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

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A fter leaving Miss Ashworth, Henry’s mind was a whirlwind. Each step down the corridor weighed with the decision he knew he needed to make. He reached Camden’s door, knocking softly, but receiving no answer. Frowning, he knocked again, but the silence remained. With a sigh, he leaned against the door frame, considering his options. Camden must have gone elsewhere, or perhaps he’d already retired for the evening.

Turning back, Henry wandered down the dim, empty hallway, his thoughts lingering on Miss Ashworth and the kiss they had shared. A warm, thrilling memory, now edged with an urgency he couldn’t ignore. He was done with the wager. He wanted to make things right, no matter the cost.

After a few minutes of aimless wandering, the faint sound of billiard balls breaking filtered down the hall. Henry followed the noise to the billiard room, where he found Camden, his friend leaning over the table with a simple grace, lining up his next shot.

Camden looked up, a welcoming smile on his face, as he spotted Henry. “Brinton! Couldn’t sleep either?” He gestured to the table. “Come and join me.”

Henry stepped inside, hands slipping into his pockets as he tried to steady himself. “Actually, I came to talk.”

Camden straightened, studying him with a raised brow, then nodded. “We can talk while we play,” he said, handing Henry a cue and motioning for him to rack the balls.

They moved through the familiar rhythm of setting up the game, and Camden took the first shot, sending the balls scattering across the table. He gave Henry a sidelong glance as he lined up his next shot. “So, what’s on your mind, then?”

Henry took a deep breath, glancing down at the table as he mentally prepared for what he needed to say. Henry took his shot and missed horribly. “It’s time to call off the wager.”

Camden quirked an eyebrow. “I would agree with you, for your sake, considering we did not wager on this game. More’s the pity for me. I usually win when you brood over a mere game of billiards.”

Henry met Camden’s gaze, his voice steady. “That’s not what I mean. I am referring to our mistletoe wager this year.”

The sound of the cue stick connecting with the ball echoed in the otherwise quiet room. Camden’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth curving into a bemused smile. “You don’t say. Don’t tell me the great Henry Stanton is losing his edge. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Henry took a measured breath. “It’s not a matter of losing anything, Camden. Miss Ashworth deserves better than to be some wager between friends. I can’t, in good conscience, go through with it.”

Camden’s smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing in interest. “This sounds serious. Has she bested you, Brinton? Is that it?” He took another turn, earning another point.

Henry let out a breath of amusement, though he felt the truth of Camden’s words more deeply than he liked to admit. “It’s not about being bested,” he replied, his voice softer. “It’s about respect. I’m calling off the bet.”

Camden crossed his arms and leaned against the table, his gaze shifting from mocking to thoughtful. “So, you’re really backing out then? You know that means forfeiting, don’t you?”

Henry nodded, a slight frown creasing his brow. “A deal is a deal. I’ll send you my pistols.”

Camden’s eyebrows shot up, and he paused, considering Henry with a look that was more thoughtful than mocking this time. “The pistols, hmm?” He tapped his chin, a slight smirk on his lips. “Well, I must say, I didn’t expect such honor. You’re usually more inclined to renegotiate.”

“A man should be good for his word,” Henry replied evenly, though the thought of parting with his prized dueling pistols—heirlooms that had seen the inside of more than one tense field—was hardly welcome. “When it comes to Miss Ashworth, however, a bet isn’t worth compromising what I feel.”

Camden scoffed and waved him off as though it were all a joke. “Well said, Brinton. Still, there’s no need to send for them right away,” he said, leaning back with a casual air. “Twelfth Night is near enough, and we can settle this when the party ends.”

Henry bristled, a slight frown crossing his face. “Why wait? I’d rather settle it now.”

But Camden held up a hand, his smile turning sly. “Let’s not be hasty. You may still win the bet. You have until Twelfth Night.”

“I won’t be winning anything,” Henry replied, his tone calm but firm. “I’m taking my loss gracefully.”

Camden nodded, as if he finally understood. “I can see you are in earnest, forfeiting the wager like this. Very well, but do not trouble yourself in sending for the pistols. After the house party will be sufficient. There is no need to deprive you of your pistols just yet.” He clapped a hand on Henry’s shoulder, his voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “And honestly, I’m happy to take those pistols off your hands—and even happier that I won’t be losing a horse.”

Henry gave a slight smile, though he didn’t share Camden’s mirth. “If you insist. Just know that I’m finished with the wager.”

Camden held up his hands in a show of mock surrender. “Very well, Brinton. I’ll consider the matter settled. It’s good to see your honor intact, even if it costs you.”

Henry simply nodded, relief flooding through him. He took one more shot, earning a point.

Camden took another turn and won the game. He twirled the cue in his hand, then gestured to the table. “I don’t suppose you would like to play another game, Henry, for a chance to win your pistols back?”

Henry eyed him curiously. He’d just lost the game. With the wager dissolved between them, Henry imagined that he would have had a clearer head for the game. “I’m for bed,” Henry said, turning down his friend’s offer.

“Good night then, Brinton.”

Henry nodded. “Thank you, Camden.” He left the room, and though he’d just lost a game of billiards and forfeited his pistols, he felt lighter than he had in days. Without the weight of the wager hanging between him and Miss Ashworth, there was a possibility in front of them. He felt no regret in losing or forfeiting. His heart was set on something far more valuable, and he intended to see if Miss Lilian Ashworth felt the same way.

The moment Henry left Camden's company, he felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation wash over him. Relief. Freedom. For the first time in days, the crushing weight that had hung over his shoulders—this absurd wager—was gone. He had expected a sense of dread, of loss even, after telling Camden he would no longer be participating, but instead, he felt lighter. Unburdened.

Henry was resolute. He wasn’t playing any more games—not with Lily, not with anyone. The wager had been a mistake, a cruel trick at best, but now that it was over, Henry felt free. His mind wasn’t clouded by the ridiculous notion of winning a wager. He could think clearly. He could be himself.

And when he kissed Miss Ashworth next— for he would kiss her again —it would be because he wanted to, not because of some wager hanging over his head. He would kiss her with no ulterior motives, with no guilt or shame to follow. And he wouldn’t be sorry for it.