Wagered to the Duke (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Karen Lingefelt

  Kate supposed it was too late to make an escape out the opposite door. Any moment Freddy was going to poke his empty head inside and proclaim her fraudulent status. Besides, she wasn’t exactly eager to be chased in circles around a carriage for the second time in one day. Her mind raced to come up with a way to turn this to her advantage.

  As it happened, no head poked into the carriage. Instead she heard Freddy say, “Are you certain she’s my sister?”

  “See for yourself. She even has her maid with her, in case you still have doubts. I may as well inform you now that your debt is hereby forgiven, so you may take your sister and her maid home with you. In fact, I’m willing to ask my coachman to turn this carriage around and take all of us back to York, from whence you and Miss Hathaway and her maid may find your own way back to Leeds.”

  Silence, save for the screaming that only Kate heard because it was inside her head. Bellingham Hall, which she hoped never to see again, happened to be situated halfway between York and Scarborough, in the opposite direction from Leeds, but it was still even farther away from London, and already she’d come too far to turn back.

  A head finally poked into the carriage, but it wasn’t Freddy’s, which was just as well. She’d been sitting here stewing in such deep dregs of dread that she didn’t have her reticule ready to swing.

  Mr. Fraser favored her with a smile that sent strange tingles down her spine. “Miss Hathaway,” he said softly, his blue-gray eyes seeming to gleam in the oppressive gloom of the carriage’s interior. “As you may have heard, your brother is here. Would you like to step out and show yourself to him? He still seems to be in a bit of a daze.”

  “Still? I believe a daze is his normal state.”

  Nonetheless, something made her reach out for Mr. Fraser’s extended hand, and she knew it wasn’t a desire to get the inevitable over and done with, but because…

  Because she wanted to slip her hand into his. She longed to gaze forever into those captivating eyes that reminded her of a stormy sky. She wanted to brush that errant lock of raven hair back from his broad brow and plant her lips on the smooth skin it concealed.

  She wanted to kiss him in gratitude for rescuing her from a wretched existence while she still had the chance. Surely he couldn’t send her back with Freddy or even to Bellingham Hall if she kissed him?

  She took his hand as she slowly rose from the seat, and he gently guided her out of the carriage. She’d scarcely set foot on the ground when Freddy, as expected, flatly said, “That’s not my sister.”

  Mr. Fraser turned to regard Kate with a baffled expression. “And what have you to say to this, Miss Hathaway?”

  “He’s not my brother,” she declared, which was very much the truth.

  “What!” Mr. Fraser glanced from her to Freddy, then back to Kate again. “You say this isn’t your brother, and he says you’re not his sister. That leaves your maid. What does she have to say about this?”

  Not surprisingly, Polly said the same thing she’d been saying since she was first dragged into this mess. “I want to go home.”

  “And so you will, provided you can settle this dispute for us,” Mr. Fraser assured her. “Come out and be good enough to tell me who is who.”

  Kate didn’t even have time to step away from the carriage door. Polly nearly knocked her over in her haste to escape the shadowy confines of the carriage. “That man is Mr. Hathaway.”

  “I’ll have you know I’ve never seen these women before in my life!” he burst out.

  Polly began sobbing. “I’m telling you, that’s Mr. Hathaway!”

  The girl’s distress tugged at Kate’s heart, and guilt flooded her for forcing Polly into this. Then she reminded herself that Mrs. Peck hadn’t wanted to take Polly to Mr. Throckmorton’s, because a governess would have no need of a maid, and Mr. Throckmorton did not need another maidservant. The alternative would have been to leave Polly at the Blue Rooster, but what would have become of her, as she had no coin and no means to return home?

  For that matter, neither did Kate.

  “I’m afraid my maid has no desire to go to London, and will say or do just about anything to go back,” she said. “Besides, Mr. Fraser, who are you going to believe? A weepy, hysterical maidservant, or a dandified, addlepated vagrant who has no idea which way he’s supposed to be going—or sane, sensible me?”

  She flashed him her most charming smile, which she should have known would have no effect on him, for her most charming smile had yet to charm any man.

  Mr. Fraser pursed his lips, as if he were trying to suppress something—perhaps a cough, a scoff, or even outright laughter. “Frankly, Miss Hathaway, you’ve presented me with quite a conundrum. I don’t know which one of you I should believe. In which case, Mr. Hathaway, we’ll take you to the next village, and from there you can surely find the right connections to take you back to wherever you came from.”

  The women ducked back into the carriage. A sniffling and sniveling Polly took her seat next to Kate, and Freddy followed, slumping on the rear-facing seat across from them.

  Mr. Fraser gripped the door as he glowered at all of them. “The three of you can spend the next leg of our journey debating your identities with each other. Perhaps by the time we reach our next stop, you’ll have agreed on who you really are and what you’d like to do next.”

  Kate opened her mouth to say something she would probably regret much later, but he flipped up a hand, the palm facing her. “Before you excoriate me, kindly remember that this is my carriage, and I’m the one who’s being inconvenienced by ferrying a trio of strangers who, for all I know, are plotting to fleece me at just the right moment. By all rights, I should have this carriage all to myself, while the three of you should be lashed on top or fighting for space on the tiger’s seat. Now, do you still have something you’d like to say, Miss Hathaway?”

  Kate was almost speechless. Almost. All she could say in response was, “Excoriate?”

  “Yes, it means to rebuke, to reproach, to revile,” he rapped out. “I’ve been waiting for the day when I’d have the chance to use that word, and when I met you this afternoon, I had a feeling this would be the day.”

  She bristled and crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose I should be pleased to be of service.”

  “Very well. Let’s press on.” Mr. Fraser closed the carriage door, and moments later they were rolling down the road again.

  As the carriage wound its way across open heath, Kate glowered at the cur slumped across from her, pretending to be asleep. She didn’t believe for a minute he was passed out.

  “Mr. Hathaway,” Polly called out to him, her voice faint and tentative. “Oh, Mr. Hathaway?”

  He didn’t so much as budge. In fact, if Kate didn’t know any better, she would have sworn that he actually closed his eyes even tighter at the sound of Polly’s dulcet voice.

  “Polly, you’ll never get a response from him that way. Look at him. He’s out cold. Do you honestly expect him to perk up at the barely audible sound of his name? Indeed, you’ll note I’m speaking in a fairly normal tone of voice, yet still I see not a flutter of an eyelash on his deceptively innocent and cherubic face. Do you? Dead to the world, he is, our Freddy.”

  Fresh tears attacked Polly’s cheeks. “Why did he say he never saw me before, when he’s known me for many years? Could it be he’s just foxed? He did leave us to visit the taproom back at the Blue Rooster, and Miss Baxter, I think I should tell you”—she lowered her voice to a whisper, as if she still thought he might overhear—“he’s never been good at holding his liquor, which I reckon is how he lost Miss Meg at cards.”

  “Is this how he usually behaves when he’s foxed?”

  “Sometimes, but he’s also been known to behave this way even when he’s sober. One almost has to smell it on him.”

  Kate leaned forward to take a sniff, smelling nothing but a rather unpleasant blend of stale cologne and sweat. Yet she surmised if she were a wild animal, she might also smell
fear. She sat back. “I don’t think he disavowed you because he’s too foxed to recognize you.”

  “Then why? Why would he do such a thing?”

  “For pity’s sake, Polly. He wagered his own sister in a card game, and was willing to hand her over to a complete stranger who may well have had something more nefarious in mind than forgiving the debt, and you wonder why he would do such a thing as claim he’s never seen you in his life?”

  Polly shrank into her corner of the seat. “Well…”

  “He did both for the same reason. Because he’s a cur and a swine. Because he’s a rogue, a rake, a bounder, and a blackguard. Because he’s a selfish, worthless good-for-nothing with nary an honorable bone in his body.”

  She stole a glance at him. His eyes were still closed, but his arms seemed more tightly crossed now, and his mouth curved down at the ends in a decided frown. If Kate peered closely enough, she could even detect a vertical crease between his blond brows.

  She continued ranting. “What kind of brother would do such a thing to his own sister? Especially when he could just as easily have wagered you, Polly? Not that I would wish this on you, knowing what I do of your disposition. But it makes sense to me that when one is so far below the hatches he has no way of paying his debts of honor except to put up innocent bystanders, then at least he would start with the maidservants and not his own sister.”

  Polly wiped her nose with her sleeve. “Lawks, I never thought of that.”

  “Well, don’t feel bad, Polly, for neither did he. Nor, for that matter, did Mrs. Hathaway, obviously.”

  “Oh no, Miss Baxter, ’twasn’t like that at all! Mrs. Hathaway thought the duke would marry Miss Meg!”

  Kate rolled her eyes and sputtered in scorn at Mrs. Hathaway’s lofty, misguided ambitions. “Polly. He’s a duke. A duke can have any woman he wants. Why would he take as his duchess a woman he’s never seen, and whom he encountered only because he happened to win her in a card game? Do you honestly think the duke sat down to play cards for the express purpose of winning himself a wife?”

  Polly blinked. “Well, no, but—but—”

  “But Mrs. Hathaway did. What a simpleton. Why, she’s as big a simpleton as her son.”

  Kate ventured another glance at Freddy, whose lips were now scrunched together, as if he was trying to suppress some sort of verbal explosion. Even in the fading daylight seeping through the carriage windows, she could see he was now aquiver with rising rage.

  She raised her voice. “And if he’s a cur and a swine—and he is—then do you know what that makes his mother?”

  Polly’s swollen, red eyes opened wide, making her look somewhat demonic.

  “If I told you, I daresay that would be one way to get his attention,” said Kate, lifting her reticule. “But I much prefer this method.”

  With all her strength, she brought the reticule down on his head.

  Freddy yowled, his arms flying open as he jerked upright.

  “Wagering your own sister in a card game!” she burst out. “What sort of monster are you?”

  He clutched his arms over his head, terror-stricken eyes peering at her from between his elbows. “Where is she? I know you know where she is!”

  “Rest assured she’s in a much safer place than you are, Freddy. You should thank me. Granted, I don’t expect you to thank me for coshing you with my reticule, unless doing so happened to beat some badly needed sense into your head, but you are indebted to me for saving your sister.”

  “What do you want? I don’t have any blunt, or I wouldn’t have had to put up my sister. I don’t have anything. Well, except for Polly. I’ll give you Polly. You can have her.”

  “Then you do recognize me!” Polly exclaimed. “Oh, Mr. Hathaway, won’t you please take me back to Leeds?”

  “Polly, I do wish you’d reconsider,” said Kate. “Who’s to say that next time he won’t wager you, instead of one of his other sisters?”

  “What do you want?” Freddy asked again. “Do you want me to tell him you’re my sister, after all?”

  “Oh, yes, do, Miss Baxter,” Polly pleaded. “Then Mr. Fraser will send us all back to Leeds.”

  “I am not going to Leeds, or back to York, or any place in between or beyond,” Kate said fiercely. “Honestly, Polly, why on earth would you ever want to go back to this man’s household? You don’t have any relatives of your own there, do you?”

  Polly’s lower lip trembled. “Me mam’s the cook, and until today, I was all she had, Miss Baxter. Don’t you have a mother somewhere?”

  “Yes, but she wanted me to leave, Polly. And quite frankly, I was only too happy to go. So, as you might expect, I have no desire to go back.”

  Only where did that leave Polly? Guilt bit at Kate once more, as she glanced from Polly to Freddy, who rightly looked as if he feared being coshed again, for he remained curled up into a pitifully quivering ball.

  Kate lowered her voice. “About Mr. Fraser,” she whispered. “He’s the same man to whom you foolishly and selfishly wagered your poor sister?”

  “I wouldn’t say I wagered her to him, specifically. There were others at the table, and he just happened to be the one who won that particular hand. Only I could have sworn he was a duke.”

  “And he gave no hint that he was going to forgive the debt?”

  “Not at all, or I wouldn’t have brought her to the inn today.”

  “And the woman you were with earlier, in that monstrous barouche? Who is she?”

  “The mother of a friend of mine,” Freddy replied. “He rode ahead with Lord Bellingham to collect a debt at Bellingham Hall nearby, but that wasn’t on the way to Leeds, so his mother took me as far as the crossroads and threw me out.”

  Kate’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her stepfather. “What debt does Lord Bellingham owe your friend?”

  Freddy shrugged. “I don’t know. Mayhap Lord Bellingham has a sister.”

  Or even a stepdaughter. Yet her stepfather was supposed to be up in Northumberland at a shooting party. Supposed to be.

  “Where and when exactly did you wager and lose Meg?” But she thought she already knew the answer.

  And Freddy confirmed it. “About a week ago, at Lord Gorham’s house party in Northumberland.”

  Kate stared at Freddy, aghast. That was where her stepfather had gone shooting. In fact, it was precisely because it was supposed to be just a shooting party that her mother had remained at Bellingham Hall.

  But did her stepfather do some gambling there, only to wager Kate to the son of that mysterious matron in the huge, black barouche, driven by the sleek, black horses?

  She shuddered at the thought of what she’d escaped, but she knew she wasn’t out of danger yet. Not until she reached London and saw her brother again. Surely Anthony would know what to do.

  She sat back on the worn leather seat. “Now listen to me, if you don’t want to get coshed again. I want you to tell Mr. Fraser that I am indeed your sister, and that you mean to honor your debt. In fact, you are determined to honor your debt. Tell him if you can’t, then you’ll have to shoot yourself or something equally dire.”

  “I rather feel like doing that now,” Freddy mumbled.

  “Good. Then you’ll do it? Not shoot yourself, that is, but tell Mr. Fraser I’m your sister. You owe me a boon. I’ve spared your sister from a horrible fate.”

  “Only what’s so horrible about being a duchess?”

  “Nothing that I know of, but rest assured he has no plans to marry your sister.”

  “Not now he doesn’t.” Bitterness seeped into his voice. “Obviously you have plans to marry him.”

  “Perish the thought,” Kate said flatly. Something told her Mr. Fraser, or rather the Duke of Loring, would jettison her the first chance he got, but until then, she intended to remain in this carriage for as far as he would take her. She could only hope it would be as far as London.

  “Tell me you’ll do it,” she prodded him.

  “I’ll do it
,” he agreed in a whiny voice.

  Now there was nothing to do but wait until they reached the next village.

  Chapter Four

  “I say, Bilby, did you hear something?” Nathan asked.

  “I hear lots of things, Your Gra—I mean, Mr. Fraser. The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves. The creaking of the harness. The rumble of the wheels. The sound of my own voice.”

  “No, I mean from inside the carriage.” A brief moment of silence followed as they both listened intently, and then Nathan heard it again.

  A high-pitched scream.

  “Oh, you mean that?” Bilby glanced around at the rapidly darkening sky. “I thought it was a bird. Some of those game birds can make the most god-awful noises that carry for miles across these moors and make you want to—”

  “Stop the carriage.”

  Bilby obeyed. “It’s that wild popinjay ravishin’ the ladies, I’ll wager.”

  Nathan jumped down from the box. “No, I suspect it’s just the wild popinjay.”

  He didn’t even have time to open the carriage door, for it banged open and out flew Freddy Hathaway. Nathan wouldn’t have been at all surprised if the oaf had been bodily expelled by his harridan of a sister. She seemed quite capable of anything, and in this instance he wouldn’t have blamed her.

  Hathaway nearly stumbled to the ground before regaining his balance. “Madwoman! She’s a madwoman, I tell you! I’ll walk the rest of the way to wherever we’re going.”

  “Maybe you’d like to sit on the driver’s box for a while,” Nathan suggested.

  “Not in his state,” Bilby protested. “He’ll spook the horses. I’d just as soon hitch him to the back of the carriage and let him try to keep up. The exercise will do him good.”

  “How far to the next village?”

  “Not far, Your—Mr. Fraser. I can barely see a church spire from here.”

  Nathan jerked his thumb toward the carriage. “Get inside, Hathaway. I’ll ride with you and do what I can to protect you.”