A Wedding Wager
Authors: Jane Feather
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General, #Family & Relationships
The assignation …
Sebastian softly eased open the door and found himself in a long corridor, sconced candles at intervals throwing a degree of light. At the end of the corridor a pool of bright light spilled from the wide landing from which the main gaming salons opened. Serena’s note had said her bedchamber was at the front of the house. He was to look for a red ribbon around the door handle.
His step quickened with his heartbeat as he moved down the corridor, keeping close to the wall. The red ribbon was a splash of color against the cream paint of the door. He untied the ribbon and was inside the chamber before anyone could so much as detect his shadow. The room was in semidarkness, the only illumination a candle on the table beside the bed. Serena rose from the window seat, the soft folds of an ivory nightgown drifting around her, her hair long and loose framing her face.
“You came,” she said.
“Did you think I would not?” He could feel the tension, the anticipation, build between them. “Why did you send for me, Serena?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she responded softly.
Turn the page for rave reviews of
Jane Feather’s romantic storytelling …
Rushed to the Altar
“Delightfully entertaining. The novel gathers momentum much like a classical opus that ends in a resounding crescendo. … Ms. Feather certainly knows how to titillate the imagination with some sizzling scenes set in a tapestry of bygone days.
Rushed to the Altar
is hard to put down.”
—Winter Haven News Chief
“A fun and intelligent start to an exciting new series. … I am completely captivated.”
—Fresh Fiction
A Husband’s Wicked Ways
“A consummate storyteller, Feather rises to new heights in her latest Wicked novel of intrigue and desire. Her utterly engaging characters and suspenseful plot combine to hold you spellbound.”
—Romantic Times
“Filled with recurring quirky characters, truly evil villains, and a fearless heroine who is definitely an equal to her hero.”
—Booklist
To Wed a Wicked Prince
“Enchanting and witty … sizzling.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A poignant love story … strong characters, political intrigue, secrets and passion … it will thrill readers and keep them turning the pages.”
—Romantic Times
A Wicked Gentleman
“Will enchant readers. … Filled with marvelous characters—and just enough suspense to keep the midnight oil burning.”
—Romantic Times
“Intriguing and satisfying. … The captivating romance is buttressed by rich characters and an intense kidnapping subplot, making this a fine beginning for Feather’s new series.”
—Publishers Weekly
All the Queen’s Players
“Beautifully moving … rich in period detail.”
—Booklist
“A truly fantastic novel.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“Terrific.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
A Wedding Wager
is also available as an eBook
Also by Jane Feather
Rushed to the Altar
All the Queen’s Players
A Husband’s Wicked Ways
To Wed a Wicked Prince
A Wicked Gentleman
Almost a Lady
Almost a Bride
The Wedding Game
The Bride Hunt
The Bachelor List
| Pocket Books |
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Jane Feather
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
First Pocket Books paperback edition July 2011
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Cover design by Lisa Litwack; photo © Barry Marcus.
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN 978-1-4391-4525-8
ISBN 978-1-4391-5550-9 (ebook)
A W
EDDING
W
AGER
L
ONDON
, 1759
The young man had a spring in his step as befitted a man in love as he made his way down Charles Street, the raucous music of Covent Garden’s Piazza filling the air around him. He was a tall, elegant young man, his tricorne hat edged with the same silver lace as his gloves, his coat and britches of deep gold silk, a fine pair of calves doing justice to silk stockings adorned with golden clocks.
It was a beautiful May morning, well suited to the pursuit of love, the new leaves on the trees still fresh and green, as yet untainted by the polluted atmosphere of the city with its foul-smelling sea-coal smoke mingling with the rotting odors of the open kennels. Windows stood open to the cool, fragrant air, and the throngs in the street seemed to wear a universal smile at the prospect of spring’s new start.
Outside a tall, narrow house halfway along Charles Street, the young man paused for a moment, looking up at the building with an expectant smile on his lips. Then
he ran lightly up the flight of steps to the front door and banged the knocker with all the confidence of a visitor assured of his welcome.
He had to wait a few minutes before the door opened slowly. “I give you good morning, Flanagan.” He doffed his hat, his hair glinting gold in the bright sunshine as he greeted the elderly retainer and stepped swiftly past him, again with all the assurance of a welcome visitor. In the narrow hall, he stopped, his smile giving way to a puzzled frown. Bandboxes, trunks, and portmanteaus littered the floor.
“Is someone going somewhere, Flanagan?” He glanced over his shoulder at the retainer, who still stood at the half-open front door.
Before the man could respond, a harsh voice came from the shadows behind the staircase. “As it happens, Sullivan, yes. My stepdaughter and I are traveling to the Continent.” A gentleman of middle years, with a thick crown of iron gray hair and the ramrod posture of a soldier, stepped into the light.
“This is rather sudden, is it not, sir?” The Honorable Sebastian Sullivan regarded General Sir George Heyward with sudden suspicion. “Serena said nothing to me about traveling when I saw her yesterday evening.”
“I daresay Serena was unaware of my plans,” the gentleman responded carelessly. “But she is aware of them now. I am afraid she’s unavailable at present. She has much to do in preparation for our departure this afternoon.”
“This afternoon?” The young man looked aghast. “I … I don’t understand, General Heyward.”
The general took a pinch of snuff before responding with a half-smile, “I see no reason why you should, Sullivan. My plans are no concern of yours.”
Sudden anger sparked in Sebastian’s clear blue eyes. “I consider Serena’s plans to be very much my concern, sir.”
“Then you are even more impudent than I gave you credit for, young man. You have no claim on my stepdaughter now or ever.”
Sebastian controlled his anger with a supreme effort. It was true enough. Serena was not her own mistress. She lived under the authority of her stepfather, who had made no secret of the fact that he barely tolerated the Honorable Sebastian’s frequent visits to the house unless they concerned play at the tables in the gaming rooms abovestairs. “May I see her, sir?” He kept his tone moderate.
“She’s too busy for visitors,” Sir George responded with a dismissive gesture.
“I find that I am not, sir.” A clear, light voice spoke from the stairs, and both men turned swiftly. The young woman who had stopped halfway down the flight, one hand resting on the banister, regarded them gravely. “Come up, Sebastian.” She went back upstairs.
Sebastian didn’t wait for the general’s permission. He followed her at a run, taking the stairs two at a time. At the top, she turned aside into a small parlor that overlooked
the street. The window stood open, and iron carriage wheels clattered on the cobbles below.
“Serena … Serena, my love, what is this?” Sebastian tossed his hat onto a chair and took a step forward, his hands outstretched. “What the devil did the general mean? He says you’re going away this afternoon.”
“Yes, we are.” She made no move to take his hands, and after a moment, he let them fall, gazing at her in bewilderment. “To Brussels, I believe.”
“Why?”
“Business affairs.” She shrugged lightly. “Sir George feels that we can conduct our business better on the Continent. Who am I to disagree?”
“You can’t go, Serena … you can’t mean to go … what about us?” He stared at her, his eyes stricken.