The Double Wager by Mary Balogh Page A

Oliver?” she said amiably. “But keep in mind that Marius as an enraged husband might be a trifle dangerous. There is no dueling weapon at which he is not adept.”
    “It might be worth the risk, though, ” he said, the sneer curling his lip again. “Do you not agree, Suzanne?”
    “Why do you tell me this, Oliver?” she asked.
    He shrugged. “I thought you might like to know that all is not lost,” he said. “And if you could contrive to continue your liaison with Marius, we might make mischief out of it.”
    She smiled briefly and rose to move away to join a different group. “It would be a pleasure,” she said with double meaning.
    * * *
    And so the wedding took place, three weeks after the betrothal announcement, in St. George’s, Hanover Square. Three hundred hastily invited guests attended and feasted at a large and lavish reception.
    Finally, the Duke and Duchess of Eversleigh were alone in his town house, the pair of wagers won. They were to spend the wedding night in London and set out for a two-week wedding trip to Paris the next day.

 
    CHAPTER 5
    H enry was alone in her bedchamber. Until now Betty, the new maid allotted to her in her new home, had been in the room, helping her to undress and bathe, assisting her into a new white silk nightdress, and brushing her curls until they were dry and bouncy. Henry had been too busy talking to Betty and finding out about her family and her young man (his Grace s most junior footman) to really examine her new living quarters. Now she looked around her at the high ceiling, the tapestried walls with their delicate blue floral print, the pale-blue carpet underfoot, the royal-blue velvet hangings at the window and draped around the high four-poster bed, and the magnificent heavy furnishings.
    She felt as if she were being royally treated, though she could still not believe that she was now a duchess. She certainly did not feel any different. All the events of the previous three weeks were a blur in her mind. They had been filled with a whirl of visits, shopping expeditions, and fittings. Every day she told herself that the next day she would end the betrothal. She had never really believed that she would allow the ceremony to go forward. But each day she had postponed the embarrassing announcement. Sometimes it was because the twins or Miss Manford or the pets were being poorly treated again; more often, it was because she became paralyzed with a kind of terror when in Eversleigh’s presence.
    She had seen him almost every day during those weeks. She had gone driving with him, or he had escorted her to the theater, or he had been a dinner guest. But she felt no closer to knowing him. He held himself aloof and dignified. He never laughed or smiled. There was only that occasional gleam in his eyes that might have been a sign of humor, or that might have signaled contempt. His conversation was intelligent and pleasant, but he never revealed anything of himself. If any talk became too personal, he would turn the topic expertly with a comment that might or might not be a joke. It was so hard to tell.
    Henry sighed as she stared at a Chinese screen spread out before the unlit fireplace in her bedchamber. And now Eversleigh was her husband. What would it be like to be his wife? Would she find it impossible ever to be free again? She had an uncomfortable feeling that if he set himself against the activities that she enjoyed—like riding, for instance—she would not be able to win a fight against him. Well, today at least was over, she reflected cheerfully, and tomorrow they would be on their way to the Continent.
    The door of the dressing room that adjoined her bedchamber and the duke’s opened after a light tap, and Eversleigh entered the room.
    Henry’s eyes opened wide with surprise and apprehension. “Good evening, your Grace,” she said formally. “What do you want?” Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast as she noticed that he was wearing a blue satin