Lady's Wager (4 page)

“Dr. Walter is an esteemed physician who keeps abreast of
the latest research,” Charlotte assured everyone, but Lord Woodcliff refused to
concede the point.

“Perhaps, but even the most astute medical men make
mistakes.”

“Which is why I do thorough research before presenting my
findings,” Dr. Walter countered, defending his work. “When the gas is mixed
with oxygen and administered in the proper doses it is perfectly safe. I can
demonstrate it on you if you’d like?”

“Yes, Lord Woodcliff, test Dr. Walter’s theory yourself,
then we may all enjoy the presentation without interruption,” Charlotte
challenged.

Behind her Aunt Mary uttered a disapproving squeak, but Charlotte
didn’t care. The look of annoyance on Lord Woodcliff’s usually cheerful
countenance was worth any censure from her aunt. However, Charlotte’s victory
was short lived for the Viscount was ready with an answer.

“I have no intention of falling asleep under Dr. Walter’s
competent care as I plan to enjoy the rest of the evening. Perhaps your little
terrier would be a willing participant? What dog doesn’t relish a good nap?”
Charlotte’s eyes widened in surprise much to Lord Woodcliff’s visible pleasure.
“Or perhaps you don’t trust the esteemed Doctor with such a precious patient?”

“I’d trust Dr. Walter with my life.” Charlotte looked
around the room for the small terrier and spied her standing on the arm of a
nearby chair attempting to steal a pastry from the side table. “Minnie, come
here.”

The terrier dropped her ears, hopped off the chair and crept
toward Charlotte.

Charlotte picked Minnie up and the muffled whap of the
dog’s wagging tail against her gown filled the silent room. The dog’s excited
brown eyes made her stomach tighten. Charlotte, knowing the hospital
improvements depended on this demonstration of faith, crossed the room with
purpose, holding Minnie out to Dr. Walter. “Your patient is ready.”

Dr. Walter smiled warmly as he took the squirming dog. “I
assure you, she’ll be perfectly fine.”

“I know she will,” Charlotte replied directly to Lord
Woodcliff.

“How brave she is,” Penelope remarked to Lord Marston, and
Charlotte, much to her satisfaction, saw a look of shame momentarily blot Lord
Woodcliff’s proud face.

Dr. Walter sat Minnie on the table and held her down with
one hand. “With your permission Miss Stuart, I’d like to demonstrate Minnie’s
pain tolerance. I assure you it’s nothing too terrifying.”

Charlotte did her best to control her concern but her
words came out unsteady, like her nerves. “Of course.”

Dr. Walter plucked a few strands of Minnie’s fur from her
inner leg. The terrier squeaked and shot the physician a nasty look.

“As you can see, her reaction is perfectly normal.”

An uneasy laugh emanated from the guests who were firmly
invested in the unfolding drama.

Dr. Walter placed the leather mask over Minnie’s face,
using his hand to create the seal. Minnie pawed at the leather, trying to pry
the mask off her muzzle but Dr. Walter held it firmly in place. Mrs. Walter
began working the bellows, feeding the fire beneath the evaporator glass and
boiling the liquid inside. Everyone watched as the liquid bubbled, releasing
the gas into another glass jar where it swirled into the leather tube and mask.
The hiss of the burners combined with the dog’s whimpers filled the tensely
silent room. Everyone moved closer as Minnie’s eyes grew heavy and her paws
clumsy and unresponsive until at last her eyes closed and her body relaxed.
Charlotte’s chest tightened at the sight of Minnie’s unconscious body and she
grabbed Aunt Mary’s hand for support, squeezing it tight. She shot Lord
Woodcliff a hard look and he turned away, ashamed, refusing to meet her eyes.

“She’s dead,” Penelope exclaimed.

“I assure you, she’s not dead, only sleeping.” Dr. Walter
removed the mask and rolled the limp terrier on her back. “As you can see,
she’s breathing.”

Everyone leaned in to watch Minnie’s chest slowly rise and
fall. Charlotte’s shoulders and her firm grip on her aunt’s hand relaxed with
relief.

“Now, with Miss Stuart’s permission, I’d like to
demonstrate how in this state, the patient is impervious to pain.”

Charlotte nodded her approval, unable to speak.

Dr. Walter again plucked a little fur from inside Minnie’s
leg but the dog remained motionless, oblivious to the sting.

“I have a noxious smelling substance I’ll use to revive
her. If the ladies would please cover their faces with their handkerchiefs.”
After the ladies obliged, Dr. Walter uncorked a small bottle and held it up to
Minnie’s nose. Minnie’s legs twitched and she jerked back her head in an
attempt to escape the hideous smell. Dr. Walter handed a very groggy Minnie to
Charlotte who cuddled the dog, causing Minnie to wag her tail limply as the
room broke into polite applause.

“This is only a small demonstration but, as you can see,
the gas has possibilities beyond Dr. Davy’s inappropriate recreational use,”
Dr. Walter announced, directing his comment at Lord Woodcliff who, much to
Charlotte’s pleasure, bowed graciously to Dr. Walter in defeat.

*****

The clock in the entryway chimed midnight as the butler
closed the door behind the last of Charlotte’s guests.

“See, the evening was a success,” Charlotte exclaimed to
Aunt Mary who sat in a nearby chair removing her satin slippers. “And did you
see the way Lord Ashford looked at Elizabeth?”

“I did and I must congratulate you on your success with
Miss Greenville and Lord Marston. Though it surprises me to see someone so set
against marriage acting the matchmaker.” Aunt Mary shot Charlotte a curious
glance but Charlotte waved it away with her hand.

“We’ve had no marriages yet.”

“I also saw the way Lord Woodcliff looked at you. My dear,
you must learn to mind your words, especially in the presence of gentlemen.”

“I would have, but the way he questioned Dr. Walter in
front of everyone was so infuriating.”

“Even if it was, Lord Woodcliff has many wealthy friends
who could do a great deal for the hospital,” Uncle Charles said as he entered
the foyer with a silver candlestick, ready to escort the ladies to their rooms.
“You shouldn’t alienate him or it may do more harm than good.”

As they followed him upstairs, shame tugged at Charlotte.
Her uncle was right; by quarrelling with Lord Woodcliff she may have risked the
favor of many potential donors, but he’d raised his objections first. “I wasn’t
the one who started the trouble.”

“But you helped maintain it.” Uncle Charles stopped when
they reached the upstairs hall. “Though it isn’t really your fault but mine.”

“Yours?” Charlotte and her aunt said at once.

“I kept you both in Europe for too long. I should have
brought you home sooner, given you a chance to settle in. If you were more
familiar with London ways Charlotte, it might be easier for you.”

“I’ll try to do better,” she promised, hating to
disappoint her uncle and aunt who asked so little of her but gave her so much.

“Do as you like but remember, there are boundaries and you
must not push them too far, not for your own benefit but for the charitable
work you can do as a member of polite society.”

Charlotte rose up on her toes to press a kiss to her
uncle’s cheek. “You’re too good to me. I’ll do everything I can to make you
proud.”

“I have no doubt of it.”

Charlotte slipped into her room.

“You’re too lenient with her,” Mary chided, once she and
Charles were alone.

“As I am with you.” He winked knavishly at her.

With a naughty grin, she took
his hand and pulled him down the hall to her room.

*****

“You’re quiet tonight, miss. Did everything go well?”
Jenny, Charlotte’s lady’s maid, observed as she combed out Charlotte’s hair. A
matronly woman of forty, Jenny had been with the Stuarts for many years. Her
husband John served as the family’s groom and driver and it’d been his skilled
handling of the ribbons which had carried them across France to Calais before
the port was closed and all hope of escaping France, and jail, had been lost.

“Yes, very well, except for Lord Woodcliff. He had the
audacity to challenge Dr. Walter in front of my guests.”

“Perhaps he fancies you?” Jenny smiled suggestively at
Charlotte in the mirror.

“Why would a gentleman who fancies me do all he can to
annoy me?”

“Many a gentleman teases a lady he’s fond of. Why, John
teased me like the devil when we was courtin’,” Jenny laughed, her plump body
shaking.

“It’s impossible, truly impossible.”

“If you say so, miss.” Jenny moved to the bed, raising the
blanket for Charlotte who slid between the sheets, tired from her long day. A
small snore rose up from where Minnie slept soundly in her basket beneath the
bench at the foot of the bed.

“Good night, miss.” Jenny blew out the candle on the
bedside table then slipped out the door, closing it behind her.

Charlotte lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling and
mulling over the events of the evening. How a worthy gentleman like Lord
Ashford could be friends with a man like Lord Woodcliff astounded her. The Viscount’s
insolence might have cost her Minnie and much needed funds for the hospital.
Yet strangely, it wasn’t Lord Woodcliff’s rudeness which troubled her as much
as the memory of him smiling at her when they’d bumped, and how it’d made her
heart skip. For all his disapproval, there’d been a brief moment when he hadn’t
sneered at her, but admired her the same way Lord Ashford often admired
Elizabeth. It was almost flattering.

She sat up and vigorously fluffed her pillow as Minnie let
out a snort from beneath the bench.

I wish I could sleep so soundly.
She tossed the
pillow behind her, flung back the coverlet, and marched to the window.

She pulled back the curtains and her anger fled at the
sight of the quiet city spreading out before her. Moonlight graced the peaks of
the houses across the way and brightened the pavement flanking the cobblestone
lane. An old familiar loneliness crept over her as she watched the night
watchman amble down the opposite side of the street, his lantern swinging by
his side and casting a faint orange circle around his feet.

In the darkness beneath the stars, London didn’t seem so
different from Paris, nor did the loneliness which trailed her through both
cities. In the glittering French capital she’d enjoyed the company and
conversation of various friends and acquaintances, but there’d never been one
person to whom she could reveal her most intimate thoughts, secrets, longings
and fears. Nor had she enjoyed such a companion in Rome or Germany or any of
the other cities her uncle’s business had taken them. They hadn’t spent enough
time in one place for her to form deep attachments, and while Charlotte knew
she was well regarded by many, she longed for a companionship like her aunt’s
and uncle’s, the same deep love she’d witnessed between her parents before
they’d died. Many of her girlish dreams were built on this desire, which with
the passing years had become too easily disappointed, never more so than in
Paris.

She flipped the curtain closed and wandered back to bed,
trying to forget the tedium of entertaining the many gentlemen who’d courted
her in Paris. They’d never been interested in her, only her inheritance. She’d
seen through all their shallow flattery and attention, refusing to be deceived,
then she’d met the Comte de Vimeur. With his poet’s eyes and soothing voice,
he’d captured her heart with his tender words and made her believe he could
ease her loneliness like no one had before. The morning after they’d professed their
love to one another and he’d asked for her hand, he’d run off to marry a rich
widow with a larger estate and more money than Charlotte. He’d been secretly
courting the widow while wooing Charlotte, leading Charlotte on in case the
widow refused his suit.

Charlotte sank down on the coverlet, disappointed more by
herself than the Comte. She’d been so eager for his affection, she’d allowed
herself to fall for his lies. She wouldn’t do it again. She might endure all
her aunt’s desire for her to be seen in society, but she wouldn’t humor any more
gentlemen or their feigned interest in her. It was better to remain an
unmarried woman in charge of her money than risk being disappointed by love
again. At the end of the Season, she and her aunt and uncle would return to
Salisbury and she’d be free to extend her charitable work to the countryside.
It may not be a future of warm companionship, but it was better than being
trapped in a loveless, ruinous marriage.

“I hadn’t thought of taking a wife yet, but Miss Knight is
quickly changing my mind,” Henry remarked as they approached Edward’s town
house. The dark London night engulfed them, the lanterns hanging in front of
each house doing little to cut through the blackness. Henry’s stride was quick
with the excitement of new love while Edward’s steps fell heavy on the stones.

“Too bad she has such a questionable acquaintance in Miss
Stuart.” Edward swung his walking stick, clipping off the head of a geranium
hanging over a nearby railing.

“There’s nothing wrong with Miss Stuart. Her charity work
is well regarded and her generous reputation admirable.”

“She’s outspoken and proud, two of the most irritating
qualities in a young lady.”

“I think you’re intrigued by her,” Henry laughed as Edward
led the way up the front steps and into his town house.

The old butler greeted them in the entrance hall,
relieving them of their coats and gloves.

“We’ll have brandy in the study,” Edward directed the man,
and then led Henry to the wood-paneled room at the back of the house.

As they made their way down the hall, Henry viewed the dated
décor with a critical eye. “Have you thought about redoing this place?”

Edward studied the furnishings. Although his stepmother
had greatly changed their country estate, his mother’s hand remained in every
detail of this house and neither he nor his father could bring themselves to
change it. “I like it this way and Father doesn’t come to Town enough to care.”

Edward showed Henry into the study. A moment later the
butler entered with a decanter and two glasses.

“Will you require anything else this evening, milord?” the
butler asked as he placed the service on a small table near the door and poured
each gentleman a drink.

Edward, noting the late hour, shook his head. “Nothing for
me. How about you Henry?”

“No, thank you.”

As the butler quietly left the room, Edward and Henry
seated themselves in the large wingback chairs before the fire.

“Any luck locating your mother’s painting?” Henry asked.
“Bloody terrible your dragon stepmother selling it.”

“Her catalogue of sins is extensive.” But this one stuck
in Edward’s craw the most. The painting had been his mother’s, a landscape of
Boston where she’d lived as a child. It was the only one she’d been able to save
when her family had fled the colonial revolt. His nasty stepmother had sold it
out of spite while Edward was in Europe and it’d taken him ages to track it
down. “Before the soiree, I discovered a Mr. Taylor has it for sale. I sent him
a letter expressing my intent to purchase it tomorrow.”

“You’ll enjoy Mr. Taylor’s. He has quite a collection. So
does Miss Stuart.” Henry looked sternly at Edward. “You were very rough on Dr.
Walter tonight.”

“You know how I feel about physicians.”

“And you have every right to dislike them but Dr. Walter
isn’t one of those kind. He’s an excellent man, well read and educated.
Besides, Miss Stuart is too intelligent to be taken in by a quack.”

“I thought my father was too intelligent for quacks but I
was wrong and look how it ended.” Edward swirled his drink in his glass, not
wanting to think about his father’s mistake and what it had cost them both. “The
same could be said for Miss Stuart.”

“No, she’s too quick a girl, like her uncle. Without Mr.
Stuart’s help, I never would’ve gotten my things or myself out of France before
the blockade. They were well connected there.”

“And London?”

“Mr. Stuart has lands in Salisbury and Mrs. Stuart comes
from an old London family. Her grandfather was knighted by George I, though I
can’t remember why. They’re very respectable.”

“You don’t find them eccentric?”

“Well, Mr. Stuart is in commerce but I wouldn’t hold it
against him,” Henry laughed.

“No, but it explains a great deal, especially Miss
Stuart.”

Henry leveled one finger at Edward. “I’ve never heard you
speak so much about one young lady.”

“I’ve never had one speak to me like that before.” Most
were respectful enough of his title to offer the most basic of manners. Miss
Stuart didn’t seem to care.

Edward rose to pour himself another glass of brandy, still
chafing at Miss Stuart’s brusque responses to his simple concerns and
legitimate questions. Yet it wasn’t so much her words which continued to
trouble him, but the high color of her cheeks and the way her eyes had blazed
when she’d challenged him. Her features weren’t delicate like Miss Knight’s,
but striking, with piercing hazel-green eyes set over a sharp nose,
well-defined cheekbones and a determined chin. Her dark hair had been drawn up
into a mass of ringlets at the back of her head, their dark luster perfectly
highlighted by the rich, royal blue of her gown.

It wasn’t only her looks which captivated him, but her
confidence. He’d enjoyed questioning her, not to raise her ire, but to see the
lively spirit animating her. She didn’t react like other society women and it
was both annoying and refreshing.

“You’d do well to have an interest in Miss Stuart,” Henry
suggested. “You both like art and she’s pretty. Rich too.”

Yes, he’d noticed the exquisite sapphire pin she’d worn in
the center of her low cut bodice and how it’d drawn his attention to the subtle
swell of her breasts. It’d taken a great deal of self control to not stare at
her décolletage and risk receiving more rebukes.

“Are you seriously considering Miss Knight?” Edward asked,
wondering if Miss Stuart, through her friendship with Miss Knight, was about to
become a permanent presence in his and Henry’s lives.

“I am.”

Henry launched into a discussion of Miss Knight’s merits
and Edward wished he could share his friend’s enthusiasm for the marriage mart.

His father’s disastrous second marriage had dampened
Edward’s youthful hope of finding a love like his parents had enjoyed before
his mother’s death. They’d dimmed even further the summer he’d come home from
Cambridge and launched into the usual round of parties and balls. He had
nothing in common with any of the young ladies he’d met all of whom were only
interested in his estate and the title he’d one day inherit. Eventually, Edward
had escaped to Europe to avoid the subject of marriage, but as the only son and
heir he couldn’t do so forever.

After three years touring the
Continent, he’d returned to Grossmont Hall hoping to cloister himself in the
family home. He’d thought himself successful until the morning his father had
invited him shooting and broached the matter. He could hear his father now and
still see the mist clinging to the roots of the trees in the forest where
they’d walked together. His father had discovered an excellent way to ruin a
peaceful morning.

*****

“Son, a man must marry. Since you’re my only son and as my
wife has not seen fit to do her duty and provide me with more, it’s up to you
to carry on the family line,” his father, George, stated in his usual
forthright manner as they returned from the morning hunt. George was a solid
man, with the same hair and build as Edward but with dark eyes, a sharper nose
and a manner less refined than Edward’s.

They walked through the woods of Grossmont Hall, guns in
the crook of their arms, the groom a discreet distance behind them, and loaded
down with the day’s quarry. Ahead of them, George’s fine spaniel bounded
through the underbrush, flushing out birds and hares. The woods were filled
with the warm, wet beginnings of spring as the leaves began to appear on
branches and the last of the winter snow melted slowly in the shade of the oak
trees.

“I have no desire to entertain the matter at present,”
Edward stated, hoping to put an end to the conversation, but his father refused
to let the topic drop.

“You’re six and twenty and you’ll entertain the matter.
I’ve ordered the house in London opened. You’ll go down for the Season.”

“I’d planned to travel to Town but not for the Season.
I’ve learned Mother’s painting might be in London. I intend to find it, then
come home.”

“Go to London for whatever reason you like but stay for
the Season and don’t come back until you have a wife.”

Edward shifted his gun to his other arm. “I’m surprised
you’d recommend such a state.”

George turned to Edward, his eyes full of love and
concern. “Yes, I made a poor decision the second time, but your mother was the
finest lady I’ve ever known and I have you to show for it. Learn from my
mistakes and marry a woman who truly loves you and shares your interests.”

Edward remained silent, pondering the words he’d heard so
many times in the last sixteen years, ones he’d taken to heart far more than
his father had realized.

“Have you any word from your wife?” Edward asked
cautiously. The subject of his stepmother was a delicate one, for the vile
woman hadn’t lived at Grossmont Hall for almost four years.

“Bloody woman. She’s in Bath where she’ll stay.” George
resumed his walk, kicking aside a small stone in his path.

“Why don’t you divorce her?”

“She’s caused me enough trouble without increasing my
solicitor’s bill.”

As they continued on in silence, Edward thought back to
his childhood at Grossmont Hall. His mother’s love and devotion had been the
center of his life. Her experiences in the Colonies had given her a wider view
of the world, one she’d instilled in Edward along with her great love of art.
Art was the only extravagance she’d ever indulged in, filling Grossmont Hall
with works from across Europe. As he reflected on his mother, memories of the
night she died threatened to fill his mind but he quickly pushed them away.

“I’d rather not go to London.”

“Go to York then if you like. I don’t care where you find
your wife so long as you find a good one.” George patted the dog’s head as she
bounded up to him, tail wagging, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth.
“See, not all ladies are so hardhearted.”

His father picked up a stick and tossed it down the road,
sending the dog lumbering after it.

Edward shifted the gun again, the thought of spending the
Season in London combined with looking for a wife depressing him. “I’ll think
on the matter.”

“Good. There are many pleasures to be had with a good
woman as your wife, think on that when you venture to Town.”

Edward nodded, but silently chaffed under the order to
settle his future this spring. If he must participate in the Season, he‘d do so
on his own terms. But how?

Edward worked over the question during his afternoon ride
as he set out across the wide, green fields in an attempt to clear his mind. A
plan came to him as he raced through the open pastures and it continued to
develop as the day progressed.

After dinner, when he and George had retired to the
library, Edward stood over the fire, watching the greedy flames consume a fresh
log as he pondered how to tell his father his plan. The dog slept on the small
rug in front of the fire, her ears twitching with each pop of the embers.

“What is it my boy? Not like you to be so quiet,” George
asked from his leather chair, the long barrel of his gun over his knees as he
rubbed it with an old cloth. The smell of gun oil filled the room, giving it a
decidedly masculine air.

“I’ve decided to take your advice and find a wife in
London.”

“I knew you’d be reasonable.”

“But I have a plan.”

George stopped polishing and examined his son. “You have
land, a title and you’re rich. What kind of a plan do you need to find a wife?
The pick of society will flock to you.”

“This is exactly why I need a plan. I don’t wish to be
followed about by a bunch of greedy green girls and their eager mamas.” Edward
paced in front of the fireplace, careful not to step on the dog. “I plan to
have Henry put it about our fortunes are much reduced.”

“What kind of wife will you catch with such nonsense?”

“One who loves me for who I am and not my purse,” Edward
smiled, pleased with himself but his confidence wavered at the skeptical look
on his father’s face.

“Go to London as you like,
but you’ll attract fairer ladies with money than with poverty. A rich woman
your equal will have nothing to do with you, while a girl of your status
lacking fortune won’t give you a second look. You’ll have a hard time
attracting a lady of quality, no matter her rank or position,” George shrugged,
returning to his gun.

*****

After six weeks in London, Edward knew his father was
right. Ladies of title and fortune were wary of men without means while ladies
with little means sought men of large fortunes. Only mushrooms eager for a
title to accompany their newfound wealth showed any interest in him, except
Miss Stuart. She didn’t care if he was a duke or a pauper and she didn’t want
his title or anything to do with him. He should be glad, but instead it irked
him.

Edward took another long sip of brandy, forcing Miss
Stuart from his mind. There was no point worrying about the woman. Even if
Henry proposed to Miss Knight, after tonight, he doubted Miss Stuart would ever
speak to him again. He’d dared to question her precious doctor and his methods
and won her wrath, though what a surprisingly pleasant wrath it had been.