The Duke's Wager

by Edith Layton

  “No, my love,” he smiled. “Have you forgotten? I am away today. I shall leave my house and my child in your capable hands. I trust you will keep them both free of small insects and large problems. Come, break bread with me, and I will give you my direction, and complete written authority to do as you wish.”

  “I would wish,” she said, seeing in the increasing light the scars the long night had left beneath his eyes, “that you might give me the same license with your own person.”

  “Ah love,” he said, bending and placing his hand along her cheek. “I do believe that when his Infernal Highness comes around at last to claim me, and lays his fiery collar about my neck, my own dear fierce Pickett will be there to challenge him, and swear, against the damnation of her own soul, that her poor misunderstood nursling has been wrongly accused, and stands innocent of all wrongdoing.”

  “I think you wrong yourself the most,” she said sadly. “And look hourly for that gentleman to come and release you from yourself. And I do not think he could do half so good a job at torment as you have done.”

  “Torment?” He paused on the stair and threw his golden head back and roared with laughter. When he had recovered, he said merrily, “Pickett, you observe a gentleman in haste to be on the way to a gala ball, and on the way to collect on an important wager surely soon to be won, on the way to triumph, in fact.”

  She followed him silently down the long stairs, but in the hall she paused, and lay her hand upon his sleeve.

  “When you were a boy,” she said, watching him with troubled eyes, “we two had an important wager once. Do you remember? It was a picnic we were to go on, half a day’s drive away. Oh, you were so excited, for we had your mama’s permission to take a luncheon, we had an invitation to see some fine horses you had admired. We were to be allowed to be away until nightfall. For a week, you watched the skies, and noted the winds, and daily you wagered it would rain that day and cancel our trip. And I swore the sun would shine. And on that morning it poured rain, I believed it was the beginning of the flood. And you came to me, with tears in your eyes, and said, ‘Pickett, at least congratulate me, for I’ve won.’ Is it to be another such triumph?”

  He stared down at her, his face gray as the uncertain light. “What matter?” he spoke softly. “It will be a wager won. And,” he continued, “surely you do not begrudge me victory?”

  And so I do, my lad, she thought silently as he gave her his arm to lead her in to breakfast. I begrudge you all such triumph, and all your bitter victories.

  XII

  The carriage moved almost silently through the night toward the broad entrance of the drive to Squire Hadley’s manor house, but three of the occupants of the carriage were as silent as their conveyance. The only voice that chatted happily on was that of Lady Mary, who blissfully and without interruption prattled on about the forthcoming delights of the evening. The others sat quietly, each wrapped in their own silence of thought and speculation.

  There had been a brief flurry of light chatter when they had all met in the hallway before they had left Fairleigh, Regina had been complimented fulsomely by both of the other ladies. She had been dressed with care, and Lady Burden’s green satin ball gown had suited her unique coloring to perfection. Although she had been shocked, and then worried about the extremely low neck of the gown, low enough, she realized with some fear, to show the swelling rise of her breasts, her maid had assured her that contrary to her expectations, it would be considered a modest gown, and all the crack this season. When she had descended the stairs, she had seen that even the gown that the swollen Lady Mary wore had a more daring cut, and then her fears had been allayed completely by the slow and lingering smile that St. John had briefly worn when he had gazed upon her.

  There was a brief roundelay of mutual compliments, Regina being quite careful to phrase her admiration for Lady Mary’s quite inappropriately pink and white draped gown, and her very real esteem for Amelia’s elegant amber velvet dress. St. John, she noticed, was looking so handsome in his severe black evening dress that she felt shy of turning a word of praise to him. Somehow, dressed as he was, she felt he was even more unapproachable than usual and his tightened expression as they entered the coach chased any lingering thought of easy conversation with him from her mind. Again, however, she mused, as she half listened to Mary’s incessant chatter, she had caught the vestiges of a feeling of something she had forgotten, when she had first seen St. John this evening. But now her foremost worry was how she was to behave this evening.

  Both St. John and Amelia had told her clearly that she had nothing to fear from the Duke. That she could, indeed, if she wished to, even speak with him as lightly as she wished. But that the best course of action would be to ignore him completely. But how, she wondered, wishing that she were not wearing long gloves so that she could comfortably nibble at a fingertip, could she ignore him? Or be sure that she would know how to act at a ball? For, under no circumstances did she wish to embarrass any one of her benefactors. But Amelia had only laughed, and heartlessly stated that there was no way in which she could disgrace herself at Squire Hadley’s ball unless she became disguised and cavorted barefoot in the punchbowl, and even then, the Squire might think it all the rage to do so and join in her romp.

  When she entered the large room to which they had been ushered when their wraps were removed, Regina was at first too dazzled by both the quantity of brightly burning candles and the panoply of dancers, to single out any individuals. Lord, she breathed to herself, as she half heard St. John introducing her to the largely beaming Squire and his breathless wife, there must be upward of a hundred people here! She had no way of knowing that what was to her an unimaginably elegant, brilliant, and crowded ball, was to her London-bred companions merely a dull, sparsely attended, inelegant local country dance.

  Lady Mary was led to a comfortable chair among the dowagers, where, perceiving her interesting condition, she was immediately drawn into a—to her—delightful round of reminiscences of confinements and other homey discussions of mutual childbed experiences. St. John and Amelia stood watching the proceedings with Regina, until St. John, stifling a yawn, went off to fetch both ladies small glasses of ratafia.

  “He does not seem to be here at all,” Amelia said quietly to Regina, with just a trace of regret in her voice. “I suppose it was all a hum on his part, and after we were all expecting some ferocious confrontation. Ah, well,” she went on, “he does have an odd sense of humor, at that.”

  Regina did not have to ask who “he” was, and scarcely trusting herself to do more than nod, she watched the dancers forming a country set. She had been so involved in searching the whirling room for the slight, familiar form that she had not noticed the stir that she herself had caused when she had entered. Her face, her form alone would have ensured a certain response in any male member of the company, but her mysterious reputation had preceded her, and mercifully, she was as yet unaware of the curiosity concerning herself. But when a tall young man detached himself from his fellows and bowed an introduction to Regina and Lady Burden, she gave a start as she heard herself being invited to join the dance now forming. But she didn’t know how to dance, she thought with panic, and understood suddenly how a man who cannot swim feels when the water is closing over his head.

  Amelia, smiling pleasantly, waited to hear Regina’s response, but at the girl’s stricken look suddenly remembered that it must have been true, that incredible claim that she could not dance, and with the quickness of mind and sure instinct for social grace that she was noted for, smiled sweetly and said, “Ah, but Mr. Birmingham, our dear visitor Lady Berry had the most unfortunate accident only this morning, oh nothing dire, but she did turn her ankle, and regretably cannot join us in the dance this evening. But, since you did journey all the way across the room for a dance, if you would not mind escorting Lady Berry to a seat, I will join you in her place.”

  Mr. Birmingham, repressing the keen disappointment he felt, bowed, and said, “Bu
t that would be beyond all goodness of your part, Lady Amelia,” and, having deposited Regina in a comfortable chair on the sidelines next to the dowagers, chaperones, and mamas, gallantly escorted Amelia to the dancers.

  Regina watched the dancers for a while, noticing that St. John had been snared by a burbling Miss Kitty, who was lisping and giggling and making play with her lashes in a manner that surprised even Regina. The ladies that Regina was seated among, after having murmured quiet introductions, eyed her suspiciously, and then turned back to Lady Mary, who was vying with the Squire’s wife in detailing particularly dreadful parturitions.

  After hearing the explicit details of a hopefully exaggerated difficult confinement on the part of one of the mamas, Regina began to feel uneasy. Watching Amelia whirl about with her third partner, and realizing that now that St. John had been captured by Miss Lottie, he would not soon make an escape, as Miss Kitty and even the betrothed Miss Betty were eyeing him as if he was to be their last supper, Regina began to feel increasingly the dreamlike aspect of her position.

  She had bathed, and powdered, and dressed with care. She had come to this ball, but now felt as if there were a pane of glass separating her from all the others here. She could not speak with any authority about childbirth, and the only other young woman in her proximity was a poor young creature who was afflicted with a blighting galaxy of spots upon her face, and who glared with such ferocity at any young man whose mother had prompted him to approach her that he summarily retreated. No other young men approached Regina, and she felt that surely they all must think her of little consequence and less looks, or perhaps, in some supernatural way, had ascertained her deception.

  She had no way of knowing that her beauty quite took their breath away, and coupled with the mysterious linkage she enjoyed with the powerful Marquis, they all felt she was far beyond their touch. Her refusal to dance had only fed the rapidly whispered rumors that she was of high social station and a complete snob, or a French emigré who could not yet master the language, and there were even some mean souls who whispered that she was part of a colossal joke the elegant Marquis was visiting upon his country hosts, and she was in actuality only an expensive bit of muslin brought down from London as a lark. Therefore, no girl of any reputation dared speak to her, and as no young man wished to be rejected by her, she was left quite alone.

  The musicians played country dances, the young people formed sets, and Regina watched them lightly make their way through, what seemed to her, the impossible complicated forms of the dance. Slowly, her sure eye began to tell her what her experience could not. St. John and Amelia were certainly the best dressed, most elegant couple there. The other men seemed to her at once both too young and too old for fashionable attire, and their clothing seemed both too overly elaborate or too casual for the affair. The girls were often dressed in unsuitable colors, and their hair was dressed in styles which she intuitively knew were not correct. Occasionally a gentleman would glance in her direction and then either glance away or give her a calculating longer look. The women would either ignore her altogether or seek her out with a piercing look and then whisper some comment to their companions. Even while she admired the grace and precision of the dance, she was aware of their ill-concealed curiosity toward her.

  After what seemed to Regina to be an interminable amount of time, she felt that she could bear the situation no longer. It is as if I didn’t exist at all, she thought wildly, and beset by terrors brought on by her own trepidation, guilt at her false position in the Marquis’s household, and fears of embarrassing her hosts, she, trying to keep a calm expression on her face, rose and went quietly toward the back of the rooms where she hoped to take refuge in the shadowy recesses of the window embrasures.

  Once she had achieved the windows, she spied a small antechamber off the main room, where a large, curtained window stood slightly open to admit a few cool breezes to flicker the candles. Gratefully, she went swiftly to the window to stare out at the darkened, bare gardens.

  It was with no real sense of shock, but rather with a surprisingly pleasant feeling of expectation, that she heard the husky voice say from behind her, in velvety amused tones, “Come, this is no way to accept a challenge. Rather I expected to see you spinning about the room, causing me to fall into paroxysms of jealousy as I spied you dancing with delight, locked in Sinjin’s arms.”

  “Ah, but I cannot dance,” she replied, without looking around her. “Did not your extensive research tell you that?”

  “No, really?” he said. “That I did not know. But wouldn’t your gracious host have instructed you in the rudiments?”

  “He did not think it necessary,” she said primly. “My expectations are to teach young women in several regimens, dancing is not one of them.”

  “Dancing should certainly be one of them,” he said, and placing one hand upon her waist, he swung her around toward him.

  He outshone the candles tonight, she thought. Impeccable, his black evening clothes contrasting with his golden head, his eyes glinting like deep water in the refracted light. He seemed so full of life and vitality that, once again, her breath caught in her throat and all the clever, cutting things she had vowed she would say to him caught there and died on a sigh. He placed one warm strong hand on her waist and she felt the touch of him would crisp the sheer material of her gown through to her skin. He tightened his grip and caught her wavering protesting hand in his other. Then he began to pull her slightly toward himself.

  She looked up into the laughing blue eyes and gasped, she had not expected such a frontal attack and was momentarily without words, only the color rushed to her cheeks.

  “Oh no,” he laughed with delight. “This is not rapine, my innocent. This is merely the prefiguring position for that lovely dance the Squire has so daringly allowed to be played. The Graces assured him it was all the style in London this year. And so it is. It is called a waltz, and it is very decadent, the dowagers insist, as it comes from the continent where all things decadent, save for your obedient servant, come from. But it is quite fashionable and the advantage of it is that a man may hold a woman in the same position he usually dreams of holding a woman in, except in full view and with the approval of all her protectors. So I must hold you thus if you wish to learn to dance it.”

  “But I do not wish to dance it,” she protested, unnerved by his hand, which had swung her so dangerously close to him.

  “But you must,” he said quickly, “or else anyone spying us here, you in my arms, thus,” he said, drawing her closer, “would think that we are lovers met in assignation, and since you haven’t given out one little scream or protest, what would that young woman watching us, think?”

  Regina was too thunderstruck to look about for the witness he spoke of, and, wanting to avoid any scandal, said quickly, “Then show me the dance, quickly, and let me go. You promised you would not attempt any…seduction here.”

  “And I am a man of my word,” he said, beginning to move in the motions of the dance. “But if you think that this is how I begin seduction, I really must instruct you further in that art as well. But not here, certainly. Here I shall initiate you only to the wonders of the dance.” And slowly, counting her steps for her, he eased her into the whirling grace of a waltz.

  She found, to her surprise, that it was a simple thing for her, and, listening to the music, she soon discovered a certain delight in the dance. They spun and dipped and danced until she found a rare laughter about to bubble up in her throat. She had never danced, and it was a heady experience. When at last she heard the music end, she looked up to see him staring down at her with new interest.

  Glancing over his shoulder, she saw that he had swept her into a different room, a smaller hall off the small antechamber she had originally fled to. Now that the music had ended, she made a small move to remove herself from his arms, and found herself, instead, drawn closer. And then closer still, and then discovered herself being kissed again. She fought free and was about either t
o deliver him a resounding slap or to tear away completely and run, but while these two excellent plans revolved in her head, she heard him laugh merrily and say, “But you don’t even know how to kiss yet! Do you? Most unsatisfactory. Sinjin has been very remiss.”

  His comment stunned her so that she turned to stare back at him. The idea that one had to know how to kiss had never occurred to her, and was the last thing she had expected him to say. She instead only stared at him, with a look of real puzzlement.

  “You see,” he said, “you still kiss exactly like a small child thanking an elderly uncle for a birthday present. That is not how grown-ups kiss, Regina. No,” he said gently, “not the thing at all. You see you cannot kiss with your lips locked so tightly together, as if there were some secret behind them that you must never divulge. A kiss must tender up all secrets. You must part your lips, thus,” he said, placing a finger upon her full lower lip. “As if you were, indeed, about to impart some delightful secret at last to your lover, or as if you were about to partake of some rare wine, to sip something of fine bouquet. You cannot taste, or drink or kiss through sealed child’s lips, Regina,” he said, and seeing her bemused expression, her waiting lips, he lowered his head, and kissed her then, again.

  But this time, she did not draw back, or fight free, she only leaned forward, as if bewitched, into the long sweet, entirely new experience he presented her with. But when his hands began to leave her waist and travel up slowly until they reached her breasts, she shuddered suddenly, and broke free.

  “No!” she cried, looking into his depthless eyes. “You shall not.…”

  “Oh I shall, Regina,” he said quietly, strangely solemn. “But the point is, isn’t it, that you shall? And you begin to know it now?”