The Duke's Wager (7 page)

“Protection?” answered the Marquis, raising an eyebrow. “I hardly think you mean precisely that…not my sort of protection, but,” he went on, noting his aged partner’s extreme unease, “yes, certainly, as I said, I will do what I can.”

Once out again in the clear night, St. John walked a circuitous route to where he could safely call for a hackney cab.

The words were easy enough to say, but he had known even as he said them that there was little he could do for Berryman. How could he make an application to that wickedly smiling Torquay, without Torquay, who was never a fool, oh no, he might be everything else, but not a fool, inquiring as to how, and why, the Marquis was concerning himself with the affairs of a bourgeois commoner? “But Sinjin,” he could hear the Duke saying in his distinctive whisper, “how came you to hear of my plots against a merchant?” No, he could never give the Duke that hint, that insight into his private affairs, his association with Berryman. The Duke was too quick to pick up a scent for that.

No matter, St. John rationalized as he signaled to the hackney, for it is probably only that new ginger-haired maid that Torquay has spied. It is only a little serving girl he wishes to entertain himself with. And she looks the sort to be well pleased with a moonlight abduction, no matter what her prim master thinks, I know the sort. And, he thought, settling back against the cushions of the coach, “I did say, I would do what I could, and in truth, I can do nothing.”

*

“Regina,” said her uncle as he watched the girl pace the length of his study, “please do calm yourself. It isn’t so very bad, my dear. So you will stay within the house for a few days longer. Then, I assure you, I have set certain wheels in motion that will put an end to the matter and you will be free again.”

“You spoke to the man who came here tonight about it?” Regina asked, shocked.

“I’m sorry,” her uncle said, locking away certain papers in his drawer. “But you know I cannot confide business matters to you. I hold many people’s confidences, but yes, I did make application to someone whom I believe can ease the situation.”

Regina stopped and looked at her uncle, who sat dejectedly at his desk. Oh really, she thought, it is not fair. He tries so hard to make it all up to me, and I am ungrateful and stubborn, and he is such a good old man.

“Uncle,” she cried, rushing to his side, “forgive me, you are so weary from traveling all day, and here I besiege you further. I will stay in. I’ll read…or do needlepoint, or some such thing. I’m well used to my own company. Don’t concern yourself so. You look positively ill, are you all right?”

“All right as I can be,” he assured her. “It’s only that I am no longer young, my dear. There are times when I could wish that I had gotten to know you sooner…could have watched you grow. But there was always another bit of business to accomplish. When you are young you think you have all the time in the world.”

“You are ill!” cried Regina, her green eyes wide. “I’ll call Mrs. Teas, I’ll call an apothecary….”

“No, no,” he laughed softly. “Don’t get into a pet, my dear, it’s only that I at last admit that I am old. Many years older than your own father was, Regina. And I must now contemplate the fact of it, now that I have you to consider. Regina,” he said, rising and looking at her, noting that what he had considered a soft, pretty child was in reality a glowing young woman. “I will be taking certain other steps to insure your future. At the moment, my sole heir is my nephew, your cousin, Harry. But that is not right. I’ve made an appointment with my solicitor. I’ll change a few things in your favor. No,” he said, seeing her about to protest, “there is nothing wrong with a little foresight, my dear. In the meantime, I have some other business…yes, eternally business, to clear up in the west. I’ll be gone for about a week, and then, after I see my solicitor, perhaps you and I can take ourselves off to some resort spa. I can enjoy the waters, and you can try to bewitch some young men.” He eyed her with worry, for in truth, he did not have any idea of what sort of young men she could consort with. Her birth placed her below the correct people he felt she would be temperamentally suited to, her education placed her above the earnest young men he associated with. But perhaps, he thought hopefully, we might make a match for her with some impoverished younger son, or some young man just out of the military, or even, he dared to think, someone of exceptional family whose empty pockets might make such a match acceptable.

As if she could read his thoughts, she smiled softly at him, and kissed his cheek.

“Dear Uncle,” she said, “confess it, isn’t business easier to manage than a stray young niece?”

“At any rate,” he smiled back, “while I am gone, stay within the house. That matter out there will soon be cleared up. And Regina…if, should anything untoward occur to me…for I am not a young man…that is to say, if I should ever be in a position where I cannot help you should the need arise…do not tell any other soul, but you may make application to St. John Basil St. Charles, the Marquis of Bessacar. Simply seek him out and tell him who you are. No, I cannot answer any questions. Just remember that.”

“It is graven on my heart,” she said, and made a child’s sign of crossing her heart and sealing her lips. “I promise you, Uncle.” She smiled, kissing her fingertip. “Honor bound.”

V

Regina sat huddled in a large chair in the comer of the room as her aunt swept up to Mrs. Teas. It seemed that her vision was blurry, her ears were fogged, her head ached dully. Things had happened too quickly for her naturally resilient personality to have time to assert itself.

One moment she had been sitting in her room, helping Belinda pin up a dress, a dress she was planning to wear to celebrate her uncle’s return the next day. And the next moment, this small fierce little woman had entered the house to announce that she had already had word from her solicitors, although how she could have discovered the news so shortly after the terrified servant had delivered it to Regina herself, she would never know.

Aunt Harriet had introduced herself to Regina, and then taken stock of the house that was now hers, or rather her son’s. But one look had shown Regina that whatever Cousin Harry had, his mother would control.

Uncle George had fallen as he had entered the inn where he was staying, and by the time the landlord had gotten him decently into bed, he had not had much time left. The only message he managed to whisper to the physician before his ravaged heart had given way as surely as his late brother’s had, was one for Regina. “Tell her,” he had gasped, “that I’m terribly sorry.”

Regina had not gotten to know her uncle very well, so she could not in all honesty be said to be pining for him. Still, the tears she had shed at his graveside were genuine enough. He had looked so very much like her father. His death had so nearly duplicated his brother’s. And, selfishly, she knew that the safe harbor to which he had spirited her was now vanished.

Her aunt did not grieve at all. She was a small fury of a woman, and as adept at business as her brother had been. Though, even standing erect with indignation, as she so often did, she only reached to Regina’s shoulder, the small wiry body contained all the ambition in the world. All the ambition, Regina had observed, that her poor cousin Harry had not inherited.

Regina could feel some sympathy for Harry, she realized, but very little. In the weeks in which he had moved in to her uncle’s house with his mother, she had been aware, through all the confusion, of his apologetic presence. He was a few years older than Regina herself, but he lacked her glowing color. He was a pallid, dark-haired young man. His pantaloons stretched un- fashionably across a premature little paunch that bobbled when he coughed, as he so often did, to attract attention. If he would not try, Regina thought, watching him from the corner of her eye, so very hard to be in fashion, perhaps it would not be so noticeable. But the tight-fitting jackets he aspired to only accentuated his perennial slouch and rounded shoulders. And his conversational attempts were poor mumbles, as if he expected to be interrupted at any moment. And, in fairness, she thought, he always was.

“Harry,” commanded his mother now, “do say something. I have just told Mrs. Teas that her services will be no longer required. That as we are no longer a household containing only a bachelor and his niece, we require a butler, not a housekeeper. We have enough females here. She has asked for references. Will you take yourself off and compose one?”

“Ah,” the unhappy Harry ventured, “but as I did not…that is to say, never employed her…what should I write, Mama?”

“Whatever seems reasonable,” his mother shouted.

“Perhaps,” Regina put in, trying to come to Harry’s aid, “Mrs. Teas herself can suggest some of the required wording.”

“Very good,” commended her aunt. “Just so. Go to it, Harry.”

When Harry and Mrs. Teas had left, Aunt Harriet sat herself down opposite Regina.

“It’s good,” she said, shaking her gray curls for emphasis, “that you’re coming out of your sulks. I don’t mind telling you that when I discovered that I had inherited you as well as this house, I was shocked. George never said a word about your presence, but you might as well know that we were never close. You do know it, so what’s said is said. We were both very busy people, and I consider myself no more at fault than he was. But, what’s done’s done, when all’s said. Still, you’re a well enough looking girl, though you have more of your mother in you than Berryman, to be sure. But you’ve a quick mind, and a healthy body, so all’s not lost. What do you intend to do with yourself, Niece?”

The abruptness of the question put Regina off balance. In truth, for the past weeks she had been trying to determine the same thing for herself. She was in no better case now than she was when her father had died. She had little money, and less experience with the world. She had never gotten out to see much more of the grand city to which she had been taken. At first, it was because she had lain in hiding from the omnipresent coach which had waited outside. But soon after her uncle’s death, it had disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. But then, her confusion and mourning had confined her to the house. Now a month had passed, and she still had no clear idea of what was to become of herself.

Still, she was never silent for too long, and giving her aunt a long measuring look, she spoke:

“I have a few options, Aunt. I have been considering them. If I could prevail upon you to lend me some passage fare, I could rejoin my governess at the school she has established in Canterbury and establish myself there as a teacher. I could perhaps seek similar employment with some well-placed family here in the city. I would not, Aunt, throw myself upon your charge for too long.”

“What about marriage?” snapped her aunt.

“I am dowerless, portionless, and familyless,” Regina smiled. “Not quite a catch, Aunt.”

“Your looks would take care of that,” her aunt spoke. “If any of my girls had had your looks, I would have danced all the way to the bank instead of having to pay off such doweries. There’s hope in that line, girl.”

“I don’t want to marry yet,” Regina said calmly.

“Want to wait till you’re ruined?” her aunt cried. “For take my word, girl, that’ll be your fate if you’re not careful. Too good looking to mope about waiting for a prince to snap you up. You won’t be able to support yourself too well with a bastard at your knee, Regina. Oh, don’t look scandalized, I speak it as I see it. You’re a good looking gal. Even Harry, whom I confess I thought never had a tendency toward such things, has been goggling at you.”

“Harry?” said Regina with incredulity.

“Yes,” her aunt continued. “And I’m glad to see it, too. He hasn’t looked at anything but his neckcloth for years. He’s been looking at you, though. Here’s a proposition, Regina. Take it as I say it, and I’ll only say it the once. You can go off to Canterbury, if you wish, I’ll advance you the money. But if you go and don’t make a go of it, don’t come back. I don’t want any soiled goods dragging back here. Harry’s too soft-hearted and that wouldn’t be what I want for him. Or you can try to get a position here in the city, only with your looks, all the positions offered to you will be ones you won’t want to take, if you get my meaning. But if you’re sensible, you’ll hear me out. Harry needs a wife. We’ve got money enough to make up for your poverty. At least, we already know your family. And you’ll bring good blood into the line. And brains. Which, my girl, you well know isn’t Harry’s strong point. Now I’m not forcing you, or threatening you, but I’m making a good clear business proposition to you. Think about it. But not for too long, I don’t want him setting his heart on something he can’t get. It’ll make it harder for him in future if he does. There’s your choices, girl, and fair ones they are, too. Think about it.”

And nodding with satisfaction, her aunt walked off to find the cook to terrorize.

“Well,” thought Regina angrily, “I do hope the climate in Canterbury suits me, for it looks like I’ll be there for some time.”

But when Regina announced her decision to her aunt a week later, the week which she had felt would give her time to send the letter to Canterbury announcing her imminent arrival, her aunt had told her not to be so hasty, to let things hang fire for a spell. Then, all at once, Regina realized that Harry had been attempting to woo her. She had not understood what all the desultory, incoherent attempts at conversation had been, but when on the heels of her aunt’s startling decision to allow her to stay for a while longer, Harry proffered an invitation to the theater to her, she had understood.

She had not had the heart to turn down his shyly muttered invitation, and so, on this fine frosty evening, she found herself dressing in one of the lovely gowns her uncle had purchased for her.