A Winter Wager Read online

  A Winter Wager

  Seasons of Romance, Volume 1

  Rachel Osborne

  Published by Rachel Osborne, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  A WINTER WAGER

  First edition. November 24, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Rachel Osborne.

  Written by Rachel Osborne.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Why not try...?

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “What an elegant picture your sister makes, sitting over there by the fire like a proper young lady,” Mr Edmund Gale mused, illustrating his words with a move of his chess piece. “I’ve half a mind to marry her myself and not let her wither in obscurity.”

  His opponent, Miss Juliet Turner, stuck her tongue out at him, either in response to his entirely unintentional “proper young lady” slight or as a reaction to the idea of his marrying her elder sister and dearest friend. Evading his attack with practised skill, Juliet made her move and tipped the progress of the game and their conversation in her favour.

  “As if I could ever countenance Madeline marrying you! No, Edmund, I have far greater aspirations for my sister than to marry the boy next door.”

  “May I remind you that between my house and yours is a span of a mile,” Edmund remarked, playing a move he would not realise was an error until it was too late. “And that who your sister marries is of no business of yours.”

  “No business?” Juliet scoffed, surveying their battleground before selecting her next piece. “Sometimes, Edmund, dear, it is only too evident that you were not blessed with sisters.”

  Edmund laughed, conceding the point.

  “What need have I of a sister of my own when there are four of them, as you put it, next door?”

  He gestured around the comfortable Aston House parlour, made cosy by the fire that roared appreciatively in the hearth and the happy occupation of its quiet inhabitants. Aside from the fierce battle being waged between himself and Juliet, he admired the pretty display of Juliet’s sisters sitting by the fire reading letters - as Madeline was - or good-naturedly squabbling over some sewing, as were her two younger sisters, Louisa and Bess. Even Mr Turner had been unable to pass up the opportunity to join them and he dozed good-naturedly in his chair by the window, his back to the pelting December rain, nursing a glass of brandy that strayed ever closer to disaster with every snore he took.

  “My dear!” His wife hissed, swooping in to rescue the brandy glass just in time to avert a crisis.

  “What’s that?” Mr Turner grumbled, coming quickly back to consciousness and blinking good-naturedly around the room. “What are you doing with my brandy, woman? Oh, you wish to refill my glass? How well you do tend to me, my dear.”

  Mrs Turner rolled her eyes as she passed the chess game, pausing to silently enquire of Edmund whether he, like her husband, should care to partake.

  “Perhaps...” he said, in answer to her silent question as he played his last, victorious move. “I think a brandy ought to serve as a satisfactory celebration...!”

  “Ha!” In one quick motion, Juliet evaded his scheme, stole his Queen and tipped the outcome of the game. “Celebration? Perhaps commiseration is more apt.” She turned to her mother with a grin. “Better make poor Edmund’s glass a large one, Mama, for he never does handle disappointment well.”

  “I handle disappointment just fine,” Edmund muttered, leaning closer to the chessboard in order to assure himself that his childhood friend had not somehow bewitched it, it seemed so often to play to her favour. “A lifetime of associating with such a worthy opponent as you has hardened me to it.”

  Mrs Turner reappeared, smiling kindly at Edmund as she passed him a brandy glass that was, indeed, large and filled almost to overflowing. Her smile dipped as she turned towards her daughter.

  “Remember, Juliet, there ought to be grace in victory as well as defeat.”

  Juliet’s own smile dimmed and she scarcely concealed a sigh as her mother passed them en route to rejoin her husband at the window.

  “One day my mother will find some word to offer me that is not censure,” she muttered, relaying the chess-set.

  “One day you will manage not to plague her,” Edmund countered, taking a sip of his drink and glancing over his shoulder to ensure Juliet’s parents would not observe him passing the glass to her. She refused it, though, her attention fixed on her work. Edmund frowned. Juliet was not prone to melancholy, and her moods, whilst changeable, did not drag her down for very long. Still, he did not like to see her upset.

  “Let’s not play again this evening,” he said, nursing his drink as he surveyed the room, seeking some other topic that might lift his friend’s spirits. His gaze rested momentarily on Madeline and the vaguest hint of an idea began to form in his head. “In fact, I have an altogether different challenge in mind.”

  This was enough to spark Juliet’s interest and she looked up, her dark eyes bright with curiosity.

  “You said earlier that you could not dream of Madeline marrying me - an insult, but one I will manfully endure because I am only too aware of my own unworthiness as far as your angel of a sister is concerned.” He pulled a face and Juliet laughed, urging him to continue. “But I wonder if, in my absence, you have a different suitor in mind.” He raised his eyebrows. “Because whoever he may be, I’m quite convinced I could scrounge up someone better.”

  Juliet tilted her head to one side, considering his words.

  “Are you suggesting a wager?”

  “A challenge,” Edmund conceded, feeling quite sure that his reception at Aston House would not be nearly so warm if Mr and Mrs Turner caught wind of his enticing their excitable daughter to gamble. “We shall both of us present our best choice of suitors to Miss Turner, and whichever she chooses shall be the winner.” He took a sip of his brandy. “It shall be mine, of course.”

  “Ha!” Juliet reached for the glass before he had set it down and took a swift sip, so quickly that nobody else in the room would notice. She pulled a face. “I do not understand how you can claim to enjoy this!”

  Edmund said nothing, merely smiled and took another sip, rather relishing the taste that Juliet so evidently despised.

  “Well, if it is to be a true challenge we ought to agree terms,” Juliet continued, all business, although Edmund was gratified to see her gaze dart this way and that, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  “Very well,” Edmund glanced at the window, running a calculation. “Let us give it until year’s end.”

  “That’s less than a month!”

  “You think it will take you longer to find someone suitable for your sister? I thought you took great pride in your matchmaking.” He mimicked the very tone his friend had used when first making this pronouncement some weeks beforehand.

  Juliet coloured.

  “No. I merely wished to ensure it was enough time for you. We must keep things are fair, after all.”

  Almost unconsciously, her fingertips strayed to a small, cloth-bound book that was never very far from her grasp. Edmund�
�s eyes narrowed. He had seen her caressing the spine of this particular book on several different occasions as if it contained some secret but when he enquired after it had been told in no uncertain terms to mind his own business and run along. He frowned. He did not like thinking that his friend had secrets she was unwilling to share with him. Had they not always done everything together since they were babies?

  “Let us talk penalties then.” He smiled, wrenching his eyes from the book of secrets to Juliet’s face. “And rewards. If I win - which I undoubtedly will - you must tell me what it is you keep scribbling in that book.”

  Juliet wrenched her hand away, worry momentarily creasing her forehead. The line had smoothed itself out again almost immediately and she returned his smile with one of her own, feigning confidence he was sure she did not feel.

  “Very well. If you win - and you undoubtedly will not - I shall let you read it.” Her eyes travelled over him as she considered her own prize and Edmund felt a momentary discomfort steal over him. “When I win, you shall allow me to at last revise your wardrobe!” She glared threateningly at his cravat, which she had so often complained about it was as if it was a personal affront to her that he should wear it at all.

  “My wardrobe?” He laughed, brushing his free hand down his front. “And what is wrong with it? I’ll have you know this suit is from one of the finest tailors in London -”

  “I do not care where it was from or how much it cost,” Juliet shot back. “It makes you look like a scarecrow!”

  “Just because you have no understanding of the current modes of fashion -”

  “You ought to eschew fashion altogether if it makes you look that ridiculous,” Juliet said, in a manner that put an end to his argument. “Now, do you agree to my terms or not? If Maddy chooses the gentleman I select for her you will allow me to get rid of everything that clashes and makes you look foolish.” Her smile grew wicked. “And attend to your hair.”

  On reflex, Edmund lifted a hand to his dark curls, of which he was rather proud, rearranging his look of worry into one of relaxed confidence only when he noticed how closely Juliet was watching him. He dropped his hand, reaching it out to shake on their deal.

  “Very well, Miss Juliet. Let us make a deal.”

  Juliet took his hand in hers, her smile growing and transforming her once more to the merry, mischievous friend he loved so much.

  “Very well, Mr Gale. I look forward to defeating you in this, as I have at chess.”

  MADELINE, DEAR! CAN you believe it! Reginald and I will be married this coming Sunday...

  Maddy Turner let out a sigh, glancing away from her letter and fixing her gaze on the crackling fire in the hearth of the Soane House parlour. The sounds of her two younger sisters bickering contentedly on the sofa receded into the background as she turned her friend Sallie’s announcement over and over in her mind. Reginald and I will be married! She ought not to be surprised, really. Sallie had quit Clifton for London with one goal in mind: to secure herself a husband. It looked like she had achieved just that, in the shape of Sir Reginald Merriweather.

  And I am happy for them, Maddy told herself, returning to her letter and reading the rest of it as quickly as possible.

  ...he is a little grey, but still very energetic and cheerful. We hope to travel in the new year but have planned to visit Castleford before we leave. It is but a stone’s throw from Clifton - do you remember the rumours we heard that they were to turn it into a spa town to take advantage of the spring there? Well, my Reginald assures me that this is no mere rumour but the truth - and the development of the town has begun with all haste. It shall begin to open to visitors this very Christmas, although there are still a great many opportunities for investment - and it is for this reason that Reginald cares to visit. I am not so concerned with finances, but with seeing you again, my dear friend...

  Maddy sighed again, folding up Sallie’s letter and vowing to return to it another day when she was in rather better humour. Her sigh must have been significant for it caught the ear of at least one other inhabitant of the room, as Juliet called over to her from the corner she and Edmund occupied, poring listlessly over their chess game.

  “What is the matter, Maddy, dear?” she asked. “It is not bad news I hope?”

  Maddy frowned, not understanding.

  “Your letter,” Juliet prompted. “I hope it does not contain bad news.”

  “No, no.” Maddy smiled, fighting a fleeting urge to cast Sallie’s note into the fire rather than bother herself about replying. She would have to summon the correct amount of delight at her friend’s news and at present found herself rather less than enthusiastic about the task. Instead of destroying it, she folded it neatly and slid it between the pages of her book, finding that she was not much in the humour to read, either. “It was from Sallie Thomas. You remember her, don’t you?”

  Juliet made a face: she had never been greatly enamoured with giggly, giddy Sallie. “Well, I suppose I must get used to calling her Sallie Merriweather now. She writes to tell me of her engagement.”

  “Good for Sallie!” Edmund piped up, shooting Juliet a significant look which she pointedly ignored.

  “Yes it is,” Maddy said, wishing her voice did not sound quite so miserable, for both Edmund and Juliet were sharp of ear and eye and would surely notice her enthusiasm, such as it was, was feigned.

  “Are you not pleased to hear of it?” Juliet asked, fixing her sister with a probing look.

  “I am.” Maddy smiled and willed a little more happiness into her voice. “I am happy. For her.”

  There. That had been enough to betray her, the change in her tone and her careful choice of words. Too careful.

  “Don’t fret, Madeline!” Edmund said, with a cheerful smile. “There’s plenty of time left until you can be considered on the shelf. You never know, the very man of your dreams may appear in Clifton before the year is out - oof!”

  He turned to glare at Juliet, who feigned innocence, and Maddy frowned. There was some mischief afoot between her sister and Edmund, she was sure of it. She lifted a hand to stifle a yawn. If only I was not quite so comfortable here by the fire I might consider investigating it. But any investigation would require moving and just at present she was so very comfortable...

  “What else did Sallie say, Madeline?” Louisa asked.

  Maddy’s sister - younger by five years and in possession of elegant blonde curls that put Madeline’s mousy hair quite to shame - tossed her head and turned to join the conversation.

  “Did she say much of London?” Her blue eyes grew wide. “I do so wish I could have been lucky enough to go!”

  “She will not be staying there long,” Maddy said, fishing her letter free and consulting it once more. “Once she and Sir Reginald marry they are to travel - beginning here. Well, beginning in Castleford.”

  “Castleford?” Louisa frowned. “Why on earth -”

  “Indeed!” Edmund chipped in again, slipping away from both the chess game and Juliet’s boot and flopping comfortably down into a chair between the three young ladies. “I hear tell Castleford is to be the most exciting new spa town and to think! It will all be unfolding mere miles from our doorstep!” He mimicked the excitement most often displayed by Louisa and her friends, and she rewarded his teasing by hurling a cushion at his head. Dodging expertly, he caught the missile and wrapped his long arms around it, hugging it into his chest. “I hear tell that anybody who is anybody is eager to invest and that the fellow who has been developing Castleford will emerge from the venture a wealthy man indeed.”

  He fixed Louisa with a look. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Miss Louisa. I know some of us care little for what wealthy gentlemen decide to do with their money, but it ought to at least be of interest to you to know that Castleford is proving a draw to all sorts of people. You gripe and moan at not being allowed to travel to London for Christmas well, fear not, for some of the most exciting London company will be finding themselves a mere stone’s th
row from your door!”

  This was enough to provoke an outbreak of excited whispering between Louisa and Bess, who was easily drawn into Louisa’s thrills and speculation.

  “You certainly seem to know a lot about it,” Juliet remarked, pausing as she passed her parents to drop a kiss on Mr Turner’s thin cheek. She scowled at Edmund as she passed him, making a great show of stepping over his feet as she made her way to the empty chair nearest Madeline.

  “I hear things,” Edmund replied, vaguely. “It is worth my while, as a gentleman of means...”

  Juliet sniffed, and Maddy played peacemaker, jumping in before yet another round of bickering broke out between the two friends.

  “I wonder if there is much to see.” She glanced towards the window, pleased to note that the rain had at last begun to ease, suggesting calmer skies to come. “It might be nice to go and visit before their Christmas season truly begins.”

  “Indeed!” Edmund declared, sitting up in his seat. “I think a trip could easily be arranged. How are we all fixed for the morrow, assuming the weather permits us a journey?”

  This was met with a chorus of delighted agreement and even Madeline felt her spirits lift at the thought of an excursion. If Castleford was even half what Edmund speculated it might be, it would certainly add a little interest to their quiet country Christmas.

  Chapter Two

  “...and if you will just look this way, gentlemen, you can see the entrance to the assembly rooms...”

  Robert Hodge did as his guide instructed, following the rest of their small group in turning, obediently, to admire the Grecian columns that marked the entrance to the elegant assembly rooms. One of his companions raised a question and Robert found himself sinking to the back of the small group seeking out his father, who had trailed after them, pausing to speak to the many people who milled around.

  “Robert!” the elder Mr Hodge called, waving his cane and stepping lightly - belying his need of it - to join him.