Lady's Wager [Mass Market Paperback]

Mary Spencer reintroduces likable characters from her previous book, Dark Wager, and explores London's unsavory underworld in this Regency historical that's more notable for its original characterizations than its sensual lovemaking. Plainspoken Gwendolyn Wells, raised in Boston but connected to the ton, knows on sight that Jack Sommerton, Earl of Rexley, is destined to be her husband. Convincing Jack, however, isn't so easy. Jack, who has reason to believe he's illegitimate, spends his nights searching London's most notorious neighborhoods for proof of his birth, and ferreting out evildoers who profit from the most heartless crimes. When Gwendolyn ventures into those depraved dens after him, and engages in a risky scheme to help bring a villain to justice, Jack is kept busy protecting her reputation... and resisting the idea that life without Gwen would be intolerable. An amusing secondary romance between a clumsy lord and his long-suffering fiancée provides a refreshing diversion. Spencer creates an authentic and appealing Regency world on a broader-than-usual canvas, and hints at more related books to come. --Ellen Edwards

A Game of Passion .  .  .

Miss Gwendolyn Wells was determined to win the Perfect Husband--and she found him while visiting London with her father.  From the moment the spirited young American laid eyes on Jack Sommerton, Earl of Rexley, she knew he was The One--though he had vowed never to wed.  So she secretly wagered that the notorious rake would soon be married.  To her! But first she had to tempt and infuriate him, to drive the man who was the talk of the London ton to passionate extremes.  Then she said no--and he vowed to have her at any cost.  .  .  .  

...Played for Keeps...

Her beauty dazzled him.  Her bold laughter unnerved him.  For the first time in his rakehell life, Jack Sommerton met a woman who touched his very soul.  Gwendolyn Wells invaded his dreams, blinded him with her charms, drove him mad with desire, until he finally swept her into his arms.  Love had nothing to do with it--until she said she'd settle for nothing less. . . .

"Mary Spencer is a wonder!"
--Romantic Times

"Mary Spencer displays an extremely high degree of talent by bringing a freshness to the genre."
--Affaire de Coeur

The Fair Weather docked in London on the very day it was supposed  to, which, given the storm it had weathered mid-Atlantic, was nothing  short of miraculous.

"I hope Lad hasn't been waiting long," Gwendolyn remarked as she tied her  bonnet more securely beneath her chin. "Although it appears to be a  pleasant day, at least. I had rather expected rain, from what we've heard  of London."

"I only hope the boy is here," Professor Wells said from where he was  carefully tucking away the notes he'd been making on his latest study. "I  shouldn't like to have to traverse London's unfamiliar streets without  aid."

"Never fear, Papa. Your sense of direction may be dismal, but I'll not  let any harm come to you. Do you think this outfit suitable? I don't want  to embarrass Lad if the fashions in the States differ too greatly from  those in England."

"My dear," said her father, glancing at her, "it won't matter in the  least. You'll drive every man who sees you straight to insanity  regardless, and that is what Lad will find disconcerting. It's been six  years or longer since the boy last saw you. I doubt he'll be prepared for  the change."

"Papa, how you exaggerate," Gwendolyn told him, suppressing a sigh. He  made her sound like Helen of Troy, or, worse, Medusa. She knew very well  that her looks were pleasing, but she was far from being a spellbinding  enchantress. Her mirror showed that very plainly. Reddish-gold hair, blue  eyes, and a face that seemed perfectly ordinary. If men found something in  all that to make themselves behave as fools, there was little she could do  to stop them.

"I only wish I were," said the professor. "Are you ready, dear? The other  passengers are already disembarking."

"In a moment," Gwendolyn said. "I've only this last trunk to finish  packing. You go ahead and find Lad, Papa. I'll join you shortly."

"Very well." He picked up the bag that contained his precious notes.  "I'll send one of the men down to collect the trunk. Don't keep us  waiting, Gwennie."

She applied herself dutifully to her task the moment her father left the  cabin, stopping only once or twice to make certain she hadn't forgotten  anything and, more importantly, that her father hadn't left behind any of  his scribblings. Nothing could prove more upsetting to any scientist,  Gwendolyn knew, than losing such seemingly insignificant scraps.

She had just finished going through the drawers of the small desk her  father had used during their journey when a brief knock fell on the  door.

"Come in," she called out, and Mr. Hanbury's handsome, rugged face  appeared around the door.

"Miss Wells, I hope I haven't intruded?"

"No, of course not," she assured him cheerfully, bending to look under  the desk. "My trunk is ready now. I'm terribly sorry for the delay. It's  one of my greatest failings, I fear. Being late."

"I can't imagine you having any faults, Miss Wells," he said, and she  thought he sounded rather odd.

"Then your imagination has failed you, kind sir. Papa says I'll drive him  to an early grave and then be late attending the funeral." She laughed,  finally straightening. "Which is probably true enough, given that I--" The  words died away as she caught sight of his expression. It was one with  which she was quite familiar, and she gave a silent, inward groan. "Mr.  Hanbury," she began, but he was already moving toward her.

"Miss Wells, please let me speak," he said in an earnest tone that made  her heart sink. She wished, fully, that she hadn't sent Papa away. "I've  tried to stop the feelings that have been growing for you in my  heart--"

Oh, dear, she thought. It was worse than she'd imagined. She already felt  like laughing.

"--but it's impossible. I realize I'm merely a first mate on the ship and  that you could have any man you wished for, but if there's any chance at  all that you might consider my suit, I should be the happiest man on God's  earth."

She had to bite the inside of her lip, harshly, before she could speak in  an even tone.

"Mr. Hanbury, you're very kind," she said as gently as she could, "and  you've been so good to both my father and me during the voyage, but I'm  afraid that I can't--"

"Oh, I realize that!" he said, moving so quickly that she couldn't avoid  him before he took hold of her hands. "I know of the difficulties in a  match for us. Your father, for one, and the difference in our social  standings. But where there is love, nothing is impossible." He kissed her  hands fervently.

"Mr. Hanbury! Please don't!"

Her attempts to free herself only succeeded in inflaming him further. The  next thing Gwendolyn knew, she was wrapped tightly in the man's arms.

"I love you!" he declared hotly, crushing the breath out of her. "If you  but say the word, I'll battle any foe to keep you!"

"Mr. Hanbury, the only word I wish to say is no! Please release  me at once!"

He didn't seem to hear her.

"No man could ever love you as dearly as I do, Miss Wells," he vowed. "I  shall cherish you forever, and even longer."

"If you don't kill me with mindless drivel first," she managed, gasping  for air. "Mr. Hanbury, I beg you. Let me go!"

He appeared disinclined to do so and began to drop heavy, passionate  kisses on the side of her face, loosening her bonnet and sickening her  even further. Gwendolyn remained calm, however. She'd been in such  unfortunate situations before and knew of any number of effective methods  for handling them. She had just made a small, tight fist and pulled her  arm back in order to put one of them to use when she heard someone speak  in a distinct, clipped British accent.

"I beg your pardon."

Mr. Hanbury froze and began to turn his head, and the next moment he was  physically lifted off the floor. Relieved, Gwendolyn stepped back. She  briefly saw a tall, muscular, fair-headed gentleman standing behind Mr.  Hanbury, gripping him by the shirt and hefting him up as if he were  nothing but a child.

"I believe the lady has made herself perfectly clear," the gentleman  continued, ignoring Mr. Hanbury's inarticulate struggles. "She wishes to  be left alone. You will be so good as to do so now and in the future."

"This is a . . . private matter!" Mr. Hanbury choked out, swinging an arm  in a useless attempt to strike his captor. "Put me down!"

"It's not very pleasant when you're the one held hostage, is it?" the  other man said, and lightly tossed Mr. Hanbury across the room, where he  landed against a wall. "I would attempt to explain this matter to you more  fully, sir, save that I'm loath to waste my time on an ignorant and savage  cretin. Leave now, before I lose my temper."

Something in the man's tone must have convinced Mr. Hanbury to obey, for  the first mate promptly stood, dusted himself off, made a swift bow to  Gwendolyn, and left.

The blond gentleman waited until the door had closed before turning to  face her. He was a shockingly beautiful man--the sort who could fill a  woman with envy and admiration all at once. His hair was so fair it seemed  tinged with white, a color against which his blue eyes stood out starkly.  His face was aristocratic, finely boned, and yet thoroughly, undeniably  masculine. His clothing, cut of the most elegant cloth and in the latest  state of fashion, covered a physique that was not only muscular and fit  but also perfectly proportioned. He stared down at Gwendolyn from his  superior height with a look of disdain, as if he was displeased by the  mere sight of her.

Perhaps it was because she wasn't used to being frowned at by men, or  perhaps it was the memory of what had just passed with Mr. Hanbury, but  for some odd reason Gwendolyn met that cold, disapproving gaze head on and  began to laugh. She couldn't stop. And the more she laughed, the funnier  everything seemed. She doubled over with it, laughing as if she'd never  cease, and at last sat down on the edge of her bed.

"Oh!" she said, giggling, wiping at tears that rolled down her cheeks.  "Oh, forgive me. I shouldn't laugh at poor Mr. Hanbury. I'm s-sorry." She  looked up at him, striving mightily to contain her mirth, and found that  he was still frowning, more fiercely than ever. At the sight of it, she  started to laugh again. "But d-didn't you hear him?" she asked. "The  th-things he said!"

"I'm glad you found it so amusing," the gentleman said dryly.

"'I'll b-battle any foe to k-keep you!'" she managed. "'I shall cherish  you forever, and even . . . even l-longer!' Oh!&qu...