Highest Stakes (32 page)

  "Got ye sommat better?" she retorted saucily and deftly righted the table, placing her tray upon it. Then bringing a pitcher of water and a reasonably clean towel, she ministered to the wretched captain, endeavoring to put him back in passable order.

  "Now how about a shave, Cap'n? Ye refused last time, if'n I recall, but jes' you ask Major Philip what a steady hand I've got."

  Sensing Robert's refusal, Philip interjected, "She really does mean a shave this time, Devington. It's a sure bet Maggie's hand'll be steadier than yours. Let Maggie set you to rights. After last night's indulgence, you're sure to slit your own throat." Answering for Robert, Philip gave her a nod. She left to fetch hot water and a sharp blade.

  "That's what you really need, a simple, uncomplicated wench like Maggie. I've half a mind to keep her myself," he mused.

  "And what of your heiress?" Robert asked.

  "Completely beside the point. Said I'd a mind to
keep
Maggie, not leg-shackle to her. I'm utterly bewildered by your fixation on matrimony, unless of course you've gotten the girl with child. Is that it, Devington?"

  Robert glared his response.

  "Nay, the most honorable Captain Devington wouldn't do such a thing, would he?"

  "I would never dishonor Charlotte."

  "Do you mean to say," Philip asked incredulously, "that you've pined nearly five years for her, stoically awaiting the day you may legally claim your conjugal rights and release your pent-up passions? I'm completely confounded by it."

  "And what if I should be killed, leaving Charlotte unmarried and with child? Unable to collect even my military pension? She'd be destitute."

"There are ways to prevent conception, Devington."

"You still don't fathom it, do you? That I
desire
to marry her."

  "You've yet to live, man. With women like Maggie so plentiful, why do you seek bondage?"

  "I've no interest in whores, Philip. Not every man adheres to your voluptuary conviction that marriage is the fatal penance to be paid only after a lifetime of license. Doesn't love exist in your hedonistic Utopia?"

  "Love? I seem to recall having this conversation with you once before. Pray let me ease your mind that I am no agnostic of
love
. Quite the contrary, I worship faithfully at the altar of Venus. I am religious in my practice of
love
and endeavor to share it in a most selfsacrificing and altruistic manner." He finished this last pronouncement with a smirk just as Maggie returned.

  "I can vouch for 'im, Cap'n," Maggie said with a chortle.

  Robert finally surrendered, flopping unceremoniously into the chair, and Maggie readied to shave him. Once dressed and sufficiently recovered to travel, Robert scrawled a missive with Maggie's promise to ensure its delivery to Miss Charlotte Wallace of Heathstead Hall.

  With her reassurance, the two officers departed for London.

C harlotte
waited impatiently for word from Robert. She had read his frustrated missive repeatedly during her for'night of confinement. Surely he would write again soon. He wouldn't abandon her, yet she was increasingly apprehensive. Her position in her uncle's household had never been comfortable, but now she suffocated from the oppression.

  Sympathetic to his cousin's plight, even Charles's normal exuberance dimmed. In an attempt to release Charlotte from her mental, if no longer physical, imprisonment, he casually remarked at breakfast, "Since it looks to be a fine day, I had thought to take a ride to the heath." He looked to Sir Garfield. "Father, might Charlotte be permitted to accompany me? And Trixie, too, of course, if she should care to go?"

  Beatrix surprisingly agreed. "I daresay, I, for one, could use the fresh air. It's become so stifling here." She glared at Charlotte.

  Charlotte, brightening suddenly at the suggestion, dimmed as acutely with her uncle's reply.

  "I am afraid that won't be possible, Charles. Charlotte no longer has a horse in my stables."

  "I b-beg your pardon, Uncle?" Charlotte stammered, spilling her tea.

  "You have forfeited such privileges by your recent conduct. I depart this morning to London and have instructed Jeffries to accompany me with the mare. She will be sold at the blood sale."

  Charlotte gaped at her uncle.

  "Though I intended to have this conversation later, I suppose 'twould be best to be done with it now, to give you time to contemplate the consequences of your actions, my girl." He paused to lower his cup to the saucer.

  "You have proven willful and headstrong, Charlotte, and many a man won't tolerate such a wife. It is thus my responsibility to take you to task, as it were, and I shall do it for your own good, b'God."

  "Your uncle is right," Lady Felicia interjected. "I have never condoned your hoydenish behavior. You need now practice the manners and deportment of a young lady. How else shall you ever expect us to make you a desirable match?"

  Sir Garfield smiled approvingly at his wife then said to Charlotte, "You and Beatrix are both come of marriageable age, and with so few eligible prospects in the county, I am bound for London for the arrangement of nuptials."

  "Arrangement of nuptials?" Charlotte repeated blankly.

  "Indeed. My solicitor, Wiggins, has already made inquiries at my behest. There are several eligible prospects, all members of the peerage, who would greatly benefit from the largess of a well-dowered bride."

  "Well-dowered, Uncle? Five hundred pounds would hardly be considered a large dowry."

  "'Tis precisely why I instructed Wiggins to increase your dowry to five thousand. That should see you married well enough, if not quite as auspiciously as Beatrix. My only niece will not be wed to a former stable boy, even one who parades about in crimson regimentals."

  "My dear sir, should not we discuss this matter privately?" Lady Felicia inquired.

  Sir Garfield replied condescendingly, "No need to worry yourself over matters of business, my dear. There is little left but to negotiate the settlements."

  "The settlements?" Lady Felicia prompted.

  "Indeed, madam. How should you like to see our Trixie settled a countess?"

  "Our Beatrix… a countess!" Lady Felicia exclaimed, her eyes taking on an avaricious gleam. "Is it to be so, Sir Garfield?"

  "There is a particular nobleman, heir to a considerable estate, though diminished in fortune, to whom an alliance would prove advantageous. Our Trixie's dowry will provide a considerable bolster to his estate. Her only obligation will be to produce an heir to secure the future succession of the earldom. Wiggins indicates the gentleman was well disposed to discussion. I anticipate expeditious settlements and formal announcement of the betrothal upon our family's arrival in London."

  Charlotte was incredulous that her cousin's future should be determined in such a callous and calculating manner. By this time, even Beatrix realized the implications of her father's machinations.

  "But, Papa," she protested, thinking of Major Drake, "a title is all well and good, but how could I marry a man I haven't even met? What if we don't suit?"

  "My dear Beatrix, marriage is an agreeable arrangement. As I have made the arrangement, you will be agreeable." Sir Garfield smiled indulgently, and she, blank-faced, took this in.

  "Indeed, Beatrix," her mother agreed, "the most advantageous marriages are made thusly."

  With her marriage all but arranged, Beatrix pulled her lightly arched brows together in a deep frown, once more counting the days since her last menses. Surely it could not happen the very first time?

  She never should have gone to his room that night, but after tossing restlessly in bed, she'd crept down the hall to his chamber with only vague ideas of tantalizing him. She had intended to bewitch him with her charms but soon found the boot on the other leg. Beatrix herself had become drunk with passion. She now wondered at the cost.

  Beatrix snapped out of her reverie when her mother asked, "But what shall become of Charlotte, Sir Garfield?"

  "Once Beatrix is settled, I shall deal with the wayward chit. Finding a suitable husband to manage
her
may present more of a challenge than I first believed. I have a mind to consider a widower, mayhap, someone older to take the girl firmly in hand."

  Charlotte's eyes grew wide in disbelief, and Charles jumped to his cousin's defense.

  "Father, how can you contemplate such a scheme? You speak of marital arrangements in the same vein as taking a horse to auction!"

  "Charles, it is
your
future in the making here! Through your sister's connection, you will have entrance into the most privileged circles, and through this so-called
scheme,
I shall ensure comfort and security for both my offspring. What father could do more for his children?"

  Perceiving a cloud upon his sunny idealism, Charles could vouch no further argument.

  "Well then, my girls," Lady Felicia began breathlessly, "there is little to discuss but much to do. Beatrix, you shall require a trousseau. Your present wardrobe is not fit for a countess-to-be. We must also address Charlotte's dowdy appearance. It will not do to arrive in London looking like backward country gentry. Come now, Beatrix, Charlotte. We have much to plan."

  Beatrix truculently trailed her mother and whined, "But, Mama, why have I no choice?"

  Lady Felicia reassured her with a pat on the hand. "My dearest daughter, though it is a sad injustice, a woman seldom weds to her own volition. The Good Lord bestowed upon males the greater reasoning and intellect, thus it is for us women to obey them."

  "But what if the man is a besotted lech… or a fusty bore… or

ill-visaged, bad tempered, and deformed… or stingy, cruel, and close-fisted… or all of it!" she wailed.

  "Trixie, I clearly sympathize, but pray cease the histrionics. As to your apprehensions, a clever woman can learn to manage her husband, even one who is… shall we say… less than desirable."

  "But, Mama,
I don't want such a husband
!"

  "Hear me out, Beatrix," she admonished. "If your husband should be faithless, affect ignorance. If he has a predilection for strong drink, feign tolerance; if he is choleric or sullen, be long-suffering until his mood spends itself. If he be a close-fisted despot, adopt a demure address. But if he be a weak and incompetent man, count your blessings, for you need only give him the very orders you should later receive from him. Lastly and most importantly, if you have wealth and position, your marriage need not be the least incommodious, regardless of your husband's temperament."

  Beatrix scarce attended. Her father had arranged her marriage! He would never allow her betrothal to a lowly major of the Horse Guard when he had an earldom at hand. Though the match would make her a countess, she could not be pleased about it.

  Beatrix was distraught, nearly overcome in her anxiety. If her husband suspected her prior indiscretion, an annulment would surely ensue, and with it, disgrace upon her entire family. It would be bad enough for her husband to discover her deflowered, but to wed while carrying another's child? She dared not even think of those repercussions!

  "What am I to do?" she fretted to herself. Six weeks. It was now six weeks. Inspecting her abdomen daily, she was increasingly convinced she was growing with child and ever fearful some outward sign would mark her—that the truth would show in her eyes.

  Ironically, she didn't feel guilty for her actions. If she had the chance, she would unhesitatingly do it again. Fear of the consequences distressed her. She could see no way out of her predicament. She needed to confide in someone, but to whom? Perhaps Charlotte? Surely she would understand, would have compassion. After all, she was in love, and she wouldn't tell Papa. Whom else could she possibly trust? She resolved to speak with Charlotte, and it had to be soon.

  Opportunity came unexpectedly with a trip to Sheffield under the guise of purchasing embroidery silks. To insure privacy, Beatrix insisted that Letty ride outside with the coachman. Although Beatrix made her best attempts at normal prattle, they had scarce departed ten minutes before she spoke. "Charlotte," she began tentatively, "I have a confession, something of a most private nature. I must tell someone, or I shall expire. Can I trust you?"