The Elusive Lord Everhart: The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series (3 page)

The dog thumped his tail in agreement.

Gabriel remembered the day that Rafe Danvers had been left standing alone at the altar. His betrothed had set her cap on a fur trader from the former colonies and then set sail across the pond. Montwood shouldn’t have reopened the wound.

“Quite right.” Montwood topped off his own glass. “I say we pledge our troths to bachelorhood.”

“Hear! Hear!” Danvers held onto the mantel as he stood.

Seemingly encouraged, Montwood held his drink aloft. “Let nary a woman break our bonds.”

They all drank to that.

“Let them pine for our—or rather
your
,” the amber-eyed snake-charmer corrected, pointing first at Danvers and then at Gabriel, “fortunes, and waste away on the doorstep of this grand edifice.”

“To Fallow Hall!”

A friend of theirs, Lord Knightswold, had won this property, and countless others, in wagers throughout the years. After his recent marriage and subsequent desire for a family, he wasn’t interested in keeping a property that not only was named for the deer that grazed the lands but also hinted at infertility. Therefore, he’d offered to let the property for a small sum and even encouraged Everhart, Danvers, and Montwood to purchase it from him. For now, however, Gabriel’s fellow bachelors were content with impermanence.

“And for a little fun, we’ll make a wager.” Montwood was uncharacteristically verbose this evening. Among the three of them, he was usually the most reserved when not required to perform for a crowd. “The first of us to marry must pay a grand forfeit.”

“To forfeits!” Danvers drained the last of another glass.

“How grand?” Gabriel was sure he’d asked the question, but the skeptical, almost
austere
tone of his voice made him look over his shoulder, expecting to see his father standing there. He shook his head to clear away the echo. Nonetheless, the way his friend seemingly steered the conversation back to this avenue of wagers pricked his suspicions.

Montwood grinned like a cardsharp. “Enough to make it memorable. Enough to make it . . .
irresistible
. After all, it wouldn’t be much of a wager if we weren’t plotting against one another.”

At that, Danvers stepped back into their circle, sudden clarity alive in his dark gaze. “For us to plot against each other, it would have to be an extravagant sum.” And yet, apparently, he wasn’t opposed to the idea. They all knew he’d give his right leg to buy a certain estate he’d had his eye on for years.

“Enough for you to buy Greyson Park, my friend,” Montwood said with the persuasive charm that had kept him in the good graces of the
ton
, even though his own family had cut him off without a shilling. “Enough for Everhart to buy . . . well, whatever his latest whim might be.”

Gabriel winced at the unexpected sting. Though why it stung—when he’d done nothing to dispel the mark of the
aimless wanderer
he carried with him—he had no idea. Still, he felt compelled to fire back a shot across Montwood’s bow. “And enough for you to pay off the mysterious debt of which you never speak?”

Montwood flashed a grin that was more teeth and less charm. “Precisely.”

Gabriel tested the depths of the water in which they were suddenly wading. “One thousand pounds, then?”

“A trifling sum!” Montwood scoffed. “Knowing the vulgar riches you both possess, I wouldn’t wager for five times that amount.”

“Not for five thousand pounds? That is my yearly income.” Danvers laughed as if in disbelief and then sketched a courtly bow. “Would you wager as Prinny does for a mere
ten
, Your Highness?”

“I believe you have the right of it. Ten thousand is quite a savory number.” A calculating gleam stole across Montwood’s gaze. “Besides, it isn’t as if you need to worry. We’ve all declared never to marry.”

Never
. Until this moment, Gabriel hadn’t fully appreciated the utter finality of that particular word. He cleared his throat. “Perhaps a set period of time would make the wager more interesting. Say . . . a single year?”

“Better and better.” Montwood rested his glass on a low table, stood, and extended his hand. “Then our wager is set.”

“Perhaps clarification is in order. This is a grand sum, after all.” Danvers appeared more sober by the minute as he raked a hand through his unruly dark mane. “To be clear—for the following twelve months we will each be pitted against the other in the hopes of being the last bachelor standing.”

“Simple enough,” Montwood said with an encouraging nod, his ready handshake tucked away for the moment.

If Gabriel had learned anything during his years of friendship with Montwood, it was to be well versed in
all
the rules beforehand. “In theory, the last bachelor earns ten thousand pounds, when the two of you pay me five thousand pounds apiece. Correct?”

“Interesting
theory
.” Montwood’s grin said that he accepted the challenge. “The figures, however, are spot on.”

Danvers frowned. “If our wager is set to declare
one
bachelor the winner, it hardly seems fair if there are
two
of us left who gain nothing.”

“Very true,” Montwood said, stroking his chin. “After our year has ended, the winnings should be split amongst the winners. Therefore, a solitary loser would have to pay ten thousand pounds. Such a loss makes the stakes higher, doesn’t it?”

It did, indeed.

“Of course, it goes without saying,” Montwood continued, “that there can be no betrothals or binding declarations during this time. Also, no elicit affairs with women whose reputation would be ruined; ergo, no debutantes, spinsters, cloistered nuns, et cetera.” The last bit earned a chuckle.

“What about a betrothal that happened prior to this wager?” Even though Gabriel purposely kept his gaze on Danvers when he spoke, the anticipated answer was more for himself. Little did his friends know that he was once a very foolish young man. Five years ago, he’d fallen in love at first sight. Or rather,
imagined
he had.

Fallen?
No, the act had been much harder than a simple fall. He’d plummeted. The earth had disappeared from beneath his feet and kept him falling endlessly. Then one night, drunk on the very thought of her, he’d proposed marriage in a letter.

If that letter was still in her possession—and if it should ever see the light of day—then he stood to lose more than a fortune. Life as he knew it would end.

His father refused to fund any more expeditions or endure any more scandals. His grandmother, whom Gabriel loved dearly, held propriety in high esteem. Maybe it was the guilt of his more recent actions niggling at his brain, but he couldn’t let her down again.

A debt of ten thousand pounds?
Well, that would certainly brew a scandal and scream a lack of propriety
.

But if he won? With ten thousand pounds, he could fund his own expedition.

“Since Danvers’s bride married another, his prior betrothal no longer counts. It would be different if she were yet unmarried,” Montwood answered offhandedly. Then his gaze sharpened on Gabriel. “Unless . . . you’re asking on your own behalf? Could it be that there
is
a bluestocking in London who’s shaken the insouciant foundation you’ve so carefully crafted?”

If Gabriel ever were to come clean about the proposal he’d made and explain the details, now was the time.

Yet knowing his friends as he did and weighing the odds of a likely encounter with Miss Calliope Croft—in addition to her discovering that it was he who wrote the letter—Gabriel felt little need for concern.

Certainly nothing that would induce him to enlighten his all-too-curious friends. “Of course not.”

“Then it appears, gentlemen,” Montwood said with a grin, “we are all agreed.”

Gabriel was the first to extend his hand, confident that nothing would go wrong.

CHAPTER TWO

T
he carriage jolted, startling Calliope from the pages of her book. Outside the window, the scenery dipped sharply but quickly righted again. Apparently, they’d hit a cavernous rut on the road to Fallow Hall. Thankfully, the carriage continued to roll on without event.

Across from her, her brother tapped the carriage’s folding head with his walking stick and spoke with the driver, while her sister-in-law roused from another nap.

“I cannot believe that I fell asleep again,” Delaney said on a yawn, her auburn hair in wild disarray. “I am positively the dullest traveling companion. Calliope, you must forgive me. I promised you a grander adventure than your sisters and mine would have in Bath, and so far I’ve given you nothing letter-worthy.”

“This is already a grand adventure, for I have never been to Scotland or on the road that would take me there.” Calliope shook her head by way of reassurance. “I’ll have plenty of new sights to remark upon when I do write to them.”

Even if their entire party had slept through the journey, Calliope would have preferred it to returning to Bath. Especially since Bath only reminded her of refusing Brightwell’s proposal.
A clear reminder that some endings do not bring about wonderful new beginnings
.

“Besides,” she continued. “I can also inform my sisters that Griffin is a frightful snorer. The endless years of teasing and torment we will bring unto him are worth their weight in gold.”

“A
bear
snorer, to be sure.” Delaney laughed, her violet eyes bright with mischief as she finger-combed wayward curls away from her glowing cheeks. “But I find the rhythmic cadence pleasing. If I were to walk past his cave on a winter’s day like this, I would be reassured by that sound, knowing I would come to no harm.”

Closing the flap in the roof, Griffin scoffed, pretending a great offense had befallen him. “Wound this hibernating bear and suffer the consequences.” He reached out as if he meant to tickle his bride but then stilled as his gaze drifted to her middle. A resplendent smile transformed his face into an expression Calliope had never before witnessed on him. Instead of tormenting his wife, he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “But not quite yet. Perhaps there is a reason you’ve been sleeping so much of late.”

Delaney brightened like a flame and settled her free hand over her stomach before she beamed at Calliope. Immediate understanding dawned.

A baby?

“We aren’t certain,” Delaney said as if she’d heard the unspoken question. “I know how much the news would please your mother and father. For now, however, it should be our secret.”

“Of course.” Calliope found herself nodding and grinning and then nodding some more.
The perfect beginning
. “Although I must mention that Mother’s happiness would exceed any that mankind has ever known if she were to have a grandchild
before
her younger sister, Augusta.”

Knowing it was the truth, they all laughed.

Then, in Calliope’s ever-wandering mind, a vision of herself sitting for hours upon hours, cuddling and reading to a little bundle, filled her with such joy that she began compiling a mental library.

If truth be told, she’d had the list tucked away for years now—a list that hadn’t always been intended for a niece or nephew . . .

“Calliope,”
Griffin said, drawing her gaze away from the fogged window to see that he was now standing outside the carriage, extending his arm to assist her.

She blinked and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Have we arrived at Fallow Hall already?” Only a moment ago, they’d been having a conversation about a new baby. How could they have arrived so quickly?

“You’ve drifted off on another of your journeys.” His brow furrowed. Mother had called them
spells
at one time, before a physician informed her that Calliope was nothing more than a daydreamer.

Calliope shook her head. “It’s merely the effects of a long day’s ride and the chill in the air.”

Stepping out of the carriage, she stopped short. There, on the stone landing, was none other than Lord Brightwell. His pale features and attire stood out in sharp contrast to the dark door behind him. The last time they’d all been standing together like this had been at Pamela’s wedding breakfast.

“Brightwell,” Griffin said in greeting. “It’s good to see you again. I hope our spontaneous visit will not cause trouble.”

Brushing an errant forelock from his brow, he nodded to both Griffin and Delaney. “I’m certain our hosts would agree that your timing couldn’t be better.”

Their hosts were the three gentlemen who rented Fallow Hall. Calliope knew little of Rafe Danvers or Lord Lucan Montwood. As for Lord Everhart . . .

Once upon a time, she’d been in the same circle of friends with him, but that had ended abruptly. In fact, Everhart had ceased their acquaintance on the same night she’d refused Brightwell’s proposal.

“I heard Danvers mention the damage.” Brightwell gestured to Rafe Danvers, who was a short distance away, speaking to the driver while examining the wheel of their carriage. “For your sakes, I hope it is an easy repair. For my wife’s sake, however, I hope for an extended visit.”

Then his gaze shifted to Calliope. In that moment, her refusal seemed like a living, breathing entity between them. Adjusting her grip on her satchel, she felt the tension in her muscles climb up her arms and settle at the base of her neck.

“Miss Croft,” Brightwell said with a familiar smile. “How serendipitous that you should be among the traveling party. Your cousin will be most pleased by the news.”

“Thank you, Brightwell”—she paused, correcting the too-familiar address—“
Lord
Brightwell.” Years ago, he’d just been
Brightwell
. He’d been her friend, and in their close circle no one bothered with formality. Now, it was impossible to refer to him as such. Adding the title helped to remind her of the choice she’d made.

She’d chosen a letter over him—and thus, a broken heart.

S
weat dripped from Gabriel’s brow as he neared the top of the circular staircase. If he’d have known that hopping on one foot up stairs took such skill, he would have added it to his regimen ages ago. Apparently, neither broadswords nor boxing had anything on hopping. He suddenly had a new respect for his younger half-sister, Raena, and her tendency to hop and skip from one room to the next—as long as she wasn’t caught by her mother.