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

choose them. And it wouldn’t be because I didn’t want to stand by you, but there is no loyalty or love between us. Every time I think we are making progress, you place another chip on your shoulder, daring someone to knock it off.

“I want to be around my friends, enjoy shared passions. It may be asking too much, but I also want you to enjoy time with them. Eventually. For now, being polite will be sufficient. They will be married someday. I can’t have their wives feeling awkward when they are with us. And I can’t keep digging for truths that don’t exist. I wouldn’t do it for my father, and I won’t do it for you. I’d be doing you a disservice to keep this futile dream you have alive. You have Henbury Hall. The family mines are gone. Whatever lineage your family horses had has been diluted. Let us move on with those truths,” he said.

Nora placed both hands over her face and rubbed at her eyes.

“And if you insist, I will facilitate a transfer deed to you for Henbury Hall this week, along with making an inquiry with my solicitor about a dissolution of our marriage.”

She gasped. “Carlow, that is not what I want!”

“Do you know what you want?”

She got to her feet and walked to the sidebar, pouring a drink and swallowing all the liquid in a quick gulp. She coughed and, with a shaking hand, poured another glassful. The bottle clinked against the rim of the crystal a couple times.

“I would ask that you reconsider. I’ve done something foolish. I’m sorry. I would go to any length to know the truth of what happened with my father, but I find that I have a line that I can no longer cross. I do not want to hurt you in any way. I don’t want to tarnish your reputation or hurt your friends or cause you distress other than what a normal marriage might.” She swallowed the second glass. Was she drinking whisky as if it were a fall cider ale? He’d not known her to be especially fond of strong liquor. She turned to him. Tears gleamed silver down her face.

“Nora, sit down. I have something I need to tell you.”

“Carlow, no. You can’t mean it. As you said, we are married now. Nothing can change that.”

“I want to talk to you about Henbury Hall. And what has happened to it.”

She gathered her robe together and hurried to the table in front of him, sitting on the edge of it, her knees next to his, she looked up at him. “What do you mean?” she asked quietly.

“Many years ago, my father lost his mental capabilities, and he went a little mad.”

“You told me.”

“What I didn’t tell you was the reason for insanity. He had heard rumors about a treasure your father had left behind. Somewhere on the estate.”

“But that’s not true.”

“My father believed it was. And he looked for it in every room and outbuilding. In every wall and floor. In ceilings and cellars. In short, he tore Henbury Hall and its surrounds to shreds. The home was nearly derelict when my father died.”

She sat quietly and lowered her head. “It’s gone?” She swiped the back of her hand over her cheek.

“Not gone. Severely damaged. After my father died, I hired laborers to complete the needed repairs so that I could sell the estate, but it has been a long, arduous project and we are nowhere near complete.”

“Oh. I see.” She sniffed, but she had no questions to accuse or condemn him.

“Nora, go to bed. We’ll leave for Henbury in the morning. We can make decisions then.”

She stared at him for a moment before turning toward the door.

“Nora?” Gabriel didn’t feel any relief in the confession.

“Yes?”

He’d had too much to drink at the Talbots’ ball. Truth could be hard, but he could have presented it in a kinder way. “Whatever happens, I will take care of you and Timothy and Lord and Lady Fortenay. You mustn’t worry about that, at least.”

* * * * *

“Don’t forget your mother’s diary,” he said. Nora glanced at him, all darkness in the middle of the night. She’d left the book on the table, reading it while Carlow was at the Talbots’ ball.

“I finished it earlier. You can burn it, if you wish.”

“Did you learn anything that might aid in your quest?”

“Do you honestly care?”

“At the moment, more than you might think.”

“What I learned isn’t fit for consumption. It will only confirm your worst fears about our family, and I don’t really want to add fuel to that fire. Not now. Not when we…”

She couldn’t say anything else. Tears leaked from her eyes, and there didn’t seem to be a way to stop them, except in her bed by crying herself to sleep. She thought Carlow was the only person who understood her mission, aside from Timothy. But her pursuit—the way she had pursued it—had only chaffed, rubbing raw already tenuous bonds. And now, with this revelation, the entire endeavor was for naught.

The path had been so clear. The plan so deceptively delicious. The revenge glorious. Except now she loved him and everything she did to achieve her ends only pushed him a little bit further away. She would lose Carlow along with Henbury Hall.

And there was no new truth to be found. Bits and pieces of the story were known to all.

“It was a boy,” she said. “The baby was Papa’s, according to Mother’s written words. I had a little brother and didn’t even know it.” Carlow’s brows winged. “I’m not going to question her word on this. It was enough that she tried to protect the Blasington name, in the end.”

“What happened?” he asked, sympathy soft in his