The Rake’s Christmas Wager (Spinsters and their Suitors #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

T he carriage rattled to a halt, jostling Lily Ashworth from her reverie. She peered out the window, her breath catching as she took in the grandeur of Wintervale Manor. The estate, nestled amid snow-dusted hills, stood like a stately guardian of a bygone era. Tall windows glimmered in the crisp morning light, and the scent of pine and wood smoke drifted on the crisp air. She was finally on the lane that would bring her arduous journey to an end. It was a welcome sight. It was all as grand as she remembered, and anticipation filled her as she imagined the festive cheer that awaited her within.

The footman opened the carriage door, offering his hand to assist her. Lily gathered her skirts, stepping carefully onto the drive, where patches of gravel peeked through a dusting of snow. She glanced around, a stray chestnut curl escaping her bonnet and brushing against her cheek. She tucked it absently behind her ear, taking in the lively scene. Nearby, three other carriages were drawn up, each with passengers and baggage being carefully unloaded as new arrivals were met with hearty welcomes.

At the top of the steps, her gracious hosts—her cousins, Lady Beatrice Farnsworth and Lord Anthony Farnsworth—greeted each guest with evident warmth. Lady Beatrice’s gaze soon landed on Lily, and a look of delighted recognition brightened her countenance.

“Lily, my dear!” Beatrice called out, her voice carrying over the commotion. “How very wonderful to see you!” Beatrice beamed at her. Her cousin was resplendent in a soft teal gown that complemented her striking auburn hair, which was artfully swept back to reveal her graceful neck. Her green eyes were bright and warm, her graceful demeanor befitting a lady of five and thirty.

Beside her, Lord Farnsworth maintained a quiet dignity, his tall, broad-shouldered frame lending an air of strength to his polished reserve. A few of his black hairs had turned gray, granting him a distinguished air and his impeccably tailored blue coat added to his composed appearance. Despite his reserved expressions, his deep gray eyes softened when he saw Lily, and he inclined his head in a gesture of welcome.

“Miss Ashworth, welcome to Wintervale,” Lord Farnsworth said, as they descended the steps to meet her.

“Cousin Beatrice, Cousin Anthony,” Lily replied, her smile genuine as she took her cousin’s hand. “It is such a joy to be here with you for Christmas. Thank you most sincerely for the invitation.”

“We are pleased that you could come, especially with your parents gone to Scotland to visit your sister,” Beatrice said. “Now, let us get you indoors before the cold takes hold!”

Lily nodded gratefully, glancing around at the other guests gathering at the top of the steps. She noted the fur-lined cloaks and mufflers, and wondered how far others had traveled to be here.

Once within the manor, Lily watched her cousins in admiration. Lord and Lady Farnsworth were the most gracious of hosts, greeting each guest with ease.

Beatrice embraced Lily briefly. “And how is your sister faring in her delicate situation?”

Lily smiled. Her younger sister, Rachel, was four and twenty, only a year younger than herself, and she was expecting her second child within the month. “From the last report we received, she is doing well, and it’s a great comfort to her that our parents are with her during such an important time.”

Beatrice nodded. “And was your journey tolerable? Not too troublesome, I trust? I feared you might be detained by the weather.” She looked at Lily with a knowing sympathy, aware of Lily’s aversion to long travels.

Lily was particularly prone to illness from long carriage rides. She missed her sister dearly, but traveling so far in such a short amount of time had left her very nauseous and sick when Lily had gone after Rachel’s first child was born. Thankfully, the travel to Beatrice’s house was closer than Scotland.

“It was manageable, though the ride was long. We took an extra two days to avoid any unpleasantness,” Lily admitted. “I was grateful to miss the journey to Scotland, after last time.”

Beatrice gathered her into another brisk embrace. “You know you are always welcome to come here. I am glad the journey was not overly taxing. Christmas at Wintervale is always an affair to be remembered.”

“Indeed,” Lily agreed. “You always host the most splendid gatherings.”

“This year’s guest list has been quite specially selected,” Lord Farnsworth added.

“Yes, it shall be a time of great merriment. The guests truly make all the difference in that regard,” Beatrice said. “But first things first. You must be famished after such a journey. Tea and sandwiches await you in your room, so that you may rest before we commence with the festivities.”

“That is most thoughtful of you; thank you. But I hope you have not troubled yourself solely on my account.”

Lord Farnsworth offered a smile. “The household staff will see to the comfort of all our guests in the same manner. Then we shall gather for a tour of the house later in the afternoon.”

Beatrice gave Lily’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Come now, let me introduce you to some of the other guests before you are shown to your room.”

As they moved through the grand hall, Beatrice introduced her to two elegantly dressed young women nearby. “This is Miss Penelope Greaves and Miss Anne Colbrook,” Beatrice said with a smile. “They’ve come all the way from Kent to join our Christmas house party. Miss Greaves, Miss Colbrook, allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Miss Lily Ashworth.”

“Miss Greaves, Miss Colbrook,” Lily greeted, offering a polite smile and curtsy. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Miss Colbrook replied with a shy smile, while Miss Greaves curtsied with practiced grace.

Lily inclined her head politely, noting the warmth in the atmosphere as Beatrice moved on to greet other guests. As Beatrice continued to introduce her to more guests, Lily looked forward to the Christmas house party with even more anticipation.

Not all the guests had arrived, but Beatrice took the ladies who were already present to their rooms, which were all in the same wing. After Miss Greaves and Miss Colbrook received their room assignments, Beatrice looped her arm through Lily’s, leading her down the hall to her room. “I have reserved the finest room for you, as promised. You shall be most comfortable here.”

As they made their way through the grand hallways of Wintervale, Beatrice added, “And you need not worry about being overwhelmed by too much company so soon. You will have ample time to rest before this afternoon.”

Lily smiled in gratitude. “Thank you, Beatrice. I’m sure a little rest will suit me.”

Upon reaching the guest room, Beatrice opened the door with satisfaction. “I trust all will be to your liking.”

Lily stepped into the room, immediately enveloped by the welcoming warmth from the crackling fire in the marble hearth. The room was adorned with delicate wallpaper in soft hues of cream and gold, a subtle floral pattern lending the room a refined elegance. Heavy damask curtains in rich burgundy, tied back with silk cords, framed the tall sash windows that overlooked the snow-covered gardens.

In the center of the room stood a four-poster bed with carved mahogany posts, its canopy draped in simple but luxurious ivory muslin. The bed was covered with an embroidered counterpane, and a few neatly arranged pillows added to its inviting comfort. A brass warming pan, likely just used, sat near the foot of the bed, ensuring that the sheets would be warm for her later.

Nearby, a small walnut writing desk with a dainty chair sat by the window, equipped with fine stationery and an inkpot. A gilded mirror hung above the fireplace, reflecting the soft glow of the flames, and a washstand with a porcelain basin and pitcher was placed discreetly in the corner.

The scent of beeswax polish and lavender filled the air, no doubt from the fresh linens folded neatly on the chaise longue beside the fire. A tea tray already awaited her on a small side table, complete with delicate china, sandwiches, and a steaming pot of tea.

“It’s perfect,” she said, turning to her cousin. “You have thought of everything. It’s absolutely charming.”

Beatrice’s smile held a touch of pride. “Only the best for my favorite cousin. Rest, and join us in the drawing room when you are ready.”

After Beatrice left, Lily sat by the fire, a peaceful contentment settling over her. Christmas at Wintervale was already proving to be the right place for her, and she couldn’t wait for the festivities to begin.

After an hour of peaceful repose, Lily felt sufficiently revived to rejoin the company. The tea and sandwiches had restored her energy, and she was grateful to her cousin Beatrice for her thoughtful provision. As she made her way downstairs, the manor hummed with the bustle of servants ferrying trunks and parcels to various chambers. It seemed that Wintervale Manor had truly awoken to the spirit of Christmastide.

No sooner had she entered than Beatrice, ever-attentive, spotted her at once and beckoned her closer. “Ah, there you are, Lily! I’d like to introduce you to a few of our more recent arrivals.”

Lily smiled, her pulse quickening, not from unease but from the lively anticipation of meeting new faces. The Christmas house party was now fully underway, and the company promised to be lively.

Three gentlemen turned at their approach, and Lily felt the weight of their gazes as she inclined her head in a gracious greeting.

“Gentlemen, may I present Miss Lilian Ashworth, my dearest cousin,” Beatrice announced with a refined flourish. “Lily, allow me to make known to you the Earl of Camden, Sebastian Moreland—Lord Camden.” She gestured with elegance to the second gentleman. “This is the Baron Gregory Fairfax, Lord Fairfax. And lastly, but by no means least, we have the Viscount of Brinton, Henry Stanton—Lord Brinton himself.”

Lily’s gaze fell on each gentleman in turn, her demeanor composed yet cordial. She smiled first at the earl. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Camden,” she said with a curtsy. Lord Camden was a tall, distinguished man with a thoughtful expression and a quiet air of authority.

“The pleasure is entirely mine, Miss Ashworth,” replied Lord Camden, offering a polite bow. His reserved demeanor suggested he was a man of few words, but there was a kindness in his eyes that put Lily at ease.

She then turned to Lord Fairfax, whose bright countenance and genial smile bespoke an amiable nature. “Miss Ashworth, the honor is truly mine,” he said warmly. “I hope Wintervale shall offer you every delight this Christmas season.”

“I have no doubt it shall, Lord Fairfax,” Lily replied, returning his smile as she curtsied. His open and friendly manner made him instantly likable, and she found herself quite charmed by his cordial introduction.

Finally, her gaze came to rest upon Lord Brinton. His name was a familiar one, whispered in drawing rooms and at social gatherings, invariably accompanied by an air of intrigue.

Lord Brinton, as it turned out, was every bit as dashing as rumor suggested. He was handsome and enigmatic, and he exuded a natural charm effortlessly, that seemed to drape about him like a finely tailored cloak. Standing slightly apart from the others, his posture was relaxed yet refined, and there was a sharpness in his gaze as it met hers. He had the look of a man accustomed to receiving precisely what he wanted, though whether through charm or calculated intent, it was unclear. His dark hair was fashionably tousled, his attire impeccable; yet it was his smile—slow, deliberate, and disarmingly knowing—that set her at once on her guard.

His bright blue eyes captured hers, and quite without her consent, her heart gave the slightest tremor, though she swiftly masked it with a composed expression.

“A pleasure, Miss Ashworth,” Lord Brinton drawled, his voice smooth as velvet. “It is a true delight to finally make your acquaintance.”

Lily inclined her head, her smile polite but tempered with a hint of coolness against his charm. “Finally, my lord?”

That smile that tugged at his lips once more—in a manner both practiced and infuriatingly effective—appeared in full strength. Disarming and dangerous. “Why, yes indeed. Lady Farnsworth has spoken of you often.”

“Has she?” Lily turned to Beatrice, as though her cousin might divulge what tales she had shared. “Then it seems you have the advantage, my lord, for she has told me nothing of you.” Though Lily had certainly heard enough whispers in society to form her own impressions of the man in front of her. He was every bit as handsome and rakish as the stories and rumors had made him out to be.

Lady Beatrice batted her eyelashes at Lord Brinton. Batted. Her. Eyelashes. Beatrice tapped her fan lightly upon his arm. “Lord Brinton, do not tease my cousin so, or she will think that I have revealed all her secrets.”

Lord Brinton smiled again. The man truly ought to carry a warning whenever he chose to employ such a smile. Lily resolved to pay it no mind.

“Are there secrets to be known?” he asked, raising one brow in such a perfectly arched manner that one might suspect him of rehearsing it for hours in the looking glass. “Rest assured, Miss Ashworth, that Lady Farnsworth has shared only that you are fond of reading and possess some talent at the pianoforte.”

“Those are hardly secrets,” Lily said, relieved to find the man did not, indeed, know anything of consequence. “It would be a sorry thing for all my secrets to be laid bare before we have even shared a proper conversation.”

“I should like to think, Miss Ashworth, that your secrets are far too precious to be revealed in idle gossip. Perhaps you will allow me the pleasure of learning them myself, in due time.”

“I daresay you will find such an endeavor thoroughly tiresome.”

“I do not tire easily,” he said.

“I never supposed that you did,” she said smoothly.

Beatrice clapped her hands lightly. “Oh, do not let her fool you, Lord Brinton. Lily is far from tiresome—though I shall leave you to make that discovery on your own.”

Lord Brinton smiled again. “I could wish for nothing more than the pleasure of becoming better acquainted with you, Miss Ashworth. I expect we shall have a most diverting house party.”

Lily inclined her head, unmoved by his easy charm. She would not have her head so readily turned by a few well-spoken compliments. “Diverting entertainments are all well and good, Lord Brinton, but one must not forget the value of sincerity.”

“Touché, Miss Ashworth,” Lord Brinton replied, his eyes gleaming with something indecipherable. “I shall endeavor to remember that.”

The exchange, though brief, left Lily feeling as though she had just emerged from a polite sparring match. Lord Brinton, it seemed, was not a man to be easily dismissed. But Lily had spent years perfecting the art of restraint, and she had no intention of allowing him—or anyone else—to breach the carefully constructed defenses around her heart.

Despite the pleasantness of his words, Lily’s mind buzzed with caution. She had heard of Lord Brinton’s reputation—he was notorious in certain circles for his flirtations and his ability to charm nearly any woman he set his sights upon. A rake, through and through. But what was he doing here at Wintervale? Surely, he wasn’t looking for a wife. Not with such a reputation. What would bring a man like Lord Brinton to a respectable house party such as this?

“I trust you are enjoying your stay thus far,” Lord Brinton said, his gaze lingering on her with a faint glimmer of amusement, as though he could discern her thoughts.

“I am, indeed,” Lily replied, her tone measured but pleasant. “Wintervale is always a lovely place to spend the Christmas season.”

Beatrice seemed to sense the faint tension in the air, and she interjected with a cheerful smile. “Oh, pay Brinton no mind, Lily. He is forever full of charm and mischief. You mustn’t take him too seriously.”

Lily’s smile tightened slightly. “I shall endeavor to remember that.”

Lord Brinton’s grin widened, his eyes alight with unspoken amusement. “I assure you, Miss Ashworth, I am perfectly harmless.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, her gaze never wavering. “I shall reserve judgement on that matter, my lord.”

Lord Brinton smiled knowingly and turned to speak to Lord Camden.

Lily was all too eager to join the rest of the young ladies after her encounter with Lord Brinton. She glanced back at him only once. He laughed at something Lord Camden said, and she turned her attention to the conversation of the ladies in front of her, but her thoughts wandered back to Lord Brinton. Their brief exchange left her feeling oddly unsettled. Lord Brinton was every bit the rake she had expected, and yet there was something in his manner that made it difficult to dismiss him outright. He was charming, yes, but there was also a sharpness in his piercing blue eyes, a wit that hinted at layers beneath the surface.

She would have to tread carefully around him. Men like Lord Brinton could be dangerous in more ways than one.

But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside. This was Christmas, and she was determined to enjoy herself, even if it meant keeping a wary eye on the notorious Lord Brinton.

After the introductions, the guests gathered near the grand staircase for the promised tour of Wintervale Manor. Lady Beatrice Farnsworth, ever the gracious hostess, led the group with her usual charm, pointing out the various features of the house as they moved through its elegant halls.

Lily found herself escorted by several gentlemen as they walked, each conversation polite and uneventful. Lord Camden, with his reserved demeanor, spoke briefly of the estate’s architecture, while Lord Fairfax cheerfully discussed the fine decorations that adorned each room. Their words were benign and comfortably predictable, allowing Lily’s mind to wander as she observed her surroundings.

“The east wing,” Beatrice announced, her voice carrying over the group as they entered a stately gallery lined with portraits, “was added by Lord Farnsworth’s grandfather. It remains the most cherished part of the house. We often host musicales and other entertainments here.” She gestured toward the large windows that overlooked the snow-covered grounds. “If the weather holds, we may expect some delightful outdoor pursuits as well.”

The guests murmured enthusiastically, their voices filling the hall with lively anticipation.

“There will be an informal ball on the morrow,” Beatrice continued as they moved toward the drawing room, “and throughout the week, we’ll have various games, along with a few select performances and recitations. I daresay there will be diversions suited to every taste.”

Lily smiled as the guests eagerly discussed the proposed amusements. She, too, was looking forward to the planned activities, particularly the ball. There was a comforting charm in the predictable rhythm of these holiday gatherings, with their planned entertainments and shared merriment.

As they rounded the corner into the next hall, Lord Brinton appeared beside her, leisurely falling into step with her.

“Miss Ashworth,” he began, his voice smooth as he glanced at her, “will you be in attendance at the ball tomorrow night?”

What an absurd question. “Of course, Lord Brinton. I daresay we shall all be present.”

“Might I, then, presume to claim a dance with you?”

She arched an eyebrow. “I believe my cousin has taken it upon herself to arrange partners for each set.” And she hoped with all her heart that they wouldn’t have to stand up with everyone for every ball. There were to be a few over the course of the house party for three weeks.

“Then I shall endeavor to await such an opportunity.”

Lily inclined her head but offered no answer. He was all velvet and charm, smooth as cream in his words. And she was unmoved by such flowery words. She had encountered men like him before.

“In fact, a certain poem springs to mind as I take in the splendor of these grand halls and reflect upon our conversation. It is a poem by Byron. Perhaps you are acquainted with it? Shall I—”

Lily held up a hand, halting him with a polite smile. “Please, my lord, do not put yourself to the trouble. I am not inclined towards poetry at the present moment.” Nor would she ever be.

His smile faltered, replaced by a look of mild surprise. “Ah, you wound me, Miss Ashworth. I had hoped to impress you with my literary inclinations.”

“I’m afraid I am impervious to such charms,” she replied, her tone light but firm.

Lord Brinton chuckled softly, recovering quickly from her dismissal. “Very well, then. I shall save my verses for another occasion.”

Lily’s smile held steady, though inwardly she remained wary. Lord Brinton might possess charm, but she had no inclination to indulge his flirtations. She had learned long ago that men of his sort were seldom worth the trouble. Attempting to recite poetry—during a house tour, no less—was nothing short of absurd. She would not be taken in by it. A rake, indeed.