Prologue

Prologue

E lias Stevens, the Marquess of Savorton, leaned in his chair and then rocked it on the back two legs as he studied his cards. How many should he discard? After pondering it for a few moments, he set his chair back down on all four legs and leaned on the table. He plucked five cards out of his hand and placed them face down on the table, and then drew five more from the deck carefully arranging them with the ones he still held.

He refrained from grinning at the cards he'd added to his hand. He glanced up at his dearest friend, Elena, the Dowager Countess of Dryden. Her dark red hair shimmered in the candlelight, and there was a gleam in her light gray eyes. She was studying her own cards. The two of them were engrossed in a duel of sorts as they played a grueling game of piquet. This was their last hand in a set of six and would determine which one of them came out the winner. It was a close game and either of them might be declared the victor.

"It's your turn, love," Eli reminded her and tapped a finger impatiently on the table.

"I'm aware," she drawled. "I do not need your guidance." Elena winked. "I'm a far better player than you are."

"Debatable," he replied in an arrogant tone. "I am not so certain you're correct."

Her lips lifted into one of her sensual smiles. It was the type of smile that would set most men aflame with desire, but Eli felt nothing. For him that smile meant something far different. The minx was about to pounce and he would end up metaphorically wounded after she made her strike. Hell. She was going to win, and he didn't like it.

"You always did hate losing," she replied in a glib tone. She removed three cards from her hand and then replaced them with three more from the deck. "There's no need for deliberations. We both know the truth."

"That piquet is a game of chance?" Eli lifted a brow. "In that you are correct." He refused to admit defeat until he absolutely had to.

She laughed and then grinned at him. "I suppose that is true with any game used for the purpose of gambling. Luck may or may not be on your side." She rearranged her cards in her hand. "But we both know piquet is much more than that. It requires skill, strategy, and an excellent memory. I happen to have all three."

Eli shook his head and sighed and made his declarations, and they continued on with the game. After they were done playing, he had to confess, "I concede, you won." He met her gaze. "I'm not saying you are a better player though."

"Of course you will not. I'd expect nothing less." Her gray eyes sparkled with mischief. "You never have. Why would you change that core part of you now?"

They were at Elena's London townhouse. Many members of the ton believed they were lovers, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Elena and Eli had been friends since they were children. He was only three years older than her, and they first met when he was four and she could barely stand to walk in the nursery. Their mothers had been close and that had brought them together often. Eli was as protective of Elena as he would be if he'd had a sister. When she had married an old man, he had tried to persuade her against the match, but she reminded him they all had their duties to perform and her marriage landed firmly in that column. Her father had arranged the marriage, and she had done as she was told.

Elena had regretted it as her marriage made her miserable. Her husband hadn't been abusive, exactly, but he'd been cold. When she failed to conceive, he'd treated her as if she were a useless person. He may never have physically hit her, but his words were like blows that failed to leave a visible bruise. Eli had never been happier when the earl ceased breathing. When the Earl of Dryden dropped dead suddenly Eli had rejoiced, and secretly so had Elena.

"Do you think you'll ever remarry?" he asked in a noncommittal tone.

She snorted. "Not bloody likely. One marriage of inconvenience is enough to turn me away from such an endeavor." Elena gathered the cards and stacked them neatly on the table. "Why do you ask?"

He didn't want to tell her he'd been thinking about how unhappy she had been. Elena enjoyed being a widow. She had freedom and if she wanted a lover, she could and probably had taken one. Not that, to his knowledge, she did… Eli didn't ask her about anything he didn't really want answers to. "What if you fell in love?"

"That is even more unlikely. Love is a myth they try to make a woman believe." She leaned back and studied him. "Are you in love, Eli?"

"Absolutely not," he said in an emphatic tone. "Unless you count that gorgeous opera singer, I spent an evening with a few nights ago. She was delicious and might convince me I could believe in love."

He was far too busy helping build Savorton Shipping. His family had struggled when he was younger and now that he could, he worked to make their fortune something that rivaled even the most affluent in English society. He was an heir to a dukedom and now the estate thrived. His father had become frail in his old age and left running all the estates to Eli, but still offered input when he felt it was required. Eli did not have time for love.

"A night of passion is not love," Elena replied in a dry tone. "Neither of us is on the market for that elusive emotion."

"So you do not believe you will ever willingly give your heart away?" This seemed like an opportunity. Should he take it? Elena had never really given any man a chance, and she had good reason for that. As a widow of wealthy means, she didn't have to remarry, but she had a past she seemed determined to forget. One he wanted to remind her about in a subtle way. "You don't have to marry a man if you love him, you know."

"I'm aware," she said, then tilted her head to the side. "I never have to marry again. But you do."

"I've never been married, love," he replied. "I cannot marry again when I never have."

"You are purposely misunderstanding me," she accused. "You know perfectly well what I meant. You're going to be a duke one day and you need heirs."

"I was hoping to convince you to marry me," he said in a smooth tone. "You're the only woman I actually like."

"What a vile thing to suggest." She glared at him. "The very idea of sharing a bed with you…" Elena shuddered.

"Now that wasn't necessary. I'm not revolting." He frowned. She made a valid argument, though. Eli didn't wish to bed her any more than she wanted to join him in that activity.

"Darling," she began as she studied him. "You are passably handsome. I've heard many debutantes expound on your breathtaking visage. Apparently, your black hair and green eyes make them swoon with desire."

"Of course, they do. What they actually desire to be a future duchess, and my gorgeous physique has nothing to do with their admiration." Eli might be a bit jaded... "I am not marrying until I absolutely have to, and love won't be part of the bargain."

"That's too bad," she said in a somber tone. "You're destined to have a marriage like mine."

"I won't be a brute like your husband was. I'd never treat a woman so callously." He wouldn't. Eli had to believe he'd be better than the late Earl of Dryden. Elena was still young and only eight and twenty. She could find someone to be happy with. Somehow, he had to convince her to try.

"Perhaps not," she agreed. "You might be the one that is emotionally abused. I pray you choose wisely."

"I'll have you approve of my future wife." He smiled. "You may have better judgement than me."

"I already do," she said, then laughed. "Perhaps we should make a wager."

It couldn't be that easy… She was playing right into his plans. Elena was a lot like him. She hated to lose. "What sort of wager?"

She tapped on the cards. "All gambling is a matter of chance, but some games are a little more than that. Much like piquet, love can be played in a similar fashion."

"So we use our strategy and skill to avoid falling?" he asked, trying to understand her meaning.

"In a sense," she replied. "We will also have to keep track of all the players, for unlike our little game here, there will be more than two."

"And what exactly is this wager?" Eli asked.

"How about we make it simple," she began. "The first to fall in love by the end of Christmastide loses and owes the other a boon."

He pondered her suggestion. "And what if neither of us falls?"

"Then we both win," she said in a wistful tone. "Or perhaps we will both lose, depending on one's perspective."

Eli doubted he would fall in love. He had yet to meet a woman that inspired such an insipid emotion in him. "All right, I accept. In fact, I have the perfect playing field for us."

She lifted a brow. "Oh?"

"Lady Winston is having a house party. It begins in a couple of weeks and will extend through the entirety of Christmastide. My mother has been hounding me to attend. I'll tell her I will as long as you go and we can put our wager to the test."

Elena steepled her fingers together. "Excellent," she said in a gleeful tone. "Let the best player win, then."

He was going to enjoy watching her fall, for he knew something she did not. The Earl of Northfield would be in attendance. Elena had never said as much, but the earl had been her first and only love. One she had never had a chance at having a relationship with. Elena had shoved those feelings deep inside her and prepared to marry the Earl of Dryden as her father had ordered. Perhaps this was her second chance at finding happiness.

He wasn't worried about himself. Eli had time to find a suitable wife. His concern was for his dearest friend and helping her find a love she deserved. Besides he hadn't lied, Eli didn't believe in love, at least not when it came to his own life. Love was for other people. Individuals who had the luxury of accepting that gift into their lives. Eli would never be that fortunate.