The Duke's Wager (22 page)

“I thought you were not here tonight,” she went on, avoiding his eye, aware that he still had both arms locked about her waist, aware of his warmth and the subtle pull of her own body toward that slight, insistent frame that held her so close. “I truly felt that you were not here tonight. I only left the others because I needed to get away from the dancing. I did not…no, never intended to see you here.”

“But I am here now, Regina,” he said. “And now what do you intend to do?”

“She intends,” came a cold voice from the doorway, “to come in to dinner with me.”

St. John, his face white with suppressed anger, stood looking at them. Regina stared, with a guilty start, but the Duke only smiled his immovable seraphic smile.

“Regina,” St. John said tersely, “Amelia is looking for you, go to her. I shall join you shortly. Go now!” he commanded, as he stood and stared at the Duke. Regina hesitated only a moment, until she saw that neither man had any eyes for her now, rather they stood quietly facing each other locked in some inner combat. She turned and left quickly, welcoming the blinding glitter of lights in the room she approached, even though they swam suspiciously in her now dewed vision.

“But Sinjin,” the Duke said slowly, relaxing and smiling up at the taller man, “I did tell you that I had set my sights upon her, and you did decline my invitation to compete for her. You said, I believe, for I do have an excellent memory, ‘I’ll leave that field open for you.’ Now all I am doing is cultivating my field: a thing which, to my complete amazement, judging from her response to that simple caress you so rudely interrupted, you have not begun, and you are become an unexpected impediment. As well as taking an unexpected advantage. Sheltering her, clothing her, for all I know, and even introducing her as ‘Lady Berry.’ Not at all the thing, dear Sinjin. Very ungentlemanly behavior, passing off a poor penniless chit as nobility. Think of your hosts tonight. Why, half of them think she is your new mistress already, and the other half have been wagging their tongues about her all night. They would not be pleased to find out who she truly is. Unless, of course, I am altogether mistaken, and you have serious intentions, in which case, I offer you my felicitations, wish you joy, and will, of course, bow out completely. But in that case, my dear boy, is the announcement to be made tonight, or would you prefer that I remain mum until I return to town?” And he smiled warmly.

St. John stood still, his face very white, his fists clenched at his sides. All he could think of was how much he detested this man before him, and how little ammunition he had that he could battle with. Torquay’s last words, however, had sent a shiver of pure terror through him, the soft words had held a volume of possible blackmail in them. He said then, in a placating tone he did not feel,

“Come now, Torquay, you know that I have no serious intentions toward the girl at all. And neither have I any long-term plans for her. It is only that you will allow that she has some freedom of choice in the matter herself. And if she seeks my company rather than yours, you can hardly be spoilsport enough to blame me for her preference?”

“Again, Sinjin,” said the Duke softly, “I again understand what it is about you that so distresses me. So very little of what you say has any truth at all. I may be all sorts of a villain, but I do not try to dissemble at all. What I do, I do in plain sight of the world. While all that you do, you do in secret. I do believe, however,” he said, cocking his head to the side, “that you half believe the lies that you tell, so that you tell yourself them at the same time you tell others and it all comes out so plausible both to yourself and to them. Oh, it’s not a dueling matter,” he went on, waving a hand at the Marquis’s newly aggressive stance. “I am quite adept at pistols, even blades, as no doubt are you. But there’s no point in naming the killing ground, because although the world will take a great deal from us, I doubt it would ignore the slaying of one’s peer. And I don’t care for the climate in Greece this time of the year, do you? No,” he said calmly, seeing the effect of his words on the Marquis, “it’s…a matter of fact. Do you enter heavily into trade? Ah, but then you do it in secret, on the sly, and let the world believe that you have an independence unsullied by the grubby touch of the shop and the ships and the slave trade. Oh I know, I know, you needn’t stare so, there is little I don’t know, my dear boy. While my own poor fortune has roots that any fool can trace.

“I know, as well as you, that money is not in the habit of breeding by itself in a vault, and that every well eventually has a dry bottom. I too, have played the merchant and the trader, in turn. But had you inquired, you would have easily found that out. I make no secret of it. And do you know, Sinjin, it is surprising, but most people, even from the very best families, see only the glitter of the gold, and give not one damn about which mine it has been quarried from? But do not fear that I will cry rope at you. If you wish it to remain a secret, let it be. But know that I know.

“I, too, find fleshly pleasures exceed most others, but I make no secret of my pastimes, while you slip and slide and evade a path to all your mistresses. I have not a damn for the world, and I flourish like a green bay tree. As you do. I think that, yes, it is that which so annoys me—your constant hypocrisy. That you are indeed to be my successor, I do not care. But that you are forever presenting such a puritan face to the world, as you do: that you pretend to be so repelled, so shocked, so disgraced at my activities, while all the time you emulate me—ah, that rankles. But that is not to the point tonight.

“Now what is this nonsense about Miss Berryman—pardon, ‘Lady Berry’—preferring your company to mine? The child sees you only as a sanctuary, not as a lover. You’ve told her some nonsense about finding her a position, haven’t you? Don’t bother to deny it, I have it from her own delightful lips that you have. It’s rather like a mouse seeking sanctuary in a snake pit, isn’t it? I know only too well what ‘position’ you have in mind. But incredible though it seems to me, she does not. One of the things I dislike the most, save you, my friend, is admitting an error in judgment, but it does seem that she has misjudged you as completely as I have erred in my estimation of her. But you see, Sinjin,” the Duke went on, “it is only fair. I claimed her first. She is mine. And the only other moral justification I have, if you must have one, is that I have never lied about it. I have been extremely candid about my intentions. While you, with the same intentions, are spinning a web of lies so complicated…ah it does not bear discussion any further. Have done, Sinjin, turn her loose. I come to claim her now.”

St. John stood quietly, his calm belying the murderous rage that he felt. Then he spoke scornfully.

“If I choose to try to protect my good name, you consider it a fault? If I choose to conduct myself with some sort of dignity so that my family and eventually my heirs do not find their names synonymous with disgrace and improvident to mention in polite society, you consider that a sin? Well, Torquay, you and I are indeed different sorts of creatures. But you are right to leave it for now, for it is a discussion that can have no end. To the matter of Miss Berryman, then. Suppose you ask her which of us she prefers? Which of us is the one she chooses? Would you accept her own decision? After all, we both encountered her at the same moment. So you cannot say she is your prior property.”

The Duke looked at St. John with a considering eye. “But that is foolish, Sinjin,” he said coolly, “for at the moment, she sees you, of course, in only a most avuncular fashion. You are only a kindly benefactor, and I a vile seducer. But I tell you, Sinjin,” he thought and then, smiling radiantly, he went on, “if you were to make the same proposition to her that I have done, then yes. Oh, yes,” he laughed, “in that case, with all the scales dropped from her eyes, with all the subterfuge pushed aside, if then you asked her for her decision, I would, yes, certainly abide by it. Are you willing, Sinjin, to come into the open? To finally put the matter to her coldly and clearly, without all these trappings? For that is a wager I will take you up on. It is, if you recall, exactly the one I offered to you when we both first saw her.”

The Marquis wavered, seeing all his carefully constructed plans crumbling, but the Duke put in, “Of course, if you do not tell her, you understand that I will. I grow tired of waiting. I desire her now. She is blossoming into a rare beauty. I like to talk to her. It’s a novelty. Unless you hesitate because you feel sure that she could not prefer your protection. You are, of course, younger, and taller…but then I have
such
address, and such lovely blue eyes.”

“No,” St. John said, “then it will be as you say. I will have done with the charade. I will tell her. She will be given the decision to make. Will you abide by it?”

“Of course.” The Duke smiled. “I love a good game, you know.”

“But give me a day,” St. John said. “I cannot tell her this night, for obvious reasons.”

“Certainly.” The Duke bowed impassively and, turning to leave the room, he looked back at the Marquis and, seeking exactly the right words, drawled, “I have looked forward to this day, Sinjin. It is so very pleasant to be proven right, to find that at last, you are willing to play upon my field, according to my rules, and in my exact mode. Why, at this rate, it will not be long until we are sharing exactly the same pleasures, and I should not mind at all, Sinjin. Remember, I have long told you that we are birds of a feather. Very black birds, though, I fear.”

The Marquis felt an internal chill at the words, and stood, for a long moment, drawing in a shuddering breath, before he could face the rest of the company. It was now more important than ever that he defeat Torquay’s plans, although in some small part of his mind, there rang a small, steady alarm bell.

The Duke strolled back to the ballroom and, finding his host, joined him in desultory conversation, which mainly consisted of a documentation of the virtues of his three daughters, especially the two not yet betrothed.

Jason Thomas, Duke of Torquay, was at his best that night, smooth, urbane, delightfully conversant and clever. There was not a female that danced with him, of any age, who did not leave his hands feeling infinitely more desirable, and slightly, but delightfully scandalized, although he did no more or less than was strictly proper. There was not a youth who stood and spoke with him who did not walk away feeling singularly more sophisticated, nor an elder who did not shake his hand as he left, who did not think that surely the chap’s reputation was exaggerated, for here was a man of rare good sense and opinion. He was at his peak; blithe, conversant, and deeply interested in every one who spoke with him.

No one in the room, no, no one in the world, could have guessed at the cold fear that gripped him, or the sick dread anticipation of failure, and some other emotion that he dared not name, which caused him to sit awake the unblinking hours in the Squire’s finest guest room, while the whole house, save for the steadily working servants, slept peacefully through the last hours of the remaining night.

XIII

It was a strangely subdued party that sat in the breakfast room at Fairleigh on that dim winter’s morning. Mary, pleading fatigue, had sent word that she would breakfast in her rooms after the excitement of the previous night. Amelia sat quietly sipping her chocolate and watching St. John’s strangely tense face under her lashes. Regina seemed impervious to them both and, distracted, tried to bring her thoughts back from the unsteadying remembrances of the last evening.

She had seen the Duke again, but for the balance of the night, his behavior had been impeccable. He had amused his companions, flattered his host and raised his hopes for the future of at least one of his daughters, danced with Amelia until her face glowed with pleasure, and said hardly one word when he had been formally introduced to ‘Lady Berry.’ Only at the end of the evening had he allowed his lips to linger over her hand for an extra heartbeat, and had whispered so softly, “The game is almost at an end, my dear, and it will be winner take all.”

She had lain awake that night, her unruly thoughts returning again and again to that strange embrace, and wondering with dismay and near panic at the reactions that he had drawn forth from her traitorous lips. How could it be, she had agonized, that she could hold a man in such contempt for his manners and lifestyle, and yet, and yet, long for his kiss? It was against all the precepts that she had governed her life by. So now, while she felt secure and safe from him here, protected by her two new friends, she knew that she was not at all safe from him within the confines of her own mind. It is time, she thought again, for me to leave here. It is of utmost importance that I go far, far away. Although, she wondered, with an unsquelchable honesty, how can I go far from my own self?

Amelia left the table first, saying something about completing some correspondence she had to reply to. It was then that St. John rose and, looking over at Regina, said softly, “Regina, please I should like to speak with you now. About that position I mentioned to you yesterday.”

She rose gladly, and made as if to walk to the study, when he smiled sadly, and said, “No, not here. I feel the need for some fresh air after last night’s revels. I know you do not ride, so will you accompany me for a little stroll about the grounds? Dress warmly, there is a chill in the air.”

Regina hurriedly put on a warm pelisse and, securing her hair, tied on a warm furred hat that Amelia had donated to her and was looking for St. John in the breakfast room, and then the study, when a glance out the window showed her that he waited, pacing slowly, on the drive in front of the house.

St. John paced as he waited for her to join him. He was thinking furiously, as he had all night. Too soon, he mourned, too soon. He had not had time to prepare her. He had played a slow and waiting game, considering that he had all the time in the world. And he well knew that she needed time. She still thought of him as a kindly brother, or a friendly companion. He had felt it unwise to rush her along too quickly, seeing how completely Torquay’s complete physical interest had repulsed her.