Lady's Wager

by Georgie Lee

  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.

  Chapter Three

  “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 mo
re 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.