Free A Wager for Love by Caroline Courtney Page B

prepared a room for you.”
    The housekeeper had indeed, and if she thought it strange that the new bride should spend the night alone in the bridal chamber, she was far too well trained to say so.

chapter Five
    Whilst Lavinia was facing her first morning as the Countess of Saltaire, three people were surveying with differing degrees of surprise, or horror, dependent upon their natures, missives they had received from the Earl.
    The first of the trio. Viscount Ordley, was sipping distastefully at a small glass of beer with very little appearance of relish, surveying his countenance in the mirror with a good deal ofsatisfaction. Indeed, he considered he had every right to feel exceedingly well pleased with life, little knowing the blow fate had in store for him. Firstly, and perhaps least importantly, for the Viscount, although nice in his dress, was definitely not one ofyour Macaronis, his new velvet coat delivered that very morning (and as yet unpaid for) had been a very happy choice. Secondly, had he not also every hope of winning his bet against his cousin, and collecting seventy thousand guineas into the bargain; and lastly and most important of all, he would have the satisfaction of, for the first and perhaps the only time in his life, besting his cousin, whom he hated most intensely.
    A discreet knock on the door produced a flunkey bearing a silver salver on which reposed the note. He opened it and read it, stunned incredulity darkening his face, as he scanned the lines. “God in Heaven, I don’t believe it. ” His fist crashing onto the table sent the remains of the beer slopping onto the carpet. His valet, just about to place upon his Master’s head his wig, backed off slowly. Well did he know his master’s tempers and he was in no mind to receive a missile at his head.
    In furious disbelief Ordley read the note once more.
    “My dear cousin, I beg leave to inform you that I have this very evening taken to wife Miss Lavinia Davenham. Indeed by the time you receive my note, the girl will be mine and the wager won.”
    His face purple with rage, Ordley screwed the note into a ball and hurled it into the fireplace with a curse, chewing his bottom lip angrily. It was scarcely twenty-four hours since he had received from his cousin a draft in settlement of young Arnedale’s debts, and now this.

    The second member of the trio opened his letter in a well furnished room in his house at Albermarle Street. The bright morning sunlight streamed in through the windows of the well-proportioned morning room, picking out its rich furnishings, but Lord Ware was oblivious to the beauties of the morning. Thoughtfully he perused his letter, a small smile playing round his mouth, and then placing it down on the table he rang for his butler. “My brother, Charles, where is he?”
    The butler, who was inured to the wild pranks of his Master’s younger brother, coughed depreciatingly, “Ahem, he isn’t in the house, My Lord. Indeed I have not seen him all morning.”
    Lord Ware tapped his fingers absently on the table for a moment. “Well I wish to see him the moment he returns, and if he is not back within two hours you must send a running footman for him.”
    Dismissing the man, he leaned against the fireplace, one hand under his chin. “So, Gilles, you accomplished it then,” he murmured to himself. “Unfortunate for the poor bride though.”
    For no good reason at all Lord Ware recalled the girl he had seen leaving the house in Grosvenor Square so hurriedly, pondering on what he had previously overlooked, the draft lying carelessly on the Earl’s desk. He sighed a little. At one time he had thought that marriage to the right woman would be the making of his friend, but now … He shook his head. He doubted that any woman had it in her power to sway him from his chosen path, which appeared to be the swiftest possible one to ruin. He sighed again, his breakfast quite forgotten.

    The last member of the trio was at his