. "You are busy, my sweet?" he asked, his hands tracing the line of her shapely hips.
"Ooh, sir," she said, coming upright and turning in his arms. "I am that, for sure. There's some of us has to work for an honest living."
His eyes strayed to her pouting lips, and he brought his own closer to them. "And when do you expect to finish your work, my dear?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure, sir," she said breathlessly.
"Perhaps I can give you some honest employment when you are finished," he said. "Or shall we say some pleasurable employment?" He looked down through narrowed eyes at her almost completely exposed bosom, which was heaving against his waistcoat.
