Lady Allerton's Wager Read Online Free PDF Page A

suppose, for it would cause the most monstrous scandal if it were known that you had attended the Cyprians’ Ball! People would assume—’ She broke off. ‘Well, never mind. But perhaps you will think twice in future before you play such a hoyden’s trick again!’
    The door closed softly behind her. Beth lay back on the cushions and let out her breath in a huge, shaky sigh. Charlotte was in the right of it, of course—it would be very damaging for it to become known that she had been at the Cyprians’ Ball. And what Charlotte did not know was that whilst she had not given Trevithick her name, he had seen her face without the mask. Beth stared into the fire. Well, it mattered little. She would send Gough to call on the Earl’s man of business in the morning, and once the title to Fairhaven was in her pocket, she would leave for Devon without delay.
    Even though he had said he would not honour his bet, Beth could see no reason why Marcus Trevithick would decline to surrender the island to her, for it could not be worth much to him. He had lands and houses far more valuable and there was no sentimental reason for him to hold on to the least important part of his estate. If he persisted in his refusal, however, she was still prepared to pay him, and, Beth thought with satisfaction, one could not say fairer than that. She had heard that his pockets were to letand she was certain that he would see the sense of the matter.
    She raked out the embers of the fire, doused the lamp and went upstairs to bed. It should have been easy to put the matter out of her head but for some reason the memory of the encounter—the memory of Marcus Trevithick—still lingered as she lay in her bed. She told herself that she had seen the last of him, but some unnerving instinct told her that she had not. Then she told herself that she did not wish to see him again and the same all-knowing voice in her head told her that she lied.

Chapter Two
    ‘A gambler, a wastrel, a rake and a vagabond!’ the Dowager Viscountess of Trevithick said triumphantly, ticking the words off on her fingers.
    There was a short silence around the Trevithick breakfast table. The autumn sun shone through the long windows and sparkled on the silver. There were only three places set; one of Marcus’s married sisters was coming up from the country for the little Season but had not yet arrived, and the other had gone to stay with friends for a few weeks. Only Marcus, his youngest sister Eleanor and the Dowager Viscountess were therefore in residence at Trevithick House.
    ‘A vagabond, Mama?’ Marcus enquired politely. ‘What is the justification for that?’
    He thought he heard a smothered giggle and looked round to see Eleanor hastily applying herself to her toast. Although she appeared to be the demurest of debutantes on the surface, Marcus knew that his sister had a strong sense of humour. It was a relief to know that the Viscountess had not crushed it all out of her during Marcus’s years abroad.
    ‘Traipsing around the courts of Europe!’ theViscountess said, giving her son a baleful glare from her cold grey eyes. ‘Drifting from one country to another like a refugee…’
    Marcus folded up his newspaper with an irritable rustle. He had a headache that morning, no doubt from the brandy that he and Justin had consumed the night before, and Lady Trevithick’s animadversions on his character were not helping. In fact, he was surprised that she had not added drunkard to the list.
    ‘I scarce think that a diplomatic mission accompanying Lord Easterhouse to Austria constitutes vagabondage, Mama,’ he observed coolly. ‘Your other charges, however, may be justified—’
    ‘Oh, Marcus, you are scarcely a wastrel!’ Eleanor protested sweetly. Her brown eyes sparkled. ‘Why, since your return from abroad I have heard Mr Gower say that the estates are already better managed—’
    ‘Enough from you, miss!’ the Dowager Viscountess snapped, chewing heavily on