Read The Double Wager for Free Online

Brutus and Oscar were banished to the stable. Sir Peter was quite adamant. There was to be no reprieve. He declared that he was being too softhearted to allow the creatures to be kept at all.
    When the first of Henry’s clothes were delivered two days later, she discovered that she was still not at liberty to relax and order her own life. Clothed in one of the day dresses, she was whisked off to Bond Street by Marian to shop for bonnets, feathers, gloves, boots, slippers, fans, parasols, and a whole lot of other “useless frippery,” as she confided to Miss Manford on her return.
    “Really, Manny,” she said crossly, “is this the way females snare husbands? It is all a ridiculous game. Does no man choose a woman that he feels he might be comfortable with for the rest of his life rather than a primped-up doll?”
    “But some people feel it is delightful to dress up and look pretty, dearest girl,” Miss Manford soothed. “And the gentlemen spend no less time in looking their best. Why, I have heard that Mr. Brummell used to spend three and a half hours sometimes merely in tying his neckcloth.”
    Henry burst into loud laughter. “He must have been a peacock!” was her opinion.
    “Perhaps so, dearest girl, but never say so to anyone else. He set the fashion for a long time, I have heard.”
    “What a lot of fustian!” Henry declared before going out to the stable to join the twins in a mournful visit to Brutus and Oscar.
    Lady Tallant finally revealed her social plans to Henry. For the next couple of weeks, there were to be minor social activities, including a few small dinner parties, a musical evening, and a picnic party to Kew Gardens. But Henry's official come-out was to be made with the daughter of Marian's friend, the Countess of Lambert. The Tallants had a ballroom only large enough for a moderately sized affair, but Marian wanted to make a larger splash for her sister-in-law's first official appearance. The countess had been quite insistent that they share the occasion—and the cost. Althea was a shy girl, she declared. It would help her to have another debutante with whom to share the nerves that every girl must endure on such an occasion.
    Henry dutifully attended all the pre-come-out activities, listening avidly to the names of all guests that were announced. It seemed that the Duke of Eversleigh attended nothing. How was she supposed to get him to propose to her when she had never even set eyes on the man? She began to appreciate the genius of her brother and his cohorts in naming him as the object of her conquest. They must have known that it was unlikely that she would ever even meet him. But really, she thought, they were playing the game very unfairly. She conveniently forgot that she had insisted on aiming for the duke.
    She was beginning to doubt the very existence of the man, when suddenly she heard him mentioned for the first time since she had come to London. Her sister-in-law had introduced her to Althea Summers during a particularly insipid party. There was nothing to do. There was no dancing. Loo tables had been set up, but the older set had occupied the tables and the younger people had drifted into unenthusiastic groups. Althea and Henry sat together, a little removed from the others, not by Henry’s choice. She labeled Althea as a twit after one glance at her pasty, anxious face.
    “Henrietta, are you not horribly frightened about the ball?” Althea asked, leaning confidentially toward her new friend. “I declare, I do not know how I shall live through it.”
    “Why?” Henry asked. “What is there to be frightened of?”
    “Why, everyone will be looking at us,” Althea said, wide-eyed. “And there will be so many gentlemen. What if we do not make a good impression, Henrietta? We will be wallflowers for the rest of the Season. And how dreadful it would be to have to begin another Season next year without any beaux.”
    “As for me,” Henry said unconcernedly, swinging her legs