“Undoubtedly true,” Lord Tolliver agreed cheerfully, “but donkeys make very steady companions. What more could a young lady desire?”
“A musket,” Lottie said, rising with sudden energy. “So that I might put him out of his misery and be done with it.”
Her father only chuckled. “Nonsense. My dear Charlotte, it is not death you want for the fellow, but only to best him at his own game! That is what galls you! Not that he presumes to chain you, but that he imagines himself strong enough to do so.”
“He shall find the chain snaps quite easily, Papa.”
“Precisely!” cried Lord Tolliver, thumping his armchair with satisfaction. “A true Tolliver woman does not submit tamely to the halter, nor even the matrimonial knot if she chooses otherwise! Your mother made me chase her round half of London before she would agree to marry me, and I count myself the luckier man for it.”
“You are determined to turn every misfortune into a compliment to Mama.”
“Of course. It is the first rule of survival in matrimony.” His eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. “But you, my girl, are not your mother, and I should never wish you to be. If you will not be led, then you must lead. Outwit him. Confound him. Make him bow to your terms. In that way, you remain mistress of yourself, and if the fellow has wit enough to admire it, so much the better.”
Lottie gave a scornful laugh. “If he admires me any more, I shall expire of irritation.”
“Then turn that admiration into defeat,” her father advised. “There is nothing so wholesome for a man as to be made to look a fool by the woman he esteems. I speak with considerable experience.”
So it was that Charlotte Tolliver determined that very evening to challenge Jasper Deverell to billiards, for the express purpose of making him appear a simpleton.
Lady Malverne’s billiards room was already lively when Lottie entered, a knot of gentlemen gathered about the table while a few ladies observed from the sidelines. Once the domain of brandy, smoke, and self-congratulation, the billiards room now admitted ladies—in fashionable houses at least—provided they played prettily and did not strike the balls with undue violence. Lottie, naturally, intended to strike with all the violence she possessed.
Her fury had only risen throughout the day. That Mr Deverell should suppose—merely because she had ridden him with gusto—that she must therefore belong to him, was intolerable! As though her person were a field he had tilled and now claimed by right of labour.
Jasper Deverell was within the billiards room, as he had been each night, his cue angled carelessly across his shoulders in the very picture of masculine smugness.
His smile dimmed the instant he saw her. Perfect.
“Gentlemen,” Lottie declared, stepping within, “what a solemn company you make. Must billiards always be such a serious affair?”
There was laughter, and heads turned. A few of the ladies hid their smiles behind their fans; the gentlemen looked amused to have the entertainment improved by so flirtatious an arrival.
Jasper, however, straightened at once. “Miss Tolliver, you have descended upon us like a thunderbolt. Should I fear for my cue?”
Beside him, the duke’s cousin, Lord Gainsford gave a hearty laugh. “Fear for your pride, rather! Miss Tolliver has the look of a conqueror about her.”
Lottie smiled. “A conqueror indeed. I propose a wager.”
A hum of interest ran round the room.
“A wager? And who is your victim, Miss Tolliver?” Gainsford teased.
She let her gaze travel lazily over the gentlemen, then alight on Jasper. “Why, who better than the house’s reigning champion?”
Jasper’s fingers tightened upon the cue, though his expression betrayed nothing but amusement. “Reigning champion? I was not aware I bore so lofty a title. But if Miss Tolliver insists upon it, I shall be obliged to defend it.”
“Excellent. Then hear my terms. If I win, Mr Deverell must confess before this company that ladies are not creatures to be commanded or claimed, but may do precisely as we please. He shall never take a wife – for clearly no lady in her senses would submit to him.
She smiled brightly at Jasper. Oh, he knew now what game she played—their true wager was already struck, and the loser must forfeit to the others will—yet how exquisitely humiliating it would be to set a second wager before an audience, one that mocked his absurd presumption of the night before.
The room stirred, delighted.
“And if I win?” Jasper asked softly.
Lottie turned to face the guests. “And if Mr Deverell should win—why, then I grant him leave to boast until his voice gives out, and to take as many wives as he fancies, provided they can endure him.”
The room burst into murmurs and laughter; several gentlemen criedhear, hear!
Gainsford laughed. “Cruel terms, Deverell. She means to deprive you of marriage and leave you only vanity.”
