The Wagered Wife Read Free

to Trevor that, had he not imbibed from the bottle quite so freely, he might be less frank about the state of his finances.
    Fiske gave him a speculative look. “Sure you will not go one more hand?”
    â€œSir, I’ve nothing of value left to wager.”
    â€œOh, I would not say that,” Fiske suggested in soft innuendo.
    â€œI shall redeem those when I have my quarterly allowance.” Trevor pointed at an appalling stack of IOUs. Though how on earth I will meet any other obligations is beyond me, he thought. How on earth — or why — had he allowed himself to get in so deep? Oh, God, Terrence, I needed you this night. He looked over at Fitz, who seemed to give him a look of sympathy.
    â€œI should be glad to give you a chance to redeem them now, Jeffries.” Fiske calmly shuffled and reshuffled the cards.
    â€œYou do not understand. My pockets are to let. I have nothing left to wager.”
    â€œOh, but you have.”
    Trevor gave a short, scornful laugh. “I have no idea what it would be.”
    â€œYou. Or more to the point, your name.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Trevor looked from the baron’s beady eyes to Fitz, who shrugged and looked away. Others seemed to tense with anticipation.
    â€œIt is my intent, young man, to make you a wager you cannot refuse,” Fiske said.
    â€œYou are free to try.” Trevor was both curious and disinterested. He knew he should get up and leave, but he sat and took yet another sip of brandy.
    â€œI propose we play one more hand,” the older man said. “If you win, I will turn over all your vowels of indebtedness to you.”
    â€œGo for it, Jeffries,” a voice on the sidelines said. “You’ve had three devilish bad hands in a row. Next one has to be a winner.”
    â€œEasy for you to say,” another voice said, but Trevor was looking at Baron Fiske.
    â€œAnd if I lose?”
    â€œIf you lose,” the baron replied, “I will still turn them over to you.” He paused as others leaned in closer. “But—you will marry my ward—my wife’s niece—before the week is out.”
    There were several gasps, but no one said anything, waiting for Trevor’s response.
    â€œRidiculous. Impossible.” Trevor started to rise.
    â€œNow just hold on, son. I think tonight’s losses along with those from previous sessions amount to a good deal more than a quarter’s allowance—even for one of Wyndham’s sons.”
    â€œSo? You know I will honor my debts.”
    â€œBut I should like them settled sooner than later, you see.” Fiske squinted his little pig eyes at Trevor in a cold look. “I should hate to have to approach your father . . .”
    Trevor felt his stomach knot up. The last time his father had bailed him and Terrence out of a scrape, the earl had cast him a glare that made the baron’s frigid look seem positively tropical by comparison. And then had come the humiliating lecture, telling them precisely how worthless his younger sons were. And this situation was worse by far.
    He returned the baron’s stare. “Win or lose, the debts are cleared, right?”
    Fiske smiled mechanically. “Right.”
    â€œDon’t do it, Trev,” someone said.
    The baron turned a malevolent eye on the speaker. “This is none of your concern, young man.”
    â€œAt least get a new deck,” another voice said. “For luck.”
    â€œAn’ let Fitz deal,” the same voice added.
    â€œAll right by me,” the baron said. “You?” he asked. Trevor shrugged his acquiescence.
    The new deck was called for, and silence weighed heavily until it arrived. Lord Fitzwilliam shuffled the cards thoroughly and offered them to Trevor to cut. He dealt the two hands and waited. There was none of the usual betting—after all, there was only one wager on the table. My life, Trevor thought ruefully.
    Trevor