CHAPTER 2 WAGER OF AFFECTATIONS #2
“I warned him. Repeatedly. I calculated the odds for him, showed him explicitly that it was a fool’s wager. He insisted. Something about one good win restoring everything Providence had taken from him.”
“He had just lost his wife.” Each word emerged from Darcy as if painful to produce. “He was drowning his grief in brandy and cards. No gentleman would have accepted such a wager.”
“And yet, I did.” Papa’s usually pleasant tone had turned hard, colder. “I admit to winning thirty thousand pounds from William Darcy in a game of chance.”
“You should have had a conscience!”
“Conscience?” Her father’s voice held amusement. “Surely you don’t expect me to protect grown men from their own poor decisions?”
“I expect you,” Darcy said, biting off each word, “to return what you took from a man in no state to lose it. On moral grounds.”
“Surely, you jest.” Her father sounded genuinely surprised.
“The wager was legal, witnessed by three gentlemen of good standing. Your father signed the note willingly. Tell me, Mr. Darcy, where precisely does morality require me to impoverish myself because another man made foolish decisions while grieving his wife?”
The scrape of boots on floorboards. “If you will not return it honorably, then I demand satisfaction. Name your seconds.”
Elizabeth’s heart seized. A duel? He was challenging her father to a duel? Her father could be killed! She shifted forward, almost giving herself away, then froze as her father laughed.
“A duel? Over money I won fairly? My dear boy, that’s not how duels work.
” The amusement in her father’s voice was evident.
“Even if you killed me, you shall not inherit the funds, more likely the gallows. And killing a country gentleman over a legal card game would make for an unfortunate scandal. Would Georgiana appreciate that addition to her Season?”
Elizabeth heard the trap in her father’s words—mentioning Georgiana by name. Establishing that he knew things about Darcy’s family, perhaps even things Darcy didn’t realize were known.
“You have no right to speak her name.” Darcy’s voice shook. “You took thirty thousand pounds—her entire dowry. The money was never meant for gaming. It was held in trust.”
“A trust your father breached. I cannot be held responsible for William Darcy’s failure as a trustee.”
“No,” Darcy said, his voice dropping to a register that sent another, different kind of shiver through Elizabeth. “But you can be held responsible for your actions as a man of honor—if indeed you are one.”
“Honor. Such a flexible concept, particularly when thirty thousand pounds hangs in the balance.” Her father’s chair creaked again, and Elizabeth could picture that sardonic grin as he stroked his chin. “Tell me, Mr. Darcy, what would you do to recover your father’s honor?”
The shift in his tone made Elizabeth’s skin prickle. She recognized it all too well—the sound of a trap about to be sprung.
“I’m not sure I understand your meaning,” Darcy said, his voice low and raw.
“I asked what you would do to rectify your father’s folly. What would be fair compensation for returning such a sum? Another wager, perhaps? Though I suspect you’re not eager to follow your father’s path.”
“I don’t gamble.”
“Very wise. Clearly, you learned from his mistakes. Admirable.” Her father paused. “You know, Mr. Darcy, I have five daughters.”
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. No. Papa, what are you doing?
“I’m aware of your family situation,” Darcy said stiffly. “What has that to do with—”
“Five daughters,” her father continued, as if Darcy hadn’t spoken.
“Wonderful girls, each of them. Intelligent, handsome, and accomplished in various ways. No sons to inherit, you see. The estate is entailed away to some ridiculous cousin who likes to deliver sermons at breakfast. My daughters will need to marry well, or face rather unfortunate circumstances when I depart this mortal coil.”
“Mr. Bennet, I fail to see—”
“Young man, when doing deals, you must always see what the other party requires. As it stands, my daughters have modest portions. Not enough to attract the kind of husbands that would keep them from genteel poverty.”
The silence that followed was so profound that Elizabeth could hear her pulse in her ears. She wanted to scream, to warn Darcy. To tell him to turn around and walk away while he still could… but she held her breath, not wanting to miss his response.
“I see.” Darcy sounded like he was indeed beginning to see her father’s plan.
“I propose a wager of my own, Mr. Darcy. Win the genuine affections of one of my daughters within sixty days, and the sum will be returned to you. A daughter for a sister, fair exchange?”
The world tilted. Elizabeth gripped the shelf beside her, steadying herself against the sudden vertigo of discovering that her father apparently viewed his daughters as negotiable assets.
“You’re proposing to barter your daughters like cattle?” Darcy’s voice held equal measures of disbelief and disgust.
“I’m proposing nothing of the sort,” her father replied mildly. “My daughters will make their own choices, as they always have. But if you can persuade one of them to genuinely care for you—to accept you as a husband—then I will provide her a settlement you cannot refuse.”
“This is madness,” Darcy said, but Elizabeth detected a note of calculation beneath his outrage. He was considering it. Actually considering it.
“Perhaps. But it’s the only offer you’ll get from me. Take it or leave it. Sixty days. One daughter or all five, should you decide to live among the Turks.”
“Absolutely not. I will not. That’s unconscionable!” Darcy’s response was immediate, but Elizabeth heard the hesitation beneath. The desperation pulling against his principles.
Refuse, she willed silently. Walk away.
“Is it?” Her father’s voice sharpened. “You burst into my home demanding I return money I won fairly. I’m offering you a path to restoration that benefits both parties.”
“By asking me to court a woman dishonestly? For financial gain?” Disgust and temptation warred in Darcy’s tone. “I will not deceive—”
“Who said anything about deception? Court her honestly. Put forth your best effort. If you succeed in winning her genuine affection and she accepts you, everyone benefits. She gains a wealthy husband, you restore your sister’s portion, and I’ve made a good match for one of my daughters. Really, it’s quite elegant.”
The silence stretched until Elizabeth thought she might scream simply to break it.
Elizabeth could picture her father’s posture—languid, unconcerned, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he observed his opponent’s weakening resolve.