Wicked Wager Read Excerpt

Chapter 1

     It was like taking candy from a baby.  Marcus Revington fought to conceal his scorn as he regarded his opponent across the card table.  How many times had he seen this scene re-enacted?   The arrogant young sharp decides to take on a real gamester, and the fool discovers there's more to winning than luck.

     Marcus had disillusioned a few budding high-flyers in his day, but he knew he’d find this fleecing especially gratifying.  He didn't like Adrian Withersby.  His bright blue eyes seemed cunning and sly.  With his apple green jacket and yellow waistcoat, his blond hair arranged in a perfect Brutus, the young man likely imagined himself a pink of the ton.  It was going to be a real pleasure to set-down this arrogant coxcomb.

     The seeds of Withersby’s destruction were already planted.  The young dandy was currently behind by three games and two rubbers, and the baize table was already littered with gambling vowels.   Picquet was a game of skill as well as luck, and Withersby, who was careless in his discards and seemed to have a poor notion of figuring the odds, was not an adept player. 

     "Capot," Marcus said as he won the final trick.

      Sir James Ludingham, seated to Marcus's right, marked down the points.  "Revington takes the rubber." he announced.  "Do you want to continue?" 

      A hard look came over Withersby's face as he observed the extent of his debt.  "I'm not that badly dipped."

     "What will you wager?" James asked.  "I don't think Revington should accept any more vowels."

     "My luck will turn," Withersby muttered.  "I know it will."

     "Your wager, sir?" Marcus asked.

     A shrewd look gleamed in Withersby's eyes.  "I have property in Hampshire."

     James pushed a piece of parchment and quill pen in front of him. "Write down the name of the estate, sir, and make your mark."

     Withersby glared at Marcus.  "Do you always have your solicitor at hand?"

     Marcus smiled blandly.  "Ludingham is a friend.  I'm certain you'll abide by any promise you make, whether in writing or not."

     Withersby signed with a flourish.  "Let us resume play."

     For a short while, it appeared Withersby's luck had turned.  He won three games to Marcus's one and took the rubber.  Gloating, he poured himself a brandy and took a deep draught.        

     Then Marcus' steady skill again took its toll.  When he'd won two games in a row, he said, "Perhaps we should call it a night, Withersby.  Say this rubber is a draw.  You honor your vowels, but keep the property."

     As Withersby gazed at the pile of parchment on the table, Marcus watched him with interest.  He was offering his opponent an opportunity to walk away with some of his fortune, and his dignity, intact.  But he had no illusions that the puffed-up young fellow would avail himself of his generosity.

      As he expected, Withersby's face grew hard with contempt.  "Coward!" he flung at Marcus.  "You're afraid I've mastered the game!  You've no right to deprive me of the chance to best you!"

     "Don't be a fool," James said.  "He's showing you mercy."

     "I won't go down like this."  Withersby glared at Marcus. "Either we continue to play, or I'll call you out."

     Suppressing his disgust, Marcus shrugged.   "As you wish."

      It seemed as if fate were punishing Withersby, for the next deal went against him.  As Marcus scored carte blanc, then quinte in points, the younger man's disdainful facade began to crack.   His blue eyes grew hunted, and he tugged nervously at his cravat, ruining its perfect folds.

     "Pic," Marcus said as he scored heavily in the first tricks. 

     Withersby gazed at his hand, then threw his cards on the table in disgust.

     "Do want to continue?" Marcus asked.  "Have you something else you wish to wager?"

     Withersby shook his head, glowering. 

     "Well, then."  Marcus stood and flexed his shoulders.  "Let's call it a night.  I'll have my solicitor be in touch with you regarding the transfer of the estate deed and payment on the other notes."

     Withersby rose slowly.  Beads of sweat glittered on his forehead beneath his upswept hair.  "It's not so tidy as that.  Although I control Horngate, the estate doesn't actually belong to me.  I merely act as guardian."

     James grabbed up the note Withersby had signed and thrust it out.  "Your signature is here, sir!  If you did not have the right to the wager the property, you should not have signed this!"

     Marcus stiffened.  Was he going to have to challenge the bastard?  Although he had no taste for dueling, he wasn’t about to let Withersby cheat him out of what he'd fairly won.

     "Of course, I have the right to wager the property!" Withersby insisted.  "I've been responsible for the estate for the past five years.  I ought to get something for my trouble."  He met Marcus's gaze evenly.  "The property is yours, sir, if you're willing to marry the heiress of the estate--my cousin and ward."

      Marry!  Marcus knew a moment of shock, but quickly recovered.  Withersby didn't think he'd call the bluff.  Well, the fool was about discover exactly how seriously he took debts owed him.  "A minor stipulation," he said in an unruffled voice.  "Provided the woman agrees.  If she doesn't, I will call you out for trying to cheat me out of my fairly won winnings."

     Withersby gaped at him.  "You'd marry a woman, sight unseen, merely to collect a gambling debt?"

     "Why not?  Once I take control of the property, I won't have to have any future dealings with her.  It will be a marriage in name only."

     Withersby didn’t react, but James gasped in outrage.  "Marcus, you can’t mean that!   Withersby here has no right to offer his cousin as if she were piece of livestock that came with the estate.  The woman surely has some say in this matter!"  He glared at Withersby.  "Sir, how can you be certain she'll agree to this sham of a marriage?"

     Withersby looked nonplussed, but his voice when he answered was as defiant as ever.  "My cousin will do as I tell her." 

      James turned back to Marcus.  "I must advise you not to go through with this.  It's a very crude, ungentlemanly arrangement.  No decent man would consider it."

     "Maybe I'm not decent," Marcus answered.  He'd made up his mind.  Withersby thought he had him cleverly trapped.  Well, the budding gamester was about to discover what it meant to get in too deep with Marcus Revington! 

     He met Withersby's gaze with calm implacability.  "I'll need directions to the estate.  I mean to waste no time in taking possession of my property."

     Withersby's mouth twisted.  "You're a contemptible blackguard, Revington.  You'll be cut everywhere once the word gets out that you've taken a woman to wife as payment for a gambling debt."

     "My behavior is no more reprehensible than yours.  How dare you make a wager that you believe can't be collected?" 

     He saw a hint of fear in the young man's eyes, then the disdainful look returned. "You're collecting it, aren't you, Revington?  That makes you more of a scoundrel than me!"  Withersby started for the door.  "I'll take my leave now.  I wish you every pleasure of married life," he added sourly.

     "Here, now."  James started after him.  "We still need directions to the estate.  And then there is the matter of the property deed."

     "You may see my solicitor for that," Withersby said over his shoulder. 

     As Withersby's footsteps echoed down the stairs of the gaming house, James returned to the card table and sat down heavily.  "Well, I never...in all my days...have you ever seen a gentlemen behave in such mean, underhanded fashion?"

     Marcus's lip curled.  "Gentleman?  Withersby's no gentleman.  That scheming weasel didn't even have the decency to tell me his cousin's name."

     "Her name?  You don't mean...you can't truly have any intention of pursuing this thing."

     "Of course, I do.  I've said as much."

     "But..I...I thought you were bluffing!" 

     "You should have learned by now, James.  I don't bluff, except at cards."

     "But how can you think to take advantage of an innocent young woman?"

     "What makes you think she's innocent?  With a wretch like that for a cousin, she may be the most cunning and unprincipled of creatures."

     "All the more reason not to take her to wife!" 

     "See here, James.  Who are you worried for, her or me?"

     "Well...I...both of you!  You've never even met the woman, and now you mean to bind yourself to her for life.  This sort of cold, emotionless transaction might be appropriate if we were talking about horses or hunting hounds, but...do you really mean to wed this woman sight unseen?"

    "I've said I will."

    "But what about fondness?  Affection?"

    " I fail to see how this is any different from the usual society marriage.  Just because the woman's mama didn't bring her to London and parade her before the rich lords in attendance at Almack's doesn’t make the arrangement any more shamelessly mercenary than most marriages among the ton."

     "If she’d come out during the Season, she would have had a chance to meet you and form an opinion of you as a potential mate."

     “Do you think she'll find me displeasing?" 

     James stared at Marcus a moment, then said, "Well, you are a handsome devil, I’ll give you that.  But if the woman in question were my relative, I would be very disinclined to have her marry you."

     "Why?"

     "Because you're a..."  James cleared his throat.  "...you spend all your time in gaming hells and men's clubs.  Because you haven't been seen in the company of a decent woman in years.  You're what the ladies call a rake, a hellion."

     "And that disqualifies me as a desirable husband?"  Marcus shot his friend an ironic smile.

     The solicitor shook his head, apparently deciding to abandon that argument.  "Even so," he persisted, "There's the matter of your reputation.  If the circumstances of this marriage are talked around, it's bound to cause something of a scandal."

     "You think I give a damn what the ton thinks of me?"  Marcus paced across the room as the familiar resentment welled up.  "I'm the younger son, not the future viscount.  I'm never going to matter in society.  What position I have is based solely on the wealth I've won for myself in the gambling houses, won through skill and nerve and dashed hard work.  Which is exactly why I'm going to marry this woman.  I want my opponents to know that I take wagers seriously."

     "What if she won't have you?" 

     A tiny doubt blossomed in Marcus's mind.  Withersby might have the power to coerce his cousin into marrying him, but did he really want to wed a woman against her will?  

     But that was exactly what Withersby obviously counted on.  If Marcus declined the marriage in order to spare the woman's feelings, Withersby would have won.

     "If the woman refuses me, then it's his problem."

     James sat back in his chair, looking defeated.  Marcus paced across the room and wondered how far the estate was from London.  Now that Withersby had entangled him in this unsavory business, he wanted to finish it as soon as possible.  "Tomorrow, you will contact Withersby's solicitor.  Find out the location of the property and anything you can about the woman.  Then you'll need to procure a special license, so the marriage can take place as soon as we obtain the woman's agreement."

     "If I had any moral principles, I'd refuse to help you," James said gloomily.

     Marcus smiled at him.  "You know very well that even if you decline to be part of it, I'll still go through with my plans.  This way you can make sure certain everything is done properly and as befits a transaction between gentlemen." 

     "Gentlemen do not barter off their female relatives to settle gambling debts."  James’ gaze met Marcus's.  "Nor do gentlemen acquire wives simply to enrich themselves."

     Marcus felt the familiar bitterness.  "Maybe I'm not a gentleman.  That possibility has been suggested to me on several occasions, usually by women who can no longer convince me to satisfy their whims, or men who have come out badly after a night of gaming.  I don't allow such accusations to trouble me."  He gave his friend a grim smile.  "There are advantages to being a cold-hearted devil."