Amelia Grey - [Rogues' Dynasty 06] (23 page)

“Then let’s go get you out of this wager before it’s too late.”

Matson’s brow wrinkled. “I’m not talking about the wager. I’m talking about trading Sophia to Lord Snellingly. The wager stands, Iverson. I made a mistake, and I’m rectifying it. That’s all there is to it.”

“No, that’s not all there is to it. Not when it concerns our business and you giving away a ship.”

“A small ship, and that’s only if I lose. I’m not going to lose, Iverson.”

“You can’t be sure of that, Matson. Things happen, and that was one big wager you made.”

“It was a big mistake.”

“But a ship!”

“You’ve said that five times or more.”

“Because I can’t believe it, and I’ll keep saying it until you come to your senses.”

“You know I’ll pay for the ship if I lose. It won’t cost you a penny.”

Iverson swore and shook his head. “Bloody hell, Brother, you know it’s not the ship or what it costs.”

“You could have fooled me with all the blustering you’re doing,” Matson said as he shrugged back into his coat.

“It’s who she is. You’re doing this for Sir Randolph’s ward.”

Matson had only one answer. “She’s worth it.”

Iverson took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Then why the hell did you trade her in the first place?”

“I was angry over a little thing and for once I was like my twin brother. As you do so often, I allowed my temper to get the best of me.”

“This was a hell of a time to start acting like me.”

“I agree, but nothing you can do or say will change my mind about this. I’m going to get her back.”

“For how long? Just for the afternoon? You’ve known almost since you met her that she will marry a title.”

Matson hated the truth of his brother’s words.

He heard a bell ring, summoning the racers to their boats.

“I’ve got to go.”

Iverson shook his head again and fell into step beside Matson. “You have surprised me, Brother.”

“I surprised myself.”

“In one way, it’s about time you got passionate enough about something or someone to get damned angry; but did it have to be over a woman you can’t have, and did you have to bet a ship?”

“You’re a bloody nuisance,” Matson said.

“Yes, I know, but you have me worried.”

“There’s no cause for it. This is my fight.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now, go show that young blade how a man rows a boat.”

Matson left his brother’s side and headed toward the water’s edge to find Miss Craftsman. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of Sophia. She was hurrying toward him. Seeing her caused the tightness in his shoulders and jaw to loosen.

“It’s not too late for you to stop this madness,” she said, stopping in front of him.

“The only thing you need to do, Miss Hart, is your best. I know you don’t like to lose any more than I do. I’ll expect you to do all you can to see that your partner wins.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I expect no less of you, but I don’t intend to let you and the future viscount win.”

“How can you possibly win with Miss Craftsman? She’s dressed as if she’s going to a cotillion.”

He looked over at Miss Craftsman, who stood with her parents. “Yes, she looks very pretty today.”

Sophia jerked her hands to her waist. “Oh, you miserable beast! Do you think I care if you lose a ship? I don’t. You tossed me aside like a piece of unwanted baggage. You deserve to lose your ship.”

Matson gave her a teasing smile. “Now that is the Sophia I want to see. Did you know your freckles get bigger when you get mad?”

“What?” She touched her cheek. “They do not.”

“Well, maybe not bigger, but they do turn a lovely shade of pale copper. Do you know how very attractive that makes you and how kissable you look?”

Sophia glanced around. “You can’t talk to me that way. Look how close those people are to us. Someone might overhear you.”

He stepped closer to her. “Right now, Sophia, I don’t care. But I do see your partner is looking for you. You’d better go to him. But don’t worry, I’ll be back to claim you at the end of the race.”

Matson walked away from Sophia and headed toward the water’s edge where Miss Craftsman stood with her satin slippers. She didn’t look happy with him, and neither were her parents, but Matson didn’t give them time to say anything. As the second bell rang, he offered Miss Craftsman his arm and said they must hurry to get in place. Courtesy of Mr. Beckett, the news of their bet had spread through the park like a fire through dry brush. Almost every gentleman was making his own wager on who would win.

There were five boats between Matson’s and the boat Sophia would be in. Matson knew he couldn’t let her distract him. He had to keep his mind on winning.

Remembering that Sophia already knew how to row, he said to Miss Craftsman, “Do you know how to row?”

She laughed. “Of course not, Mr. Brentwood. Why would I need to know how to row, when I have a strong, handsome gentleman to row for me?”

“So true,” he said more under his breath than to Miss Craftsman.

Matson had picked a boat on the end of about twelve that were lined up on the shore. He didn’t want to get stuck in the middle and have to deal with someone who couldn’t row his way out of the cluster. When the whistle blew, they had to get in the boat and row down the lake to where there was a barge they had to row around. Then whoever was the first gentleman with his partner’s feet touching the ground would be declared the winner.

“Mr. Brentwood?”

“Yes, Miss Craftsman.”

“Is it true? This wager I’ve heard about a ship and Miss Hart?”

Matson felt a tinge of remorse for entangling her in his machinations. “Yes.”

Her lips formed a pout. “But I thought you traded with Lord Snellingly because you wanted to be with me today.”

“What I realized was that I did a disservice to Miss Hart when I asked Lord Snellingly to exchange with me, and it’s only right I should try to make amends. May I take your parasol and put it in the boat for you? It will make it quicker for us to get in the boat. You can open it again once we start rowing.”

Miss Craftsman smiled sweetly at him. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly do without my parasol for even a moment, Mr. Brentwood. The sun burns my skin so easily.”

Matson looked at her lovely olive skin and smiled. He could see now he wasn’t going to get any help from her. She didn’t want him to win. He just hoped she didn’t try to do anything to stop him from winning.

He looked up and down at his competitors. He guessed that by the time they made the turn, there would be about four or five of them in the running to be the first back to the shore.

Matson moved closer to Miss Craftsman. The whistle blew, and he grabbed her arm. Her parasol knocked his head, and she deliberately tried to delay stepping into the boat by stumbling. He tried not to look at others who had already pushed off and were rowing.

“Sit down, Miss Craftsman, or you will land in the water,” he said tightly as he started gently pushing the boat.

By the time he put his oar in the water, most of the boats had already turned and were headed toward the bridge where the barge was anchored just on the other side. He would have to stay focused and row hard and quick to catch and then pass them.

“Mr. Brentwood?”

Matson took a quick glance behind him at the same time Miss Craftsman leaned forward, and one of the tips of her parasol caught the corner of his eye. A pain shot through him, and he winced as his eyes watered.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Brentwood. I didn’t mean to hit you with my parasol.”

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his watering eye. “Don’t worry about it, Miss Craftsman, just please stay seated, still, and quiet, or I fear you will land in the middle of the Serpentine. You can swim, can’t you?”

“No, of course not,” she said, sounding a little wary.

“Then I must ask again that you stay still and quiet until we get back to shore. If the boat tips over, your skirts would probably drag you to the bottom before I could get to you.”

“I’m not sure I like being out on the water like this. It looks dark and deep.”

“It is, Miss Craftsman,” he said, slicing the oars through the water.

Matson heard her gasp. He didn’t like using a scare tactic on a young lady, but maybe this was his chance to keep her in line. He didn’t intend to let her make him lose the race.

By the time Matson made it to the center of the lake, more than half of the boats were ahead of him. His eye continued to ache and water, but he didn’t take the time to wipe it. He hadn’t counted on Miss Craftsman’s antics of taking her time getting in the boat and getting seated, or being struck in the eye with her parasol either. It hadn’t dawned on him that Miss Craftsman might hear about his wager and try to sabotage him. But all he could do was continue to row.

As soon as he made it to the open water, he saw that at least eight boats were in front of them. He knew all he had to do was set a fast pace and keep to it. One by one he passed the boats, and by the time he rowed around the official barge, he saw only three boats were ahead of him. Sophia and Beckett were in the lead and a good three boat lengths ahead of him and the other two boats. Matson picked up his pace.

Another thing he hadn’t counted on was the heat of the midday sun beating down on him, draining his energy faster than he’d anticipated. The muscles in his arms burned, but Matson didn’t let up. He struggled for deep breaths and kept pushing the oars harder and faster into the water with each downward motion. The minutes seemed like hours, but Matson passed first one boat and then the other, leaving no one between him and the shore but Sophia and Beckett.

It surprised Matson that Sophia had taken him at his word and was helping Mr. Beckett row. He didn’t blame her for wanting him to lose, after what he’d done. But what he told his brother was true. He’d made a big mistake, and it was going to take a big effort to set it right.

Beckett was strong, but Matson could see he was tiring, and slowly Matson was gaining on him. The problem was that with each slice into the water, they were getting closer and closer to shore. Matson felt a little safer when, at last, the front tip of his boat came even with the back of Sophia’s boat. Sophia looked back at him, and seeing her face gave Matson the surge of energy he needed to dig harder into the water. He heard the roar of the crowd on shore, some urging him to win and some urging Mr. Beckett to be the winner.

In a last hard, sweeping push of the oar through the water, Matson caught Beckett and Sophia; their boats hit the shore at the same time. Beckett reached back for Sophia’s hand to help her step out of the boat. Matson knew he had only one chance to win, and he took it. With arms weak and trembling from exertion, he reached down and picked up Miss Craftsman in his arms. She gasped as he swung her around and quickly set her feet down on the shore just before Sophia’s feet touched the ground.

Matson heard cheers and clapping. He also heard jeers, which obviously came from the gentlemen who’d bet against him winning. Iverson bolted down to the shore and patted him on the back.

Beckett quickly turned angry eyes on Matson and said, “You cheated.”

The crowd fell silent. “Watch your accusations, Beckett,” Matson said, stepping closer to the man. “I don’t cheat.”

“You picked her up”—he pointed to Miss Craftsman—“out of the boat.”

Matson’s breathing was labored. He looked at Sophia. She was his.

“I don’t recall there being any rules about how our partner’s feet made it to the ground, only that she be the first to touch it for the win.”

Beckett looked up into the crowd and asked, “Who’s in charge of this race?”

“I am, I am,” Lord Tradesforke called, waddling down to the water’s edge. “Hold on, hold on. I’m on my way.”

Matson’s gaze didn’t waver from Beckett’s while he waited for the earl to get to them, but he knew Sir Randolph and the Misses Shevingtons had crowded around Sophia.

“He cheated,” Beckett said when Lord Tradesforke was close enough to hear him.

Rumblings of discontent came from the crowd. Matson’s eyes narrowed, and his hand made a fist at his side. He was prepared to fight over this if need be. He didn’t like his honor being questioned, and especially in front of more than half the
ton
. He didn’t want to have to defend himself with his fists or swords after he’d just rowed like the devil himself was after him, but damnation, he’d do it if Beckett persisted in this false claim.

“That’s a serious charge, sir,” Lord Tradesforke said, wedging his large body between Matson and Mr. Beckett.

“He picked up his partner out of the boat and set her feet on the ground.”

Lord Tradesforke looked up at the crowd and asked, “Did Mr. Brentwood’s partner’s feet touch the ground first?”

Shouts of yes, absolutely, and clapping flowed from the crowd.

“Then there is no problem of cheating. I didn’t stipulate how the lady’s feet should touch the ground, sir, only that she be the first to do so. If you had picked up your partner, perhaps you would have won. As it is, you lost fairly.”

A roar of support went up from the crowd, and Matson took in a deep, satisfying breath. Mr. Beckett turned to Sophia and continued to complain that the rules were unclear, and therefore he hadn’t truly lost the race.

Matson turned to Miss Craftsman, who was scowling at him. He really couldn’t blame her. This was the second time she’d been handed off to another man. “Miss Craftsman, it’s been a pleasure to be your partner this morning.”

She looked at him for a moment as if she were trying to decide if she should pout and be remorseful or slap him. Matson was so tired and so happy at the moment, he really didn’t care. “Would you allow me to see you back to your parents?”

Obviously the nicer side of Miss Craftsman won out. She sucked in a deep breath, smiled unconvincingly sweetly, and said, “I would not care for you to do another thing for me, Mr. Brentwood. And please don’t call on me the next time you want to make Miss Hart jealous. This is really not a role I’m suited to play.” She turned and stomped away.