Winning Miss Wakefield: The Wallflower Wedding Series by Vivienne Lorret

lose our bargain.”
    “It won’t come to that,” he said, determination setting his jaw. “Besides, you said yourself that Amberdeen only wants a foal.”
    “If a foal was all he wanted, then he would have gone to you,” she said evenly, losing her patience. “Don’t you see it won’t end there? Therefore, once she is mine, I can dictate the terms with Amberdeen.”
    He watched her carefully. Why was she so desperate to have him attend this house party? Was it simply because she wanted him to lose the bet and claim her prize? Or was there was still something he wasn’t seeing? He didn’t like not having the full picture. Then again, there were always ways to go around Eve and speak with Amberdeen himself.
    She set her hands on her hips. “For the sake of our bargain, I must have an answer.”
    “First,” he began, pausing to drain the last of his second cup, “tell me how you will know if I engage in sexual congress . Plan to have a footman follow me day and night?”
    “I have eyes everywhere.” She glanced pointedly toward his bed. “Inside your table drawer is a sheaf of preventatives . I doubt you’re ever without them, as you would never take the risk of begetting a Fennecourt heir.” She looked entirely too smug for his liking.
    If her definition of sexual congress involved only activities where he donned a preventative , that left quite a bit of fun she’d overlooked. Then again, her recently deceased husband had been an old man. So perhaps she’d forgotten the fun parts.
    Yet it was impossible to see past his need to complete his revenge. His task seemed simple enough.
    Perhaps even too simple.
    He knew there was a hidden trap, something she refused to divulge. Eve didn’t truly care if he married or not. Pestering him was just another one of her games. Strangely, she found pleasure in reminding him of the tragic circumstances that had led him to vow against marrying or begetting an heir. More than anything, she seemed to delight in his hatred.
    Yet when such a reward dangled before him, he’d be a fool not to play her game. Attend a house party and avoid tupping one of the guests for a fortnight? Done.
    Surprisingly enough, it was the former that posed the most difficult task. The latter had grown tiresome of late. He never kept a mistress for long, finding it monotonous. Yet for some reason, even random encounters provided nothing more than a few hours of pleasure and were easily forgotten. In fact, the most extraordinary encounter he’d had in recent memory was being petted and kissed by a green girl who hadn’t an inkling about pleasure. Though, she’d had a natural talent for it—that much was certain.
    However, because of his skewed perspective and boredom, he’d already decided that a period of abstinence would set him back to rights. Though Eve didn’t know it, she’d given him the perfect excuse.
    “Very well. You shall have your bargain. However,” he began, clarifying the terms, “ I will draw up a contract stating the details. That way, if you decide they do not suit you and refuse to sign, then I will leave your party and be on my way.” He waited a beat, letting her see the cold determination that had been bred into him. “If that happens, I will remove Gypsy from your stables, refuse to attend your party, and leave you to get out of Amberdeen’s clutches all on your own from that point forward.”
    There was no way he could lose.

C HAPTER F OUR
    M erribeth stared at the silver lamé behind the glass case. That length of ribbon must have been there before today. After all, she frequented Haversham’s Draper Shoppe at least twice a week. This time, though, it felt like she’d never been here before. In fact, her entire world seemed equally foreign.
    “Which one would you choose—the amaranthine or the chartreuse?” Delaney McFarland asked as she stepped forward, obscuring Merribeth’s view of the silver lamé.
    She blinked and suddenly Haversham’s came into