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

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

H enry settled comfortably in the deep wingback chair beside Lord Camden in the drawing room. The other guests had long since retired, leaving the two gentlemen to each enjoy a last glass of brandy. The crackling fire in the hearth that had roared to life during Henry’s recitations was now reduced to little more than a bed of glowing embers.

With an amused glint in his eye, Camden raised his glass in a lazy salute. “I confess, Brinton,” he drawled, his tone rife with admiration laced with a touch of sarcasm, “you’ve a way of leaving an entire room spellbound before you’ve finished your first verse. I could hardly count the number of entranced looks cast in your direction tonight, and it is only the first evening. You never fail to charm an entire room.”

Henry chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “It’s a gift, my friend,” he replied with an air of affected modesty. “I daresay I could have kissed any of the ladies present tonight with hardly any effort.”

A slight boast, but accurate enough, he thought. The ladies, particularly Miss Barrett and Miss Harper, had been hanging on his every word since dinner. A kiss would have been effortless.

Camden, however, raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly in his chair. “Oh, not every woman, I think. There was one, I’d wager, who was decidedly unmoved by all of that charm of yours.”

Henry’s brow arched in return, intrigued by the subtle challenge in his friend’s tone. “Indeed? I trust we’re not counting our esteemed hostess among the number, for that would hardly be fair sport.”

Camden smirked, tilting his glass toward Henry. “No, no. You know very well of whom I speak,” Camden continued, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and genuine curiosity. “I’m referring to Miss Ashworth. Now, there’s a woman who could be immune to your charms.”

Henry’s smile faltered ever so slightly, though he quickly recovered. “Miss Ashworth? She’s not immune.” He shrugged. “A bit guarded, I’ll admit, but hardly a fortress. She’ll fall like the rest.”

Camden’s grin widened. “Will she, indeed? I’m not so sure, Brinton. Miss Ashworth appeared rather indifferent to your verses tonight—dare I say, unimpressed.”

Henry waved a dismissive hand. “She’s simply yet to appreciate the genius of Ashcroft. Wait until I recite a selection from Byron. No one’s heart can remain entirely untouched by his words.”

“Byron?” Camden laughed. “You’ve too much faith in poor Byron if you believe he’ll have the lady falling at your feet.”

Henry’s pride stung, but he concealed it with a smile. “No one can resist the way I recite his words. You’ll see. Tonight was simply not the right choice to move her.”

“Brinton, you think a few verses from Byron will have her swooning at your feet? I highly doubt it.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed slightly. “She will fall like the rest of them, Camden. Just give it time. A woman’s cool exterior is no match for a well-chosen verse.”

Camden leaned in, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Then prove it.”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Prove it? What are you suggesting?”

“You know what I mean, Brinton.” Camden’s smile turned sly. “Our annual tradition. You haven’t forgotten, surely? You claimed you could have kissed any woman present tonight. Well then, let us see you work that magic upon Miss Ashworth. Let us see you kiss the one who’s proving the most difficult.”

Henry chuckled, shaking his head. “I am quite selective in choosing my mistletoe companions, Camden. I thank you, however, for your concern.”

Camden leaned back in his chair, a feigned look of disappointment crossing his face. “Ah, I knew it. Miss Ashworth is too formidable a challenge for you, then.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed, his competitive spirit flaring. “I never conceded as much.”

“You needn’t; I have observed enough to make the claim myself,” Camden replied, waving a dismissive hand. “It is a pity, though—such an opponent would merit an increase in our stakes.”

Henry’s interest piqued. Their annual wager had never been more than a friendly contest, with a bottle of claret as the prize. Camden’s shift in tone suggested something more earnest.

Henry raised a brow. “Are you implying that, should I endeavor to obtain a kiss from Miss Ashworth, I would somehow fail?” He shook his head. “I assure you, I am not accustomed to losing. I have yet to lose our wager once.”

Camden shrugged, his smirk broadening. “Miss Ashworth strikes me as the sort who prefers her own company to the usual courtship rituals. Unmoved, no doubt, by even the most dashing, silver-tongued rogues. Were it possible, I would wager far more than our customary bottle.” His eyes gleamed with a mix of mischief and confidence. “Indeed, I’d gladly place one of my horses against your chances.”

Henry’s brow arched, his curiosity fully engaged. Camden was wagering his prized horses—a bold gambit. But Camden’s error was that he was too confident of his own victory. His friend’s challenge, however, was all too tempting.

He took a deep breath, his friend’s goading rubbing underneath his skin. “Let me understand you perfectly. You are wagering a horse from your stables that I, Henry Stanton, Viscount of Brinton, cannot gain a simple kiss before Twelfth Night with Miss Ashworth?”

Camden nodded, his grin widening. “Precisely. I believe she is impervious to your charms, Brinton. She possesses a dignity well above the trifles of flirtation.”

Henry’s grin faded as he weighed the implications. Their annual jest had always been a lark, a pastime to while away the hours at these gatherings, but Miss Ashworth presented a different sort of challenge. There was a quiet dignity in her that rendered such a wager more daring than sport. Yet, the thrill of the chase was undeniable, and Camden’s taunting words fanned the flames of competition. “Any horse from your stables? Of my own choosing?”

Lord Camden hesitated only a moment before giving a slow nod. “Indeed. I know your admiration for certain of my mounts. If you succeed, you may select whichever pleases you.”

Henry let out a low whistle. “You have that little faith in my abilities?”

“Faith enough to stake one of my finest, yes,” Camden replied, his voice dripping with confidence. “Miss Ashworth is too discerning for such frivolities, Brinton. Your ‘usual tricks’ are sure to fall flat.”

Henry’s competitive fire had been stoked. Camden’s wager would not be left uncontested. Nor would Camden be found right in this matter. “I shall look forward to that stable visit,” Henry said.

Camden held up a finger, his grin sly. “Not so hastily, my friend. I would know the price of my forfeit should you fail.”

Henry chuckled. “Failure is not within my purview, Camden.”

“Nonetheless, we must settle on fair terms.”

“The usual bottle of claret, then?”

“Hardly,” Camden replied smoothly. “For one of my prized horses, the stakes should be equally dear.”

“I don’t see why. I never back down from a challenge, Camden,” Henry replied, though his tone was more measured. “But some things are best handled with care.”

There was a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminding him that Miss Ashworth wasn’t like the other women. But the thrill of the challenge, and the prospect of winning, was too great to resist.

“Care? Since when have you been careful?” Camden’s laughter was light, but Henry detected the undercurrent of truth in his words.

Henry was known for his carefree attitude, his ability to flirt and flatter without entangling himself in anything serious.

“I won’t lose,” Henry stated again.

Camden raised an eyebrow. “Still, we must agree upon a prize when you fail. The usual bottle of claret would hardly be compensation when I have my horses on the line.”

“It’s only one horse,” Henry said.

“Still. This entire thing favors you. I won’t agree to just give away my horse if I cannot have something equally valuable in return.”

“What is it you are after? Would you like one of my horses?”

Camden waved his hand in the air. “No, that would not be the prize I would wish. How about those dueling pistols you keep in your study—the pair with the ivory handles?”

Henry’s smile faltered. The heirloom pistols held a particular significance; they were hardly trinkets he would relinquish lightly. But he would not lose. He met Camden’s gaze, a glint of determination in his eyes . He would win.

“What do you say?” Camden asked, sticking his hand out.

Henry laughed, though his mind was already turning over the possibilities. A kiss under the mistletoe was simple enough, a game he had played countless times with women eager for his attention.

But with Miss Ashworth, it was different. There was no guarantee she would play along, no certainty that she would even entertain the idea.

Yet Camden’s mockery continued to prod at him, and the prospect of adding one of Camden’s prized horses to his stables was far too tempting to resist. He had never lost before, and he did not intend to start now. He was confident he could win Miss Ashworth over, no matter how immune to him she seemed to be.

The true prize, however, was not the horse but the satisfaction of proving Camden wrong in his estimation.

Henry clasped his friend’s hand, shaking it heartily, sealing the wager. “You’ve got yourself a wager, Sebastian Moreland,” Henry said confidently, his eyes glinting with determination. “I’ll have that kiss by Twelfth Night. I look forward to a new horse next year.”

Henry’s laughter was lighthearted, but his mind was already working through the particulars. Securing a kiss beneath the mistletoe was no brilliant feat, a game he had played countless times with women eager for his attention.

But Miss Ashworth presented a distinct challenge. There was no certainty she would indulge in such a charade, no assurance that she would even entertain his advances.

Camden laughed. “Best of luck finding one as nice as mine at Tattersall’s, Henry Stanton. I shall be enjoying my new pistols. I will display them in a lovely wooden box.”

“I should enjoy a nice new box for my pistols,” Henry said. “Thank you for the kind offer.”

Camden clapped him on the back, his laughter echoing through the room. “Now that’s the spirit! But remember, Brinton, it’s all in good fun. Don’t go losing your heart to the one woman who won’t let you near hers.”

“And who are you going to kiss?” Henry asked his friend.

Camden shrugged. “We aren’t wagering about me . I shall have a kiss or two each day of the festivities if I choose.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Never you mind about me. You have a challenge on your hand. I look forward to watching you fail.”

“Challenges are easily overcome,” Henry said with a confident smirk, though the confidence felt slightly hollow. “I’ll play this game my way.”

“I look forward to watching you fail, my friend. There’s always a first time for everything,” Camden said.

Henry paused, considering. Miss Ashworth may be harder to charm than the other guests, but that was of little consequence. The thrill of the challenge, and the prospect of winning, was too great to resist.

“A first time for you to lose a horse,” Henry quipped, his grin returning. “But don’t be surprised when I come calling to collect my prize.”

Camden laughed, raising his glass. “You can certainly come calling to bring me my prize. How thoughtful of you to offer to deliver the pistols to my country estate. It saves me a trip.”

Henry clinked his glass against Camden’s, a spark of excitement flaring in his chest. The wager had been made. Now, all that was left was to win.