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Wicked Wager
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From Waif to Gentleman's Wife
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Regency Secrets
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“I already proposed to you once, you will remember,” Major Garrett Fairchild told Jenna Montague.

“But why do you wish to marry me?” she asked, clenching her fists with the desperate hope that this time, the reason he voiced might be the right one.

“Despite Mrs. Anderson’s disparagement of my situation, I’m well enough off not to be accused of fortune-hunting should you marry me. And marrying now would be advantageous for us both. I realize we can’t claim to share some grand amour, but I’ve bitter experience to prove that being desperately in love isn’t always the firmest of foundations upon which to build a marriage. We like and respect each other, and I flatter myself that we would be congenial life companions.”

With each sensible, prosaic sentence he snuffed out the last feeble embers of her hope.

Liking. Respect. Congenial companions. While she hungered for the passion he so summarily rejected, some violent emotion to match the deep intensity of what she felt for him.

“Besides,” he continued in that same, infuriatingly reasonable voice, “even had I not already decided to press you to accept my suit, after the unfortunate scene that just occurred, both your honor and mine are at stake. Mrs. Anderson would delight in broadcasting our supposed misconduct, not just among the army, but to all her friends back in London. Unless you wish to see me branded a seducer and yourself a wanton, we must marry.”

In Jenna’s opinion that was, if possible, even more unpalatable a reason to wed him than the arguments he had previously advanced. But before she could begin to explain how impossible it would be for her to marry on such terms, Lieutenant “Heedless” Harry Hartwell bounded into the room.

“You rogue, to steal a march on all of us!” he exclaimed, pounding Garrett on the shoulder. “But if the lady is misguided enough to spurn my offer, I can’t imagine a better man for her than you, Major! Jenna, may you have a lifetime of happiness together!”

As usual, Harry was followed almost immediately by Lieutenant Alastair Percy, looking, Jenna thought, mightily relieved that he had not been forced to honor his own proposal. “What famous news! May I wish you both happy!”

Jenna’s fervent prayers that the farce proceed no further were not to be answered. To fill her cup of gall, Lieutenant Lord Anthony Nelthorpe strolled in.

Garrett being preoccupied by Harry and Alastair, who continued to voice a noisy approval, Jenna was left to face Nelthorpe’s scrutiny alone. He took full advantage of it, horrid man, making an elaborate scan of the room before letting his gaze rest for a long moment on the rumpled edge of her father’s bed.

“Ah,” he said at last, staring at her with that mocking look she so detested. “I begin to understand the impetus for this most…precipitous announcement.”

He swept her an elaborate bow. “I must add my congratulations, it seems. My, how things do have a way of working out differently than we expect.”

After that enigmatic pronouncement, he turned to offer Garrett his hand. “My best wishes for your happiness, Major. Alastair, Harry, come along. Let’s allow the happy couple a few more moments of privacy before the dragon lady without snatches Miss Montague away to observe - however belatedly - the proprieties.”

Jenna and Garrett remained silent for a few moments after the other officers departed. Then, her composure ravaged by the events of the past twenty-four hours, before she could stop herself Jenna blurted, “Garrett, I cannot marry you!”

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