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

Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

H enry could hardly contain the joy filling his chest as he escorted Lily back to Wintervale Manor after the sleigh ride. Proposing to her had felt not only right but inevitable, as though the stars had aligned, creating a perfect moment he hadn’t dared to imagine.

Henry couldn’t remember a time he’d felt this content. Sitting beside Lily at Christmas dinner, watching her face light up at each compliment and laugh at every jest, he felt as if he were living in a perfect dream. And to think that, by some miracle, this remarkable woman had just agreed to marry him. It was a feeling he could barely contain.

They sat close, their hands brushing beneath the table as servants bustled around them, filling glasses and topping off plates with roast beef, golden potatoes, and plum pudding. Lord and Lady Farnsworth were practically glowing with holiday cheer, leading merry toasts and chattering about how splendid it was to have everyone together, as if they hadn’t already been together during the house party.

After dinner, they removed to the drawing room, where furniture had been pushed against the walls, and fresh candles were lit. Henry patted Lily’s hand beneath his as they walked arm in arm together.

Beatrice clapped her hands, her excitement palpable. “Everyone, it’s time to dance! I won’t hear any complaints of full stomachs or tired legs—on Christmas, we must make merry!”

Henry grinned, turning to Lily with a playful gleam in his eyes. “What do you say, Miss Ashworth—shall we?”

She laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Why, Lord Brinton, I wouldn’t dare refuse you. After all, you did promise me this set.”

They took their place on the floor as the musicians struck up a lively tune, and soon they were swept into the rhythm of the dance, their hands clasped as they moved in perfect harmony. Henry was captivated by her every movement, her grace, her confidence, and the soft glow of the candlelight reflected in her eyes. His mind wandered to the future—what it would be like to have her by his side always. Every set of dances brought him closer to that reality, a joy and privilege he could hardly believe was his. His heart soared with the thought that she would soon be his wife.

“When should we tell them?” he murmured as they came together in a turn, their hands pressing close.

Lily smiled, glancing around at the gathering. “I was thinking tonight.”

“Tonight?” he asked, though the excitement in her tone made him want to shout it from the rooftops himself.

“Why wait?” She looked at him with a mischievous glint. “After all, I think Lady Beatrice has her suspicions already.”

He chuckled, bringing her hand to his lips as they turned. “True, but a few more days of quiet won’t hurt. There’s a thrill in a secret shared only between us.”

She nodded with a playful sigh. “Very well,” she agreed. “But I must say, it will be very hard to keep it to ourselves.” She leaned in, her voice soft. “It seems cruel to keep them all in suspense.”

“They cannot be in suspense if they do not suspect.”

“Right you are.”

They shared a knowing smile, the promise of their secret strengthening the thrill of the moment. It was hard to converse in cryptic tones while dancing, and though they talked of other things freely, it was all he could do to keep from shouting their news to the entire room. It would be wise to wait for a couple of days before announcing. They could keep the secret a little longer.

At the end of the set, he led her toward the refreshment table, but before arriving next to the table, he stopped, a little removed from the others who were walking in the same direction.

“Have you ever considered what time of year you’d prefer to be married?” he asked, his voice hushed so they would not be overheard. “I should like it to be soon.”

She looked up at him, her cheeks pink. “I’ve never really thought about it. Though I suppose we should wait until my parents are informed. They are in Scotland with my sister and are not due to return for two months.”

He nodded, his gaze intense. “Of course. We should not wish to be married without them present. I want it to be perfect.”

She blushed, her gaze dropping before returning to his with a shy smile. “In that case, perhaps spring. New beginnings seem fitting.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, feeling the warmth of her fingers. “Spring it is, then. But mark my words, every day until then will be an eternity.”

At that moment, Lord Camden approached, his face ruddy with a bit too much Christmas punch, and an easy grin spread across his lips.

“What’s this secret conversation?” he asked with a jovial smile, nudging Henry. “What are the two of you discussing so earnestly? Come, Brinton, surely I’m not to be left out.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, choosing discretion. “Oh, just matters of little consequence,” he replied lightly, hoping Camden wouldn’t continue his questioning.

Henry glanced at Lily, who gave him a playful, conspiratorial smile. “Your dear friend should know,” she said, turning to Camden with a mockingly serious expression. “After all, he’s been privy to so many of Lord Brinton’s affairs.”

Camden raised a brow. “Is that so? What on earth am I missing?”

Lily stepped closer to Camden, her voice ringing with excitement. “You may be the first to wish us joy and felicitations,” she announced proudly, her eyes gleaming as she said it.

Camden’s smile froze, a flicker of surprise in his expression. “For what, now?” He took Lily’s hand in his own and raised it to his lips, kissing the back of her hand. “Because you danced so prettily? I should offer my felicitations and also ask to claim your next set.”

Henry glowered at his friend, not wanting to explain. Let Camden think that they were asking for congratulations on their superior dancing. That would do just fine. He tried to stay pleasant, while trying to indicate to Lily that he wasn’t in the mood to talk to Camden. “How about some refreshment?” he asked Lily.

But Lily didn’t seem to hear. “Not for our dancing, dear Lord Camden. For our engagement,” she clarified, her smile unwavering. She glanced at him, but continued undeterred without picking up on any of his non-verbal cues. “Lord Brinton and I are engaged to be married.”

Henry’s attempt to halt the announcement was in vain, and he sighed, unable to stop the warmth from spreading across his face. Camden blinked, then burst into laughter, throwing an arm around Henry’s shoulder in a congratulatory embrace.

“Well, well, look at you, my friend! So that’s why you’ve been floating around with that lovesick expression all day! Congratulations, Henry—and Miss Ashworth.” He gave Lily a grand bow. “Although I must say, I wish you’d warned me of your intentions, old chum.”

Lily laughed, her smile mischievous. “He only proposed this afternoon. I believe it came as a surprise to both of us. Isn’t that right, Henry?”

Henry met her gaze, his own softening. “Oh, I knew, my love.”

“You did?” Her eyes shimmered with love and admiration.

He nodded. “Though the timing of today did surprise me. Today was simply perfect.”

A blush bloomed on Lily’s cheeks, and she cast him a shy smile. “Yes, it was.”

Camden patted Henry’s shoulder with a grin. “You sly devil. You really pulled one over on me, didn’t you? Here you are, engaged to the most beautiful woman in the room, and yet you forfeited a wager in the process!”

Henry’s smile faltered slightly, and he shot a glance at Camden, warning him with his eyes, but Camden continued, oblivious. “And don’t tell me you haven’t claimed at least a dozen kisses by now, Henry! So what’s this talk of calling off the wager? Though don’t expect me to give up my claim to the dueling pistols. I still have your word on that.”

Lily’s expression stilled, her brow furrowing slightly as her gaze flicked between Henry and Camden. “Wager?” she repeated, her voice soft but sharp. She looked at Henry with wide eyes, realization dawning as her face paled. “Is it true?”

“Lily—” Henry began, his voice full of urgency.

Camden, still grinning, clapped Henry on the shoulder. “Oh, don’t look so grim, Brinton! It was all in good fun, right? A gentleman’s game. Though, I suppose I’ll have to find another wedding gift besides those dueling pistols, now that you’ve gone and won yourself a bride. Though if I give you a horse now, it looks like I’d have to give you a pair, since you’ll soon be shackled.”

Henry turned to Camden, his tone firm. “Camden, enough.”

But the damage was done. Lily’s eyes narrowed, her expression growing guarded as she took a step back. “A wager?” she repeated, her tone brittle with disbelief. “Was that what all this was?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Henry insisted, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away. “Lily, please. It’s not what you think.”

She shook her head. Her gaze hardened with hurt. “That doesn’t answer my question, Lord Brinton.” Her voice was quiet and unnaturally even. She took another step back, her face a mask of betrayal. “You let me believe that what we had was real, that you loved me.”

“Lily,” he whispered, the pain in her eyes tearing at him. He turned back to Camden, whose face had fallen as the full weight of his words struck him.

“It’s Miss Ashworth. If you’ll excuse me,” Lily said, her voice tight as she turned on her heel and hurried from the room.

“Lily, wait!” Henry called, rushing after her. He wove through the guests, his heart pounding as he watched her retreat, her form slipping through the doorway and into the corridor beyond.

He caught up with her near the grand staircase, his hand reaching out. “Please, Lily, give me a chance to explain. It wasn’t what it seems.”

She stopped, turning to face him, her eyes blazing. “Then tell me, Henry. Tell me that you didn’t wager on me, that I wasn’t just another game.”

He opened his mouth, but the words faltered. “At first, it may have been something like that. But everything changed, Lily. I fell in love with you. I wanted nothing but to win your heart.”

She laughed bitterly, her voice tight with anger. “And you thought that would excuse it? That I should overlook the fact that my worth was some gentleman’s wager?”

She continued forward, almost to her bedchamber. He followed after her, catching up to her in a few strides.

“No, it’s not like that. I called it off as soon as I knew it was wrong.” He reached out to her and touched her shoulder, but she shrugged his hand away.

She turned briefly toward him and shook her head, the hurt in her eyes making his chest ache. “You’re a fraud, and I am a fool for ever believing you. Please, just leave me alone.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and slipped into her room, the door closing with a sharp finality that echoed in the empty corridor.

Henry stood just outside Lily’s door, his forehead resting against the cool wood, his hand clenched into a fist that he could barely bring himself to lower. He rapped softly, his voice barely a whisper, but his heart pounded with the hope that she might hear him out.

"Lily," he began, waiting for any sound of movement from inside, any sign she was listening. Nothing. Only silence.

He cleared his throat, his hand resting against the door. “Please, just give me a moment to explain.”

Silence.

He took a breath, steadying himself, and continued. “It’s true that there was a wager. It’s a foolish tradition among us—that each Christmas, we place bets on some lighthearted game, something that seems harmless. I thought it would be the same this year. But, Lily, you have to understand, I’ve never treated these games seriously. And I’ve never stolen a kiss, only shared them.”

Through the door, he heard her voice, strained and unsteady. “And what happens when the game ends, Lord Brinton? When the thrill wears off, and I’m left with nothing but regrets?”

“No,” he said quickly, pressing his hand against the door, as if the touch alone might reach her. “No, that’s where you’re wrong. Because every bit of time I spent with you, every conversation, every dance, every moment only made me want to be with you more, not less. There was nothing fleeting about it. It was—” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “It was something I hadn’t felt before. A kind of connection I’d given up on believing in.”

She was quiet again, but he could hear the faint rustle of movement, her presence just inches away on the other side of the door.

“Then why did you wait until now to tell me?” she asked, her voice low, almost breaking.

He swallowed, his throat tight. “Because it took me longer than it should have to realize what a fool I’d been. The night we kissed under the mistletoe, I couldn’t count that as part of the wager. I went straight to Camden and told him I wanted out. I offered to pay the forfeit price. I would’ve done it again if it meant I could start with you without any shadow of that wager hanging over us.”

“But you’d already won before you approached Camden, hadn’t you?” Her voice held a sharpness, a wounded edge.

“No, Lily.” He took a breath, his heart pounding. “You kissed me first.”

“And you kissed me back,” she countered, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yes,” he admitted, a faint smile flickering through his sorrow. “Yes, I did.”

“So you won.”

“No. It wasn’t about the wager. I wanted that kiss to mean something real. I couldn’t stand the thought that it might only be seen as part of some game. That’s why I called off the wager. I wanted everything between us to be untainted.”

There was a long silence, and he waited, feeling as though he were balanced on the edge of a precipice. Finally, he spoke again, his voice breaking with emotion. “I know I’ve hurt you, Lily, and I know it’s a pain I can’t undo. But please believe me when I say I am sorry. I never wanted to deceive you.”

He held his breath, waiting for a reply, but none came. His heart sank, and he knew that no words would bridge the silence she held so firmly. Defeated, he turned away, leaving her behind, and walked back down the quiet hall to his room, the heavy weight of regret pressing down on him with every step.

Once inside, he slumped into the chair by his desk, the room silent but for the faint crackle of the fire. He sat there for a long time, staring into the flames, thinking over every moment, every misstep, wondering where he’d gone wrong, and how he could ever make things right.

After what felt like hours, he rose abruptly, his frustration channeled into motion as he pulled a sheet of paper toward him and dipped his quill in ink. He needed to think clearly, to do something. Perhaps if he wrote down his thoughts, his next steps would come into sharper focus. He pressed the nib of the pen to the page and began to write, the words coming slowly at first but then spilling forth as he sought some way, any way, to reach her heart again.