An Inadvisable Wager (The Curse of the Weatherby Ball Book 2) by Eliza Lloyd (the best novels to read txt) 📕

wasn’t exactly true. Even Nora would admit she had pursued him for just this reason. She would get what she asked for. And how he hated that he would be the person to break her heart all over again.

He wondered at the men in Dorset. One of them could have alleviated her grief by courting her, persuading her to marry and then have children upon whom she could pour her love. Maybe she could have forgotten all about George Blasington’s failed legacy.

Perhaps Lady Fortenay had something to do with that. She was part of a literary society that had taken London by storm some decades ago. The ideas weren’t so much against societal norms but in intellectual pursuits. No, she would not have discouraged Nora from marrying—it was too important to a woman’s security.

And here he was. Alone on his wedding night. A beautiful and desirable wife alone and angry in bed, in another room.

The next few days would be spent in lifting her spirits with the application of generous bribes. Things a woman would enjoy.

Things he would enjoy doing for his new wife.

* * * * *

If Nora were at Henbury Hall, she would be the lady of the house. Instead, she felt compelled to stay in her room for fear of bumping into Carlow’s mother. Or Carlow himself.

After her deceptions, so common to the Blasingtons, Nora was perfectly willing to hide her dishonor behind a locked door, at least until the kerfuffle of their marriage had settled.

She spent yesterday mostly alone except for Molly, her lady’s maid, along with a servant who brought food when Nora called. She’d slept an inordinate amount of time, causing her to wake near four the following morning.

Tiptoeing out of her room, her robe tightly belted and her slippers warm, she walked around the house, stopping here and there to admire a statue, touch the binding of a book and enjoy the view of the rose garden with the moon shining fully upon it.

Before she could get back to her room, Nora heard another pattering through the house. She peeked out the door of the library to see Carlow’s mother, already dressed for the morning, heading toward the kitchen. Nora waited for the creak of the door before she bolted to the stairs, hurried up and secured the bedroom portal behind her.

Nora leaned against the back of the wood panel, breathing hard. She placed a hand against her mouth as a burst of laughter welled up. Sneaking around a house that was now her domain!

The dowager countess had the right idea for an early trip to the kitchen. Nora’s stomach growled. A platter with some simple fare would be most welcome. She glanced at the red braided pull cord and decided she could wait another hour or so. Instead, she went to the remains of last night’s tray and nibbled at a piece of bread.

Then, she crawled back into Carlow’s wide bed, the scent of him lingering even though the sheets were fresh, pressed with fine lines. She would move to her room tonight. She supposed Carlow was making a gesture, though last night she’d had the thought he might knock on her door and assert his husbandly rights.

She hadn’t locked the doors.

Nora had already decided she wouldn’t deny him. When the three months ended, she would have given him no excuses to deny their agreement and Henbury Hall would be hers. She could hear Lady Fortenay remind her that agreements must be in writing.

For the thousandth time, she wondered why Henbury Hall wasn’t entailed. It could have been saved, untouchable for any reason. Whose error was it?

At six, there was a knock on her door. Nora jumped from bed and hurried to open it, peeking out to see her husband, ready for the day. The scent of baking bread had been wafting upward for the past hour, and she could already taste the sweet smoothness of fresh butter and farm honey.

“Lady Carlow. Your breakfast.” Carlow held the tray with casual ease. He was dressed as any gentleman of the town, ready for riding it would appear.

She gripped the edges of her robe and retied it quickly. “Good morning,” she said.

“You look ravishing. Was your first night of being my wife fulfilling in every way? You were taken care of?”

Nora touched her hair, knowing it was a horrid mess. That was just how she woke every morning. “Yes. I slept, mostly.”

He pushed past her. “Come join me at the table, dear. I wish to discuss our day together.” He lowered the tray on the table, pulled out her chair and then began to place the breakfast dishes within reach. Then he waited.

“Really, Carlow. I don’t need anything,” she said.

“Except Henbury Hall,” he quipped. “Are you going to spend the entire three months locked up? You aren’t in prison.”

She found her chair, as did Carlow, and reached for the warm bread for which she had been salivating. She leaned over and smelled the aroma of the fit-for-a-king breakfast. All that she could desire. Fresh and hot. She buttered the bread and drizzled the honey across it, thinking how she could answer such a statement.

After the first bite, she asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“We will ride in the Park this morning. I’d like to leave at seven. We’ll have morning tea with Mother around nine. At eleven we are going over to Bond Street. That part is a surprise. After we return, we’ll rest before lunch, at which Ellis Rawden and Nash Hildebrande will join us. I’ve also invited your brother and the Reverend Wright, though I haven’t heard from them yet. At seven, we’ll attend a concert at the Park near the Stanhope Gate. An orchestra from Wales. We return home, dress for the Exeter’s grand ball and enjoy another fabulous evening. By