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

Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

H enry sat at the long, polished counter of the village inn, pushing his stew around his bowl, his appetite lost somewhere back at Wintervale. The inn was quiet at this hour, with only a handful of patrons scattered around.

The crackling fire offered the only warmth, but nothing seemed to thaw the chill of regret sitting heavy in his chest. He took a sip of his drink, wishing he could drown his frustration in something stronger than ale.

Just as he was preparing to push the bowl aside and head up to his room to sulk in private, the door to the inn swung open and a familiar figure strode in. Henry didn’t need to look to know who it was; the purposeful steps and slight swagger were all too recognizable.

“Camden,” he muttered as his friend came to sit beside him. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Camden, entirely unbothered, ordered himself a drink and turned to Henry with a sly grin. “I think you and I have a little something to settle.”

“If it’s about the pistols,” Henry said curtly, “I’ll send them to you as soon as I’m back. Don’t worry, they’ll be properly packed and shipped.” He couldn’t bring himself to look Camden in the eye.

Camden chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “The pistols, you say? Ah, yes. Fine weapons, indeed. That is a fine place to start the conversation.” He leaned back, crossing his arms in a gesture that Henry knew well—it meant Camden had come with something specific to say and wasn’t going to leave without saying it.

Henry gritted his teeth. “Very well. What is it, Camden?”

Camden raised his glass with a small smirk. “I happen to have it on good authority that you didn’t lose the wager after all. In fact, it seems you won it quite handily.”

Henry paused, his jaw clenched. “Who told you that?”

“Miss Ashworth herself,” Camden replied, raising an eyebrow. “Now, I may be a rogue, but even I can’t in good conscience keep a wagered prize that’s been honorably won. Sometime in the spring, we’ll have to settle on a horse of your choosing, my friend.”

“You’re misinformed,” Henry said sharply, turning his gaze back to his stew.

Camden gave him an incredulous look. “Are you calling Miss Ashworth a liar?”

Henry didn’t answer immediately, instead he jabbed at a potato with his spoon, finding the right words. “No. She just doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

A quiet, confident voice cut through the room, sending a shiver down his spine. “I beg your pardon, Lord Brinton. I believe I do know precisely what I’m talking about.”

He looked up to see Lily standing at the inn’s entrance, her cheeks flushed from the cold and her eyes sparking with a fire that was as familiar as it was dangerously captivating. How long had she been there? Likely since Camden had come in and sat next to him, his view being blocked by him.

Lily strode across the room toward him, pausing beside his chair, her chin held high.

Henry felt his chest tighten as he took her in, her beauty magnified by the quiet determination in her gaze, by the way she faced him without an ounce of hesitation. She was, he realized anew, everything he’d ever wanted and more.

“Lily,” he murmured, finding himself at a loss for words.

Lily lifted her chin, her voice steady. “You admitted that you didn’t call off the wager until after I kissed you.”

Henry sighed, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair. “Yes, but you kissed me, so it doesn’t count. That wasn’t my doing.”

Her eyes narrowed, though there was a glint of amusement. “And yet, if I remember correctly, you did, in fact, kiss me back.”

Camden got up, hands raised, in a show of surrender. “I think I’ll leave you two to … sort this out among yourselves.” With a wink, he turned toward Henry. “Let me know if it’s one horse or two. I’m always happy to oblige the future Lady Brinton with a gift from my stables.” He left with a grin, leaving them standing alone in the now-empty inn.

As soon as he was gone, Henry exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly as he looked at Lily, who stood before him with an unreadable expression.

“You shouldn’t have told him,” he murmured.

“Why not?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s the truth, after all.”

“Because it cheapens it,” he said softly, his gaze holding hers. “What we shared that night, to have it wrapped up in some foolish wager.” He shook his head.

Lily regarded him for a moment, her expression softening. “I don’t think it cheapens anything. I think it explains why you acted as you did.” She took a step closer, her voice lowering, almost as if she feared breaking the fragile silence between them. “But you called it off because of me. That means something.”

He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. “Why are you here, Lily?”

She crossed her arms, though the corners of her mouth curved up slightly. “I could ask you the same question, Henry. After all, I thought you had come here to hide away from me.”

He looked down, a faint flush rising in his cheeks. “I didn’t want to be the reason you had a perpetual headache and felt like hiding away for the rest of the house party.”

A smile danced on her lips. “As you can plainly see, my headache has mostly faded.”

Henry took a tentative step closer, heart pounding as he searched her face for any sign of the lingering anger he had feared. Instead, he saw something softer, more forgiving, a warmth that filled him with hope.

“Those notes you sent,” she said softly. “They were very kind. Thoughtful, really.” She paused, her eyes holding his. “I’ve never had someone notice me like that before.”

A flicker of relief softened his expression, and he reached out, gently taking her hand. “I’m sorry, Lily. I never meant to hurt you. I was a fool to make the wager at all, but from the moment I truly saw you, I knew you were so much more than any game or wager. You deserve better, and I promise I’ll do everything to be worthy of you.”

She searched his eyes, her gaze tender. “Thank you. I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too, for jumping to conclusions and not trusting you.”

A wave of gratitude washed over him as she forgave him, and he could hold back no longer. He reached out, pulling her gently into his arms, and, as he had dreamed so many times in the last few days, his lips found hers in a soft, lingering kiss that tasted of new beginnings.

She melted into him, her arms slipping around his neck, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. The warmth of her, the sweetness of her touch, filled every empty corner of his heart, and he felt as though he had finally come home.

When they pulled away, both of them breathless, he held her close, his forehead resting gently against hers. “Lily, will you still marry me, even though I don’t deserve you?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion, his hand reaching up to cup her face.

Her answer was a radiant smile, her eyes shining with joy. “You do deserve me, and yes, Henry. I will marry you.”

They shared another kiss, laughter mingling with their happiness as they realized they were standing in the middle of a quiet inn, oblivious to the world around them. But when they looked up, they saw a sprig of mistletoe hanging above them, its leaves a perfect excuse for one more kiss.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It seems fate has quite the sense of timing.”

“Perhaps it does,” she whispered, pulling him close once more as their lips met beneath the mistletoe, sealing their promise to each other with a kiss that spoke of love, trust, and all the joy yet to come.