by Wolf, Bree
With a triumphant grin on his reddened face, Lord Radcliff placed his cards on the table.
Groans rose from the other players as they tossed their cards aside, anger and disappointment marking their features, their reaction giving Matthew a moment of hope as he stepped forward, relief tickling the corners of his heart.
Until his gaze fell on one remaining player by the name of Harkin, who was still holding on to his cards, a pleased smile slowly spreading over his face as his glassy eyes stared at the earl’s cards.
Matthew’s heart crashed to the ground and shattered into a million pieces.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled a deep breath before willing himself to face the truth. Reluctantly, Matthew opened his eyes once more, his skin tingling at the stillness in the room, and watched as Harkin placed his cards on the table.
Slowly.
Ever so slowly.
One by one.
Everyone held his breath.
Including him.
Including Lord Radcliff.
Before raucous laughter erupted from the spectators, they saw Harkin’s winning hand.
Barely a second later, all blood drained from the earl’s face, and he turned ash-white so that momentarily Matthew thought he might pass out. Then he shot to his feet, threw his drink across the room, shattering against the opposite wall, and stormed out without another word.
Swallowing, Matthew turned his attention to the man who would now have every right to claim Lady Adelaide for his wife.
A commoner, Mr. Harkin had made his fortune in trade and had, by the looks of it, adjusted to privileged life quite well. With others to tend to his business, he spent most of his time drinking and gambling, and Matthew had encountered him more than once as he had followed the earl all about town. His balding head shining with perspiration, he slapped his large belly as triumphant laughter spilled from his mouth. Quite obviously, he was more than pleased with the evening’s outcome.
Feeling bile rise in this throat, Matthew stumbled outside in desperate need of fresh air.
The moment he stepped across the threshold and the night engulfed him, Matthew knew that there was nothing to be done. His heart sank as he stumbled onward, his thoughts a jumbled chaos in his head as he desperately tried to think of a solution. Perhaps the man could be bought off.
Sighing, Matthew closed his eyes, resting his back against the brick wall behind him. If there was one thing Mr. Harkin possessed in spades, it was money.
Certainly, he would not relinquish his claim on Lady Adelaide for something that had little value to him. Also, as a commoner, he certainly knew that it would raise his standing within society if he were to marry a lady of the upper class.
Cursing under his breath, Matthew hastened down the street toward the better part of town and his cousin’s home. He could have hailed a hackney-coach, but his muscles seemed to burst with pent-up energy and were in dire need of release.
What on earth were they to do now?
Again, Lady Adelaide’s gentle features and fearful downcast eyes rose in his mind, and Matthew cringed at the thought that he had failed her. A part of him counselled that he had done exactly as asked, and yet, he knew it was not enough. He ought to have protected her. He ought to have found a way to stop her father from ruining her life. Wasn’t that what good men did? Did they not protect the innocent?
What did this say about him?
Chapter Four – A Helpless Pawn
Wringing her hands, Adelaide took the seat on the settee next to her grandmother, her gaze travelling around Lady Elton’s elegantly furnished drawing room. Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see the tension resting on both her grandmother’s as well as Lady Elton’s face, and yet, Adelaide did not dare admit defeat yet.
For one more moment, she wanted to pretend that all was not lost.
That she would not be forced to marry a stranger.
A man like her father.
A man who had won her hand in a card game.
Still, unable to shut out her surroundings completely, Adelaide felt her stomach twist and turn when she became aware of her grandmother’s nervous fidgeting. Alarm bells went off in Adelaide’s head. Never in her life had she seen her grandmother like this.
Always composed, the dowager countess stood for strength and character, her sharp mind and dauntless courage a beacon of light in the darkness that had always been Adelaide’s life.
But no more.
Smiling at her, Lady Elton took a seat on the armchair opposite them, her kind blue eyes glancing from Adelaide to her grandmother. “I’m glad you were able to come on such short notice,” she said, her features tense. “I’m afraid what I have to say cannot wait.”
Holding her breath, Adelaide looked at her grandmother.
Squaring her shoulders, the dowager countess nodded. “I see,” she gritted out, her eyes narrowing with suppressed anger. “What is it you’ve found out, my dear? Please, do not keep us in suspense. What has my son done?”
Adelaide knew that it was a proforma question as they all knew beyond the shadow of a doubt what he had done.
Lady Elton inhaled a steadying breath, her eyes unwavering as she spoke. “I’m afraid the worst has come to pass,” she said, her blue eyes travelling to Adelaide. “I’m sorry. There is no use in holding back, so I will tell you in as few words as possible what has happened.”
“We’d appreciate that,” the dowager countess said as she reached out a hand for Adelaide’s, pulling it into her lap and holding it tightly.
“We had Lord Radcliff followed for the past sennight,” Lady Elton began, a hint of anger in her voice as she spoke. “As expected, he mostly frequented gaming hells, in one of which he lost your hand, Lady Adelaide, to a commoner by the name of Harkin last night.”
Adelaide felt as though her heart stopped beating, and yet, it was the fearful squeeze of her grandmother’s hand upon her own that crushed every last bit of hope she had still clung to. Tears came to her eyes as she glanced at her grandmother, her face haggard and without strength as she closed her eyes attempting to shut out the pain Lady Elton’s words had caused. What were they to do?
“Thank you for your efforts,” her grandmother said to Lady Elton before she leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the young lady. “Is there anything that can be done to prevent this? I assume this Mr. Harkin is not a man worthy of my granddaughter.”
With a sidelong glance at Adelaide, Lady Elton shook her head. “I’m afraid not.” Then she drew in a deep breath, and Adelaide found herself frowning at the sudden spark of mischief she saw in the lady’s eyes.
Her grandmother had to have seen it, too, because she almost jumped off the settee as she exclaimed, “You have a plan! I can see it in your eyes. Tell us, my dear. I assure you we will do what it takes to prevent this marriage from happening.”
A hint of a devious smile came to Lady Elton’s face. “I had hoped you would say that.”
Paralysed, Adelaide stared from one woman to the other and back again as they discussed her future as though she were not in the room. Still, Adelaide was grateful for she had never possessed even an ounce of the strength she so admired in her grandmother.
Holding the dowager countess’s eager gaze, Lady Elton leaned forward conspiratorially. “What we must do is fairly simple,” she said, a devilish smile on her face, one that reminded Adelaide of her grandmother, and she wondered what her grandmother had looked like when she had been young. Oddly enough, Adelaide felt that Lady Elton made a fitting representation of that image.
“We must win her hand back,” Lady Elton announced, drawing a delighted chuckle from the dowager countess. “I’ve already spoken to my husband, and he will ensure that everything is in place. The friend whom I’ve already mentioned before will once again assist us in tempting Mr. Harkin to offer up Lady Adelaide’s hand once more.”
“Marvellous!” the dowager countess beamed, turning glowing eyes to Adelaide. “Don’t worry, my dear. All shall be we
ll. I’m certain of it.”
A tender smile came to Adelaide’s face as she nodded. Still, she could not shake the sense of doom that had come over her at the sight of her grandmother’s fear. Even though Adelaide was not a young child any longer, her grandmother had always seemed larger than life.
Invincible.
Infallible.
Impeccable.
A moment ago, she had just become human like the rest of them, and that thought frightened Adelaide more than anything she had ever known. What if things went wrong? What if this was something her grandmother and Lady Elton could not solve?
“However, time is of the essence,” Lady Elton continued, “as we should not wait for Mr. Harkin to demand Lord Radcliff hand over your granddaughter and give his blessing for their union.”
“Of course not,” Adelaide’s grandmother agreed, her hand squeezing Adelaide’s with renewed strength as she inhaled an invigorating breath. “When shall it take place?”
“As early as tonight,” Lady Elton replied. “We can only hope Mr. Harkin will not seek out Lord Radcliff today.” She glanced from the dowager countess to Adelaide. “It might be a good idea to instruct your butler to excuse you to all visitors today.”
Nodding alongside her grandmother, Adelaide did her best to fight the sense of doom that still lingered. All her life, she had felt like a pawn, unable to decide which path to walk, what direction to go. Always had it been her father’s decision, and she knew very well−even before this unfortunate development−that he did not base these decisions on his regard for her.
Sighing, Adelaide wondered if she would ever find herself in a position to choose.
For herself.
Would it make a difference if she finally gathered the courage to voice her objections to his decisions? To his plans for her?
In all likelihood, her father would simply ignore her as he had ignored her all her life so long as she was not of use to him.
Was there not a man anywhere in England who would see her as more than a bargaining chip?
Chapter Five – A Lucky Hand
Seated around a large table in yet another darkened room in one of the many gaming hells men like Lady Adelaide’s father frequented, Matthew found himself glancing to his right at none other than the loathsome Mr. Harkin.
Over the past three days, Matthew had done his utmost to gain the man’s trust, relieved to have been awarded that time as Mr. Harkin seemed in no hurry to claim Lady Adelaide as his bride. He seemed to be perfectly content boasting about his prize at every possible opportunity, bathing in the admiration of the other gamblers and drunkards, especially those who had gone a long while without Fortune smiling on them.
Still, despite being preoccupied with flaunting his prize, Mr. Harkin had proved himself more of a suspicious man than Matthew had anticipated. Even though his pale eyes were glassy more often than not, there was a sharpness to his mind that Matthew feared might be their downfall. What if he began to suspect Matthew’s intentions? Certainly, Lady Adelaide would be lost.
Matthew could not allow that to happen.
And so, he reminded himself to be patient…again and again, forcing his hands to remain still, his face to portray nothing of the turmoil he felt as he drank alongside that loathsome man and joined in the laughter at Mr. Harkin’s retelling of how he had won the fair lady’s hand.
This endeavour was made all the more difficult as the look of superiority in Mr. Harkin’s blood-shot eyes only served to remind him of Lord Radcliff as well as his own father. The loss of one’s faculties as well as the complete obsession with a meaningless object or pastime in these men proved that such afflictions did not adhere to class, standing or rank. No, they attacked those who were weak enough to allow it entry the same.
Matthew could only hope that he would not end up like one of these men, and so he fought all the more strongly against the urge to succumb to his baser instincts and solve the matter as his father might have.
Through bodily harm…and even murder.
Still, tonight Matthew would stoop as low as using deceit and manipulation to achieve his goals, and although he knew he had a very good reason to do so, he wondered if that reason truly justified the means. Did not all crazed men think they had a good reason to do what they did? Did they not all believe that the reason justified the means? Had his own father not thought so as well?
Pushing these thoughts from his mind, Matthew tried to focus on the task at hand. As discussed with Tristan, he had guided Mr. Harkin to that very room that night after ensuring that the man had indulged in spirits for the first half of the evening. The man’s unsteady walk and slurred speech were testament to Matthew’s success.
All was in place.
All was as planned.
Glancing around the table, Matthew took note of the other gamblers, men he had seen here and there and knew to be in his cousin’s employ. Trustworthy men who tonight posed as bored noblemen seeking to gamble away their fortunes. Only Mr. Harkin remained oblivious to the fact that he was surrounded by men who sought to rob him of his prize.
As the evening progressed, Matthew began to feel lightheaded as the pulse in his veins continued to beat at a rapid pace. If they could not resolve the matter soon, he might pass out from the sheer stress of it.
Conjuring an image of Lady Adelaide’s shy smile, Matthew forced himself to focus. Unobtrusively, he glanced at Mr. Harkin, who half hung on the table for support as he blinked at his cards, trying to discern his hand.
Was now the right moment to bait the man to up the stakes? Or was it too soon? Mr. Harkin might get suspicious? Or he might pass out and end the night prematurely?
As the evening wore on, Matthew’s nerves slowly wore thin as he continued to observe the man to his right. Mr. Harkin’s skin was pale and shining with sweat, and his eyelids began to droop.
Swallowing, Matthew decided that it was time. He did not dare wait any longer, nodding to one of Tristan’s men when the cards were dealt for the next round.
Inhaling a deep breath, Matthew picked up his cards, breathing a little easier when he saw his superb hand. Then he turned to Mr. Harkin, a triumphant grin on his face. “Harkin, old man,” he slurred as best as he could, “I can tell from a single look that your hand is awful.” He snickered. “I’ve never seen anyone lose that much in one night.”
Harkin chuckled, his elbow sliding off the table as he did so. Before his chin could connect with the hard surface though, he caught himself, once more bracing himself on his lower arms.
Matthew tried to swallow the lump in his throat, wondering if he had underestimated the man. Still, there was no turning back.
Turning his unsteady gaze to Matthew, Mr. Harkin chortled. “I wouldn’t be so sure, boy,” he stated after glancing at his cards.
“You’re bluffing!” Matthew accused him.
Mr. Harkin’s eyes narrowed. “Care to up the stakes?” he challenged, a spark of clarity in his otherwise glazed eyes. “Or can you only talk big?”
Matthew laughed. “I don’t need money,” he boasted, padding the leather pouch resting beside him on the table. “I have enough.” He grinned. “And now thanks to you, I have even more.”
“What do you suggest then, boy?”
Matthew felt the little hairs on the back of his neck rise as he prepared to lay out the final step of their plan. Now or never.
Matthew chuckled before gulping down half his drink. “For the past few nights, I’ve heard you boast of that fine lady you’ve presumably won.” He shrugged, glancing around. “And yet, there is no proof that says you truly have a claim on her.”
Mr. Harkin’s eyes narrowed. “Her father knows,” he slurred, a touch of resentment in his voice, and Matthew knew he had hit his mark. “Many were there that night. They can attest that he lost her to me.” A sly grin spread over the man’s face as he sat back, looking smug. “I will father noble heirs.”
Matthew swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in his throat
, willing himself not to show how he truly felt. “Well, if that is truly the case,” he challenged, leaning forward his gaze fixed on Mr. Harkin’s, “then offer her hand now…if indeed you do have a claim on her.” Sitting back, Matthew grinned. “If your hand is indeed as good as you say, then there is no risk to you.”
Mr. Harkin’s brows drew down, and Matthew could sense that the man was reluctant. “Or are you too much of a coward?” Matthew taunted.
Raucous laughter erupted around the table as Tristan’s men sneered at the aging merchant.
Matthew held his breath, watching Mr. Harkin carefully. It was obvious that he was reluctant to offer Lady Adelaide’s hand. Still, the attack on his pride stung, and men like Harkin or Radcliff or Matthew’s own father feared nothing more than to be reduced in the eyes of others.
“Done!” Mr. Harkin hollered, pounding his fist on the table for emphasis.
Matthew nodded, and they all placed their cards on the table.
For almost a fortnight, Matthew had searched for a way to protect Lady Adelaide, first following her father and then getting closer to Mr. Harkin. He had moved slowly and with care, always afraid that one wrong step would shatter their hopes of reclaiming her hand. Patience had been key, and at times, the need to be patient had been excruciating.
And now, the one moment he had been working for was here…and over before he knew it.
In an instant, Mr. Harkin’s triumphant grin turned into an angry sneer as he looked from his own cards to Matthew’s. A growl rose from his throat, and he shot to his feet, his eyes shooting lightning bolts at Matthew.
Still, as inebriated as he was, he could not keep upright, swaying on his feet. Two of Tristan’s men rose immediately, clasping him on the shoulder and offering him another drink. “It was a good game,” one said, seeking to soothe the man’s anger. “Let us drink to a night well played.”
Although reluctant, Mr. Harkin joined in and allowed himself to be guided out of the room. “I cannot believe I lost,” he all but pouted as he clung to the other man for support. “I lost her hand!”