The Wagered Wife by Wilma Counts

Should you care to join them?”
    â€œNo. No. I will not intrude.” Trevor reached for a card and, taking a pen from a table in the foyer, scribbled a hasty note. “Please, give them this.”

Seven
    Caitlyn knew she was merely postponing the inevitable by avoiding Trevor. Twice now he had called to find her not at home. The first time had been purely chance, but the second incident was by her design. Time was no longer on her side, and she had to come to a decision. His presence in town and absence from his wife’s home was rapidly becoming the latest on dit in ton gatherings.
    Viscount Latham invited her for a drive in the afternoon of the day she had deliberately avoided Trevor. As soon as he had served a proper period of mourning for his father, the new viscount sought to renew his acquaintance with his adolescent love.
    Flattered by his continued regard, Caitlyn could not bring herself to reject one of the few people in her own class to offer genuine friendship. Early on, she made it clear to him that she was not free to accept anything beyond mere friendship.
    â€œI shall honor your wishes, Mrs. Jeffries,” he had said stiffly, “though I would hope one day to change your mind.”
    â€œBertie!” She did not bother to hide her impatience with him. “You need not poker up so. We were friends once. I hope we will remain so.”
    â€œAs you wish, my dear Caitlyn, for I have ever thought of you so.”
    Now as he handed her into the carriage, he squeezed her hand and held it a shade longer than she found comfortable.
    He took up the reins and seemed to devote himself to the business of driving, though she was aware of an occasional lingering look. She concentrated on enjoying the sunny afternoon and seeing the ton on parade in all their finery.
    On entering the park, Latham slowed his horses and turned his attention directly to her. “Caitlyn, I . . . uh . . . I understand your husband is back in town.”
    â€œYes, he is.” She did not elaborate.
    â€œDoes that mean . . . that is . . . will he free you now that he has returned?”
    â€œFree me?” She knew she sounded a bit haughty, but the question rankled.
    He ran an index finger around his intricately tied neckcloth. “You must know there is talk of a divorce . . . I mean . . . well, ’tis well known his family does not receive you.”
    â€œWell known, is it?” She hoped her tone would deflect this topic, but Bertie seemed determined to state his view.
    â€œYes, it is.” His voice was adamant, but he looked uncomfortable.
    â€œYou would do well, Bertie, not to allow yourself to be a party to common gossip.”
    His face reddened at this reprimand and he caught at her hand.
    â€œOh, Caitlyn, my own. I would never, ever myself be a party to hurting you.” His tone fervent, he brought her gloved hand to his lips.
    She extricated herself from his grip as adroitly as she could without drawing undue attention from passersby. “Please. Lord Latham, you forget yourself.”
    â€œYou cannot say you care nothing for me. Have you forgot what we once meant to each other?”
    â€œBertie, we were children.” Her tone deliberately suggested she was even now talking to a child.
    â€œWhile my father lived and controlled my income, I could not approach you. And since we have become reacquainted, I thought to allow you far more time, my darling, but now his reappearance causes me to act in a more precipitous manner than I intended.”
    â€œBertie—Lord Latham—I hardly know what to say.”
    He had stopped the team entirely, motioned his tiger to hold their heads, and turned now on the seat toward her. He grasped her hands again. “When you are free, we can be together. I care not what society will say—nor my mother! I love you, Caitlyn, and I will wait for you forever.”
    His melodramatic tone struck her as funny, but she could not bring